Children of the Knight, Michael J. Bowler [classic book list txt] 📗

out with Arthur again because these other kids needed someone in charge? He didn’t think he could handle that.

“When’s Arthur coming back?” Chris asked sleepily, pulling Lance out of his reverie.

“Don’t know, little man. Soon.” At least he hoped so.

Chris smiled as he drifted off to sleep in Lance’s arms. Lance gazed absently at the practicing boys, but his mind and heart were out there with Arthur.

Arthur trotted along on Llamrei, who’d grown very comfortable in the presence of cars and honking horns and other odd, loud noises. His armed squires, dressed in their medieval finery, marched by his side, followed by Mark, Jack, and four other teen boys who chose Arthur’s crusade over street hustling. Had there been serious traffic on Santa Monica that night, there would’ve been gridlock for all the rubbernecking. Arthur appeared especially majestic, perched atop the dazzlingly beautiful mare, a rag-tag group of boys in tow. The newcomers were chatting and laughing amongst themselves, obviously enjoying this grand new adventure, despite not knowing its eventual outcome. As Jack had told them, anything was better than what they were doing before.

Some distance down the boulevard, a police car approached, cruising slowly, obviously on patrol.

Mark’s eyes widened with fear. “Crap, the cops! We gotta jet, man.”

Arthur calmly reined in his horse and turned back to the boys. “Halt and stand without fear. Thou art under my protection.”

Within the police cruiser, the two officers reacted with startled amazement as Arthur and his entourage became visible through their windshield.

“Holy crap, Mel, look at that!” exclaimed the rookie riding shotgun.

The driver shook his head in disgust. “Call it in. We’ll need backup. Damn, I hate West Hollywood.”

As the police cruiser slowed to a stop in front of Arthur and his boys, some pedestrians across the street stopped to observe. Both had their cell phones instantly up and recording.

Llamrei neighed nervously as the two cops exited the vehicle and approached the group with caution. The new boys fidgeted nervously, ready to bolt, but Arthur’s squires stood their ground, hands to their waists in case blades should be required.

“Hold it right there, mister!” said the older of the two officers.

Arthur smiled with amusement. “Methinks we be already stopped, sir.”

Nervous laughter floated up from the boys in the rear. The other cop, a young man, suddenly noticed Arthur’s sword, which he’d begun carrying despite Lance’s admonitions to the contrary.

“He’s got a sword!”

He drew his service pistol, and the older followed suit. The new boys jumped back a step at the appearance of the guns, but Arthur’s boys stood fast. His training was paying off.

“Okay, mister,” the older cop began, waving the barrel of his gun at Arthur, “down off the horse and put the sword on the ground.”

Arthur shook his head, his long hair catching the light of the street lamps and almost glowing. “Nay. King Arthur answers to no one but God and his own conscience.”

“King Arthur?”

“Aye, and I shalt allow no harm to befall my noble squires.”

The cop nervously eyed the boys flanking Arthur, and then jerked his head toward the ones in back. “I don’t know anything about these kids in front, mister, but those squires of yours in the rear, and I do mean rear, are prostitutes, which happens to be a crime in this city.”

Arthur cocked his head to gaze down at these men of the law in astonishment. “You, the adult establishment of this city have cast these children into the streets to live as animals. Why would you now lay claim to that which you previously discarded?”

Now the rookie piped up. “Because they’re breaking the law, pal, just like you are. This area’s not even zoned for horses.”

“Do not force me to use Excalibur, for I have no wish to harm thee.”

He gripped Excalibur’s hilt, and the nervous rookie fired his gun. The bullet ricocheted off Arthur’s armor with a harmless ping, to the open-mouthed amazement of the boys and the cops. Still clutching Excalibur’s hilt, Arthur whipped out a small dirk with his other hand and flung it expertly at the rookie, cutting the man’s hand and knocking the gun from his grasp. Gun and dagger skittered out of reach under the police car as the rookie’s hand gushed blood.

As the older cop raised his firearm, Arthur unsheathed Excalibur and swung it down hard so that the flat of the blade struck him with an audible crunch on the forearm, sending his gun clattering out of reach. The cop gripped his injured arm and grimaced with pain.

“Hell, I think you broke my arm!”

Arthur sheathed Excalibur and fixed his potent brown eyes upon the two injured officers. “Let this be a warning to all who abuse justice— corruption hath a new enemy, and his name be Arthur Pendragon.”

The far distant sound of approaching sirens cut through the night, and Mark leaped forward to Arthur’s side. “There’s more coming, Arthur. We gotta bounce, now!”

Arthur grabbed Llamrei’s reins. “Godspeed, lads. We’re away!” He spurred the horse into a fast trot down a side street as the boys hurriedly ran after him.

The two officers watched them escape with a mixture of anger and wonder.

“What the hell was all that?”

The rookie shrugged and fought to staunch his bleeding hand.

The pedestrians with their cell phones ceased filming and jumped into the air with glee, high-fiving one another.

All the children slept soundly within the dank underbelly of the city. Chris lay curled in a ball, wrapped tightly in his blanket in a quiet corner. The only one awake was Lance. He paced nervously back and forth like a caged tiger, flipping his skateboard from hand to hand. Drawn to the commotion of voices, his gaze spun quickly in that direction. Excited, animated voices headed toward him from one of the tunnels. He also heard the echoing clop, clop of Llamrei. Relief flooded his heart. At last!

He stood still, facing the tunnel from which emanated the chatter. Then Arthur appeared, sitting astride Llamrei and looking rock solid and secure. Lance let out the breath he’d been holding. He’d let his imagination run away again, had considered all manner of accidents that could have befallen his—

No! Don’t think like that. He’s my king, that’s all.

“Uh, what happened out there, Arthur?” Lance eyed the tight clothes of Mark and Jack and the other newbies, and a chill ran through his body. “Everything all right?” he asked, trying for strength and confidence, but knowing he sounded weak.

Some of the sleeping boys awoke from the commotion and gaped sleepily at the newcomers.

Mark lurched forward and blurted, “It was great, man! Arthur took out these two cops with that big-ass sword of his!”

He waved his skinny arms in imitation of Arthur’s movements, momentarily distracting Lance at the sight of the needle tracks.

Lance pulled his attention back to Arthur. “You killed ’em?”

Arthur shook his head and dismounted, deftly removing his chest plate and handing it to one of the boys who’d set out with him, then gazed at Lance with surprise. “Nay, Lance, you know better.”

Lance looked away, feeling small and stupid. He did know better. Arthur’d never kill anyone, not less he really had to.

Now Jack stepped up beside Mark and gushed, “The cop shot ’im, and the bullet bounced off, just like Superman! It was awesome, wasn’t it, Mark?” He threw his muscular arm around Mark and hugged him, and the shaggy blond nodded.

Lance’s eyes went wide with horror, and a chill traveled up his back into his throat.

Jack turned back to Arthur. “How much does that sword weigh, anyways?”

Arthur placed one gauntleted hand on his shoulder. “Enough, Jack. Thou shalt all have time to learn of our ways. Lavern, attend please.”

The small wiry boy, bleary eyed from sleep, quickly shook himself awake and stepped forward to stand before Arthur. He’d decided living with Arthur was preferable to being slapped around by his mother every day.

“Yes, Arthur?” Lavern asked expectantly, looking a bit comical in the oversized tunic that dropped past his bony knees.

Arthur indicated the new boys with a wave of his hand. “Take our new recruits. Give them food and beds to rest their heads.”

Lance continued to gape at Jack’s arm draped around Mark. There was something about those two that unnerved him. Jack caught Lance staring and blew a kiss his way when Arthur’s back was turned. Lance bristled with indignation.

“Yes, sire,” agreed Lavern, and he turned to the newcomers. “Come wit’ me.”

As the new recruits, still buzzing with excitement, followed the small boy back into the tunnels behind the throne, Mark and Jack sauntered past Lance, who stepped forward to block them. He asked quietly, “You guys fags or what?”

Mark prickled instantly. “So what if we are, beaner!”

“Why?” Jack chimed in with a wink and a leer. “You one of us, pretty boy?”

Rage engulfed Lance, and he reared back to slug Jack, but his upraised fist was grabbed by Arthur and held in an iron grip.

“Mark, Jack, follow thy fellows,” Arthur instructed them. “We shall talk when you have rested.”

Both Mark and Jack smirked at Lance as they pushed on past to catch up with the others. Arthur loosened his grip, and Lance yanked his hand away.

Arthur gazed at him with concern, but Lance refused to meet his eye. “You and I must needs speak, Lance.”

Lance roughly pulled away from Arthur and moved sullenly down one of the side tunnels. Arthur followed. They moved past several round tubs they’d bought at Home Depot that were used for bathing and entered a darker area deep within the tunnel, lit only by a single lantern.

There were some ancient-looking chairs strewn against the wall beneath the lantern, and Lance plopped himself down on one, ignoring Arthur, refusing to look at him. Arthur carefully sat on a chair beside Lance, but not too close.

He sighed, but his voice remained gentle. “Lance, you are my First Knight. It be up to thee above all others to set a right and proper example. Fighting amongst ourselves be the greatest of evils, for it—”

Lance jerked his head up. “They’re queer, Arthur!”

“And?”

“And what? We can’t have them here!”

“Have they not been cast aside by thy society, just as you and these others?”

Lance threw his skateboard across his lap. “Yeah, I guess.”

“But what if they…”

Arthur eyed him so intently that Lance squirmed. “If they what?” he asked gently.

Lance shook his head. How could he explain, when he didn’t want to face it? “They said I was one of ’em, Arthur! You can’t let guys dis you like that.”

“Perhaps not. But saying a thing does not make it the truth.”

“I know what our goal is, Arthur, and I want so much to be like you, but I don’t think I can….” His voice dropped to an embarrassed whisper. “I don’t know if I can work with them.”

Arthur bent his head so he could look into Lance’s eyes. “They be lost children, Lance, like unto these others we have found. To reject them, to forbid them our love and fellowship shall make us no better than those whom we oppose. Do thou understand?”

“I do,” Lance stated quietly, feeling shame. “I just don’t know….”

“Lance,” Arthur began, his voice firm, yet understanding, “you are my chosen one, you are my First Knight, he who shalt command in my stead. Do you mean to say you cannot share our ideals and goals with all who need us? These boys be different