The Further Trials and Tribulations of Sir Wrenchalot

Curse of the dreaded Y1K

And so as we observed in a preceding scribbling, our hero, Sir Wrenchalot, did take his leave from the Prince of Darkness, Beelzebub, and pledge no more to squander his silver upon terminal steeds better left to die in peace. And it came to pass just after Whitsuntide, on the first Sabbath of new moon, that Sir Wrenchalot did gather with the other Knights Triumphant in the hallowed grove of the Golden Pheasant to join with his kindred spirits in an evening of camaraderie. There in the twilight did the knights toast each other as they gathered around the great round table of Mack, their innkeeper, and listened to the many tales and adventures each had experienced in outwitting the Wicked One, Mephistopheles. Sir Wrenchalot himself told how he had dared to ride his horse at dusk, taunting Satan who had placed an eternal curse on all of those virtuous Knights Triumphant who dared to violate his ultimatum: "A gentleman does not go riding after dark lest I cause his horse to go blind." And at this particular assembly, his comrades did toast Sir Wrenchalot and bestow upon him an accolade in the name of good Sir Peter of Roberts and a tankard of strong Mede for chronicling his adventures against the Evil One. Alas, poor Sir Wrenchalot, who had no familiarity with strong drink, quickly found his judgment grow cloudy, just as the great wizard Wazbeard did arrive from the land of cheese and ale and issue forth a challenge to the manhood and honour of all the flatland Knights Triumphant gathered there in the sacred grove that evening.

"Lords and ladies, I have this day come upon an elderly colt, sorely in need of the custody of a goodly knight. Who among thee hath the courage and horsemanship to take up my challenge and nurse this beast back to good health?" And so Sir Wrenchalot, his brains addled by potent drink, did rise up and proclaim "Good wizard, I shall accept thy dare for I have only just resurrected my beloved Lucille, now known throughout the kingdom as the Wonder horse, and I have learned many mysteries which I can employ to bring back to life this mount of which you speak. The lovely Lucille does need a mate and this animal may be well suited to serve as her companion." And thus did Sir Wrenchalot agree to travel far into the land of cheese and sausage where the wizard did dwell to see this charger for himself and take up the wizard's challenge.

And so Sir Wrenchalot and Lucille did journey into the land where the entire peasantry did wear green and gold headgear and prattle incessantly about ogres known only for their ability to pack. And after much searching, for the trails in northland were not as clearly marked as they were in the flatland, they did come upon the manor of the great wizard known far and wide for its large stable and meager domicile where the wizard and his lady did dwell. The manor was bedecked with the wizard's motto "Ede caseum aut more!*" which did often did discourage the fainted-hearted flatlanders, but did not dissuade our champion.

"Welcome Sir Wrenchalot," spoke the great Wizard who had once raced a chariot across frozen lakes in the name of sport, but now reclaimed portions of deceased horses and performed magical incantations on sickly steeds, much to the relief of the Knights Triumphant who did not possess his knowledge of sorcery. "Come observe for thyself the mount of which I spoke. He once was a champion racehorse, sired from the first sporting horses raced by Sir Kenneth, King Richard's son who set many a record in the early days of the breed, but his previous owner did overwork him and did not provide him adequate lubrication, and now he hovers at Death's Door." And so they entered the stable of the wizard from which hung the pieces of many steeds, along with their trappings. Then did Sir Wrenchalot espy the hulk of a most wretched little beast, which appeared far better suited for the glue works than show competition. Its fetlocks were bruised from countless collisions with other racehorses and its skeleton seemed twisted and cancerous to such an extent that the poor creature appeared more dead than alive. "Thou hath stated that thee can raise the deceased, now must thee back up thy words with deeds" taunted the sorcerer. Little did Sir Wrenchalot comprehend that the words were really those of his nemesis, Lucifer, Prince of Darkness who had metamorphosed himself into the image of Wazbeard. "Hast thou the mettle to take up my challenge, or art thou, like the Earl of Wright, all bluster and little action."

'Pie upon thee Wazbeard! For I didst reckon that thou wert my trusted friend and colleague and now thou spekest unto me as thee might a lowly serf. I shall accept thy dare! I pledge upon my sacred ratchet that I shall cause this decrepit colt to once again compete in contests within this millennium or I shall revoke my knighthood and become a simple serf in your homage." Sir Wrenchalot, his better judgment temporarily lost to his fury at the wizard, too late realized that he had been fooled by Lucifer. Of course, the Prince of Darkness had expected just such a hot-blooded reply and he and his evil demons had indeed deceived Sir Wrenchalot into taking up an hopeless cause, the resurrection of yet another steed far better left for the rendering skulyard than the jousting fields. And then did the Evil One reveal himself to the knight. "At last I have thee at my mercy Sir Wrenchalot! Thou didst reckon that thee had bettered me. Fool! How dare thee challenge the Prince of Darkness? Now thou hast made a wager that thee can never attain and I shall claim thy eternal soul as mine for thy hubris and thou will dwell forever in the Everlasting Lake of Fire and Brimstone to suffer for thy foolish pride!" And the devil did then vanish into a cloud of thick vapors and Sir Wrenchalot could hear his evil laughter trailing off into the distance.

"What have I done? How could I have been such a dolt to allow myself to fall under the spell of the evil Prince of Darkness yet again? The gods are indeed right, mortals are fools and I am the most foolish of them all. How shall I ever explain this wretched situation to my good wyfe, who has yet to absolve me for my affair with Lucille? But surely she will appreciate this horse for she is a woman of great tolerance and understanding." Just then, Sir Wrenchalot did hear a gentle whinny from the horse he had undertaken to rejuvenate. Then did Wrenchalot did gaze into the horse's gentle eyes and look closer upon the aging colt which nuzzled his arm and he placed his shaggy head meekly upon the knights shoulder, as if to thank him for sparing his life. "By my ratchet I shall revive this creature or forfeit my soul trying. I shall make pilgrimages to kingdoms far and wide to seek sorcerers and healers for this animal and I shall pledge my meager resources to heal this dumb beast, for it is not his fault that he has been ill-treated and left for dead. All of God's creatures warrant at least this much consideration." And at that, the Great Matriarch, the Lady of the Lake, did materialize before the knight and his newly acquired, but ever so bedraggled, horse.

"Gentle Knight, be of good faith. The gods have once more taken sympathy upon thee, though, they are somewhat vexed that thou didst allow thyself to be duped by Lucifer a second time. Thy heart, if not thy head, is in the right place. Thou shall suffer greatly, but if thou shall remain pure in thought, word, and deed, there is hope that thou might save this horse and thy eternal soul from the Domain of Satan. Thou must make a number of sacred pilgrimages to procure the wisdom of sorcerers with powers greater than Wazbeard. Thou must also be prepared to lavish large amounts of gold and silver on this beast, for his affliction is far greater than thou can reckon, but nothing can stop a true Knight Triumphant who doth possess a line of credit and a will to preserve a sporting horse. Pay special attention to all of this steed's trappings Sir Wrenchalot, for they shall allow you to work magic once you have uncovered their secret powers. And now I must take my leave; but remember, the eyes have it!" And with that, the Lady of the Lake disappeared into the darkness, leaving the knight and his new mount stranded in the land of cheese and beer, far from the comforts of hearth and home. Just then the real Wazbeard did appear and quickly surmised the situation.

"I reckon that thou again hath been the prey of the Devil. I shall aid thee as much as I can Sir Wrenchalot, but Lucifer's magic is far greater than mine. I shall summon my draft horses to portage thee and this infirm horse back to the flatland of the Knights Triumphant. Study thee this tome, for it doth contain much secret knowledge of these beasts." And the wizard gave unto the Sir Wrenchalot a shopworn manual containing many secrets regarding this manner of horse, which in fact a distant ancestor of Lucille and which, in the early days of jousting, did travel at greater speeds than all others. And so Sir Wrenchalot began to learn about his new mount and he began to grow attached to the small, but extremely sickly colt.

When Sir Wrenchalot finally arrived at his manor, he did espy his good wyfe, her arms folded across her ample bosom and her tiny slipper tapping swiftly on the doorstep. She did not seem to be contented at the spectacle of yet another sporting horse. Since her affinity for Lucille was far from great, the presence of the new arrival did not exactly bring a dimension of Christian charity to the Sir Wrenchalot's domicile. "What new lunacy hath possessed thee now, old fool?!," shrieked the diminutive Lady Wrenchalot. "Hath not thee squandered our meagre purse on that other derelict bag of bones? Now thee hath brought another worthless nag onto our humble manor. If thou art so enamored of these creatures, perhaps thou wilt enjoy sleeping in the stables with them, for my bedchamber shall henceforth be locked and sealed from the likes of such a dolt as thou!" And with that, the little woman did bar the door to her sleeping quarters, leaving our hero alone in the cold night air with his newly acquired, but very unhealthy steed. "She's just a bit out of sorts" said our hero to no one in particular. "I'm certain it must be that time of the month when all those of her gender endure the curse of Eve." And thus did Wrenchalot lead the small colt back to the stable and introduce him to Lucille as the three of them curled up and bedded down for the night.

Soon after adding this latest horse to his little herd, Sir Wrenchalot was able to locate the pedigree of his newly acquired, but ever so ailing steed. It was discovered that he was once covered with a coat of alabaster, rather than the dull blue hue which now covered his hide. "From this time on, thee shall be known as Lord Caspar, in honour of thy once and future colour" proclaimed Sir Wrenchalot. And so Sir Wrenchalot did seek the council of the inner circle of the Knights Triumphant, including good King Spuds, who had owned many such horses, and Sir William of Pyle, known through the kingdom for accomplishments in reviving this particular breed of steed and his ability to wield the great flame-wrench. Many of the good Knights Triumphant did visit the stable of Sir Wrenchalot, including Sir George, slayer of dragons and wearer of such distinctive headgear that he was known as the Capper. All shook their heads and extended their condolences to Sir Wrenchalot, for it seemed to all that his poor beast was not long for the earthly realm, and the knights attempted to comfort our hero with their condolences on the imminent demise of the little colt.

But Sir Wrenchalot would have none of it. He vowed to travel to the four corners of the known world to seek out all the collective wisdom of all knights who possessed such sporting horses, (although truth be told, Sir Wrenchalot, himself suffered from a congenital condition causing him to be to be wrench-impaired when actually doing any repairs upon the ailing steed). And so Sir Wrenchalot accompanied by good King Spuds and Sir Elwood of the Highlands did journey to the extreme end of the acknowledged universe, to the very gates of Hell itself to seek the council of other Knights. Lucille was suffering from a severe arthritic condition of her hindquarters and made a demonic cacophony whenever given the spur, and so King Spuds did allow Sir Wrenchalot to ride with him upon his own steed, similar to Lucille, but not as handsome, and they traveled to the region of eternal heat and humidity, where the bones of deceased creatures lay bleached in the everlasting noonday sun. Sir Elwood led the way on his horse, which was of a different breed and did consume rice rather than hay and oats, but still managed to keep from overheating, despite being given the spur for long periods of time. The intense heat did cause the steed of King Spuds to sprout horns and the Knights to frequently ingest large quantities of beverages to alleviate any dehydration, but still they persevered and managed to return to the Flatland with many goodly yarns and tales of the worthless fort which they had visited. And there were trips to other distant places, and always did Sir Wrenchalot return with new knowledge and ideas, but never quite enough to bring his comatose colt back to life.

On one particular evening, several years after the acquisition of Caspar, with only a few months remaining in the millennium, Sir Wrenchalot was studying Caspar's trappings, while grooming his beloved Lucille, who was beginning to show the signs of her many years of combat. As the sun was setting, Sir Wrenchalot was thinking about what he might do to make Caspar well and save his soul from Lucifer. "Curse this early darkness!" Complained the knight. "I only need another few moments of sunshine to finish my task. I know, I shall light this spare tripod saddle lamp which was included among the spare accoutrements and accessories which had been gathering dust since the addition of Caspar. It shall provide me the illumination I need to finish grooming Lucille." And the knight attempted to light the lamp, but to no avail. "It appears that there is some writing engraved here" he said to himself. "Mayhaps, if I remove some of the corrosion around the script, I can acquire the secret to lighting it." And so he began to rub the lamp. Suddenly a huge cloud of smoke began to pass from the end of the lamp and an apparition appeared, as if by magic.

"Good Sir Knight, I am Lucas, the genie of the lamp and you have released me from a thousand millennia of bondage at the hand of Lucifer, who did placed me inside this accursed lamp. It was only after a chivalrous knight stroked the lamp that I could be liberated, and now I owe you a debt of gratitude. I shall show thee my appreciation by granting four wishes. Thy wish is my command."

"Saints be praised!" exclaimed our hero. "My prayers are answered. Good Genie, first grant me Caspar's life be saved by permitting me to locate the accoutrements required to restore him to his former self and the means to avoid further tricks at the hands of Lucifer". "It shall be done," said the genie and he then withdrew a special and sweet-smelling emblem to festoon Caspar's bridle. "This magic coat of arms will prevent Lucifer from further deceiving you for this insignia will ward off evil spirits. It is an especial crest designed exclusively for the Knights triumphant. Thou will note its pleasant fragrance for thou hath no need for stinking badges.

"Secondly," said Wrenchalot, "I shall need the name of a master sorcerer who can provide organs and bones to make Caspar whole and hearty." With that, the genie produced a volume which listed all that was needed to make Caspar as fair as when he was first born. It was written by the sorcerer Runyon from the far-off land of Armagh and although the various parts were priced beyond the simple knight's capacity to compensate, he still had the magic gold card issued by the banking house of Shylock to pay for the various and sundry organs.

"Thirdly," spoke the Knight, "I shall need the services of a master magician who can apply these bits of new horseflesh and make this colt hearty once more. And then the genie handed the befuddled knight a business card engraved with the name of Sir Chester, master magicians/blacksmith and restorer of elderly steeds.

"And lastly," said our hero, "I shall need a special potion to transform Lady Wrenchalot into a young, horse-loving nymph with the same passions and lusty appetites she had when we first were wed." "I am truly sorry, Sir Wrenchalot, for I was in error when I told thee that thou hadst, four wishes, for according to the official genie's code for wish fulfillment, thou art only entitled to three wishes, and therefore, thy last request must go unrequited." And with that, the genie disappeared into a cloud of sparks and smoke.

"All is not lost, for indeed, I have done quite well. This Runyan wizard shall provide me with the required horse parts while Sir Chester will work his magic to see that the parts are properly operative. There are still several full moons before the turn of the millennium, and I shall have this horse leaping o'er fences and gates before the dreaded YlK approaches and thus save my eternal soul from the clutches (and pressure plates) of the Prince of Darkness. As far as that last wish was concerned, I am too old to keep up with both my horses and a lusty woman anyway. Perhaps it is best that Lady Wrenchalot continue her vow of chastity thus sparing me from sapping my strength, which I shall sorely need to ride two sporting steeds."

And so Sir Wrenchalot became an intimate associate of the Wizard of Armagh, and brown chariots did make regular visits to his manor with cartons of horse parts for Caspar, much as they had for Lucille when she underwent her resurrection. And Sir Chester agreed to work his sorcery and, although many more pieces of silver were paid to the parts and labor purveyors, Caspar began showing signs of life. And after much time and material, the day arrived when it was time to attach the magic paddles to Caspar's mighty heart. "Clear!" screamed Sir Chester, and miraculously, for the first time since incurring the curse of Lucifer, ten years earlier, Caspar came back to life. The tiny white colt was at first unsteady on his new hooves, and his heartbeat seemed irregular, but his coat did gleam, where once it was oxidized. His saddle of blue leather did indeed appear handsome, and all of his nervous system components seemed to be operative. Although he had owned the horse for nearly a decade, Sir Wrenchalot mounted the steed in Triumph for the first time, and rode proudly upon the beast back to his manor, where his good wyfe seemed less than impressed. However, many of the knights Triumphant did appear mightily awed with the condition of the horse and Sir Wrenchalot did vow that he would enter his horse in competition that very month. "I shall ride this horse to the land of a thousand lakes and there I shall compete against the finest horses in the land. And so the Knights Triumphant did band together and ride many, many leagues to Frostbite Falls on the shores of Lake Woebegone where a gathering of the finest horses in the known universe did assemble. Sir Gizmo did join Sir Wrenchalot on the pilgrimage, as did Sir Joseph of Hampshire (whose steed did spit fyre), and King Spuds and many others formed a caravan to the great Northwoods. And along the way, they passed the enchanted castle built high on a cliff which the Earl of Wright did often wish to visit, but the other Knights were too afraid to venture into lest they become morally bankrupt as had happened to the Earl following his pilgrimage there.

At last they reached the shores of Lake Woebegone where indeed the men were all handsome and the children above average. Caspar was carefully groomed by Sir Wrenchalot for his first joust and after the competition, a great banquet was held. Accolades were distributed in many areas of competition and the Knights Triumphant from the flatlands did receive numerous awards for the speed and grace of their sporting steeds. And when the time for Caspar's class came for the award presentation, a special certificate of gold was given to Sir Wrenchalot and Caspar was proclaimed one of the fairest in all the land and there was cheering and celebration long into the night by the flatlanders. And so the knight was able to keep his mortal soul from falling into the evil clutches of the Prince of Darkness. And many more adventure would await the Knights Triumphant upon their return to the flat lands which they called home. But that is a tale for another time. At this time, Caspar and Lucille are hibernating comfortably in the stable of Sir Wrenchalot's manor, and his good wyfe is at Vespers, praying to the Holy Virgin for divine guidance about how to deal with a lunatic. Sir Wrenchalot is studying a special message from the wizard of Armagh, which included especial values for a limited time only during the winter months. And Y1k did come and go, and Sir Wrenchalot remained the master of his domain and all was good in the land of the Knights Triumphant, or so they thought.

Sir Wrenchalot
November 27, 1999