One Perfect Knight

by Judith O'Brien

  "Your Highness!" He sank to his knee, head bowed.

  "You! How could you! Our tree!" the king sputtered, almost incoherent.

  "What can you possibly mean, my own love? I came here to meet you, at your request!" The queen reached out and touched Arthur.

  "Then why were you two in an embrace?"

  "We were not, my lord! Sir Lancelot confessed his love for Lady Julia, that was all. And you sent me this note." She patted the small string purse at her waist, but it was empty. "Funny, I thought I put it into my bag. But nevertheless, it was you I was hoping to meet here."

  Arthur took a deep breath and looked to Lancelot.

  "My king." He raised his head. "The queen speaks the truth. And, Your Highness, why would I arrange a tryst in partial armor?"

  Arthur closed his eyes. "I know not what madness has overtaken me. My two most trusted. .:"

  "I'll defend you!" Malvern shouted.

  The king, queen, and Lancelot all turned toward the voice. Malvern, his eyes wide with panic, pulled his sword and pointed it at Lancelot.

  "Malvern, stop this nonsense," Lancelot sighed.

  Malvern glanced at the other two and saw it, that same look of mistrust and loathing. He would not allow it to happen again! Never! It must not continue!

  "He's lying, my lord! He's raised an army and will attack you, and then the queen will become his mistress!"

  Lancelot then did the worst thing imaginable, the only action that would drive Malvern over the edge.

  He laughed.

  It was a deep, rich laugh, and the queen, too, smiled just slightly. Arthur looked at his wife and shook his head in dismay; then he also began to smile.

  Just then, Julie came through the clearing, and at first all she saw were the faces of the queen and Lancelot, and she, too, began to smile. Then she looked at Arthur, a bit uncertain; still, he seemed to hr relaxing.

  Lancelot saw Julie and began to wave. Then he gaw the sword she was dragging.

  "Excalibur?" he mumbled.

  From Malvern's throat erupted a growl, and he charged Lancelot. That was all he saw, all he cared about. To kill Lancelot. To wipe that sneer from his too-handsome, smug face.

  Julie saw the lunge, and instinctively she thrust the sword between Lancelot and Malvern.

  There was a mighty explosion of light, a thunderous howl of the air itself. Julie grasped for Lancelot, blinded, deafened by the blast.

  A hand grasped hers fiercely, fingertips brushing, and the last thing she shouted was Lancelot's name.

  * * *

  Chapter Ten

  "Julie?"

  There was a bad taste in her mouth, metallic and warm.

  "Julie? Aunt Peg's coming in a second, so you'll be okay."

  "Nathan?"

  She opened her eyes to see Nathan, wearing a paper crown and bib, peering down at her. Something was wrong.

  "You're so young!" she exclaimed. "I am not young. I'm ten years old."

  Gingerly, she rose to her elbow. There was blue carpet below her, and suits of armor on podiums, and a lot of little boys in crowns and bibs. The red-lighted exit sign glowed at the end of the hallway.

  "Julie! Thank God. One of the kids said you were hurt," said Peg, running down the corridor. The other boys were with her, in various states of gaping at her and pushing each other. Then Peg paused. "What are you wearing?"

  Wearily, Julie looked down at the blue gown. Poking the tip of her foot up, she saw the embroidered slippers.

  "I… I…" She could not speak.

  "You sweet thing." Peg's eyes were soft. "You dressed up just for Nathan and his party. Really, Julie. You're absolutely wonderful. Here, let me help you up."

  Every muscle in her body ached as Peg pulled her to her feet. "How long was I gone?" She felt mechanical, as if all of her emotions had been left behind someplace.

  "Oh, about five minutes, I suppose. You haven't missed much-they just brought out the chicken, and the joust will start at any moment. That dress is lovely, by the way. What kind of material is it? It's so strange, but it goes with the sword."

  "Excalibur," she whispered, lifting the sword by the hilt.

  "Wow! Cool! Look at this!" Nathan reached for the sword, but Julie pulled it away.

  "Careful. It's, um, it's really sharp."

  This was all a nightmare. But unlike any other nightmare, she had managed to bring her clothing and props along when she awoke.

  "Damn, Julie," Peg breathed. "This sword looks real. I mean the stones and whatever it's made out of. It's glowing."

  All she could do was nod. It was just as heavy as it had seemed in Camelot, as she was dragging it over to the tree.

  Taking a deep breath, she tried to comprehend what had happened. The dress and sword had come with her to the present time. That would mean that someplace, maybe, Lancelot was still alive. Perhaps he was searching for her. Or perhaps he had no memory of Lady Julia, of their time together.

  "Julia?"

  His voice. It was his voice, Lancelot's.

  "Lancelot?"

  She spun around, trying to locate the direction of the voice. It was coming from a suit of armor on a pedestal.

  Handing Excalibur to Peg, she followed the voice.

  The boys clapped with glee, and some other people who had wandered downstairs to use the rest rooms clustered around them.

  "Hey, Ethel," said one man. "Get the kids there's another show down here!"

  The arm moved in the suit of armor she had been examining before, when she had first gone to Camelot so very long ago.

  Five minutes before.

  Without hesitation, she stepped past the boys and calmly climbed alongside the suit of armor.

  "Julia?" The voice was muffled behind the visor.

  "It's me," she said, delight welling up in her. He was right there, with her!

  "Help me!"

  She lifted up the visor to see his face, his glorious face. His eyes shifted, his head held by the helmet.

  "Where are we?"

  "We're in New Jersey, Sir Lancelot," she soothed.

  At that, everyone broke into applause.

  Just then, Julie saw something from the corner of her eye. A movement, someone furtive, ducking toward the exit sign.

  "Lancelot, look!"

  Still stunned, he glanced in the direction she had pointed. It was only a brief glimpse of a dark man in a black tunic, but they both knew who it was.

  "Malvern," he seethed. He tried to move, to go after him, but was hindered by the armor, fixed to the pedestal.

  "I'll go," Julie began.

  "No. No, he's dangerous," he began.

  Suddenly, an official-looking man in yellow tights and a red name tag that read "Manager," clutching a clipboard to his side, pushed through.

  "What the hell is going on?" he demanded. Then, seeing the confusion on the bystanders' faces, he smiled and spoke through clenched teeth. "I mean, may I please inquire what is your pleasure, lady fair? Thou doth playeth with a suit of armor worth a king's ransom."

  "It was a few coins. Hardly a king's ransom," said Lancelot from his metal confinement.

  "And who are you, good Sir Knight?" The manager was doing everything in his power to stay calm.

  "Have you come to take part in the tournament?"

  "I am Lancelot."

  "Crap," the manager muttered. Then, with a brighter expression, he gestured to Julie. "Come down, lady fair, and helpeth us beyond yonder exit sign."

  "Why does he speak like that?" Lancelot asked Julie.

  She did not answer but looked over at Lancelot. A thought crossed her mind. "Are you wearing anything 'in there?"

  "Oh, crap," moaned the manager.

  Lancelot tried to glance down. "I'm not sure. But I would imagine I am."

  A few women who had joined the group craned their necks in anticipation. One or two fumbled for their cameras.

  Julie surveyed the armor. "Here, let me help you." Carefully, ignoring the manager, she loosen
ed the straps and unhinged the armor. It had been glued in places, and a few fragments were fastened with twist ties.

  The helmet came off first, and there was an audible sigh from the women, including Peg.

  "He's gorgeous!" one woman shrieked. "Marvin, hand me a folded dollar bill."

  "This ain't Chippendale's, Ethel. I'm keeping the money," Marvin snapped.

  By now, the crowd had doubled. Groups were positioning themselves on the steps. A large pack of women who had arrived on a tour bus elbowed their way to the front.

  Julie continued working, removing the leg and arm pieces, and at last the breast and back plates.

  Lancelot, wearing his blue tunic and thigh-high boots, was free. The figure he struck was magnificent, with the blue-black of his shoulder-length hair and the powerful muscles evident even through his clothing. There was wild applause and a few whistles as he helped Julie step off the fake marble podium.

  He took the sword from Peg, who had been standing with her mouth open, watching the scene unfold. "Thank you." He smiled. All Peg could do was preen.

  Lancelot walked over to the manager, doing a brief double take at the boys wearing paper crowns and bibs. The boys stared, suddenly shy and stepping aside with deference. He reached the manager.

  "May I speak to your king?" Lancelot inquired with a crisp bow.

  The manager glared. "Yes. Follow me hither into yon office, and we will call him on ye olde phone."

  The manager stalked ahead, and Lancelot again turned to Julie. "Why does he speak like that?"

  Peg grabbed Julie's arm. "Hey, listen. It was great what you guys did. The kids loved it, it's made Nathan's birthday. But I have a terrible feeling the manager's `king' is going to come in a white car with a siren. Maybe we should head out the back way?"

  "Are all the kids here?" Julie asked.

  "All present and accounted for," Peg confirmed.

  "But they haven't eaten, and the show has just begun."

  "Julie, they've had more of a show than they dreamed of. We'll stop off at McDonald's for Happy Meals. Believe me, the kids are in heaven."

  Julie looked as the boys circled around Lancelot, who was giving her a perplexed look even as he hefted the sword.

  Peg shook the car keys. "Hey, guys. We're going to the kingdom of the Golden Arches. Last one in the van has to share his fries."

  At that, the kids, pulling Lancelot, ran to the parking lot. Julie and Peg were close behind.

  "Julie, why didn't you tell me about this guy?" Peg whispered. "He's fabulous! I mean, to meet us here and dress up as Lancelot. How can I ever thank you?"

  Julie smiled and ran ahead to Lancelot. Slipping her arm through his, removing a clinging nine-yearold, she leaned close. "Are you okay?"

  "Where are we?" They stepped into the parking lot, and he gazed at the seemingly endless rows of cars and vans. "What are those?"

  "You'll be fine. Those are cars, the way we get around from place to place."

  He looked at her, his expression one of utter confusion. "Cars?" Then he paused. "Malvern. We have to find him."

  "I know. But Lancelot, we're on the turnpike. He'll never find us. He'll get lost here, and I bet he'll try another one of his stunts and get arrested."

  "Arrested? You mean stopped?"

  "Yep. I think we can forget all about him."

  "No. No, we can't. That would be a mistake, Lady Julia. He'll be as dangerous and devious here as he was back in ..." He simply stared at the sights, the highway, the cars. "Where are we?"

  "We're in New Jersey. Remember? You came back with me into my time. We were at the tree, all of us. Remember?"

  All he could do was nod. There was so much to tell him, so much he needed to know. "This is where I'm from, Lancelot. You wanted me to tell you, so I decided to go one better and show you."

  In the distance, an eighteen-wheel truck was blowing its diesel horn, cars were zipping by, the garish billboards advertising whiskey and airline packages to Las Vegas. A jet flew overhead, and he ducked, large hand over her for protection. Embarrassed, he turned to her, his arm still slightly raised against the threat of the airplane, the other holding onto Excalibur.

  "A discussion would have been just fine," he muttered.

  "Hmm?"

  "You could have told me about this place. I may not have believed you, but a discussion would have been quite sufficient." Again, he stopped. "We have to return Excalibur. Arthur cannot rule without it. We must return the sword."

  "First, we have to get our bearings, okay? Let's just get through the next few minutes, and we'll go from there." She continued pulling him toward the van when he paused.

  "What's that smell in the air?"

  She sniffed. "That's just the air. It's like this all the time."

  He just nodded, his eyes taking in every sight.

  Finally, they reached the van, and the kids piled in first.

  "Peg," Julie began. "I hate to ask you, but would you mind driving? I'm a little shaky."

  "Damn. If you're a little shaky, you'll be a lot shaky after riding with me."

  "Really, Peg. I just can't."

  Peg looked at the van. "I don't know. Maybe. If you keep the kids quiet."

  "I will. Promise."

  Reluctantly, Peg slipped into the driver's seat and began adjusting the mirror and steering wheel.

  Lancelot just stood, until Julie fastened him with the shoulder harness into the front seat and climbed into the back with the kids. They pulled out of the parking lot just as a police car with flashing lights pulled in.

  "You'll get used to it," she whispered.

  Peg, who assumed Julie was talking to her, smiled. "I hope so."

  Slowly, he touched the harness, trying to pull it away from his neck.

  They were on the turnpike, passing other cars, changing lanes. The children were throwing their crowns and singing. Peg put a rock station on the radio. A Bruce Springsteen song blasted from the stereo speakers by Lancelot's side, and he was jolted. One hand was gripping the seat, the other clutched the seat belt, and his face was ashen.

  "Really, you will get used to all this," she shouted, reaching forward to stroke his arm.

  "The question is ..." His voice was hollow. He swallowed, then continued. "The question is, do I want to get used to this?"

  He turned back to look at her, his expression bleak. It was then she noticed small lines around his mouth and a few lines under his eyes. He looked tired and defeated.

  Julie tried to smile, but it was a forced cheerfulness. From his reaction, she knew he was in for a terribly rough adjustment. And she realized something else, something more important and startling.

  Outside Camelot, Lancelot was no longer perfect.

  * * *

  Chapter Eleven

  Dinner at McDonald's with Sir Lancelot, lately of Camelot, was not a roaring success.

  Perhaps had the boys been less intrigued with the knight and left him to gather his thoughts for more than a few seconds at a time, the transition from Knight of the Round Table to Guy Carrying Happy Meals Back to the Kids' Table would have been more graceful. Maybe if he hadn't been so concerned about the sword Excalibur, resting in a van in a McDonald's parking lot, he could have regained his equilibrium.

  As it was, Lancelot wore an expression of mounting confusion as the boys bombarded him with questions. They seemed to accept as a matter of course that Sir Lancelot was, indeed, eating a Quarter Pounder with them near an off ramp on the New Jersey Turnpike.

  "There is something wrong with this food," he whispered to Julie. There was a tentative quality to his voice and manner, as if it had taken a great deal of thought to work up the nerve to question any aspect of his new surroundings.

  "There's nothing wrong with the meal, Sir Lancelot. This is the way it is supposed to taste."

  "And for this"-he held up the orange wrapper, lines of congealed cheese hardened on the paper-"for this, one exchanges coins of the realm?"

  Peg had been
watching the exchange with amusement. "Yeah. Go figure. Nathan, get the straw out of your nose. Thank you."

  Lancelot shook his head and put the rest of the hamburger down, giving it one last wary look, as if the sandwich would stand up and dispute his opinion.

  "So tell me," Peg began, sipping her coffee. "What's your real name?"

  Julie glanced at Lancelot, who seemed relieved to be on comfortable ground.

  "My full name," he stated boldly, "is Lancelot du Lac."

  Peg paused, then grinned. "Right. I'll play along. Lancelot du Lac, eh? Any relation to the Long Island du Lacs?"

  He considered the question for a moment. "No. I do not believe so."

  "Peg." Julie gathered up the papers and napkins from their table. "We really have to be going ..:"

  Peg ignored her. "So, Lance, you don't mind if I call you Lance, do you?"

  "Not at all," he replied gallantly.

  "So, Lance, what do you do in Camelot?"

  "Do?"

  "Yes, do, as in to earn a living." Peg punctuated the question by eating a French fry.

  "Well, I help the king keep peace and harmony throughout the kingdom."

  "Of course. And when you say king, I assume you're referring to King Arthur?"

  "Yes."

  "Aha. Between you and me, Lance, what made you go bad?"

  Julie stopped filling a tray with half-empty soda cups, and Lancelot simply tilted his head, as if he hadn't heard correctly.

  "What do you mean by `go bad'?" Julie asked, keeping her voice as level as possible.

  "You know, all that stuff that happened," Peg replied blithely, handing out packets of towelettes to the kids.

  Lancelot shifted in the plastic chair, and Julie placed her hand on his forearm. "What stuff that happened?"

  Peg laughed. "You guys are good! Really, you ought to take this show on the road. Nathan? Sir Lancelot wants to know about the bad stuff he did in Camelot. It seems we have managed to snag the bold knight before he betrayed King Arthur."

  "What did you say?" Lancelot's voice boomed, silencing the garishly lit restaurant as other patrons stopped, trays in hand, and looked with genuine concern at the large man in the blue tunic who had suddenly become unpleasantly animated.