The Tale of Sir Giles Goodfellow

The Tale of
Sir Giles Goodfellow

by K. Glen Smith


There once was a knight brave and true,
Who deemed fame and glory his due.
Whose mentor and dad,
An imbecile cad,
Bequeathed him the mind of a fool.

         The Kingdom of Cascadia was a rich and fertile land stretching from the Great Sapphire Sea to the Titan Mountains, where the Silverswift River feeds the Cascade Falls, from which the kingdom was named. Although the landscape abounds with apple orchards and fields of golden wheat, Cascadia is best known for hazelnuts, her chief export.
         With the majestic Cascade Falls as a backdrop, the gleaming white spires of Castle Halcyon touch the sky like needle-thin mountains.  From here reigned King Philbert the Stouthearted,  who ruled with a benevolent hand, usually.  The good King, who unlike his predecessor, was concerned with the well being of the general population and was admired by most.  However, the one thing he would not tolerate was blatant disrespect, a lesson quite a few learned, first hand, on public display locked in the royal stocks.
         It was during the twentieth year of King Philbert's reign that rumors of a wizard named Wizbang began to circulate.  At first there was nothing more heard than this black-robed figure's attempts at showing off.  Some said he was seen levitating his glass of wine to his lips in some village in the east, others claimed, in some remote western village, he goosed a barmaid from across the room just as a the mayor of the village walked behind her, resulting in a slap across the face from both the barmaid and the mayor's wife. Curiously, no single rumor could pinpoint an exact location of the wizard's antics.  These harmless capers ended the day Wizbang, as the story goes,  rode out of a tavern on a wine barrel¹.  When a patron of  the tavern quipped that he needed to try something original, Wizbang lost his temper and called forth lightning, burning the poor man to cinders.  This happened in the village of Forest Glade, some said.  Others placed it at Ale Springs, one hundred miles to the west. No, it happened up north in Amber Grove, and it wasn't just the man struck by lightning, but the whole tavern was destroyed.  Some even claimed the incident happened in Rocky Haven, with Wizbang not only blasting the tavern with fire, but leaving the whole village a blackened, smoldering crater as well. 
         Meanwhile, in the village of Rocky Haven (where the locals hadn't heard the rumor about their village being incinerated), the people went happily about their business.  The town was built along the road to Halcyon, Cascadia's capital, and provided services to people from all walks of life throughout the year. In the center of town stood the Golden Meade Inn, a sanctuary for weary travelers. 
         The common room of the inn was filled to capacity with miners, traders, and a few travelers seeking a hot evening meal and a little entertainment.  Over the menagerie of voices, a trio of minstrels on pipes, harp, and drum, played a saucy, upbeat tune that tugged at the feet of several patrons who found themselves dancing to the music in spite of their food getting cold.
         A broad shouldered man with dark, shoulder-length hair and a bushy mustache sat at one of the tables, patiently waiting for his food while unconsciously tapping his foot to the music.  When the shapely brunette he'd had his eyes on brought his plate of roast mutton and a mug of spiced ale, he paid little attention to his meal.
         “I've not seen you around here before,” she said, blushing slightly.
         “I am Sir Giles Goodfellow, Knight-Errant,” he said in his deep, resonant voice.
         “Have you been journeying long, Sir Knight?”
         “Oh, I've journeyed all the way from Harper's Grove, my dear.  I must see the King!” he said, thrusting out his chest.
         “It must be something very important for you to come all this way,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes.
         “Absolutely, my dear.  I'm accepting His Majesty's quest to capture the evil wizard, Wizbang!” he said, a little louder than necessary. 
         Suddenly, the music stopped, and several patrons of the inn stared at Sir Giles.  A rather rotund man with silver hair and beard approached.  “Young man,” he said, “we are but humble, God fearing people here.  I'd appreciate it if you would not mention this Wizbang in my inn.”
         Sir Giles, with a quick stroke of his forefinger to the girl's chin and a wink, said to her,  “Watch this.”  Then to the innkeeper, “I was merely telling this young woman of my quest.  If you had the heart, you'd be asking me to come along!”  Sir Giles grinned.
         “Really?  How about I tell you to get out of my inn, instead?”
         “What?  I've paid good money for room and board for myself and my squire!  I'm not going anywhere.”  He winked at the girl again and said, “And, I doubt very much one as fat and lazy as yourself can make me!”
         The innkeeper, with a face as red as an autumn leaf, turned to the girl.  “Ellen, take that food back to the kitchen.”
         “Yes, father.”
         “And as for you,” he said to Sir Giles, grabbing him by his tunic and lifted him off the floor. 
         “Just a minute!” Sir Giles cried.  The next thing he knew, he was flying backwards out through the front door and into the evening air, landing on his back and sliding about six feet in slick mud.  As the minstrels' lively tune resumed, a sweet serenade drifting out into the night air, Sir Giles gazed up at a silhouetted figure standing over him.  His squire, Jeffrey, looked down and him and shook his head.
         “Camping out again, are we?”


         It was a bright and sunny morning on the road to Halcyon.  Tall oaks waved gently as the breeze whispered through their branches while an unconducted chorus of songbirds sang to their heart's content.  Sir Giles rode Windrunner, his black stallion, down the winding road, the sunlight glinting off his burnished breastplate and mismatched, slightly too large helmet that he had donned after he and Jeffrey broke camp.  He stroked his thick mustache in deep thought.  Behind him his squire Jeffrey, a short, wiry man wearing a dark green cloak, rode on his gray Starfire.  Jeffrey had a huge leather-bound tome opened, balanced on the pommel, and Starfire's reigns were attached to Windrunner's saddle.
         Sir Giles unrolled a worn sheet of parchment and cleared his throat.  “Be it known to all men of brave hearts and strong spirits:  A shadow has fallen across His Majesty King Philbert's fair Kingdom.  A shadow in the form of the villain Wizbang, dark wizard and servant of the Devil.  For his crimes of murder and vandalism, and that of openly mocking His Majesty, he must be brought to justice!  If any man thinks himself worthy...”
         “...and is able to capture this fiend of the Devil alive, he shall receive as bounty the Princess Genevieve's hand in marriage, along with the rank and privileges, etcetera, etcetera–” Jeffrey quoted dryly without looking up from his book.
         Sir Giles' cheeks reddened.  “Jeffrey! Don't be impertinent!  I don't think you understand the importance of this quest!”
         “It just doesn't make sense,” Jeffrey said.
         “In what way?  Speak, boy!”
         “Well, to begin with, why must a dangerous wizard be kept alive?  It seems like it would be much wiser just to kill him.”
         “I really don't know, Jeffrey.  The proclamation says he must be brought in alive.  Tons of paperwork doing it the other way I suppose.”
         “Anyway, don't you think it's odd that the Royal Magician isn't doing anything about Wizbang?” Jeffrey asked.
         “Of course not!”
         “Why not?”
         “Well, umm...well for one thing, he'd have to sober up first.  Besides–” he said as he turned back to look at his squire.  “What on earth are you reading this time!”
         “Hmm?  Oh, uh, the Odyssey, by Homer.”
         “You have much more important things to do than fill your head with that sort of drivel,” Giles chided.
         “Yes, Sir Giles.”
         “I mean, do you even know what sort of fellow this Homer chap is?”
         “Was.”
         “What?”
         “Was.  Homer's dead.”
         “Dead?  Of course he's dead!  You can't make a living writing books!  You should really count yourself fortunate to be my squire, Jeffrey.  Your former occupation didn't teach you much about this world, did it?” Giles said. 
         “You'd be surprised...”
         Sir Giles reached down and unhooked Starfire's reigns from his saddle, “And, we'll have no more of this.  Direct your own horse!”  Sir Giles faced forward again, nose held high.
         Jeffrey closed his book and put it in his bag and took the reigns.  After a minute, he pulled a sling and a few stones from his belt pouch.  “Perhaps I can bag us a rabbit or two for lunch.”
         “Hmmm?  Oh yes, quite,” replied Sir Giles.  “You're not going to use that, are you?”
         “What?  My sling?”
         “Useless peasant weapon.  Can't you use a bow or something?”
         “Never been very accurate with a bow, Sir Giles.”
         “Well, it's high time you started practicing.  I'll not have a squire that cannot use a proper bow.”
         “As you say, Sir Giles.”
         “And put that sling away.  It's useless for our quest and for hunting.”
         “Sir Giles?  Why are we on this quest, anyway?”
         “What do you mean?  This fiend must me captured!”
         “Yes, but why are we on it?  It wouldn't have anything to do with the Princess, would it?”
         “What?”  Sir Giles spun backward in his saddle, nearly losing his helmet.
         “She is the youngest of six, you know.  It's not likely she'll reign as Queen.”
         “What do you...I...uh...I'm doing this because this fiend is a menace.  He's been up to mischief all over the Kingdom!  Remember, he single handedly burnt some village to the ground–”
         “It looked all right to me.”
         “And, on top of everything, that...that reprobate had the nerve to embarrass our good King Philbert.  Publicly, mind you, at the late Queen Giselle's memorial banquet!”
         “Yes...gave His Highness an enchanted wedgie from fifty paces, I believe.”
         “That kind of treatment cannot go unpunished!  The marriage to the Princess has nothing to do with it,” said Sir Giles, turning forwards again, twisting his helmet back straight.
         “I'm sure Dierdre would be glad to hear that.”
         Sir Giles whipped around again, his helmet spinning off his head and hitting the ground with a hollow clunk.  “Oh, puh-leeze, do not bring her up again!”
         “But I thought you were in love with her!  And now you're treating her like the family cow that's dried up.”
         “I told you.  She...changed.”
         “How?  I didn't notice any change.  She's still as kind hearted and caring–”
         “You've not looked hard enough!”
         “But–”
         “I'm not discussing this any further.  Helmet, Jeffrey!”


         They rode the rest of the day without speaking much.  Around noon the next day, the white stone walls of Halcyon were in sight, beyond which Castle Halcyon itself could be seen, where the standard of King Philbert, a golden hazelnut over a hazel tree on a white field², fluttered on the tops of the gleaming white spires. 
         The pair rode down the cobbled streets, through the crowded market square and continued on to the castle.  They entered through the main gate into the courtyard and dismounted, allowing a couple of stable boys to lead away the horses.  Speaking with one of the guards, they were escorted into the castle proper, and were led to the throne room to stand before King Philbert himself.
         King Philbert was a man of around forty years, with salt and pepper hair and beard.  His regal robes were purple and he carried an ivory scepter topped with a golden hazelnut.  The throne room itself was adorned with the King's standard. To his side stood a young, beautiful woman dressed in a sky blue gown with long blond hair, adorned with blue ribbons, falling nearly to the floor and bright, blue eyes.
         “Sir Giles Goodfellow of Harper's Grove and his squire, Jeffrey Underwood,” announced the guard.
         Jeffrey knelt before King Philbert while Sir Giles stood dumbfounded, staring at the woman.
         “Sir Giles!” whispered Jeffrey.
         “Oh, of course,” replied Sir Giles, kneeling, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword.
         “You both may rise,” said the King.  “To what do you honor us with this visit?”
         “We have come, your majesty, to accept the quest to capture the vile Wizbang the Wizard,” Sir Giles said.
         “Oh, jolly good!  You're the first, you know,” the King said.  “That wizard must pay for his crimes!  Remember, you must bring him alive.  I do not wish him harmed.  He shall suffer at my hand alone, no one else's.  Is that clear?”
         “Yes, your majesty.”
         “Should you succeed, you shall receive the hand of the Princess Genevieve in marriage, as I promised.”
         Sir Giles glanced at the woman, and winked.  She smiled back.
         “I shall not fail, your majesty.”
         “You seem most confident,” the King said.
         “I have a secret weapon!”  Sir Giles unsheathed his sword and held it high.  “I have in my hand, Excalibur!”
         “Oh, really?” the King asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow.
         “The very sword wielded by King Arthur himself!” Sir Giles said proudly.
         “Well now...that's very interesting, to be sure.  However, like I said, Wizbang must not be harmed!”
         “Where shall I find this foul wizard?”
         “The Royal Court Magician will give you the details.  Merlot?”³
         A clean shaven man with short, silver hair and noticeably rosy cheeks, wearing gold-trimmed burgundy robes stepped forward, not quite sure-footed.  In his right hand he held an ornate, ivory staff and in his left, a golden goblet.  He seemed to favor the goblet over the staff. 
         “Be wary of Wizbang,” he began, his speech slightly slurred.  “He will kill you without an ounce of remorse.  He's rumored to be hiding in the ruins of Chateau Shadeau, in Whisperwood.”
         Sir Giles gulped audibly, but quickly regained his composure. 
         “Thank you, Your Majesty, Lord Magician,” Sir Giles said as he bowed.  Both he and Jeffrey backed out of the throne room, careful not to show the King their backs. 
         Jeffrey returned to the stables to get the horses ready.  After saddling them, Sir Giles arrived and mounted his horse.  Jeffrey followed suit.
         “Sir Giles, I don't think it's a good idea to mention Excalibur too much,” Jeffrey said.
         “Oh, yes.  Quite right.  It might attract the wrong kind of attention, I suppose.”
         “Well, yes, there's that.  What I mean is, I spotted three more swords just like it in the back of that peddler's wagon.”
         “Now, Jeffrey, what were you doing looking in the back of that wagon?  I thought you'd given up thievery.”
         “I did!  Just keeping in practice, that's all.”
         “Well, stop doing that.  You don't need to practice those...skills any longer.”
         “If you say so,” Jeffrey said with a sigh. “Anyway, look around, Sir Giles.  It is a beautiful day, is it not?”
         “Ah, yes, Jeffrey.  'Tis a glorious day,” replied Sir Giles, gazing off into the distance.
         While Sir Giles was admiring the beautiful day, Jeffrey attached his reigns to Windrunner's saddle.  He reached into his bag and pulled out another heavy tome.
         Sir Giles unrolled a sheet of parchment.  Jeffrey groaned.
         “What?  It's only a map, Jeffrey,” Sir Giles said.


         Soon they were riding south along the King's Highway.  Sir Giles with his head held high, waving at passers-by who either waved back out of politeness or merely stared back at him.
         “Did you see the Princess, Jeffrey?  Ah, such a sweet, breathtaking lass.  I've never seen such a beauty as her–” he said, turning back to look at him.  “Where on earth did you get that book?”
         “What?  It was in my bag,”  Jeffrey said, holding up a maroon colored bag covered with black diamonds and a golden fringe.
         “How many books did you bring, anyway?”
         “Oh, um...all of them.”
         “That's impossible, Jeffrey.  You have hundreds of books.”
         “They're all in here,” he said, patting the maroon bag.
         “But...how?”
         “This is a Bag of Infinite Space.  It's a thousand times bigger on the inside than on the outside.”
         “Well, where on earth did you get that?”
         “Well, I kind of borrowed it from Merlot the Magician.”
         “Borrowed? Not likely.”
         “Well, borrowed on a permanent basis, yes,” Jeffrey confessed.
         “You stole this magical bag from the Royal Court Magician?  Are you insane?”
         “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
         “Now Jeffrey, if Merlot ever finds out...”  Sir Giles began, wagging his finger at Jeffrey.
         “He'll never miss it.”
         “Put that away.  There'll be plenty of time for reading after we capture Wizbang.”
         “But, Sir Giles...”
         “No buts, Jeffrey.  Mouth shut, eyes forward,” he said, unhooking Starfire's reigns, “book closed, and follow me!  Yah!” he yelled, kicking his horse into motion.
         Jeffrey, shaking his head, put his book back in the bag and trotted along after.


         After riding south for three days, Sir Giles and Jeffrey found themselves in the town of Whisper Tree, the last town this side of Whisperwood.  Before long, they stood before the Green Leaf Inn.
         “Go and stable the horses, Jeffrey.  I will procure us some rooms.”
         “Uh, Sir Giles, perhaps you should wait until I'm done,” Jeffrey replied.
         “Nonsense!  You always take care of the horses without my help.”
         “It's not that.  I just want to sleep in a real bed for a change.”
         “Bah!  Get on with it!”
         Sir Giles entered the common room and paid for two rooms and a meal for himself and Jeffrey.  The inn was small and had seen better days.  He sat at a table and waited.  The elderly innkeeper himself served the meal, much to Sir Giles' disappointment. 
         “Tell me, my good man.  What do you know of Chateau Shadeau?” Sir Giles asked.
         “Nobody goes there.  It's haunted,” the innkeeper replied.
         “Yes, so I've heard.  I'm on a quest bestowed upon me by King Philbert himself, and I must go there!”
         “Now you listen to me, young man.  There's haunted, and then there's haunted. Very few have ever returned from that old castle.  Those who have returned were...not the same.  Their courage, their heart, if you will, was gone.  Pale as a ghost and jumping at the mere sound of a cricket.  But that's not the worst of it...”
         “What's the worst?”
         “I knew a man who returned from that place, years ago.  He passed on last year.  Several woodsmen have claimed to have seen his ghost haunting the Whisperwood.  And he wasn't alone.  That castle is cursed, I tell you.  If you go there, I'll not be surprised to hear of your shade haunting the Whisperwood as well.”
         “Rubbish!  I don't have time for ghost stories.  I'm on a quest to capture Wizbang the Wizard, and he's been rumored to be hiding out at Chateau Shadeau.  How do I get there?”
         “I can't stop you from going, friend.  But I won't be guilty of helping you doom yourself,” the innkeeper said, then he turned and walked back to the kitchen.
         As Sir Giles began eating his meal, a few of the townsfolk came in.  Sir Giles inquired of them about the location of Chateau Shadeau as well, but they all responded much like the innkeeper.  About an hour later, Jeffrey entered the common room and sat down.
         “Where have you been?”
         “I've been asking around about Chateau Shadeau.  These folk are scared to death of it,” Jeffrey replied.
         “I didn't have much luck finding out how to get there, either.”
         “Oh, I found out how to get there.  I'm just saying people are scared of it.”
         “What do you mean you found out how to get there.  Nobody would tell me anything!”
         “You just have to know how to ask.  I'm starved.  How's the food here?”
         Sir Giles and Jeffrey spent the rest of the afternoon talking with the townsfolk about Chateau Shadeau and the Whisperwood in general, with Jeffrey doing most of the inquiries, and finally settled down in their rooms for the night.
          

         The next morning Sir Giles and Jeffrey rode from Whisper Tree and a little after noon, found themselves entering the Whisperwood.  Although it was the constant breeze coming down from the nearby mountains and blowing through the trees that gave the forest its name, it's been said that if one listens carefully enough, voices of restless spirits can be heard as well.  With dark clouds above dimming the already meager light within the forest, and the different tales of the Whisperwood still fresh on their minds, the pair were beginning to jump at even the wickering of their own horses.  Suddenly, the flicker-flash of lightning briefly illuminated the area and the sharp crack of thunder rolled across the sky.
         “My word, this is a dreadful place!” Sir Giles said, looking about, wide-eyed.  “No wonder the castle was deserted.”
         “Just think about the thriving community surrounding the castle two-hundred years ago, back when this was the seat of power for the whole of Cascadia,” Jeffrey said.
         “Can we please change the subject, Jeffrey?  I don't want to be reminded of two-hundred- year-old ghosts!”  Again, thunder rumbled.
         “It's fascinating, Sir Giles.”
         “It's giving me the heebie-jeebies.  Let's talk about something else!”
         “Alright.  Explain to me exactly how Dierdre changed,” Jeffrey said with a mischievous tone.
         “Tell me more about the community that was here back then, Jeffrey.”
         Jeffrey reigned his horse.  “I'm not going one inch further until you answer me.”
         “Jeffrey, we don't have time for this,” Sir Giles replied.
         “You've babbled on and on for weeks about how she's changed.  Be specific,” Jeffrey said, looking Sir Giles directly in the eyes.
         “Humph!” Sir Giles said, crossing his arms.  A loud crack of thunder rumbled across the sky, and rain began to fall with a pit-pit-pat through the forest canopy.  Drops of rain spattered Sir Giles helmet and breastplate, saturated his cloak and trickled down his back.  Jeffrey waited, the rain dribbling off his chin, unflinching.  After two minutes of staring at each other, uttering not a sound while thunder echoed and rolled across the heavens, Sir Giles looked away.  He said, “Okay, fine!  If you really must know.  For the last three years the harvests have been especially plentiful back home.  Lord Maxwell's daughter, my dear fiancée, seems to have acquired a love for eating.  Tell me you haven't noticed!”
         “Well, she has become a little plump, but–”
         “A little plump?  You should look again!”  Sir Giles spread his hands apart about five feet and puffed out his cheeks.
         “Oh, come on.  She's no where near that fat!”
         “She will be!  Mark my words!”
         “Are you telling me you broke off your wedding because she gained a few pounds?  I thought you loved her.”
         “I...uh,” Sir Giles began, then looked away again.
         “And were here in the middle of nowhere, soaking wet, looking for the lair of a dangerous wizard just so you can replace her with a...a thinner bride?”
         “We're wasting time!  Let's go,” Sir Giles urged his horse forward.
         “You shouldn't be so worried about your image, Sir Giles,” Jeffrey called.
         “Are you going to stay there all day?”
         Jeffrey didn't move, he just stared at Sir Giles.
         “Fine, stay out here and drown!  I'll do it alone!”


         Sir Giles rode for two hours through the storm, which finally started to slack off, looking for the landmarks the patrons of the inn had spoken of.  Eventually, he found himself following an overgrown cobblestone road, although it seemed the forest had consumed all other trace of the old village.  The old road curved through the trees and eventually led to the ruins of Chateau Shadeau.
         He approached the vine covered walls of the castle and dismounted.  The drawbridge was shut and the castle was surrounded by a moat filled with a bubbling blackish-green slime, which gurgled and hissed, releasing a yellowish steam. 
         “Smells like death here.”  Sir Giles covered his mouth and nose with a cloth and began to study the drawbridge.  “Now, to get that open.”
         “Allow me...” said a rasping voice.  Sir Giles turned with a start, but saw no one.
         Suddenly, he heard a loud clanking as the drawbridge slowly began to lower, revealing an opening into darkness like the open maw of some great hellish beast.  Sir Giles lit a torch and entered into darkness. 
         After making his way inside about ten feet, the portcullis, with a loud, rapid clank-clank-clank, suddenly fell as the drawbridge, clanking upward with a slower, iambic cadence, trapped him inside.
         “My word...”
         Torchlight revealed mold-stained walls adorned with cobwebs, and there was a distant drip, drip, dripping somewhere in the darkness.  Sir Giles slowly began picking his way through room after dusty room.  Aside from a few pieces of rotten furniture, the place seemed to be bare, apparently stripped of everything of value over the years. 
         Suddenly, the air in the room grew cold.  As Sir Giles pondered this new phenomenon, the ghostly apparition of a man wearing a fancy overcoat drifted down the corridor, his spectral hair waving in an ethereal breeze.  The ghost stopped before Sir Giles, and pointed a gnarly finger at him.  Speaking with a heavy Slavic accent, he said, “Choose the wrong room, and seal your doom!  Turn not aside!”  Then, the ghost vanished.⁴ 
         Sir Giles responded by losing control of his bladder.
         After taking a few moments to recover, he crept down the corridor.  At the end were  three doors, one directly ahead and one on each side.  He looked at each door.
         “Eenie, meenie...,” Sir Giles mumbled, pointing at each door in turn.  First, he rested his hand on the knob of the right hand door, then the center, and then the left.  Then he drew back his hand as if it was burned. 
         “Wait, it said 'turn not aside.'  Should I trust it?”  On impulse, or maybe a hunch, Sir Giles opened the forward door, revealing a corridor with a slight, right hand curve.  After following the corridor a few paces, the air around him grew cold again,
         “Not again...” he said.
         This time, a different ghost appeared, a young, beautiful woman with long, dark curly hair, a shimmering white gown, and a mischievous glint in her eye. 
         “If you go right, you'll die of fright!”  Giggling, she pirouetted in a lazy spiral as she rose up through the ceiling.
         “Must press on...”
         He kept moving until he came to a pair of doors, one on the right side of the curving corridor, one on the left.
         “Left it is.”
         When he opened the left door, the beautiful ghost appeared in his face.
         “No! Go left!  Left!  LEFT!!!”
         “I d-d-did!”
         “Wait!  My left!  Your right!  Oh, I always get those mixed up!” she wailed, then she slammed the left-hand door in Sir Giles face.
         Sir Giles waited until his heart slowed down to normal before opening the right-hand door.  He entered a room large enough that the torch light could not reach the other side.  His footsteps echoed as he walked.  When he stopped, however, the footsteps continued for another two steps.  He turned around to see the ghost of an old man standing behind him.  “Ghaa!” Sir Giles screamed.
         “What?” the ghost asked, giving Sir Giles a dirty look, then vanished.
         Sir Giles walked forward, deeper into the room, all the while looking over his shoulder, from side to side, and quickly turning around before starting the process all over again.
         “Beware, Sir Knight,” said a deep, raspy voice.
         “Who...who are you?  Show yourself!”
         “Incendo...”
         The word reverberated through the room.  Suddenly, all the torches in the room ignited simultaneously.  There, at the end of the room, sitting on an ancient throne with one leg over the throne's arm was an old, haggard man with long white hair and a beard falling down to his navel.  He was dressed in black robes covered with silver stars and crescent moons with a black pointed hat to match.  He was idly twirling a star-topped wand in his right hand.
         “Wizbang!” Sir Giles rasped.
         “You seek me?  Foolish.” 
         “It's all over, Wizbang.  Give up peacefully, villain, and I'll go easy on you,” Sir Giles said.
         “Can't you come up with something more original than that?”
         “Me?  You're a living, breathing cliché with that outfit, brother!”
         “I'm the bad guy.  I'm allowed!” said Wizbang.  “Now, I suppose you're here to take me back to that sniveling little pansy of a king, Philbert!”
         “That is my quest, yes.”
         “Well, okay.  Let's get this over with.  I have a village to vaporize later this afternoon and I do not wish to be late,” the wizard said, and with a quick, practiced flick of his wrist, readied his wand.
         Sir Giles unsheathed his sword with a loud shing which reverberated throughout the ancient banquet hall.  “That will not happen.  Do you know what this is?  It's Excalibur!  The very sword used by King Arthur himself!”
         “Funny, I thought it was bigger than that.”  The Wizard, spry for his apparent age, hopped down from the throne and stood before Sir Giles.  “Anyway, it doesn't matter.  Bring it,” Wizbang challenged, motioning with his fingers.
         Sir Giles shouted and swung his sword.  Wiff!
         “Missed me,” Wizbang taunted. 
         Wiff, wiff!
         “Can't you do better than that?  Allow me,” Wizbang said, raising his wand.  “Fulgetra!” With a flash, a bolt of lightning leaped from Wizbang's wand struck Sir Giles' backside.
         “Oooh!  That's not fair!  Prepare yourself, wizard, for my dancing sword attack!”  Wiff, wiffwiff, wiff....wifffiffiffiff...  wiff!  Sir Giles stumbled backwards against the wall as his sword slipped out of his hand and tumbled end over end only to embed itself within a table, wobbling back and forth rhythmically for a few seconds.  Sir Giles slid to the floor with his hands on his head.  “Oooh, dizzy.”
         “You've got moxie, Sir Giles, I'll give you that.  But I'm really getting tired of this,” Wizbang said.  “Levo...” The wand glowed brightly and Sir Giles found himself rising off the ground, hanging in mid air like a puppet.
         “That's not fair!  Put...put me down you foul servant of the Devil!”
         “Your ghost shall haunt this ancient castle along with the rest of my minions, while your corpse shall be a warning to anyone else who comes for me,” Wizbang said.  Then, he raised his wand and said “Mortalitas–”
         Before the wand flared, a rock slammed into Wizbang's hand, sending the wand clattering across the floor.  Sir Giles dropped to the floor with a grunt.
         “What?!” cried Wizbang.  He looked around but didn't see anyone.
         A maroon bag with golden trim hit Sir Giles in the chest, which he caught out of reflex.  “Open it!” cried Jeffrey.
         As soon as Sir Giles opened the bag, Jeffrey leaped from a balcony, grabbing a chain that once held a chandelier and swung into Wizbang.  The wizard flew forward and landed head first in the mouth of the Bag of Infinite Space, swallowed whole.
         “Sir Giles, are you all right?”
         “Jeffrey!  Where did...how did...how did you get in here?  The drawbridge was shut!”
         “Hey, I used to break into places like this all the time.”
         “You came back!”
         “I couldn't let you face this alone, although I still think you're wrong for it.”
         “Well...I...um...how did you do that?!”
         “Do what?”
         “How did you make Wizbang drop his wand?”
         “Just used my useless peasant weapon, that's all,” Jeffrey said, twirling his sling.
         “Well, I suppose it does have its uses.”
         “Yes, a few.”
         Sir Giles held up the bag, which squirmed seemingly of its own accord.  “Wizbang?” he asked.  Jeffrey nodded.  He opened the mouth of the bag slightly, and the wizard could be heard screaming and cursing, his voice sounding like he'd breathed in a lungful of helium.


         After a four day journey back to the castle, Sir Giles and Jeffrey again stood before King Philbert.
         “Your majesty,” Sir Giles said with a flourishing bow.  I have here, the Wizard Wizbang!”
         “Where?  I don't see him,” the King said.
         “Jeffrey?” Sir Giles gestured to his squire.  Jeffrey opened the Bag of Infinite Space, and a disheveled wizard poured out.
         “NO!” cried Wizbang as the King's guards grabbed him and took him away.
         “Ah, you did it, Sir Giles,” the King said, clapping his hands.
         “Well done, Sir Giles,” said the beautiful young woman.
         “I did it all for you, milady,” Sir Giles said to her, winking again.
         “Her?  What do you mean, her?” asked the King.
         “But, she is the princess, your Majesty?”
         “No, of course not.  This is my mist...uh...I mean, my niece!  That's right, niece.  Isn't that right, my dear?”
         “Yes...um...Uncle Philbert,” said the woman.
         “But, you'll be wanting to meet your bride to be, I suspect.  Genevieve!  Come here,” the King called.
         From across the throne room, the crowd of court retainers and nobles began to part as a curtain, revealing the largest woman Sir Giles had ever seen.
         “That's the princess!?” he exclaimed.
         “Jenny!?” said Jeffrey.  Then, at the dull metal klunk of a helmeted head hitting stone, Jeffrey turned around to see Sir Giles unconscious on the floor.
         “I say, is that the groom?” asked a rosy cheeked man wearing gold trimmed maroon robes and carrying rather ornate staff in one hand and a wine glass in the other.
         Jeffrey turned to him and said, “I'm afraid so, Lord Magician.”
         “Lad, help me sit him up,” Merlot said.  They both lifted Sir Giles up into a seated position on the floor.
         “Uh, what happened,” he asked.  Someone brought a chair, and Jeffrey helped Sir Giles into it.  One of the ladies of the court began to fan him.
         “I'm afraid you passed out, Sir Giles,” Merlot said.
         Sir Giles glanced at the princess, then looked away again.  “Oh, dear,” he said.
         Merlot handed him a goblet.  “Here, quaff this.”
         “Some kind of potion, Magician?”
         “Well, you might say that.  The more you drink it, the better your bride will look, that's for sure,” Merlot said with a wink.  Then, Sir Giles quaffed it.  Merlot turned to Jeffrey and said, “Lad, we need to have a word.”
         “About what?”  Jeffrey asked, puzzled.
         “I think you have something that belongs to me.”


         Jeffrey sat in a chair in the guest room he was given, surrounded by stacks and stacks of his books.  The door opened, and Sir Giles staggered in carrying a wine bottle, quietly humming to himself.
         “Sir Giles?”  Jeffrey said, steadying his friend.
         “Ah, Jeffrey.  Good friend Jeffrey.  I...uh...why is the room...shpinning?”
         “Sit here.”  Jeffrey guided Sir Giles to the bed.  “Sir Giles, I've never known you to drink.”
         “I...hmmm...you know, this is good shtuff.  The Princess...”  Sir Giles wobbled a little.
         “What about her.”
         “She doesn't look half bad, after a few glashses...of this,”  Sir Giles said, studying the bottle as if he'd never seen one before.
         “You can't stay drunk for the rest of your life.”
         “I can...can shtay as drunk as I please!  Well, at leasht till after the honeymoon.”          
         Then, noticing the books for the first time, Sir Giles said, “What's all this?”
         “Merlot took his Bag of Infinite Space back,” Jeffrey confessed.
         Sir Giles took a swig from the bottle.  “I told you he'd...find out...”  he began, then he fell back onto the bed and began snoring.
         “Yes, he did find out.  I wonder...”


         That night, Jeffrey put all his thieving skills to the test sneaking through the castle to Court Magician Merlot's chambers.  Quietly, he stepped inside Merlot's bedroom.
         Merlot was fast asleep with one arm around a stuffed bear wearing a wizard's hat, snoring.  Jeffrey pulled out a two foot length of cloth cut in a “V” shape, and lightly placed the wide end over Merlot's mouth, the point ending somewhere near his navel.
         “I was right!”
         “What?!” Merlot exclaimed with a snort.  “Oh, it's you.”
         Jeffrey covered Merlot's mouth with his hand.  “Quiet!” he said in a loud whisper.  “It was you all along!”
         Merlot sat up and pushed Jeffrey's hand out of the way.  “Bah! What are you talking about?”
         “You're Wizbang!”
         “Oh, that.  Alright, yes.  I am the 'evil wizard' Wizbang.  So sue me,” Merlot said, lying back down and closing his eyes.  “Make sure you close the door on your way out, will you? The halls are drafty.”  He gestured toward the door with his hand.
         “I want some answers first.”
         Merlot sat up in bed and looked Jeffrey directly in the eyes.  “Or what? Hmmm?”
         “Oh, for crying out loud!  After everything you put us through, you owe me some answers!  Sir Giles might be a complete idiot, but he is my friend and you tried to kill him!  Why?”
         “Oh, very well,” Merlot got out of bed and poured himself a glass of wine.  “And, for your information, your friend was never in any real danger.”
         “No danger?”
         “I was merely going to knock him out for a few hours.  He would've awakened back here at the castle, where he'd no doubt try again.”
         “That didn't sound like a 'knock out' spell to me when you were waving that wand around!”
         “Do you think I need a prop for my magic, boy?”  Merlot said, his words punctuated by every torch and candle in the room flaring to life.  He reached into a drawer and pulled out a handful of wands, every one topped with a star.  “These are novelty wands.  I sell them at the Spring Equinox Festival every year up north.  They glow when one speaks Latin.  Observe,” he said, holding up the handful of wands.  “Cogito ergo sum.” As he spoke, every wand in his hand pulsed brilliantly at each word, but nothing else happened.
         “Did you do the ghosts as well?
         “Ah, no.  They were real.  Oh, don't go all pale on me, boy.  They're harmless.  Always ready for a laugh, they are.  Well, except for that scrivener ghost.  He prefers not to do anything.”⁵
         “Okay, so we were never in danger.  What's going on?  Why the ruse?”
         “Well, how else do you think our good King Philbert was going to get that fat daughter of his married off?  It's not likely she'll become queen or anything with so many brothers and sisters, so he couldn't exactly bribe some guy with the throne or anything.”
         “That's what this was all about?  We have to stop this!”
         “Stop it?  I spent several days sober for this.  Besides, the King's mind is made up!”
         “But surely we can reason with him,”
         “Lad, do you have any idea why King Philbert is called the Stouthearted?  It's not due to courage or strength of character.  It's because he's a stubborn old goat!  I'm afraid your friend will marry the Princess Genevieve whether either of them want to or not.”
         Jeffrey thought for a moment.  Then said, “I have a plan.  But I'll need your help.”
         “I won't jeopardize my cushy job here for no one, especially your fool friend!”
         “You won't have to.  I'll do the talking, just back me up.”


         The next morning all the bells in the castle were ringing in celebration of the wedding of Sir Giles Goodfellow and the Princess Genevieve.  The throne room was adorned with candles and flowers and was packed with every faction of the nobility from across Cascadia; the wedding invitations had already been sent out a month prior, it seems.  Sir Giles was dressed in the finest clothing he'd ever worn, tailor made before sunrise, regardless of how wretched he felt when he was roused.  He stood at the altar beside the castle's resident priest with one hand on his forehead.  His already pale face was enhanced by the deep black of his gold trimmed tunic.
         Suddenly the trumpet fanfare announcing the King and the Princess played.  Sir Giles winced and put his hands over his ears, his groans drowned out by the trumpets.  As the fanfare continued, the King brought the Princess to the altar.  Blushing slightly she smiled at Sir Giles, who seemed to grow even paler as he forced a grin back.  She snatched his hand and faced the priest.
         “Your majesty, friends, gather 'round!” began the priest.  “We are gathered here under the eyes of the Almighty God to join Sir Giles and Genevieve in the most holy of unions, marriage.  Does anyone here know any reason why this marriage should not be?”
         “I know a reason!” cried Jeffrey.  With gasps from every corner of the throne room, all eyes turned toward Jeffrey.
         “What's this all about?” asked the King.
         “He's not entitled to marry the princess.  I was the one who captured Wizbang, not him!”
         “What are you talking about, Jeffrey?  Of course I captured Wizbang!”
         To Sir Giles' ear Jeffrey whispered “Sir Giles, I'm trying to help you!  Be quiet!” Then, to everyone, “It's true!  I captured Wizbang with the Bag of Infinite Space.  Sir Giles merely held the bag.  It was I who kicked the wizard inside!”
         “No, I protest!  This was my quest!”
         “Which I completed!  If anyone is to marry the Princess, it's me!”
         “Your majesty,” said Merlot, “the lad's claim does have the ring of truth in it.  And, I can vouch for his character.  He would be a worthy groom.”
         “Yes, I suppose.  Well, there seems to be two suitors!  Amazing...I mean.  My dear, you must choose between the two,” the King said.
         “Well, I...”  The Princess looked from Sir Giles to Jeffrey, and back again.
         “Jenny!  Don't you remember me?  Many years ago you were staying at Fair Waters,” Jeffrey said.
         “Father hid me in Fair Waters before the coup attempt seven years ago.  How did you know?”
         “That's my village!  You stayed in the house next door to me.”
           “You're that Jeffrey?”
         “Yes, Princess.  I am,” Jeffrey said.  Then, kneeling before Genevieve, he took her hand and said, “And, do you remember the promise I made to you.  I said one day when I was old enough I would marry you.  Well, here I am!”
         “But we were so young then...you still want to marry me?”
         “With all my heart, Jenny!  Will you marry me?”
         “Well, my dear?  Whom do you choose?” the King asked.
         Genevieve turned to Sir Giles and smiled.  You, Sir Knight, are brave and true.  But I must choose Jeffrey.”
         “Any other offers?” asked the priest, his voice carrying throughout the banquet hall.  “No?  Absolutely sure?  Well, then may we begin?  I do have other obligations than wedding ceremonies, you know.”


         After the ceremony, the reception began in earnest with music and dancing.  Sir Giles was sitting down watching the festivities, with a little more color in his cheeks.
         “Quite an exciting turn of events,” said Merlot.
         “Yes.  Who would have thought things would work out that way,” Sir Giles said.
         “Ah, here comes the happy couple!”
         Lord Jeffrey and Princess Genevieve approached, hand in hand.
         “Lord Jeffrey and my dear Princess, allow me to congratulate you.  And, young man, take this, with my compliments,” said Merlot, handing Jeffrey a leather bound burgundy satchel trimmed in gold and covered with black diamonds.  “I call this a Satchel of Infinite Space.  Consider it a wedding gift.”
         “Wonderful!  Thank you, Lord Magician,” Jeffrey said, examining the Satchel.  “It is so much nicer than the old Bag of Infinite Space.”
         “You mean my Bag of Infinite Waste.  It'll hold up to a year's worth of refuse and, well,  waste.  It's a good thing the one you stole had never been used, or you'd never have gotten the smell off your books.  Of course, if it had been used, and you trapped me in one like that for four days, I might not have been so forgiving,” Merlot said, raising an eyebrow.
         “Really?  I had no idea!  But, if it holds that much, what do you do when it's full?”
         “By speaking the activation phrase, the bottom opens and everything is dumped into some nether plane, far from our world.  Much more sanitary than the run of the mill midden heap. Once I get it perfected I'll whip up a bunch of them, conjure up a little marketing, and the sky's the limit!”
         “Extraordinary!” exclaimed Jeffrey, admiring the new Satchel.
         “Lord Magician, hold onto this until after the honeymoon.  Jeffrey won't have time to read, anyway,” the Princess said, smiling down at Jeffrey.
         Jeffrey turned slightly red, but he smiled and looked up into his bride's eyes.  “I wouldn't dream of reading.”
         “Jeff...ah, I mean, Lord Jeffrey, might I have a word, in private?” asked Sir Giles.
         “I'll just check on our honeymoon arrangements,” the Princess said.  She bent down and kissed Jeffrey, then walked off.
         “Lord Jeffrey, I know you now have a title and lands and all that stuff.  But, I'd still like to thank you for your sacrifice.”
         “Sir Giles, I didn't marry her for the title or the lands.  And, believe me, this was no sacrifice,” he said with a wink, then followed after his new bride.  Merlot began to laugh.
         “He didn't consider it a sacrifice,” Sir Giles said.  “You know, I think I'm having an eppy...uh, epip...”
         “Epiphany?”
         “Yes, one of those.  I need to return home and see my dear, sweet Dierdre.”
         “A word of advice, Sir Giles,” Merlot said.
         “Yes?”
         “Bring flowers.”
         “Flowers, yes.  Good idea.”
         As Sir Giles turned to leave, Merlot put his hand on his shoulder.  As Sir Giles looked back, Merlot said, “A lot of flowers.”

Copyright© 2009-2010, K. Glen Smith

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1 The legendary Dr. Faust was said to have ridden out of a tavern on a wine keg.
2 A filbert is a type of hazelnut.
3 Merlot (mər-lō'). Parody of Merlin, pronounced like the wine.  He's quite fond of wine as well.
4 Akaky Akakievich, from Nikolai Gogol's The Overcoat (1842).
5 Bartleby, from Herman Melville's Bartleby the Scrivener (1853).