The Title of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 8) Read online

  “Sire! I have failed in my quest!”

  “Well, don’t feel too badly, Sir Kegger. Grailing be naughtte easy.”

  “Aye.”

  “Do I, your king, spy what appears to be an unusual prize with which to console my regal depression?”

  “Aye, me lord. A horrible, mad, ogre was at loose on the lands! Quite close to this very castle! Verily, when I spied the awful creature I made to run it through with my spear but the coward didst scramble up a tree. Its peculiar appearance consternated me no end; therefore, I took the monster prisoner that I may present it to the court. Spyke, bring out the wretched little ogre.”

  “Howdy, um, I mean, good afternoon, your grace, um, Mr. King Arthur, sir.”

  “What a peculiar way of speech this thing has. What are those things he wears?”

  “Aye, me lord, I have no answer for thee. They are troubling strange. These peculiar togges are made of fine quality for a peasant, though in an unpleasing dun-colour.”

  “What of the roc egg it clings to?”

  “This is my hat, sir. Back where I come from, we call it a ‘derby’.”

  “Thy speech is a mystery to my ears. Where dost thou come from?”

  “Alabama, sir. I’m a tinker by trade.”

  “A tinker? What is this word?”

  “I make things! I have a really keen knack for building all kinds of gizmos! I think I could do a lot of good...”

  “Silence the beast! Heed the council of your wisest, most trusted servant, Merlin. I see disaster in this one!”

  “Really, Merlin? The lad seems a harmless mouse to my eyes.”

  “He art a Devil that tricketh thee, Sire!”

  “Nossir, Mr. Merlin, sir! I’m a good boy! I only want to help folks!”

  “Lies! Treachury! Blasphemies! I, Merlin, know what is best for the King! Throw this worm into the deepest dungeon until its execution at the earliest convenience!”

  “Art thou sure, my trusty magician? He seems like a harmless little nobody to me.”

  “It is his evil magic, Sire! Surely, this is a terrible wizard come to do calamitous sourceries! It cast a spell upon thee and the noble assembly! Remove its enchanted clothing and see the devil for what it truly is!”

  “Hey, you four big tough guards, let me loose! What are y’all doing? Stop it, if you want my boots so bad, I’ll give ‘em to ya. The same for my coat. Hey, no! You cannot have my pants! Hey, or my shirt! Or my socks! Or my under shirt! No, no, no! You can’t take my...”

  “Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!”

  “Quit laughing, y’all!”

  “Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho!”

  “Oh, this is humiliating!”

  “Har, har, har, har, har!”

  “I have never seen legs like that before, my king.”

  “Nor should I hope you ever would, my Queen Guenevere.”

  “Y’all be nice and gimme back my pants!”

  “Nyenh, henh, henh! You see? I Merlin, doth reveal this faquir for whaughtte he is. Thy pronouncement, King Arthur?”

  “He may join the other prisoners in the dungeons. Now then, back to business. Onest, twoest, thrice...”

  We ar-r-r-r-r-r-re

  Knights of the Round Table!

  Glory handed down in Fable!

  We drink and fight,

  all day and night,

  and carouse when we are able!

  Chapter 3

  A Warm Welcome

  “Oh, this ain’t no good. I was hoping that when I woke up, this would have all been a dream, but here I am, in this dank, wet, old dungeon, oh.”

  “I don’t think I like these olden times worth a hoot. I wish I was back in 1877 where we have all sorts of modern amenities. When did Spyke say we was? 528? That date sounds familiar to me somehow. Oh yeah, Miss Plumtartt was wanting to go see the solar eclipse that is predicted for next year in North America. I think when I was looking into solar eclipses I remember this date being mentioned.”

  “I wish I had Miss Plumtartt here to give me some advice. She told me the story about how Christopher Columbus got into a fix with a bunch of islanders in the West Indies. Seems like a trade pact was set up so that the islanders would provide food and water for Captain Columbus and his crew. That old rascal, Chris, he didn’t keep up his end of the bargain and the natives cut him off from his promised provisions. Well, what do you know, ‘C’ squared had him an almanac aboard ship. That primitive almanac predicted a full lunar eclipse for that very night! Columbus told the Indians that they had angered his God, and to show that he was upset, he would cause the moon to be ‘immersed in his wrath’. Sure ‘nough, the almanac was right! Those poor old natives went to whooping and lamentating like there was no tomorrow. Well, I reckon that is exactly what they were afraid of. That old Chris Columbus, he was a showman, boy. He played his hand to the hilt! When the natives came begging for mercy, he told them he would go to his cabin and pray to his God to relent and release the Moon. That inter-continental con-man went to his cabin and turned an hourglass. He knew to wait a full forty-eight minutes before telling the Indians that he had convinced his God to relent. The Moon then began to reappear.”

  “I wonder if I could do like Christopher Columbus did and pull a fast one on these folks? The eclipse is supposed to sweep across England at exactly noon, June twenty-first, and last for about fifteen minutes. I’ll need to do like Christopher did and put a lot of moxxy on it.”

  “Hey, I hear voices coming. This might be my one spot of hope.”

  “Good morning, Ichabod. I just came by to see if you might care to partake of some weak, iffy, gruel.”

  “Eh hem, I think not, uh, I mean, I think naughtte, young man. You see, I did not let on before, but I am a great and powerful wizzerd. More powerful even than that old phoney, Mr. Merlin!”

  “Eek! Prithee, don’t speak those awful words! He will hear you and strike us down!”

  “Fear not, I mean, naughtte, Spyke, for I am the more powerful magician! I am most displeased at being made to run around in this dungeon nekkid. To show I ain’t happy, and to show off my terrible might, I am even now, performing scary incantations that will blot out the Sun! Mark my words! Tomorrow, at High Noon, I shall make the Sun go completely black!”

  “Eek! That is horrible!”

  “Yes, Spyke, it is. Now run along and tell King Arthur at once! Convince him, Spyke, for I ain’t kidding!”

  “Yes, oh great and powerful Ichabod!”

  “Shoot, I didn’t know that little feller could move so fast! Well, that worked out just fine! I betcha I get myself set up in an important position after this little stunt gets around.”

  “What if they don’t go for it? What if they just ignore that little Spyke feller and they just leave me here to rot? It might be cloudy tomorrow and nobody even notice the dang old eclipse no how.”

  “Hey, I think I hear the pitter patter of Spyke’s little velvet shoes coming back.”

  “Hey, Spyke, is that you?”

  “Merry day, Ichabod! I have good news!”

  “Is the King going to let me go?”

  “No, of course not, sillikens, but you can stop with the incantations. There is no need to put out the Sun!”

  “Hunh?”

  “I told King Arthur what you were up to and he was lo upset!”

  “As well he should be, I can well imagine.”

  “Yes, but I had a marvelous plan!”

  “What was that?”

  “Well, to be honest, I have grown to like you, Icky, and I have no wish to see thee suffer, therefore, I told them that they should go ahead and kill you today, so as to spare the Sun! Ho, ho! They never suspected that I was really just trying to help end your own pitiful plight! You can stop all your incantations now at showing your displeasure and whatnaughtte. Thy suffering is soon to be at an end, good friend.”

  “But, but, but...”

  “Oh, I can see that you are overcome with emotion at my little display of thoughtful devotion and are
now unable to speak due to the sweet emotions filling your heart. Even now, I must pry thine grubby little fingers from yon prison cell manacles and draggeth thee, lo, down these long corridors and up these narrow stone steps to exit into this large, open, bright and cheery courtyard full of nobles that enjoy seeing heretics burned at the stake.”

  “Burned at the stake!”

  “Yeah, just a little extra thrown in to cleanse you of any errant sins that might be trapped in your mortal shell.”

  “Was that your idea too?”

  “Oh, no, I don’t really go in for the agony and torture routine like so many of this lot do. I tried to have you sent to the Executioner, but my pleas fell on deaf ears, more’s the pity.”

  “Thanks for trying, buddy.”

  “Merry, t’was nothing.”

  “Dang, there’s a lot of folks, here, ain’t there?”

  “T’is only natural. Stake-burning is a popular thing, don’t you know. Merry, good, clean, wholesome fun that the entire family can enjoy.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Merry, t’is all the rage, forsooth.”

  “I reckon I’m going to get tied to that big old piling sunk in the ground.”

  “Merry but you are a bright boy! Here we are, just put your back to the post, Icksi. Are the bonds affixing you solidly in place too tight?”

  “No, they’re not too loose, and not too tight. I reckon you got ‘em just about right Spyke. Thanks.”

  “You’re very welcome, Icky. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “No, I reckon you got me fixed about as well as a body could be fixed. Oh well, so long Spyke.”

  “Fare thee well, Ichabod. I don’t suppose that will be for very long, though.”

  “Here come a bunch of folks toting faggots. I mean, bundles of wood! Bundles of wood! Here come folks carrying bundles of wood! Oh, wait, we’re in England. It’s okay.”

  “Nyeh, henh, henh, King Arthur, please allow, me, your most trusted advisor, the Great Merlin, to ignite the flames that will extinguish this nasty little sorcerer from our midst.”

  “Oh, Merlin, you know I can’t say no to thee. Prithee, knocketh thy self undone.”

  “Nyeh, henh, henh! Thank you, your Majesty!”

  “That sure is a mean cackle you got, Mr. Merlin, sir. You sure do fling yourself about with reckless abandon as you gesticulate madly in the casting of your spell. I must say you exhibit a lot more enthusiasm for this modern interpretive dancing than I would have figured you for. I can see how your audience would have difficulty in spotting your surreptitious tossing of volatile smelling powder on the pyre.”

  “Harken, Arthur my King, and thou shalt hear our Merlin chant his mystic spell.”

  “Ha! Thank you, Guenevere my Queen, of course. Everyone shusheth, so that we may listen to Merlin’s words.”

  Phauzzee, whauzzee,

  Whauzzah bhierre.

  Phauzzee, whauzzee,

  Hhaudde knjo Hhairre.

  Phauzzee, Whauzzee,

  Wuzzint-veh Rifhuzzee,

  Whauzzee!

  “Hey, I saw that! You’re cheating, Mr. Merlin! You had a little sparker device stashed up your sleeve that you are surreptitiously using to spark this eclectic funeral pyre.”

  ~spark~ ~Ploophee!~

  “Ooh! Ahhh.”

  “Eek! After all that colourful smoke has cleared away, I can now see actual flames flickering around me!”

  “Sire, we forgot to read the proclamation over this ghastly ogre.”

  “Dear me, you are correct. I suppose even a monarch such as myself gets in a hurry when a good ‘burn at the stake’ is going on. I find myself getting caughtte up in the thrill of the event and sometimes wish to rush through protocol. Pray forgive me. Read this miscreant’s death sentence.”

  “Hear ye, hear ye, all in attendance at this convening of King Arthur’s Court, this day of 528, June, the twenty-first, having been judged...”

  “Hey, wait a second! Did you say that today was the twenty-first of June, 528?”

  “Do not interrupt this proceedings with your dribbling comments, you little babblenaughtte! Be silent while you burn at the stake. Show a bit of decorum, boy.”

  “But I thought it was the twentieth! What time is it?”

  “Mid-day.”

  “That’s the same as noon! Noon is the same as twelve o’clock! Oh my Goodness, I mean, hey, y’all better cut me loose or I’m going to blot out the Sun!”

  “Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!”

  “It ain’t nice to laugh at me in a mocking and derisive manner while I’m burning to death, y’all!”

  “Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho!”

  “I ain’t kidding around! Y’all better cut me a loose or I’m going to smother up the Sun. Your crops and your land will wither and die under my merciless curse forever and ever unless you cut me loose this very instant!”

  “Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!”

  “Prithee, dost thou sense the Sun beneath thine feet? Oh how I jest! It is the flames of your redemption.”

  “Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho!”

  “Merry, is it I, or is there a definite abundance of golden sunshine?”

  “Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!”

  “Would that this impostor wizard did have the power to alleviate the Sun’s unending assault, for the cruel beams vex me so.”

  “Ho, ho, ho,...”

  “Eek!”

  “What calls a cry of alarm from your noble throat, Sir Lee-Naeulium?”

  “Do mine eyes deceive me, or does a sliver of the Sun naughtte appear to be obscured by encroaching darkness?”

  Hokus Pocus,

  Abber-cadabber,

  To blot the Sun,

  With paint I’ll dab her.

  “Eek! The weetch has cast its foul curse!”

  “That’s right! I am in the process of plunging all of England into eternal night! You all better get on the hoof and turn me loose right now or your fair land has had it!”

  “Release him, King Arthur!”

  “Hey, y’all be careful and do not look directly at the Sun, as you are likely to damage your eyes. Try poking a hole in a bit of paper, or uh, parchment, and then hold another piece beneath that you may safely monitor the progress of your own ruination.”

  “It is true! The Sun is slowly but surely being blotted out of the sky, right before our collective astonished eyes! Save us, King Arthur! Release the great magician!”

  “Yes, save us, King Arthur! Free this powerful wizard lest he smite us with ruinous magics!”

  “Of course, this action must be done at once! I, Arthur Pendragon, do hereby release...”

  “No, do not spare the beast! The burning will stop the enchantment!”

  “That ain’t true Mr. Merlin! Burning me will seal your fate forever and ever and ever and ever...!”

  “My magic is stronger than yours! I can stop this disaster with my own counter-spell!”

  “Dang it, Mr. King Arthur, sir, you better not fall for this old rascal’s shenanigans! All his whooping, hollering, and carrying on ain’t gonna save your Kingdom! I command that the Sun go completely black!”

  “Eek! Surely this wizard is far more powerful than our Merlin! Release him, oh King!”

  “No!”

  “Ouchee!”

  “I, King Arthur command! Release the weetch! Pull back the gathered wood! Oh, ogre-wizard, spare us, the land is now as dark as midnight!”

  “That was a close thing, but I reckon I’m going to be all right, now that the fire ain’t scorching my nose hairs and I’m cut free.”

  “Please, oh master wizard, return us our Sun! Ask anything you want and it will be yours.”

  “Gimme some dang pants, please!”

  “Let the magician be robed as is fitting the highest magician in the land.”

  “But Sire...!”

  “Silence, Merlin!”

  “Oh, King Arthur, the stars are visible in the middle of the day! Save us!”r />
  “What dost thou want, oh great wizard?”

  “Um, my own wizzerd workshop!”

  “Done, man!”

  “And you said I have more clout around here than this boy, Mr. Merlin?”

  “Yes!”

  “Um, well, I reckon y’all have suffered with enough gnashing of teeth and pitiful lamentations and so forth. Now you all got to keep in mind that this is a big old process, right? It takes a minute to get her going and it takes a minute to...”

  “Cease thy mindless jibber-jabber and return the Sun, you imbecile!”

  “Eep! Yessir! Sorry your Kingship! Um, I, the Great and Powerful Ichabod, do command for this shadow to be released from the land!”

  “Nothing is happening.”

  “Give it a second, I’ll give you your Sun back.”

  “Eep! There is a sliver of sunshine peaking out!”

  “Huzzah! Hooray! Hullaballoo!”

  “Yes, I, Ichabod Temperance, Executive Magician in the Court of King Arthur, do hereby return you the Sun!”

  “Come before the royal dais, Ichabod.”

  “Yessir!”

  “I shall Knight thee as a member of my regime! I would have thee as a Knight of the Round Table!”

  “Aw, shucks, that’s awfully nice of you Mr. King Arthur, sir, but I ain’t one to put on airs. You see, I come from a place where we do not have a nobility class. Under the law, all men are created equal.”

  “All men created equal? Why that’s absurd! You are in the midst of England’s finest nobility! Do you mean to say that you believe that a mere peasant is the same as a Lord of Manour?”

  “Yessir! We elect our leaders from out of the ranks of the citizenry.”

  “Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!”

  “Then how would you have us address thee?”

  “Oh, I reckon just ‘Ichabod’ will work fine.”

  “Let us all proclaim your name. Hail, oh mighty wizard, hail, Ichabod.”

  “Hail, Ichabod!”

  Chapter 4

  Full Steam Ahead

  “Thank you, Merlin, your warning of approaching dragon swarms came just in time, methinks. It is providential that you could foresee their coming and cast a spell to send them away again before anyone even saw them!”

  “Yes, Sire, but the effort was exhaustive, and expensive.”