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

by Ichabod Temperance

  { { { “Yes!” } } }

  “Ha, ha! There you have it, my lovely child that art so pleasing in every way, let this be a command performance! I, your King, and your fellow countrymen beg of thee, oh, stunning Stephanie, favour us with your tale!”

  “Hooray!”

  “Forsooth my King, I relish the opportunity to sing the praises of my champion! Lo’ ours was a journey fraughtte with danger from start to finish! Many the lesser Knight wouldst be sent running! Yes! Baughtte did our brave Ichabod shirk his duty?”

  “No!”

  “I should sayeth naughtte! Nay, for even as evil enchantments soughtte out our poor Sir Ichabod from the moment we left Camelot, ne’er did our noble lad turn from his Holy Quest!”

  ~nuk, nuk, nuk~

  “Your snicking of tongues against the roofs of your many mouths is well snicked, for our enemies beseeched our noble Knight with unceasing torment!”

  “No!”

  “Yes! Eaten alive by swarms of demon insects!”

  “Hhuh!”

  “Involuntary over-familiarity with rude vermin!”

  “Hhuh!”

  “Corrosive acid in his eyes!”

  “Hhuh!”

  “Near drowning!”

  “Hhuh!”

  “Famine!”

  “Hhuh!”

  “Thirst!”

  “Hhuh!”

  “Inclement weather!”

  “Hhuh!”

  “He defeated the Great Sorceress Morgana Le Meerrin in magic battle!”

  “Hhuh!”

  “He defied her most devilish charms and sent her scurrying away in fear!”

  “Hhuh!”

  “He defeated a tremendous wizard from mystic and exotic realms, the Great Mischa himself!”

  “Hhuh!”

  “Dost thou naughtte believest me? Behold! Look upon the strange menagerie of Sir Ichabod and tremble at the horrible beasts that lay within!”

  “Hhuh!”

  “Baughtte Stephanie, what of the ogre?”

  “Yes! The ogre! The ogre!”

  “Hear ye now the tale of brave Sir Ichabod! Strong of heart and noble in spirit, the brave Sir Ichabod didst assault the castle of the dread ogre! Lo, the foul beast be sore afraid! Yea, he layest up in yon castle and hopeth the gallant Knight wouldst leave him be, but did he leave him be?”

  “No!”

  “Verily, thou mayst betteth thy sweet bippeth he doth naughtte! Yea, he smaiteeth and smyteth yon castle until it crumbled before his angry sword. Yea, the ogre tried to pull foul tricksies and enchantments on the brave, good Knight, but the good Sir Ichabod didst Smite the giant to the ground and with one mighty blow, didst the brave Knight remove the heads a thrice.”

  “Hhuh! Yay!”

  “The damsels are none other than my own sisters, aunts, and cousins that languish still under cruel enchantments, but will soon be right as rain. I rub their soft round snouts and pedi their hooves in preparation that their re-transformation is soon at hand.”

  “Awww.”

  “A wonderful tale my lovely child! Let us all sing out in praise of Ichabod!

  “Hooray!”

  Oh Ichabod!

  A mighty warrior is what he be!

  Oh, Ichabod!

  Defeating ogres with heads of three!

  A foolish Wizard, took the wrong tone.

  So too a Sorceress, casting spells of stone.

  He laid them low and now they moan.

  He’s our hero down to the bone,

  Oh, Ichabod!

  Oh, Ichabod!

  Oh, Mighty Ichabod!

  “All of Camelot rejoices at the great adventures of Sir Ichabod! I, Arthur, your beloved King, wouldst hear the tale of brave Sir Ichabod! Doth mine subjects agree?”

  “Yes!”

  “Aw, come on, y’all, we’ve already heard Miss Stephanie tell the story six times already. That’s just today, and we’ve been back for a week! We must have been through this ballad a hunnerd times! How long do y’all usually keep up this kind of celebration, Sire?”

  “A long time, Ichabod, but if thou art weary, we can take a brief time of rest. Hear ye, hear ye! Your King commands that there be a halt to the celebration! Everybody taketh five minutes and we’ll reconveneth at such time to pick back up where we left off. Please remember your places and the sense of merriment that we are attempting to create.”

  “Thank you, Sir, you’re a real pal, my Liege.”

  “Of course, Ichabod. You are one of my favourite subjects, don’t you know.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna walk around back behind the podium and stretch my legs, your Highness.”

  “You are excused, Ichabod.”

  “Hmm, maybe I’ll just slip off over here and nobody will notice me...”

  “I sayeth, thank the Heavens that you called for that pause in the celebrations, m’lord. I think another chorus of singing your praises would have done me in! Keep Artie distracted as long as you can, I am going to go lie down and rest for a moment, prithee, call me should they get going without me, eh hem?”

  “Yes, Ma’am, Miss Stephanie, Ma’am, you go on and lie down and get some rest. I’ll stretch things out as long as I can and give you a whistle as a heads up.”

  “Thank you, Sir Ichabod.” ~curtsy~

  ~gulp~

  “Let’s see, I’m gonna try wandering over this way to see if I can find a spot where I can just set alone for a min...”

  “Ooooooh, there you are, Ichabod, we have been looking all over for you, isn’t that right, my fellow maidens?”

  “Oooooooh, finally, he doesn’t have that stupid quest-wench with him.”

  “Ooooooh, truly we desire to soothe the brave Knight after his arduous battles.”

  “Ooooooh, and we art most keen to give thee a thorough examination of any scarring thou may have, anywhere it may happen to be.”

  “That’s mighty considerate of you friendly, healthy, robust maidens, but uh, I have, um, duties I gotta see to, yeah, that’s it. How about you gals throwing some of that soothing and comforting over Spyke’s way?”

  “Thanks, Icky! Thou art the man!”

  “Sir Ichabod, I would speak with you, sir.”

  “Oh my Goodness, Sir Launcelot! I can’t believe you even know who I am! I am such a big fan of yours! I’ve seen all your bouts! I watch all your jousts! I have a certified-authentic, official woodcut poster on my wall! I think you are just terrific, Sir!”

  “Thank you, Sir Ichabod, for I am an admirer of your dauntless deeds, as well, Sir.”

  “Golly, gee, wow, that’s really swell, Sir Launcelot. Um, is there something I can do for you?”

  “Oui, Ichabod, I beg thee allow me to confide in thee. You are naughtte like any other of this court. I sense no malice, nor self-serving machinations in thy character. Thou art as pure in heart as myself, maybe more so.”

  “Gosh!”

  “Ichabod, give me your word, as a Knight of the Round Table! Give me your word that you will not break my confidence!”

  “Oh my Goodness! I would never break my word with you, Sir Launcelot! You are the shining example all Knights aspire to! I promise, I won’t say nothing to nobody you don’t want me to! What happens in Camelot, stays in Camelot.”

  “I had hoped you would feel that way. Dear friend, I have allowed myself to fall into the deepest of treacheries! T’was only through my own efforts of purity that I fell victim to passion’s call! Truly I love my King! Arthur is more than my King, he is my best friend! I love Guenevere as an honour to him, but now the love of the Queen has grown too much! Her love consumes me. I can’t get her out of my mind! At first, it was as one may love a sister, but soon I could only see her face, so fair. My dreams are always filled with her gentle features smiling at me. Long, soft, silky hair falling about her bare shoulders. Golden skin glows from her naked body...”

  “Uh, Sir Launcelot?”

  “...glistening in the moonlight. Her soft flesh calls to me.
I cannot resist! The more I struggle, the more I swell with desire! Harder and harder, I fight against temptation but I must have her! Lust is my compass! The castle of her being must be penetrated! My body is a battering ram! Again and again and again and again I hurl myself against the gates of the Queen’s keep. The dreams of her flesh now infest my waking mind! I cannot escape! I must have her! I cannaughtte have her! I am cursed! What am I to do! Sir Ichabod, I am tortured, mon ami, tortured!”

  “Gee, whiz, Sir Launcelot, I don’t know!”

  “Well, sleep on it and get back to me.”

  “Yessir.”

  “Gee, that was kind of awkward, uh oh, here comes Guenevere! I’m gonna see if I can’t just slip away unnoticed.”

  “Ho, hum, dum-dee, dum.”

  ~whistle, whistle, whistle-dee, whistle~

  “Oh, oh, I’m so sorry, excuse me, Sir Ichabod?”

  “Hm? Oh, right, Queen Guenevere, I didn’t see you. Nice day, hunh? See you later.”

  “Oh, no, wait, Sir Ichabod, I wish to speak with thee.”

  “Oh, um, I’m sorry my Queen, you see, uh, I got to see a man about a, NO! Uh, I mean I should be, uh...”

  “Oh, please, Sir Ichabod.”

  “Well, you see, I need to be, uh...”

  “Oh...”

  “Oh, gosh, uh, prithee, how may I serve thee my Queen, Ma’am?”

  “Oh Ichabod, you are naughtte like the other members of court. Oh, how they gossip! Like great grist mills they churn out their slander! Courtesans’ tongues wag to fan each other in the summer heat methinks! It makes me so angry! I have never laid a finger on his luscious body! Naughtte once have I dived into that big pool of studly glory that is the buff-boy of my dreams, Sir Launcelot! Who could blame a girl for wanting a piece of that stallion! I am a Queen but I am a woman too! I have needs! I have desires! Don’t get me wrong! I love my King and I love my country! Arthur is a good man and a good husband. The sex is great! It’s naughtte that, it’s that even in the act of physical love, some part of him is off being a King. When the moment comes for the King to espouse, it is England in his heart and mind. With Launcelot it’s different. Launcelot wants me as no man has ever desired a woman! Launcelot undresses me with his eyes. I am naked under his penetrative vision. I feel his burning gaze and it in turn sets my own passion ablaze. Oh, how I long for him! The curl of hair about his fair face. Oh, how I could lick whipped cream from his tanned, shaven, muscular chest. I telleth thee true, Sir Ichabod, I could ride that horse all night long! Kuh-boingy-boingy-boingy...”

  “Queen Guenevere!”

  “Hunh? Merry, perhaps I am getting carried away. Now, you must promise me, naughtte a word to the King! Do you promise?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Nor to Launcelot!”

  “No, Ma’am.”

  “Good. Methinks I shall go have a massage.”

  “Good idea, Ma’am.”

  “Gee, that was strange. I better get out of here before I run into...King Arthur! Hi sir, um, what are you doing back here?”

  “I was looking for the Queen, you haven't seen her come through here have you?”

  “Oh, gosh, there have been so many fine folks coming through here...”

  “Yes, of course. Er, you did naughtte happen to notice Sir Launcelot by any chance did you?”

  “Oh, well, maybe, hard to say, you know.”

  “Do you know the chap I mean? Tall fellow, handsome, muscular, charming, graceful, brave honourable and true?”

  “Um, oh yeah, that guy. Yessir, I may have seen him come through.”

  ~sigh~

  “Are you all right, Sire?”

  “This is a burden that I alone must bear. No, actually, I think I may feel better if I have someone to confide in. That’s the trouble with being King, don’t you see? It is so hard to find a person that one is comfortable in confiding in. Then again, you are not like the other members of Court, Ichabod. You have an irrepressible innocence that invites confidence. I think that I can share with you Ichabod, but no, I think I prefer naughtte to.”

  “Well, if you ever need somebody to talk to, my windowless garret is always open.”

  “My thanks, Ichabod.”

  “Um, you know, I’m getting a little cramped, cooped up here in the castle. I thought I’d go on a little jaunt tomorrow.”

  “Splendid idea boy! Nothing like getting out in the World! I shall see to it at once! You shall have a hundred heralds to proclaim thy path! Banner bearers! Flower girls! Dancing maidens and lots of hack minstrels!”

  “Well, actually, I was wanting to go out by myself.”

  “By thyself? Dost thou mean thou shalt travel without retainers?”

  “Yessir. No armour, neither, just plain clothes.”

  “Plain clothes? Baughtte how will anyone recognize who you are?”

  “That’s the idea, sir, they won’t. I want to get away from being a big shot for a minute and just be a regular feller again.”

  “You would go into the countryside as a common man, not under the protections of nobility? I have never considered doing such a thing. Why would you do this?

  “Well sir, life at Court here in the castle ain’t like what it is for the rest of England, is it?”

  “I should think naughtte!”

  “Well, I think I want to stretch my legs and see what the real England is about. I have heard of famous people, and celebrities that will sometimes travel under a false name so that no one will know who they are.”

  “An astounding concept my boy!”

  “Yessir. I think when nobility or famous folks do it, it is called going ‘incognito’.”

  “Fascinating! It’s settled, then!”

  “Hunh, what’s settled?”

  “King Arthur and Sir Ichabod shall visit England, ‘incognito’.”

  Chapter 14

  Incognito

  “Okey dokey, Sire, nobody noticed you and me sneaking off and we done skooted several miles from the castle. Let’s go ahead and stop so that we can complete our disguises.”

  “’Complete our disguises? Have I naughtte shed my kingly raiment in this escapade? I doff my fine armour, crown, herald, majestic helm and assorted entourage and I think a fine disguise this doth make, my wearing the clothes of a commoner.”

  “Well, it ain’t the clothes so much as the man inside. I reckon it’s something along the lines of, ‘you can take the man out of the king, but you can’t take the king out of the man, er or something like that, anyways.”

  “I taketh thy meaning.”

  “You’re just so dang handsome, sir.”

  “True, oh, so true.”

  “I’m thinking we should knock a little shine off this apple. I’ve got a set of shears here and I think you need an inexpert trim of that royal beard and mussing of thy royal hair.”

  “No, Ichabod, no! Naughtte my noble lockes! How I treasure my lovely hair!”

  “Sire...”

  “Oh, very well, I suppose the subterfuge must be complete.”

  “Thank you, Sire.”

  “Ha, actually, all this sneaking out of the castle in the middle of the night by secret passage and door that only I know about and this ‘incognito’ business have a taste of adventure to it all, don’t you think, Sir Ichabod?”

  “Um, to tell the truth, Sire, I am actually starting to have second thoughts on the whole enterprise. Maybe we should go back...”

  “Nonsense, Sir Ichabod! I am more enthused than ever! Besides...”

  “Don’t say it!”

  “...what could go wrong?”

  “Ooooh, the icy clutch of a nameless dread just snatched up my heart in a cold ol’ grip of fear at those importunate words.”

  “Ha, ha, looketh upon me my good man, for I art Arthur, but a simple man! Yes, I am a humble tradesman of some sort or another, ha, ha!”

  “Uh, let’s just try to shy away from specifics if anybody asks. It might be better if we just say we are farmers and leave it at tha
t.”

  “Ha, ha! So shall it be! I, Arthur, farmer. Yes, it does have a ring of nobility about it, does it naughtte?”

  “Uh, yessir, but that is what we are trying to avoid.”

  “Of course! Ha, ha! There actually is something to all this peasant business, after all, eh?”

  “Yessir, Sire. Um, you know, it ain’t just the clothes and the bad beard cut, it’s the aura you project.”

  “I am King!”

  “Sigh-yer...”

  “Oh, right! The whole ‘incognito’ business!”

  “Yessir. You are the physical embodiment of a robust leader. Your average peasant on the other hand is of a what you might call a ‘wretched’ bearing.”

  “No great booming voice full of life, vigor and the gusto of a tenor that inspires men to gallop headlong into certain, gruesome death and never hesitate to do so?”

  “Nossir, your speech and manner should reflect hundreds of years of suffering. You must feel the desperate toil of twenty generations of miserable, illiterate serfs, struggling away every day without a thing to live for besides the little grain hidden away from the assessor that barely is enough to subsist on. The weight of these many tribulations are piled up on your sad shoulders.”

  “That’s terrible!”

  “Yessir.”

  “Hiding income from the assessor! Who else is not paying their share?!”

  “But Sire, after the various state and church officials have all taken their cut, there ain’t nothing left for the poor farmer to live on! Who will pay his taxes if he done dropped out?”

  “Good point. I see where your aeconomic reasoning says it is better to have the cheater alive to pay a portion of his illegal taxes, instead of a dead farmer that is starved to death for having sent all his grain to the assessor.”

  “Yessir!”

  “Baughtte it be cheating! It’s the principle of the thing! Is it not better to have an honest, but dead, farmer, than a living cheater?”

  “Gee, there’s a lot of philosophy involved with being king, ain’t there?”

  “Aye.”

  “Well, maybe we could just get you to fake it as best you can. You just ain’t got the posture right at all. You stand so straight and proud. Your jaw is a defiant bulwark of indomitable pride. Your shoulders can bear any strife and thy chest is a bosom of strength.”