“Do you mean Mistress Morgana is out there, now? Get out of the way Spyke, I want to see.”
“Guenevere! You must naughtte be out here, my love! It is far too dangerous! Go back and tend to our King!”
“I can do nothing more for him at this time. I come here to the battlements to fight alongside of you, my love, but the sight of that horrible woman moves me to speak.”
“Morgana, you horrible old crone! I see you have been dipping into the waters of unnatural longevity again, dear. Just how elderly are you these days, old woman?”
“Hsssk! Guenevere, you limp dishrag! How dare you address me in such a way! Everybody knows I’m naughtte a day over... Nevermind!”
“Pardon me for saying so, baughtte thou art too old to wear an outfit like that, you hag.”
“Hrr-Reerall! I’m about to bring that castle down about thine ears and shall eat thy heart, wench! In fact, let me say it like this:”
I travel through time,
and Ether’s space.
Make no mistake,
I sayeth to thy face,
Thee be a miserable Queen,
thy features bitter and mean.
Thou thinks I’m a public scene,
Envy doth turn thee green,
because
Guenevere’s the pupil,
Morgana the Dean.
Thy skin all covered up.
A passionless buttercup.
don’t stop me now,
I’m just revving up
I’m here to see thee fail.
Forgive me if I wail,
baughtte if thou want a grail,
Take a sip from my D cup.
Thou callest my steel unikini obscene,
baughtte the lads are keen,
and I love to be seen,
in the rare,
in the buff,
I’m a diamond,
in the rough,
Thou hast no substance.
Thee be all fluff.
My rhymes doth sting,
I’m dripping with bling
Morgana is your Mistress,
and Mordred shall be King!
“Bravo, mumsy! Word, to my mother, yough.”
“Thee be full of tricks, Morgana, however, I would beg thee to lend me one of thy pierced ears:”
A Queen must have class,
thou knows only to show thine ass.
Thou art a walking wardrobe malfunction,
What you wear don’t keep your junk in.
Thou must have had a lobotomy
I’m glad you thought of me.
You and the boy,
the front and back of incestuosity
right in front of me,
a curiosity,
a peculiar singularity,
of disgusting-osity
I don’t know whether to:
Laugh.
Cry.
Cringe.
Fly.
That boy art:
whack-jack
paddy-whack
spin round once
and stab him in the back.
That creepy kid will never rule.
His lips will ever drool,
His scrawny neck I’ll wring.
For Arthur is our King!
Guenevere is the diva of highest rank.
Give it up, toots,
You’re an over-hexed, metal bra wearing psycho-skanque.
“Hrr-reerl! You will pay for those ill-conceived words, you little rag-mop!”
“Somebody get the Mistress some talc, she is beginning to chafe.”
“Shut-up!”
“Now she’s getting all sweaty. That will make her lingerie rust.”
“Shu-up, Guenevere, this is my time! I am destroying you!”
“Are you really, I thought that was just mindless screeching.”
“Reeeeerl! Attack my armies! Attack and slay that insolent wench that was your Queen!”
“Launcelot, there are too many! Armoured Knights surmount the walls faster than thee can clear them!”
“Mon Dieu, Sacre Bleu, and my curly hair too, there are quite a lot of fellows for me to fight, I think.”
“Launcelot, beware! The fearsome Gunther GravenHurlle has breached the wall!”
“Die, you French Goodie-Goodie! It is time some real strength and power ruled this land. I have wanted to kill you for a long time, Launcelot. Now, none shall ever doubt, who is the greatest and strongest of Knights.”
“Oui, Sir Gunther, I too have known that this rendezvous between you and me was inevitable.”
“Once I destroy you, I will find that little worm, Ichabod. He ruined my undefeated streak! He will be the main course in my victory feast!”
“No, Sir Gunther, Sir Ichabod is a friend of mine. You must pass through me to get to him.”
“That was the plan, you fancy frog.”
“Oh, Spyke, Launcelot is weary from his long battles and Gunther is fresh for the fight! Launcelot shall be slain!”
“Nah, don’t you worry, me Queen Genni, Launcelot is too noble of a Knight to allow himself to fall before one as ignoble as Gunther. Uh, oh, one of Gunther’s lackeys crawled up behind Launcelot, tripping him up and making him fall! Launcelot is defenseless and cannot avoid Gunther’s death strike!”
“Hah! Die, Sir Launceloooooooooooooooooot!...”
“Mon Dieu, what is this? Sir Gunther, he flew away! To what do my wondering eyes are the appearing? Another attacking Knight is lifted into the air! Now he is being roughly smashed against the castle wall before being flung far out amongst his besieging fellows! There goes another Knight to whom is being lifted up and away from me! I may yet live! Oh, how one after another, the poor fellows are rudely cast against the cruel walls to fall into Camelot’s moat. What is this miracle that flings enemy Knights hither and anon, eh?”
“Howdy, Mr. Sir Launcelot, sir, t’is I, Sir Ichabod, with my latest invention!”
“A good thing it is to see you mon ami, oui? Your accoutrement baffles me. You are wearing a bar of iron! This bar, it is bent in a shape reminiscent of the letter ‘U’. It is obviously heavy as you must suspend the weight by means of straps suspended from thy shoulders, such as they are.”
“Yessir, it’s heavy, all right.”
“You stand in the center of the space created by the ‘U’. This lies flat, or horizontal to the ground. The open end is toward your unlucky foes. From the two ends of your iron bar, at intervals of great activities between peaceful pauses, the parallel ends will glow bright with a bluish, white light! This tumbling, jumble of energies is then stridently slung out at your mighty foes from whence thee cast them unto oblivion as so many birds before a storm. Surely this is a miracle of Heaven above.”
“Nossir, it’s really rather simple. You see I have a little steam powered generator on a cart that I am pulling behind me on a leash. This is energizing both sides of my magnet. The directional accumulator allows me to focus the effect of the incredible magnetic forces I am generating. With it, I can lift an armoured Knight from a hunnerd yards.”
“Do you have some endearment for the device?”
“Yessir, I call it my Magno-beam-O-rator.”
“Enh, needs work, monsieur.”
“Yessir.”
“Sir Ichabod! The nuns on the other walls are being over-run by steely Knights!”
“Don’t you worry none, Spyke, I’ll put a stop to this bad nonsense with some good nunsense!”
“You’ve done it, Sir Icky! You hath cast the armoured villains from every wall!”
“This is good my friend. Well done, Sir Ichabod.”
“Aw, anybody would have done the same thing.”
“I do naughtte agree, mon ami. Since your arrival, you have shown compassion for your foes. In your duels with Merlin and Gunther, you spared the lives of men that had only murder in their hearts for thee. The same may be said in the construction of thy steam carriage. A lesser man would have made of your ‘Miss Beemer’ a trav
eling abattoir, with the blades aswirl, I think. So too, the castle defender thinks naughtte of his attackers’ safety. You do naughtte hesitate to hesitate in taking a life, Sir Ichabod. I am confident that chivalry and the highest of the Round Table ideals does in fact survive through the ages if you are any example, young man.”
“Gee, thank you, Sir Launcelot. Now please excuse me, there is an especially obstreperous fellow that needs contending with. I think I will magnorate and use him to buffet his fellows.”
“I approve of this method, oui.”
“Hsssk! What is happening? My army is in retreat! Come back and fight, you cowards!”
“Oh, mother, you have bungled my ascension! How could you! I simply must be King! Do something, mommy!”
“Yes, I must do something, baughtte what to do? My army has fled. I only have you, my lovely Mordred.”
“I said, do something, mother!”
“My resources are limited...”
“I don’t care! I said, do something!”
“My beautiful Mordred, are you sure you want this so badly?”
“Yes, mother, I said I wanted to be King and I meant it!”
“You will do anything to be King?”
“Yes!”
“Anything?”
“Yes!”
“Even, … forgive me?”
“Yes! … Hunh?”
From deep within,
the Earth’s crust,
elements lay hidden,
Royalty’s dust.
Give this boy strength,
let a giant flower,
fill this vessel,
with Britain’s power.
No mortal blade shall slay thee!
Yon fortress wall shall now be forded!
Take this castle! Kill her King!
Do it all for me!
You are now invincible,
rise,
my King Mordred!
“Yes, mother, yes! I feel it! I have strength surging through my veins! I feel as if I am invincible! I am invincible! I am strong! I am the strongest! I shall take that castle and slay Arthurrrrrrrglk. I am growing so strong! I am getting bigger and stronger! I am taller! My armour! It restrains me! I am being squeezed within! No, I shall rip it off! Yes, I have the strength! I rip off this armour. Armour hurt. Armour hurt Mor-dred. Mor-dred. Mor-dred hurt! Mor-dred in terrible pain! Mor-dred can naughtte stop growing! Mother! Make stop! Pain!”
“Slay the King my son! Take the castle!”
“Castle. Castle mine. Tear down. Kill King. Kill father. Kill. Kill. Kill...”
“Yes, Mordred, tear the castle down! Kill all within! Kill! Kill! Kill!”
“Sir Launcelot! Morgana has cast a terrible spell on Mordred! His features are changed. His has grown into a grotesque, green, scaly, twenty foot tall gorgon!”
“Sir Ichabod, use your device on that giant that attacketh!”
“It ain’t gonna work on him, Sir Launcelot, he ain’t wearing no armour!”
“Oh, my Goodness, he’s climbing up the outside of the siege tower! Sir Launcelot, he’s coming your way! He’s coming up over the top!”
“Oui, come to me, bastard prince. Let Sir Launcelot welcome you to castle Camelot. For Arthur, Britain, and all that is sacred in this world, I strike thee down foul demon!”
“Eek!”What hast thy done to my son?”
“I have separated his head from his body, Mademoiselle.”
“Kill...”
“Yikes! That head is still alive!”
“Just stay away from it, Ichabod, it cannaughtte hurt you if you stay out of reach from its snapping jaw.”
“What about the body?”
“Good question. Let us take a look over the ramparts and see, oui?”
“Oh, thank Goodness, Sir Launcelot, the body is dead. It is floating in the moat. Hey, I think it moved. Yes, it is definitely twitchy. It is splashing around trying to get its bearings and comprehend its surroundings. That’s got to be hard, when you ain’t got a head to see, smell, taste, nor think with.”
“What is that pounding I hear?”
“That is Mordred’s huge, misshapen body pounding on the drawbridge gate. The moat is ten or twelve feet deep, so the water only comes up to about mid-chest. He is reaching up to pound on the bottom of the drawbridge, but it is an easy reach.”
“Does he have any chance of getting inside the castle?”
“He is big strong and awfully determined. I’d say where there is a will there’s a way, so we can probably expect him to beat his way in momentarily. No, wait a second, something is happening to the creature. It shudders and threatens to lose its balance. There is a bulge in his neck hole where his head was. It is slowly but steadily getting larger. No, wait a second, there is another lump growing up out of the... No, make that three large lumps growing from Mordred’s neck-hole.”
“Ichabod, Guenevere, Stephanie, y’all go to King Arthur and get him out another way. I will defy this monster as long as I have life.”
“No, Launcelot. Ichabod, you and Stephanie go and help the King. I will stay here and fight alongside Sir Launcelot.”
“But...”
“As your Queen, I command it!”
“Yes, Ma’am! Hey, Miss Stephanie,... Miss Stephanie! Wow, you changed your outfit!”
~sigh~ “It’s too bad that Morgana stole a bit of my thunder with her disgraceful steel bathing suit, baughtte I think this suggestive, form-fitting curassse and short skirt with greaves are both battle-worthy and adorable, don’t you think, Sir Ichabod?”
~gulp!~ “Yes, Ma’am!”
“Oh! Thank you, Sir Ichabod!”
~gulp!~ “Erp, we better scoot along and save our King, Ma’am.”
“Roight! Follow me!”
“Yes, Ma’am!”
“King Arthur, we must get you to safety!”
“What?...”
“Quit being so groggy! We have to run!”
“I hear the voice of Ichabod, from somewhere afar... Ichabod, are you there?”
“Sire! King Arthur! It’s me, Ichabod! Can’t you feel me yanking on your arm? We have to get you out of here!”
“Did … you … find the grail?”
“No Sire, but Mordred has been turned into a terrible monster and is going to kill you! We have to run right now!”
“Mordred? My son? Here?”
“Unfortunately, yes, so let’s go.”
“I would see him. Bring him to me.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, your Majesty. Even Launcelot cannot stay this creature.”
“Launcelot? Guenevere? Ichabod? Is that you? Did you find the grail?”
“No Sire, I did not find the Holy Grail.”
“Ichabod, find for me, that which has been lost. Find for me, the Holy Grail.”
“Oh, please Sire, we gotta go!”
“Ichabod, you are my purest of Knights! I task thee. Find for me, that which is lost. As a Knight of the Round Table, I task you with this Holy Quest.”
“Oh, but this ain’t a real good time to go Grailing or Questing nor such, Sire.”
“Ichabod...”
“Yes, Sire?”
“Find the Holy Grail...”
“But your Highness!”
“I task thee, ... Ichabod...”
“Oh no, please don’t.”
“Find the Holy Grail. That is your Quest.”
“Oh, my king, I can’t do it!”
“I, Arthur, task you, my friend...”
“Oh, Arthur!”
“Ichabod...”
“There ain’t no dang Grail, Sire! Every Knight in tarnation has been searching for that silly old Grail! Don’t you think they would have found it by now! Is this some noble snipe hunt from the dark ages! There ain’t no Holy Grail! Now we have to run!”
“Ichabod, only a Knight of true innocence can find the Grail. I task you with the Quest of the Hoy Grail.”
“Oh, Sire, I’m sorry. I wish could find your Grail for
you but time has run out. We need to withdraw from the castle, sir.”
“It is naughtte in my character, to retreat, Sir Ichabod...”
“King Arthur? King Arthur? Can you hear me?”
. . .
“Oh your Majesty, please don’t slip away! You are growing dark, sir, please don’t go! Your Majesty! Wake up! Your Highness! Don’t leave us! We need you! Arthur! My friend! Please don’t die, you just can’t! Why has it grown so dark in here? Arthur! Arthur! Don’t die, please! Oh, no, no, no, don’t go! Arthur! Sire! Your majesty, please! . . . Oh my king, why have you and this room grown so dark? Why do you seem so far away? . . . Arthur? . Sire? . I can’t see anything. Everything is so dark. . Wait, . . is there a mote of light? I see a speck of light, far away. No, it’s getting closer, it’s getting brighter. The light is so close! The light is so bright! It’s here! It’s right here! It was here all along! Sire! I see it! I see the Holy Grail! Oh, Sire, I see it as plain as the light of day! The Holy Grail is here! It is you! King Arthur, you are the Holy Grail! You are the embodiment of this age! You are the last link of magic in the kingdom! There is something special and magical in you that makes you more than King! Oh, my King! King Arthur, I have found the Holy Grail and it is YOU!!!”
“Ichabod? Ichabod? The Grail? I? I am the Grail? Can this be? I, Arthur, the Holy Grail? I am the Grail. I am the Grail! I am the Grail! Ichabod! You found it! You saved me! You have saved England!”
“We ain’t out of the fire yet, Sire, I gotta get you out of here!”
“Help me up. Where is Launcelot?”
“He is at the gate engaged in deadly combats with a terrible monster. Your son, I am sorry to report. Sir Launcelot told me to get you to safety.”
“Where is Guenevere?”
“With Sir Launcelot, Sire.”
“I see. Get me to the scene of battle. Stephanie, be a good lass and fetch me my sword.”
“Yes, your Majesty!”
“Your Majesty, I was told to get you out a back way.”
“I have never run from a fight, Ichabod. I have no intention of learning new tricks at this stage of my life.”
“But you can barely stand!”
“That will have to suffice.”
“I hear combat up ahead, gentlemen. Eek! Guenevere has been knocked down and Launcelot desperately tries to fight off Mordred!”
“Woah! Holy three-headed ogres! The monster that is/was Mordred now sprouts three heads!”
“Stay back, my Liege! This monster doth naughtte feel any blade! No arm has any effect on this invincible creature!”
The Title of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 8) Page 17
