tempters, and it is better to have a millstone tied around one’s neck and be thrown into the sea, than to lead one of his little ones astray,” said the black Fardy.
“Little ones? He is no little one!” roared the first. “Size up his belly, brothers, and tell me he does not take a gallon of Atiltian scotch each meal!”
“A single gallon? I reckon two! There is nothing temperate about that monk, my long suffering brother, and what he refrains from doing he refrains from spite,” cried the brown Fardy.
“Perhaps he has taken a vow of silence, and we would be better not to tempt him from his holy work,” returned the dark one.
“Vow of silence? Brother you are more peaceful than I and that is no virtue in my book! I saw him chatting like a drunken nun with his friend, just moments ago. The only vow of silence he has taken is against the Fardy brothers; and though for myself I do not take offense, I cannot let my brothers be bullied!” With this, the blond Fardy brought both his fists down on the table with such a thud that the board cracked and his cup catapulted into the air, landing on the brown Fardy’s head and spilling its contents all over his clothing.
Thus injured, the brown brother yelled, “By the devil, he has set us against one another, brothers. We must not let his warlike nature overcome our peaceful ways. The quill triumphs over the sword! Remain calm in the face of his outrages, my brothers!”
The noise of the thud had gotten Willard’s attention, and seeing what was happening to Horatio, he leapt up and went over to the table.
“Excuse me, dear sirs, has my companion done anything to rile your tempers?” he asked, giving them a respectful bow.
The respect served only to confirm their high opinions of themselves, and the blond brother said, “Your companion has cruelly wronged us by refusing to drink, or even to speak, with us. Though we keep our tempers, his subversive ways inflame them unto bursting.”
Willard remained calm, imparting some of his steadfastness to them by the peaceful nature of his eyes. “You must excuse my companion, for he speaks only Latin and has given up drink. I hope my apology for his conduct will excuse him?”
“Not at all,” cried the brown Fardy, “He could have signaled to us in the very least. But no, he sat there and looked at us with contempt. We must duel, here and now!”
“Duel, here and now,” repeated the blond brother.
“Perhaps we should have an arm wrestle,” suggested the black Fardy in a conciliatory voice, “For no one will get hurt, yet it is still a way for us to prove our strength against him.”
“A grand suggestion, my brother,” rejoined the blond brother as he eyed Willard’s ornate sword with greed, his merchant’s instincts possessing him to possess it, “And perhaps we can make a wager: a full suit of the finest mail for that sword. It is fair, considering the odds.” He said this with a greedy light in his eyes, for it was never heard of before that three men could be defeated by one in an arm wrestle. But Willard was confident, for he knew what his opponents did not: Horatio was no man.
“I accept your odds,” he said, “And let the people in this room take witness that the bet has thus been laid.” He motioned to the others in the inn, who had come over to see what was going on. They all assented, and looked forward to the match with great excitement.
Willard said some words in Latin that he somehow remembered from his youth – though he could not recall why – and made his signals to Horatio to let him know what to do. He looked at the crowd and pointed to the bear, whom they thought to be a monk, and said in a confidential manner, “
Horatio then put his elbow to the table and held his paw in the air, looking at Willard in order to follow his lead. The three Fardy brothers each grasped his paw with both of their hands, putting all their weight behind their arms. This was against the rules, and the crowd booed. But Willard allowed it, to add the sympathies of the crowd to their side. The Innkeeper began the countdown, “One, two, three, begin the jamboree!”
The three brothers heaved all the weight and force they could muster against the monk’s arm, and for a moment it seemed they would win, for they slowly pushed his hand toward the table. The crowd became silent and held their breath, hoping the monk would overcome the odds and defeat the rowdy Fardy brothers. Further and further down the monk’s arm was pushed, until his hand rested only an inch from the table. The crowd screamed air in suspense, and the brothers began to smile at their victory. But then Willard winked at the bear, who winked back. Suddenly his arm stopped moving downward, and no matter how hard the brothers pushed, they could move it no further.
The crowd trembled with impatience. Then, after a moment of such suspense, the bear began to move his hand up, and slowly it rose, despite the brothers’ desperate attempts to stop it. With an expensive suit of armor on the line, it was more than personal to them. The bear’s arm reached a perpendicular angle with the table and continued on, without the monk losing his breath. He did not tire, though the brothers were wheezing, with little waterfalls protruding from their brows. Then it was over. The bear swung his paw down in a fury and crushed the brothers’ hands beneath his. The crowd let out a loud, jubilant roar, cheering for the victorious underdog, without having any idea that it was not a man at all, but a bear.
“Who could have thought that it would be, that a single man should vanquish over three!” shouted the Innkeeper.
The three brothers were in a state of awe, and though they opened their mouths many times to speak, nothing came forth. Their eyes hung open like their mouths. At last, the black Fardy whispered, as if his voice would never return, “Let us make a receipt for the goods.” The others assented, and they fetched a piece of parchment and some ink and wrote out the following:
The Three Fardy Brothers, merchants of the city of Eden, do here give to Willard a receipt for a suit of armor, it being the one once owned by the King of Atilta, before he was deposed. To be given over upon the presentation of this receipt at the brother’s store in the aforesaid city.
Signed, the Fardy Brothers.
The paper was given reluctantly over to Willard, as the brown and black Fardys looked angrily at the blond, whose idea it had been to wager the priceless armor for the priceless sword. In fact, the idea had come into his head because the metalwork on the sword matched exactly that on the armor. How was it that such a sword came to be in the hands of a monk, or a wild man? That is for later in this history.
For now, let me say that the brothers, though quick to anger, were also quick to leave it – in spite of what they claimed – and they became friends with Willard and Horatio after the arm wrestle was history, exchanging amiable good nights before each went off to his own bed.
Chapter 4
Willard and Horatio had just finished their morning repast in the main room of the inn, and were reclining to let it digest, as was the custom at that time. The smoke had slowly fled the room during the night, and by morning the air inside was fresh by comparison. The other guests had also dissipated, with the exception of the Fardy brothers, who now took breakfast with the two false monks.
The blond Fardy was the first to break the silence which had come down with the third plate of bacon. “I know a man when I see one, Horatio, and you are surely the most man-like of all men. Now, I will admit to eating more of this food than can safely dwell within, but you have had enough to fill me thrice over – and that disregarding the bacon. I have heard the preacher talking about the great abyss where all is consumed, and before now I thought he was talking nonsense and rigmarole. Now I know,” and he laughed heartily, joined by his brothers.
The brown Fardy laughed, “Horatio does not condescend to speak Atiltian with us laity, my patient brothers, but I suggest he will speak it soon enough with our Atiltian Scotch. Heave ho, there, Horatio: will you take this round for good, old King Plantagenet?” whereupon he poured Horatio a glass of scotch, which the bear downed without hesitation, to the brothers’ great amusement.
“He is the living well itself, my brothers,” cried the blond Fardy, “How else could he take so much without unseating himself? The living well itself!”
“Perhaps he has been so long without the pleasures of the table he cannot help himself?” suggested the black Fardy. “Has he not been secluded in a hermitage these last fifteen years?”
The other brothers were subdued by the thought, and left their fun with Horatio. When the meal was finished, the travelers parted ways: the Fardys headed west and Willard and Horatio east. The brothers had a tab with the
