The Title of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 8) (6 page)

“But...”

“A word of wisdom from your King, Ichabod. Maidens love scars!”

We. Are.

The Knights.

Of Camelot.

Our Armour.

It Weighs.

Quite a Lot.

In Danger.

Our Lives.

Are very Fraughtte.

The Life.

Of a Knight.

Is highly Sought.

“Bring in the next case of judication!”

“Yes, Sire!”

“State thy case, old woman.”

“Forsooth, I am not an old woman but a young and fair maiden that languishes under an evil curse.”

“How didst thou come to be in this terrible state, my child?”

“A mean troll has placed me under an enchantment, my King. Only a brave Knight, strong and true, can lift this hex from me and my poor kingdom, for lo that we have many riches and treasures laid up in our castle and my father the king...”

“Your father the king! Then you are in reality not an old beggar woman as you appear, but a young, beautiful maiden princess?”

“Yes, King Arthur.”

“Fascinating, dear girl, prithee continue.”

“...my father the king will gladly pay massive tribute to the brave Knight that can free our land.”

“Treasure, you say, eh?”

“Yes, my king. Also, my hand in marriage should the knight be successful in lifting the bewitching enchantment that makes me appear old and frazzled.”

“Ah, this is a good and worthy quest. I deem that one of our lot shall be chosen to go slay this troll, lift the enchantment, and live happily ever after, married to a rich, young, beautiful princess. Anybody interested? What say you, Ichabod? This task seems as if it is fraughtte with enough danger that you may build the character and moral fibre needed to face a true man’s man in Sir Gunther.”

“Thanks, Mr. King Arthur, Sire, sir, but I got a little ol’ gal waiting for me thirteen hundred years from now. I think I need to be figuring a way to get back to her. That sounds like a real choice assignment, but I’m gonna take a pass.”

Lessons.

Of Steel.

Severely Taughtte.

Naughtte Read.

In Book.

Nor Cheaply Boughtte.

With Combat.

Giants Ogres.

Routinely Foughtte

It is naughtte easy.

To be a Knight.

Of Camelot.

“Bring forth the next case to be assessed by the court!”

“Yes, Sire!”

“State your case!”

   .   .   .

“I hear no words. This goes a great distance in proving that you are, what you appear to be, that is, a medium sized shrubbery.”

   .   .   .

“Really! That is fascinating! You say that a terrible warlock has taken over your beloved village back home, and if a brave Knight would only come and slay the terrible fellow, that the agent of liberation would be bestowed with a magic sword that never goes dull and can ghulienne fries.”

   .   .   .

“You say the village is packed with beautiful, young, rich, damsel/maidens, all waiting and wanting to reward the lucky Knight chosen to execute this choicest of Knightly assignments?”

   .   .   .

“Including yourself, pending transformation from boxwood form, naturally.”

“What do you say, Ichabod? This one looks pretty promising, eh, what?”

“Gee whiz, it sure is nice of you to offer me these cushy quests so that I can ready my body, strengthen my mind, and temper my will so that I will be worthy of facing Sir Gunther where I will surely be killed.”

“Tut, t’is nothing, dear boy. I am afraid that we have but one more case to deal with. I am afraid that it will not appeal to thee either, as it is similar in aspect as all the previous cases we have been through.”

~sigh~
“Thanks, Sire, I reckon let’s just go ahead and trot out the next questuratorer and we’ll be done with it.”

“Bring out the next case before King Arthur’s Court!”

“Yes, Sire!”

! !
!
“Hey, that girl looks just like...” ! ! !

“Shush! Quiet, Ichabod! Now then, state your case, my lovely child.”

“I sayeth, thank thee so much my exalted Liege. My name is Tartt O’Plum, Miss Stephanie Tartt O’Plum. I am here to...”

“I’ll take the quest, Sire!”

“Be quiet, Ichabod, we have naughtte yet heard the particulars. Proceed, Stephanie.”

“My King beest too kind. Forsooth, thank you, King Arthur. Lo, I have traveled from afar to seek help in stopping a great evil. A three headed giant ogre hast fallen upon my home. There, thirteen beautiful young maidens languish under the cruel curse placed upon them by this wicked ogre. Truly, we desperately need the help of a brave and noble Knight to vanquish this foe and lift the veil of misery that blankets our village.”

Thou art a lovely quest wench my dear. Well, Ichabod, dost thou still have an interest in this quest?”

“Yessir, your Highness, Sire!”

“Thou art in luck, fair maiden. I have just the Knight to assist thee in your quest. Rise Ichabod.”

“I think I have risen.”

“I mean stand up.”

“I am standing.”

“Oh. This shall be your Quest Knight, Stephanie.”

“Oh, er, is this little fellow really a Knight, Sire?”

“Well, naughtte really...”

“Oh, but Sire, this quest requires the mettle of a fine and noble Knight. I question if this little fellow is worthy of the task. Surely you would prefer to send one of these other, fine, strong, big, handsome, smoldering, He-Knights, instead of this dun-coloured, peasant with gate agape.”

“Perhaps you’re right...”

“Oh, no, please let me have this quest! I’ll be a good Knight for you Miss Stepahanie, Ma’am!”

“I’m sure thou art a sweet young boy, and will someday make a very nice Knight for some equally bedraggled serf as yourself, in the meantime, let’s naughtte distract our King whilst he attempts to make a serious choice.”

“I don’t know, Stephanie, on the surface, Ichabod has all the nobility of a mud-puddle, but I would like to see him develop into a proper Knight that he may be worthy of being slain by Sir Gunther.”

“Oh, but Sire...”

“No, Stephanie, I have made my decision. Take this boy and make him into a a fitting Knight of my Round Table.”

~sigh~
“Yes, Sire.”

“Yip
pee!
Thanks, Mr. King Arthur, sir! You won’t be sorry! I ain’t gonna let you down, sir, ner you neither, Miss Stephanie, Ma’am! Um, what was my quest again?”

“Thou shalt go forth and slay a giant three-headed ogre thus freeing thirteen maidens languishing under his oppression.”

“Oh, yeah, right.”

“Get thee to the armoury, and see if you can be fixed up in a junior set of armour that one of the real Knights has outgrown.”

From Fortune’s Catapult.

Ichabod.

Has been shaughtte.

He’ll surely die.

His Bones.

Begin to Rot.

In a Perilous Web.

The Boy.

Has been Caughtte.

Good-bye.

Would-Be Knight.

Of Camelot.

  ---

“Eee-yow-wow-wow! That there greave is pinching me in an overly familiar manner!”

“I sayeth, so it may appear to have inadvertently gathered yon manliness in a not so merry binding, m’lord?”

“I didn’t think they allowed ladies in the Knights’ changing areas, Miss Stephanie, Ma’am. I ain’t sure this is altogether appropriate, Ma’am.”

“Oh, I sayest, thou dost speak in such a humorous manner. Prithee, thy silly prattle doth vex me so. Wherefore naughtte wouldst I attend thee, making surety my champion be armed for mortal combats?”

“If you say so, Ma’am.”

~sigh~
“If it will put thee at ease, then just keep your eyes closed m’lord, and I won’t see a thing.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Um, a three-headed giant ogre with magic powers, hunh?”

“Aye, m’lord! T’is a great monster fitting for a Knight of King Arthur’s Round Table Knights methinks!”

“So where is this feller?”

“The stinking brute is laid up in his castle!”

“Where is that?”

“Upon his hill!”

“Where is that?”

“Under his castle!”

“Where is that?”

“Upon his hill!”

“Where is that?”

“Under his castle!”

“Where is-
gulk!”

“Oh, my, didst I accidentally draw your breastplate too tight? I shall hurry to loosen it, m’lord.”

~gasp!~
“Erkle, Maybe I should ask, what is the area known as?”

“With the enchantment, the place has lost its name, m’lord.”

“It ain’t got no name! Well, for Heaven’s Sake, Miss Stephanie, Ma’am, can you at least show it to me on a map?”

“I sayeth, of course, m’lord.”

“Good.”

“Prithee, what is a ‘map’, m’lord?”

“Oop! I forgot, we ain’t got no maps, neither, hunh? How about you tell me what direction to go.”

“Direction, m’lord? Thou art strange of speech, this fact be true.”

“You can’t even give me a direction? North, South, East, West? How about just point and say he came from over yonder.”

“Surely the road dost turn in its winding course? Are there naughtte hills to go about? Art not meanderings to the roads? Might naughtte a path wander about a meadow as the traveler rests his weary head? There are trees, and brooks, and villages and castles and barns and...”

“Okay, okay!”
~sigh~
“I’m sorry Miss Stephanie, Ma’am, but I’m stumped. How do you expect me to go fulfill this quest for you, if you don’t tell me how to get there?”

“You silly little man,
I
will show you the way!”

   .   .   .   “hunh?”   .   .   .

“Eh hem, I sayeth oh, Ichabod who art the man, art thou well? Thou seemest flushed of a sudden.”

“Hunh! You said my name!”

“Is this wrong, m’lord?”

“No! I mean, no Ma’am, Miss Stephanie, Ma’am! Wouldst thou sayeth, I mean say it again?”

“Verily, if it pleaseth m’lord methinks I can bring myself to utter the odd little name again, Ichabod, oh, Ichabod, who art the man.”

   .   .   .   “ooooooh.”   .   .   .

“Ichabod, art thou well? You appear to be close to fainting.”

“Hunh? Oh, uh, I’m okay, Miss Stephanie, Ma’am, I just got a little light-headed for a moment. Hey, before you said my name you said something else...”

“My showing you the way to the ogre’s castle?”

“Yes, Ma’am, that was it. Do you mean to say that you and I will be together?”

“Prithee, of course, Ichabod who art the man.”

“Alone? Just the two of us? Without no chaperon?”

“Silly Ichabod, of course just the two of us. That is how it is done!”

“Merry!”

“Oh, Ichabod, though thou art the man, thou canst naughtte be of serious mind.”

“Aw, come, on Miss Stephanie Ma’am, I think this little beauty is a real hum-dinger! Don’t you like her?”

“Eh hem, and what does this contraption purport to be, eh hem?”

“Why, ain’t it obvious? She’s a steamer!”

“I pray upon thee to elaborate.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Beemer the Steamer is her name. She is an automated mobility carriage. She don’t even need a rail to ride on.”

“I am to address this monstrosity as ‘Beemer’?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Boiler

Engineer

Engendered

Mobility

Empowering

Roadster

“One sees, eh hem.”

“Of course when I was building her, I did not foresee having to drive her while wearing a hundred pounds in chain and plate armour.”

“I sayeth, you are presented with a challenge if thou art intending to alight in what appears to be the operator’s station, eh hem?”

“Um, yes, Ma’am, Miss Stephanie, Ma’am. Say, you don’t think anyone would mind if I took on this little quest without actually wearing all this armour and such...”

“
Eek!
Speaketh naughtte these baleful words! Of course you must always wear your armour! How else is anyone to know thou art a Questing Knight if thou art naughtte bravely sallying forth in a suit of shining armour!”

“Well, I reckon if I gotta, I gotta.”