Chapter Four

The Lord of the Night and the Knight of Renowned Fame

Meg: Don't worry if you don't get this one either. I just wanted to not have to make up an actual clue for this one. Call it laziness or whatever you will. I promise for an actually solvable clue in the next chapter. Oh, and I fixed some mistakes. The moron I am, I left out one line of the stanza for the clue, and I forgot to put seven dashed lines for the answer. Sorry everyone!

Basil moved so I could look at the painting more clearly.

A tall mouse, deathly pale and dressed all in black, stooped over a female mouse lying on the ground, who had black hair and white fur. She was dressed in white. Her neck and her white dress were stained with blood. The tall mouse's mouth, as well as the front of his shirt, was covered in blood. Two canine-like teeth protruded from his mouth.

It was hideous.

But there it was, black and white and red all over.

"Dracula," Basil breathed. "I never would have guessed it."

Mrs. Butler sighed. "My husband loved that book so much when it first came out six years ago. He used it as inspiration for the painting, but it's so grotesque that I made him put it away."

"Dawson! Look for a paper attached to the back of the painting," Basil commanded.

Dawson turned the painting around. "Here is something!" He pulled out another paper.

Basil wiped his brow. "Well, my friends, we are definitely on the right track."

Back in the study, Mrs. Butler read aloud the third clue:

"'...May'st thou be deem'd a perjur'd devil,

Ev'n from Marchena unto Seville;

From Loja to Granada hated,

From London Tow'r to England baited.

At cards should'st thou attempt to play,

Or waste at ombre all the day,

May no crown'd monarch or spadille

Attend thy efforts of thy skill:

When angry corn disturbs thy toe,

May blood at ev'ry paring flow;

And of each tooth the barbers draw,

The stump still fester in thy jaw:

Nay, since Aeneas-like thou mean'st to fly,

The death of Barabbas may xxxxxxx die!' (page 783)

O knight of renowned fame,

Thy quests live in eternal shame

But thy name in eternal flame.

O Rueful knight! O Knight of Lions!

O Knight of madness and global fame!"

No one said anything at first.

"The first part is written by another hand, but the second part is in Tom's handwriting," Mrs. Butler said.

"Your husband was relentless, madam," Dawson groaned to Mrs. Butler.

"Butler wanted us to find the name of the knight he mentions in his own rhyme," Basil said. He pointed to the dashed lines in the first part. "That has to be where this knight's name goes. His name must be the key to finding the fourth clue."

"So what knight's quests live in 'eternal shame'?" Mrs. Butler asked.

I strained to think of any knight at all. Nothing fit. But the first part of the clue looked so familiar...

Dawson was squinting at the poem. "Basil," he began, "I believe I have seen that first poem somewhere before..."

"Really?"

"Yes, but I cannot remember where."

"Try to remember doctor."

But, if Aeneas-like thou mean'st to fly,

The death of Barabbas may...

I knew I had heard it somewhere else before... but where? Dawson was struggling to recall it also. Finally he gave up. "It's no use."

"Mr. Basil, what about this part here: 'O Knight of Lions!' Could it be Richard Lionheart?"

Basil shook his head. "'Thy quests live in eternal shame'? I don't remember him being a shamed personage.

"The first part... 'Ev'n from Marchena unto Seville; 'Seville is in Spain!" I said.

"But 'From London Tow'r to England baited.'" Dawson said. "London Tower is in England."

"Barrabas? How did he die?" Mrs. Butler asked.

We all looked at one another. No one seemed to know.

But, if Aeneas-like thou mean'st to fly,

The death of Barabbas may...

"It has to be some famous, renowned knight..." Basil muttered.

"Real or fictional?" Dawson asked.

"How the deuce am I supposed to know?"

"King Arthur? Sir Gallahad? Sir Lancelot?" Mrs. Butler asked.

"Amadis de Gaula..." Dawson suggested. "How about Roland, from the Charlemagne stories?"

Basil looked at the dashed lines for a minute. "None of those names fit. There are seven dashed lines."

My mind drifted back to a schoolroom... to a young girl, reciting to the class...

"Hear me complain... spare me..." No, that's not how it went.

"Maybe the knight is a man who was knighted by the queen," Basil said.

"But which one? There are so many to choose from."

Schoolroom... grandmother, scolding me, punishing me, sending me to bed without supper...

But, if Aeneas-like thou mean'st to fly,

The death of Barabbas may...may...

"Sir Issac Newton!" Mrs. Butler blurted out.

"Doesn't fit," Dawson sighed. "I swear I've heard that poem somewhere before! 'Ah! Hear my plaint, unlucky fellow...' no, that's not it."

"That's it!" I shouted.

Everyone jumped.

"What's 'it'?" Mrs. Butler asked.

"Dawson, you made me remember!"

"Remember what?"

"'Ah! Hear my plaint, unlucky knight,

Pull in thy reins and do me right,

And prithee spare, at my request,

The flanks of that poor, battered beast.

Consider she whose heart's at stake,

False man! Is not a scaly snake;

But, a young lambkin, meek and true,

Just wean'd from teat of mother ewe.

Say, monster, why undo a maid

More beautiful than ever strayed

With Diana, huntress of the wood,

Or Venus, native of the flood?

But, if Aeneas-like thou mean'st to fly,

The death of Barabbas may QUIXOTE die!'"

Dawson immediately got it. "That's it!"

"What?" Basil and Mrs. Butler asked.

"Don Quixote!" I cried. "Knight of the Rueful Countenance! Knight of the Lions! Most well-known and beloved knight-errant that ever walked the face of the earth! Haven't you ever read the stories about him? About how he mistook windmills for giants? Two flocks of sheep for two armies engaged in battle? Inns as castles?"

"Yes! Quixote was mad! And his quests would definitely put him to shame!" Dawson added.

Basil shook his head. "I've never read Don Quixote."

"I read it in school," Dawson said.

"So did I! I had to recite a poem in class, so I chose Altisidora's farewell song to Don Quixote, all four stanzas. When my grandmother found out that I had chosen such "trash," she forbade me to recite it. But I already had the whole poem committed to memory, so I recited it anyway. She found out, and was so furious, that she would not let me read anything but the Bible for months afterwards. I haven't forgotten that poem since."

Mrs. Butler started to laugh. "What a funny way to remember a poem!"

Basil shrugged. "Mrs. Butler, I suppose your husband has a copy of Don Quixote?"

"Yes. That is one of his favorite books."

"Where is it?"

"It should be in the library."

After a search of the many shelves in the massive library, we finally found the book we were looking for. On page 783, we found another set of clues, as well as a copy of the whole poem.

Basil handed the paper to me. "For solving the last clue, you may have the honor of reading us the next one."

Meg: It's one in the morning, and right now I could care less about clues. Someone really needs to go to bed.