Many Adventures of Eaglethorpe Buxton

by Allison, Wesley

  My noble steed and I were both very tired, having been on the road all day, and more to the point, having been away from home for almost two weeks. We had of course spent many years traveling, but six months of easy living and rich food had left us perhaps not as hearty as we had once been—especially Hysteria. I of course, had recognized this and had jumped at the chance to take off on an adventure when we had been sent a mission, by special courier, from Her Majesty the Queen of Aerithraine, with whom I once spent a night of passion.

  I heard the faint rustling in the trees off to my right. Hysteria snorted unhappily.

  “Yes, I hear them,” I told her.

  I had heard movement among the trees for the last two miles. I was rather hoping it was monkey people, but I suspected it was goblins. Imagine my surprise then when a group of robbers popped out of the woods and surrounded me. Two of them took position in front of me and three in back, proving that they were a cowardly lot. All five men had a lean, hungry look about them as robbers are wont to have.

  “Give us your money, fop,” said one of the robbers in front of me.

  “What do you mean by calling me a fop?” I asked.

  “I mean dandy, popinjay, coxcomb, fool with more money than sense.”

  “Clearly you have me confused with someone else,” said I. “I am Eaglethorpe Buxton, Lord Dewberry, Knight of the Realm, and a most famous storyteller. All the country knows the name of Eaglethorpe Buxton and it knows that he is not one to hand over money to robbers. Rather he is one to kill robbers and rid the roads of menace.”

  “I know that name,” said the other robber in front of me. “Isn’t it Eaglethorpe Buxton who burnt down the entire city of Aerithraine?”

  “That is an exaggeration,” said I. “Sixteen or seventeen city blocks at the most.”

  “Isn’t it Eaglethorpe Buxton who burglarized the treasury of the King of Breeria?” asked one robber behind me.

  “I haven’t been to Breeria in years,” said I.

  “Isn’t it Eaglethorpe Buxton who robbed the guild houses in Theen?” asked the one in front.

  “It most certainly has not been proven in court,” said I.

  “You are an even bigger criminal that we are,” said the one who had spoken first. “But we must still rob you. It is a matter of professional pride. Once we stop someone, we have to rob them.”

  I sighed.

  “I was going to let you live,” said I. “Now I find that I must kill you all to protect the reputation of the House of Dewberry.”

  “But there are five of us,” he said.

  “That is good to know,” said I. “I was unsure if you had accomplices still hiding in the trees.”

  “Just the five of us,” he said. “We’ve been waiting here all day for someone to come along, but the road just isn’t very busy this time of year.”

  “You haven’t been following me for the past two miles?”

  “No.”

  “Monkey people,” I said hopefully, but at that moment two dozen goblins burst from the trees.

  These goblins had to be counted as outstanding members of their race, for it is seldom that such creatures would attack with odds weighted this much against them. There were twenty-four goblins, but there were six humans, and an armed man could usually be counted on to take on at least four of the little sods. Plus there was a sturdy war horse, because the goblins had no way of knowing that Hysteria was unnerved by the sound of combat.

  I gave no more thought to my previous conflict, which is to say my potential fight with the robbers, and turned my full attention instead to the goblins. Several rushed towards me, two of them jumping onto the shoulders of two others to give them a boost up to my level. They landed in my lap and began poking at me with their nasty little knives before I could reach my sword hilt. Fortunately I was mostly protected by my armor. Since I couldn’t draw my blade, I instead pulled my fork from my cloak pocket and poked it in the eye of one. He screamed and fell to the ground. The other goblin stopped to look at the eye impaled upon my fork. He grabbed his stomach and started laughing uproariously. I delivered a back-hand slap to his face that sent him flying in the opposite direction as his now one-eyed friend.

  Hysteria was no slouch either. She reared up and brought her two front hooves down on the heads of the two goblins that had helped up the other two, one of which was now trying to cut her legs and the other of which had stopped to pick his nose. I glanced behind me to see that two of the robbers had fallen and were now being cut to pieces. The other robber behind me was doing much better, as were the two in front, who seemed sturdier fellows. They had each dispatched several goblins. I whipped out my sword. Unfortunately, the shhtink sound that a sword makes as it comes out of a scabbard is one sound that sends Hysteria into a panic and she shot forward. I sliced through a couple of goblin heads as we passed and then we were on our way down the road.

  “As that was six goblins for me,” I called back over my shoulder. “I think we can all agree that I did my fair share!”

  Chapter Two: Wherein I meet a girl named Aubrey.

  I was at least five miles away from the battle by the time I convinced Hysteria to stop. When a mighty warhorse is intent on doing anything, it can often be hard to get them not to do it. I had learned that earlier in the year, when Hysteria had taken up gambling and chewing tobacco. But as I say, at last I was able to get her to settle down, which is to say stop running. She still gambles and chews tobacco.

  Minutes later, Hysteria topped one of the many rolling hills in Brest to see the lights of a small hamlet ahead. There appeared to be ten or twelve buildings gathered near the road, and half a dozen outlying farms. As we drew closer, I could smell the smoke from chimneys and the aroma of food cooking. In no time at all, I recognized the local inn. Not only did it have the most smoke coming from the chimney and not only did it have the best aroma of cooking food, it was the largest building in town.

  Stepping into the front door, I found a cozy lobby and beyond that, a warm taproom, lit by a large fireplace. I stopped at the lobby counter and waited until a gaunt little old woman stepped out through a side door.

  “Welcome, your lordship,” she said.

  “Good even’, mother,” said I. “I need a supper and a room, and send your boy to see to my horse.”

  “Right away, your lordship.”

  “Is there by any chance a nice breast of chicken dinner available?”

  “We have a very lovely beef stew, your lordship,” said she. “And for desert—pie.”

  “Perfect,” I said, tossing her a gold sovereign.

  I stepped past the old woman and into the taproom. Around the roaring fire were gathered five men and a woman. The all looked to be locals and probably farmers. A huge pot of stew was bubbling over the fire. I took a seat at a table by myself, with my face toward the warmth of the fireplace, and moments later I was joined by the serving wench. She was quite attractive, with short licorice hair and cherry lips, and her generous breasts threatened to fall right out of the top of her blouse, the top two buttons of which were undone. She also looked to be eight months pregnant.

  “Dinner, you lordship?” she asked, striking a fetching pose with her hand on her hip.

  “Yes, and a pint.”

  She was off to fetch my pint, and returned but moments later with a large pewter stein filled with sudsy beer. No sooner had she set it before me, than she was filling a large bowl with stew from the pot over the fire. When she set it down on the table I slipped her a sovereign. She smiled, tucked it into her cleavage, and then sat down across from me.

  “You don’t mind, do you?” she asked. “My feet are swollen.”

  “Not at all, my dear. That is if you don’t mind watching me eat. What are you called?”

  “My name is Aubrey.”

  “I am Lord Dewberry.” I pulled out my fork and was somewhat disconcerted to find a goblin eyeball still impaled upon it. “Oh bother.”

  “Here,” she said, pulling a s
poon from her apron pocket. “That is a goblin eyeball, is it not?”

  “Indeed,” I confirmed. “I had an unfortunate encounter on the road.”

  “The goblins are thick this year. That’s what brought my husband to town. He’s a road ranger and spends a goodly amount of his time killing the ugly little blighters.”

  I took a bite of stew and let the flavor fill my mouth. It was a good stew, with plenty of meat and potatoes and carrots. It was almost as good as the stew my dear old mother used to make, though she used okra as a thickener. This stew had no okra, but did have barley, something my mother never put in stew. She always said barley was an evil grain.

  “What are you thinking about?” asked the girl.

  “My poor old mother,” said I. “I’ve lost her.”

  “How sad. I’ve lost mine as well.”

  “Or course I’ve lost her before,” said I. “Eventually I always find her again.”

  “Oh, mine is dead.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” I stopped to take another bite of stew. “Still, you have your husband. How long have you been married?”

  “Five months.” She blushed.

  “Oh, got you in trouble, did he? Couldn’t wait till the wedding?”

  “He’s a passionate man. He can’t keep his hands off me. He always wants to… you know what.”

  “He must be from Aerithraine,” said I.

  “How did you know?”

  “We men of Aerithraine are always ready to pound the duck. In fact, I have more than once been called the greatest lover in all of Duaron, and by almost more than one woman.”

  “Well, there was a time when I would have tried a bit of how’s your father,” she said. “But no longer. There’s only one man for me now.”

  “That is as it should be—totally devoted to your fellow.”

  She smiled and, getting up, went to check on the other patrons. I finished my bowl of stew and signaled for her to bring me pie. She brought out a lovely crabapple pie, which was not unexpected, for Brest is rather known for crabapple pie. I removed the eyeball and wiped off my fork before diving in. It was quite a good pie—not too tart and not too tangy, with a golden flaky crust and topped with large sugar granules. By the time I finished I was quite full and was growing tired. I rose to my feet just as Aubrey came out of the back room. She was now wearing a shawl.

  “Your room is at the top of the stairs—first door on the right.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And before you go up, you can meet my husband.” She gestured behind me. “Here he is now.”

  I turned to find a strapping figure dressed in high hard boots, brown britches, a green shirt, and a simple leather jerkin. The fellow fairly jumped when he saw me, eyes opening wide in recognition. The well-formed mouth opened and closed several times until at last, a single word escaped those lips.

  “Eaglethorpe?”

  “Well well well,” said I. “Fancy meeting you here, Ellwood Cyrene.

  Chapter Three: Wherein I reveal my mission.

  I spent a restful night at the inn and was up early the next morning for breakfast. In the taproom, they served the traditional breakfast of Brest, which is to say scrambled eggs on top of porridge. As usual, the eggs were slightly underdone. People in Brest liked to stir eggs and porridge together, but I preferred to eat my eggs first and then what lies underneath. Aubrey was not the serving wench this morning, but she entered the establishment along with her husband just as I was finishing my breakfast.

  “I don’t understand why you have to go,” said Aubrey.

  “I am the road ranger in these parts,” replied her husband. “If there is some danger about, it is my duty to deal with it. I can’t leave Eaglethorpe… that is Lord Dewberry to deal with this on his own. It might be dangerous.”

  “If it is dangerous,” replied Aubrey, “then I definitely do not want you to go.”

  “Oh, it is dangerous,” said I, interrupting the couple. “I have been sent on a mission by the Queen of Aerithraine herself, with whom I once spent a night of passion.”

  Ellwood’s face turned decidedly pink.

  “Oh, everyone says that,” said Aubrey. “That woman must spend more time on her back than sitting on the throne.”

  Ellwood’s face turned bright red.

  I shrugged.

  “Are you not going to defend the Queen’s honor?” asked Ellwood.

  “What? Against your wife?” I wondered. “All the world knows the name of Eaglethorpe Buxton and all the world knows that he is not one to argue with a woman.”

  “That has not been my experience,” spat Ellwood.

  “In any case,” said I. “The Queen has sent me on a dangerous mission to East Knucklewick. This isn’t by any chance East Knucklewick, is it?”

  “No,” replied Aubrey. “This is Shoopshire. East Knucklewick is two towns over, on the other side of West Knucklewick.”

  “Well, East Knucklewick has been under the terrible curse of a werewolf, and since I am the world’s foremost authority on werewolves, having once killed one with this fork,” I whipped out my fork, “she has sent me to deal with it.”

  Ellwood rolled those large expressive eyes.

  “Well you certainly seem to have everything you need,” said Aubrey. “My husband shall have no need to go with you.”

  “I can’t let him face a werewolf alone,” Ellwood told her. “I happen to know he has never killed a werewolf with a fork.”

  “Well I happen to know that he has killed a goblin with one,” she countered, “or at least blinded one.”

  “A goblin is not a werewolf,” said Ellwood. “Now go home and rest. You are after all, carrying my son and so you must take care of yourself, so that he arrives healthy and strong. I promise to be home in four days time one way or the other. Either we will have killed the werewolf or the full moon will be gone and it won’t matter for a month.”

  Aubrey offered up her cheek, which Ellwood kissed.

  “See that you come home intact,” said the pregnant girl. “Now that I have had a real man in my life and in my bed, I don’t think that I could get along for long without one.”

  Ellwood nodded, looking decidedly uncomfortable, as his wife stepped back out the way she had come in.

  “You have a horse?” I asked.

  “I do.”

  “I shall send the boy out to fetch Hysteria and then we will be on our way.”

  Inside of an hour, we were on the road toward West Knucklewick. It was a journey of only eight miles, so I looked forward to reaching it well before tea. Then we could continue on our way to East Knucklewick arriving just after dark on the first night of the full moon. It seemed the perfect timing, considering our quarry was the dreaded and feared creature known as the werewolf.

  Chapter Four: In which I learn what is going on.

  “Do you want to tell me what is going on?” I asked Ellwood, when we had been on the road, riding in silence for most of the morning.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do not dissemble,” quoth I. “You know of which I speak.”

  “You refer perhaps to my soon becoming a father?”

  “Obviously,” I replied. “That and the fact that you now have a wife.”

  “I don’t see a problem.”

  “I can see a very big problem,” said I. “You shouldn’t be a husband and cannot be a father.”

  “Why can’t I be a father?”

  “You know why.”

  “Am I not a good role model?” asked Ellwood. “Am I not fearless and brave? Have I not fought in wars?”

  “That is all true.”

  “Am I not heroic and manly?”

  “I would not say manly but rather mannish.”

  “That is hurtful,” said Ellwood. “Am I not a good person, forthright and honest?”

  “Except for one continuous and overwhelming deceit, I confess that you are.”

  “I can teach a boy to fight and to hunt and to camp in
the wilderness. I can teach him to fish and to blaze a trail.”

  “What if it’s a girl?” I wondered.

  Ellwood paled a bit. “I confess, I had not thought of that.”

  “None of that matters,” said I. “You forget that I studied mathematics in Antriador.”

  “What do mathematics have to do with anything?”

  “When I learned geometry, I did learn that you cannot put a square peg into a round hole.”

  “Eaglethorpe, I don’t have a square peg.”

  “You have no peg at all!” I cried. “That is the crux of the matter!”

  And indeed that was the crux of the matter, for though through some unfathomable reason his wife didn’t see it, I knew that Ellwood Cyrene was no man at all, but a woman. And more than that, she was not just any woman, but was in truth Elleena, the Queen of Aerithraine. And yes, we did once spend a night of passion together.

  “Would you quit talking about that?” asked the male impersonator I shall henceforth refer to by her real name.

  “Quit talking about what?”

  “Our night of passion.”

  “I wasn’t talking about it.”

  “Yes you were. You were talking about it under your breath as you narrated yourself.”

  “Well, I am sure you will agree that it was wonderful,” said I. “It was the most wonderful night ever.”

  “It was okay. I only did it to save your life.”

  “False woman!” I shouted, pointing my finger accusingly. “You know that it was the greatest night of passion you’ve ever spent!”

  “It’s the only night of passion I’ve ever spent.”

  “Aha!” I cried. “You see, you cannot have fathered that child!”