Laura didn’t know what to do! There were ants all over her, she was half-turned around in the most awkward position imaginable, and she didn’t dare move. Some mean trick of perception made the ground seem terribly far away, while the boys seemed close enough to reach up and touch her. If she did anything now, they’d notice.
Soon the whole pack of them had gathered below her, teasing and congratulating one another for moves they’d made or failed to pull off during their hunt, in which Joby had evidently been the prey. To Laura’s relief, it seemed they were going to go have another hunt, which would give her the chance to get out of this tree. This time the red bandanna was tied around Benjamin’s arm, but just as he was going to leave, several of the boys said they needed to rest first, and the whole group collapsed agreeably onto the ground beneath her. That’s when she was bitten. The ant’s tiny jaws were a searing needle in her armpit.
“Oh!” she gasped.
The word was out of her mouth before she could catch it. Everyone looked up. A few of them stood.
“Laura Bayer!” shouted Johnny Mayhew in disbelief.
“Laura?” said Joby. “What are you doing up there?”
“She’s spyin’ on us! That’s what she’s doin’!” shouted Duane Westerlund. He picked up a pebble and hucked it at her as if chasing a squirrel or a blue jay away from their picnic.
Flinching back from Duane’s little missile, Laura lost her balance. Clutching at the empty air, she felt more surprise than fear. No one made a sound, and there was no time to think before she hit the ground with a sickening jolt, as if from some great distance. She knew something was wrong, but her brain seemed stuck and far away. Her glasses were gone. She wondered if she’d broken them and if she’d get in trouble for it. Had she told her mother she’d be home late? Did she have homework to do? All these thoughts passed ridiculously through her mind in an instant.
“Laura!” Joby cried. Suddenly unfrozen, he and several others ran to look down at her in horror. “Laura, don’t move!”
She tried to sit up, and her left arm and shoulder were instantly lanced with a horrible fire. Hearing herself scream, she imagined white-hot sword blades slicing up her arm and racing for her head. She fell back onto the ground as if someone had pulled her plug. The boys above her looked sick. Some of them turned and ran away. Her vision shrank in, as if she were falling down a long dark tunnel away from Joby’s stricken face. There was just time to hear someone moan, “She’s turning gray!” and Peter Blackwell yell, “Duane, you butt! You’ve killed her!” Then the tunnel closed.
Joby walked slowly down the long shiny hallway with a bouquet of flowers in each hand. He was nicely dressed, his hair carefully combed. They said Laura was healing well, but even after two days, he was scared to see her arm again.
His parents had offered to come up with him, but he had left them in the lobby. After hearing what had happened, his mother had tried to forbid Joby from ever climbing trees again. His father had told her that it wasn’t fair to make Joby stifle himself every time someone got hurt, which had only made his mother even more upset, and Joby just didn’t want them seeing Laura, and starting it up all over again.
It still made Joby shudder to remember how Laura had turned all pasty and passed out after the fall. He had thought she might really be dead. They’d been a long way from the nearest building, and her arm had looked so terrible bent back beside her like she had a second elbow. Bones and blood had erupted through her skin when she’d tried to sit up. Some of the guys had thrown up. After telling Benjamin and Kyle to run for help, he’d stayed beside her, petting her hair, afraid to touch anything else, telling her and himself that it would be okay. It had seemed to take forever for the emergency people to come in their big truck with Ben and Kyle in the front seat.
She had regained consciousness then, and Joby still couldn’t believe how brave she’d been. When one of the emergency guys had mentioned “giving her a hand,” she’d actually joked about needing a new one. She’d only screamed once, when they put a big plastic splint on her arm. Joby couldn’t imagine making jokes if it had been him. He figured he’d have screamed pretty much the whole time.
They said she was going to have to stay at the hospital until Monday, because there’d been dirt deep in her arm, and they were worried about infection. Joby was the first person to see her besides her folks, and he wondered what to expect as he found her room, and knocked softly on the door.
“Come in.”
She didn’t sound dead.
He pushed the door open to find her propped up in bed, watching a TV hung from the ceiling. There was a tube stuck in her left hand and another embedded in her cast, but other than that, she looked okay. When she saw who it was, her hazel eyes went wide behind the blue-framed glasses that had miraculously survived her fall, and she smiled brightly. Relief washed through Joby. He had wondered if she might be mad at him.
“Joby!”
“Hi, Laura.” He walked to her bedside, and handed her the small bunch of iris and freesia his mother had picked out. “These are from me.” Then he set the large bouquet of roses and carnations on the covers beside her. “And these are from Duane. . . . He’s real sorry, Laura.”
She looked uncertainly from Joby’s bouquet to Duane’s and asked, “Why doesn’t he come say so himself?”
Joby shrugged. “He’s scared. He knows you prob’ly hate him now.”
She snorted, and set the roses on her bedside table, then stuck her nose in Joby’s flowers, took a deep breath, and smiled again. “I don’t hate Duane,” she sighed. Then she grinned. “I heard Peter call him a butt.”
Both of them laughed.
“A lot of people think he’s kind of a jerk right now,” Joby said.
“That’s too bad,” she said, sounding like she meant it. “Tell him to come see me, Joby. Will you? He probably won’t believe I don’t hate him ’til I tell him so myself, and he probably won’t come see me unless you tell him to.”
Joby stared at her. She sounded . . . older. And something about her request made him feel proud, though he wasn’t sure why.
“I’ll tell him,” he said. “But I don’t think he’ll come.”
“He will if you tell him to.”
The pride in him swelled some more. He looked at her cast.
“Does it hurt a lot?”
“Yeah. Sometimes. But not too bad.”
“What were you doing up there, Laura?”
She looked embarrassed and glanced away. “Like Duane said. Spying.”
“Why?” Joby asked.
“ ’Cause I wanted to see what I had to do to be a knight,” she answered, still not looking at him.
Joby’s shoulders slumped. If girls could be knights, no boy would want to be one. He knew that. . . . but . . . she’d practically died trying to get in.
“I’ll try,” he said. The words just came out on their own. But as soon as he heard them he knew he couldn’t take them back.
“Try what?” Laura asked.
“To make them let you in,” he said, sure he was announcing the Roundtable’s death sentence.
First she smiled, then she looked down unhappily. “I can’t climb that pine tree, Joby. . . . I won’t pass the tests.”
“I couldn’t make jokes if my arm was broke,” he replied. “Far as I can see, that’ll work as good as climbin’ any tree. . . . I don’t think they’ll listen . . . but I’ll try.”
She beamed at him. “They’ll listen to you, Joby.”
Joby looked down, not wanting her to see that he wasn’t so sure.
“And if they don’t, it’s okay,” she added. “I don’t want to be in unless they want me. It’s just nice of you to try . . . and . . . and your flowers are much nicer than Duane’s.”
That clinched it. Joby would have to try.
As they rode back to St. Albee’s the next morning, Joby tried his idea out on Benjamin. After visiting Laura, he’d gone home and scoured his book on Arthur for anything that might help h
im make his case to the other knights. The solution, when he’d seen it, was so obvious it had made him laugh.
“So that’s my idea,” he concluded. “Whadaya think?”
“I think it’s awesome.” Benjamin grinned. “After what happened, they’d be jerks to say no. It’s perfect!”
“Good,” Joby said. “That’s what I thought too. I just hope it’s okay with Laura.”
“Hey, she’ll be in,” Benjamin said. “She’ll get to come to the meetings.”
The weekend had dawned threatening rain, and Joby wasn’t as excited about going to St. Albee’s as he had been before. The Roundtable had come to occupy nearly all the space inside him that churches and grails had claimed the week before. Still, they had promised Father Crombie.
At the seminary, they asked a man leaving the grounds where Father Crombie’s office was. He gave them a strange look, then said, “Go into that building, and ask for Father Richter. He can tell you.”
When they got to Father Richter’s office, they found a new priest behind a desk, who turned out not to be Father Richter, but called Father Richter on his desk phone. A moment later the office’s other door was opened by a middle-aged priest with thick glasses and thinning gray hair, who smiled, and said, “I’m Father Richter. You must be Benjamin and Joby! Please, come in.” Joby followed Benjamin toward the inner office, wondering why the other priest had called Richter on the phone when he could have just opened the door and talked to him.
“Where’s Father Crombie?” Benjamin asked when they were inside.
“The bishop has assigned Father Crombie to another post,” Father Richter told them. “I will be replacing him here.”
“But . . . he told us to come see him today,” Joby said.
“Yes,” said Father Richter. “He felt very badly about having to miss this appointment. In fact, he left a letter for you.” He went to pull an envelope from the top drawer of an expansive mahogany desk before a very large window, then came back and handed it to Joby, who tore it open to find a typewritten letter.
Benjamin came to read over his shoulder.
Dear boys,
I’ve had to leave on important business, and will not be returning to the seminary. I am sure Father Richter will be delighted to offer you any assistance he can. I urge you to heed whatever advice he may offer. He is an invaluable mentor with whom you will not go wrong.
Sincerely,
Father John Crombie, O.F.M.
“What’s a ‘mentor’?” Benjamin asked.
“A rather special teacher, I suppose,” Father Richter replied, looking pleased.
“He’s not coming back—ever?” Joby asked.
“It seems not,” Father Richter said. “Father Crombie did not have time to tell me of your business with him. Is there anything I can do?”
Joby wasn’t sure about letting Father Richter in on their secret, so he just shook his head, thanked the priest, and said they had to get back home.
“If I may be of any help in the future,” Father Richter smiled, “I hope you will not hesitate to ask. I look forward to the pleasure of your company again.”
They thanked him politely, and left feeling glum.
They reached the main door downstairs and yanked it open. It was raining.
“Oh great,” Benjamin moaned. “You’d think Crombie could’ve called, at least, and told us not to come all the way out here.”
Joby thought so too. Father Crombie had seemed so nice.
Behind the gothic window high above them, Father Richter was already on his knees in earnest prayer. The boys had come, and the letter had been there in the top desk drawer, just as the angel had foretold in his dream. Father Richter could always tell true dreams from false ones by the angel’s voice, so musical and pure. So virginal.
Father Richter had never seen her, though he imagined that she must be lovely beyond endurance. He supposed she hid herself lest he be tempted to impure thoughts. Even self-discipline like Father Richter’s might crumble before the beauty of an angel. He often wondered if she wore clothing—but no matter. Until he was in Heaven, safe at last from fleshly temptations, he would be content with her lovely voice, and the tasks she brought him on God’s behalf.
Nothing meant more to Father Richter than knowing himself one of the very blessed few whom God had chosen to be of special service. Well aware that smaller men were quick to regard gifts they themselves had failed to attain as mere insanity, Father Richter had never spoken of his angel to anyone. They would all know in heaven, when they saw Father Richter’s glory at last revealed and were ashamed.
But, like any of God’s gifts, Father Richter’s prophetic dreams were a cross to bear as well. When the moment foretold had come and gone, he was always left to agonize over whether he’d tried hard enough or done his part correctly. He never dared assume success, for losing God’s special favor to pride or any other least sin frightened Father Richter far more than any threat of Hell.
“Lord!” he moaned now, eyes screwed shut, hands clenched in painful petition. “I tried, but I do not know if I have accomplished your purpose. Please . . . please! Give me some sign, that I may have peace!”
“They will return . . .”
He looked up in astonishment and stared around the room. There was no one present, but he knew what he’d heard. She’d never come to him outside of dreams before! Despite himself, he’d sometimes wondered—feared that . . . But now he knew, beyond any doubt! The angel was real!
“Thank you!” he cried, not caring who might hear. “Thank you, my angel! I shall be worthy! When they come to me, I will lead them in the way that they should go!”
Kallaystra chortled in quiet delight as she took leave of her lovesick admirer. When Lucifer had requested her help in finding a useful priest, she had known right where to look. She’d been entertaining herself with this one for decades. Some of these mortal creatures just seemed to cry out for special attention, and this one had needed to be special so badly. He was even more willing than the child’s silly mother to believe that the Creator would waste time sending them dreams about every little thing. Such simple creatures.
Laura mentally rehearsed her lines as Joby and Benjamin escorted her like an honor guard toward the library. She had accepted Joby’s proposal instantly, not bothering to explain that what he obviously saw as a solution, she viewed as a fine first step. In another flash of surprising statecraft, Joby had decided that any knight who wanted to veto the plan should have to say so to her face. No doubt about it, Joby was the smartest boy she knew.
She’d spent the morning reading a book of stories about Camelot she’d gotten from the library. It had been more interesting than she’d expected. She’d felt tremendous empathy for Guinevere. She’d also composed an impressive little speech full of phrases borrowed from the book, in case Joby needed help getting those pigheaded boys to say yes.
When Laura walked into the Roundtable meeting, flanked by Joby and Benjamin, there was a moment of surprised silence, during which she pointedly adjusted her pretty blue sling and heavy cast. But, as Benjamin had predicted, none of them dared object outright to her presence. Some even frowned at Duane.
“Hi, Laura,” Duane said lamely.
Everyone waited, clearly expecting her to cut him dead. She suspected that Duane had not told anyone of his visit to apologize, and decided to keep his secret safe for now.
“Hi, Duane.” She smiled. “Thanks again for the flowers. That was nice of you.”
Duane looked relieved, and the others began offering shy greetings of their own.
“Well, let’s start,” Joby said. “I call the Roundtable to order.”
Some of the boys looked uncertainly at Laura, but Joby pulled out the chair next to his, and waved her into it. The other boys looked around at each other as if their feet were glued in place. Not until Benjamin sat down to Joby’s left, did the rest join them.
Reaching into his knapsack, Joby pulled out his book of Arthurian tale
s, opened it to the place he’d marked, then stood and read:
“ ‘This,’ said Arthur to all his knights, ‘is the new code of honor you will uphold in all my kingdom!’ ” He read very well. Laura could tell he must have practiced even harder than she had. “ ‘Wherever the strong oppress the weak, you will fight the strong until the weak live in peace; not for wealth or fame, but for the glory that comes with honor! It is for you to slay whatever vile beast should plague the land—whether dragon or griffin—and to rescue damsels in distress.’ ”
He closed the book, looked boldly at his knights, and said, “We did our best to rescue Laura.” Laura noticed he was careful not to look at Duane. “Benjamin and Kyle did a good job of getting help, and we stuck by her ’til they came, and she’s all right now. So I say, a cheer for Laura—and for us!”
He raised his fist in the air and shouted, “The Roundtable!”
All the boys punched the air and shouted with him. “The Roundtable!”
Mrs. Escobedo, the school librarian, came rushing out of her office. “Boys! This is a library! Any more yelling like that and you’ll all have to leave!”
They quieted immediately, and Mrs. Escobedo went back to her office, scowling and wagging her head.
“Laura was pretty brave too,” Joby said, more quietly. “You all heard her joke with that man about her hand.” They nodded, and some laughed. “Any of you think you could have laid there and not screamed your head off the whole time? I couldn’t,” he said before anyone could answer, though their faces all agreed with him. “You all know Laura’s wanted to be in the Roundtable since the day she heard about it.” A tense silence fell again. “Well, you just heard with your own ears that being a knight partly means rescuing damsels in distress, which I think we did as good as we knew how last week. And I don’t know about you, but I felt good to help Laura out.” There were a few tentative murmurs of assent around the table. “So here’s my idea,” Joby continued. “She’s brave as any of us, and she’s a pretty good sport, I think, considering we sort of knocked her out of that tree to start with.” Now he did look at Duane, as did most of the others. “And maybe she can’t be a knight, but there’s no reason she can’t join up as our official damsel in distress, is there?”
The Book of Joby Page 10
