by George Wier
“It’s my house.”
Billy nodded slowly, conceding. “Okay, it’s your house. Go gather up some clothes. I’ll see if I can fix you a bite to eat while you’re doing that. And, if it will make you feel better, by all means, call your mom.”
Rachel stepped back to him and put her arms around him and squeezed him tight.
“Thank you,” she said. Then she flicked away from him and was gone.
“Shit,” Billy said.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Shit,” Shelby said.
He was worn completely out by the time he made it back to the do-jo. The lights were on and Sheppard’s car was sitting in its usual gravel ruts.
Shelby opened the unlocked front door, stepped inside and removed his helmet.
Sheppard was there, leaning back in his desk chair. “Been having fun?”
“Been working,” Shelby replied.
Squire came around and Sheppard picked the puppy up and gave her the loving treatment.
“I came late because I got something for you.”
“What is it?” Shelby asked.
Sheppard thumped the thick volume on the desk.
Shelby picked it up, read the title and began scanning the pages. “Oh crap.”
“The library finally got it in. I got an email message this afternoon that it was available, so I went and checked it out. You’ll have two weeks before I have to re-check it.”
“You want me to learn how to speak Basque? For real?”
“You may as well be doing something, since you’ve pretty much dropped the exercise program.”
“Who says I’ve dropped it?”
“Your body is saying it. You’re nowhere near the goals I had set for you.”
“This isn’t the Marine Corps, Sheppard.”
“Maybe not, but if you want to survive, you should act like it is.”
Shelby nodded. “I’ll try harder.”
“That’s all I ask. Okay, I’m outta here.” Sheppard got up.
“Where are you going at this late hour?”
“Unlike some people around here, I’ve got a life.”
“A life?”
“Well, maybe not a life, but completely unlike some people around here, I’ve got a date.”
Shelby stood aside from the front door, set down his shield and pushed the door open. “Well, I’m sure as hell not stopping you.”
Sheppard set Squire on the floor, came around the desk and as he passed Shelby he said, “Work on the tan some more. You still look like a white cracker.”
Shelby was out hours before sunset the following evening, with armor sword and shield. Beside him walked Squire, proudly.
He had a low-slung canvas bag, and as he walked along he handed out little hand-made booklets with a simple shield figure and the words CREED OF THE WHITE NIGHT on the cover. Apart from the odd looks, he got a high five from Officer Sam Davis. The policeman took Shelby’s tract gladly and thumbed through it as Shelby walked on.
His walk west on Sixth Street took him to Congress Avenue, where Shelby paused and looked ahead, wondering if West Sixth was worth the walk. He turned to his right and gazed up Congress to see the massive and stately rose granite Capitol Building dominating the promontory overlooking the downtown district and Ladybird Lake.
“What say you, Squire,” Shelby said. “West, or north?”
Squire sat back on her haunches, as if to say, “you’re in charge, kemosabe.”
“North, then.”
There was as much pedestrian traffic along Congress as along 6th, mostly the dinner crowd and hotel crowd. Shelby got a lot of looks, and not a few girls wanting to pose beside him for a picture. He acquiesced to this. It sort of came with the territory.
Crossing 11th Street, Shelby and Squire stepped onto the Capitol Grounds and went past the main gate. A Texas State Trooper got out of his vehicle and came over to the two.
“Some getup,” the Trooper said.
“Thanks.”
“I hope you know you’re not going into the building with all that metal on. You’d set off every alarm there.”
“No sir. I thought I’d go up to the front steps and pass out a few tracts, then make my way back.”
“Tracts, you say. Can I see one?”
“Sure,” Shelby said, and reached into his bag and brought one forth. The trooper accepted it, read the cover and raised his eyebrows. He thumbed through it quickly.
“Say, some of these are real good. If people did some of this stuff, things might begin to improve.”
“I do what I can,” Shelby replied.
“Mind if I keep this?”
“Please do.”
“Okay, go on ahead. Nice puppy. Whatever you do, don’t take that sword from its sheath. There are Capitol Security cops near the front entrance, and you don’t want them getting the idea that you’re a security risk.”
“That won’t happen,” Shelby said. “The only time this sword leaves it’s scabbard is when I have to protect someone. And this building is the safest place in the whole world.”
“Good,” the trooper said. “I’ll radio ahead that you’re coming. Give out some tracts and then come back.”
“Yes sir.”
Shelby and Squire moved up the long, sloping walkway to the Capitol Building. Once there it became quickly apparent that the seventy-five tracts he and Sheppard had assembled that morning wouldn’t be nearly enough. He resolved to save at least a couple back for two stops he intended to make going home. Shelby gave them out to anyone asking, Capitol pages, tourists, a gaggle of school children and their teacher. The crowd around Shelby thickened and the questions came at Shelby one at a time. He did his best to answer them all. “Yes, it’s a real sword.” “Yes, the armor is real.” “I don’t know if it’ll stop a bullet because no one has shot at me yet.” “Yes, I have memorized the Creed.”
Squire got a lot of petting from the kids, and everyone wanted their picture taken with the White Knight.
And then the news van showed up. Reluctantly, Shelby granted permission for them to videotape an on-the-spot interview with him.
In his hotel room, Billy Strongbow watched the interview with the White Knight on the steps of the State Capitol Building. He chuckled, then got up and tapped on the door between the two suites. The door opened from within.
“Yes?” Rachel asked.
“Either turn on your television or come in here and watch this.”
“What is it?”
“The White Knight.”
“The what?”
“Come on. You’ll see. Shh. He’s talking.”
Billy bounced deftly back to the television as if he were engaged in a bit of dance. He turned up the volume quickly.
“...and it took some doing to translate the Code of Chivalry from the Middle Ages to something that might be applicable to today’s world.”
“Someone told me,” the young female reporter with the microphone beside the White Knight said, “that you have memorized this Code.”
“Well, I call it a Creed.”
The microphone swayed back for just and instant to the girl, “Creed then. Can you recite it?” The microphone tilted back the other direction.
The White Knight lifted his visor to show a lightly bearded, tanned face with a prominent chin, protruding brow, black hair, and light blue eyes.
“I can. I hope you’re not going to ask me to do that,” the White Knight said.
The reporter tilted her head. It was a clear plea.
The White Knight sighed. “All right. I, Danel Artola, swear to the keep the Code of Chivalry without the least equivocation, mental reservation or secret evasion of mind. I therefore promise that I will, 1, Protect the weak and defenseless when honor bound; 2, Give aid to those worthy; 3, Refrain from giving offense without provocation; 4, Keep my word once given; 5, Seek no reward for doing good; 6, Be fair, right and without deceit in all my actions; 7, Be truthful to myself and my own goals; 8, Not easily be turned aside from a wor
thy, yet difficult task; 9, Not give in to unseemly desire; 10, Never refuse a challenge to my honor; and 11, Never turn my back upon a foe, but instead confront them. This I pledge, for the good of all those worthy of my protection.”
Beside him, the reporter, holding what appeared to be a tract open, followed along with the White Knight. When he was done, she snapped the book closed and held the cover up. “That was verbatim,” she said. The camera operator zoomed in on the cover, then zoomed slowly back out.
“There you have it, Austin. The White Knight, Danel Artola, is on the job. Maybe we can all sleep a little easier tonight.”
“Sir Danel,” the White Knight said.
“Sir Danel,” the reporter repeated. “This is Ashley Ames, reporting from the Texas State Capitol. Back to you, Felix.”
The feed returned to the newsroom and Billy hit the mute button.
“Wow,” Rachel said. “I’ve been contemplating a run for congress. Maybe I ought to hire this guy to handle my press.”
Billy chuckled. “I think he might be serious about that Creed of his. I don’t think he’s in it for the money.”
“You’re probably right.”
“The Bureau has been wondering when the vigilante movement would begin to spread. I think that question has been answered now.”
“Vigilante,” Rachel said. “That doesn’t sound so nice.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t. In almost all instances they’re well-meaning, and only a few have gotten out of line. Maybe we should come up with a better term. But for now, the closest thing to a common citizen enforcing the law is ‘vigilante.’”
“What about ‘hero?’” Rachel said.
Billy studied her for a moment before answering. She was serious.
“Say, I’ve got an idea,” Billy said. “If that was a live newsfeed—and it looks like it was from the amount of light in the sky at the moment—then he’s probably walking away from the Capitol Building at the moment. Maybe we should talk to him.”
“What?”
“Come on. It’s better than sitting here waiting and trying to plan for something. You won’t let me call in any backup, and you can’t seem to get your mother on the phone. God only knows how she would be able to help anyway. Let’s take a ride and see what happens.”
“Hmm. Okay. Chances are he’ll disappear. And if we do find him, he wouldn’t be able to do anything to help anyway.”
“Yeah, I know it’s a longshot, but if that’s the case then no harm, no foul.”
“All right,” Rachel said. “Let me get my coat.”
It was full dark when Shelby and Squire stopped back by the State Trooper’s vehicle parked at the main gate of the Capitol Complex.
The trooper got out with a big smile plastered on his face. “I hear you gave an excellent interview. It’s all over the television waves. My wife just called me and said that you’re popping up in the trending searches.”
“I’m not sure what that means,” Shelby said.
The trooper bent down and scratched Squire behind her ears.
“That means, little doggie, that your master is on his way to becoming a celebrity.” The trooper released Squire and stood up. “Say, would you mind?” the trooper held up his phone.
“Mind what?”
“A picture. A selfie.”
“Oh. Sure. Well, maybe we should do it right. Grab one of these people and get them to take the picture, then you can hold up my sword. That would be doing it right.”
“Wonderful idea.”
A small crowd began to gather again, and the one picture turned into a mini photo shoot. The trooper held aloft the sword. Shelby raised his visor and aimed his shield at the phone camera and both men scowled for a couple of shots.
“Okay. All right,” the trooper said jovially. “We’re getting a crowd here, and I’m not supposed to draw one. Okay folks, thanks for your help. Let’s break it up and let the White Knight go out and protect somebody.”
There was a general declamation of disappointment over this news, but Shelby said, “Okay, five minutes outside the main gate and I’ll let all you folks get a picture with me. Then, Squire and I have to get back to work. And no, nobody but a law enforcement officer can hold the sword.”
There was eager agreement to this arrangement, and the crowd followed Shelby and Squire out the front gate.
Five minutes turned into ten, and then Shelby demurred any further photos. His armor weighed heavy on him, but he had someone to see.
Before Shelby started east on 11th Street, he paused to watch the late-evening pedestrian traffic and the sparse headlights and taillights along Congress Avenue. He opened his visor and turned to take in the Capitol and the Governor’s Mansion, the former lit up like a bright, monolithic and spectral knight, the latter its dimly lit and quaint squire. Couples walked hand-in-hand, going to and from the restaurants lining Congress Avenue. It was there, taking in the city, all alone but for the presence of Squire at his heels, that Shelby had an epiphany of sorts. These were his people, but he was no more their protector than a starfish could protect the sea. Yet, at the same instant, he was something higher than he had been during all those years, cowering in his little east Austin house. The world around him swam with cause and effect, an ongoing war of attrition fought for intangibles that scarcely mattered a damn against the overarching backdrop, against the black behind it all. Shelby was an island in the vast sea—a force of will in a new world this instant born.
Shelby began walking, even as the armor lay heavy on his shoulders, threatening to drive him downward with a single misstep.
Four blocks later he stepped into the chapel at St. David’s Episcopal Church. Reverend Stephen was not immediately present, but Shelby recognized one of the elders of the Vestry examining one of the pews. The silver-haired man looked up suddenly, and gaped.
“Is Reverend Stephen in, Dr. Gracy?”
“Why yes. I believe so. Hold on a minute. I’ll be right back. Your dog’s not going to piddle on the carpet, is he?”
“Squire? She’s a she. And she’d better not.”
“Good enough. Wait here.”
Dr. Gracy was gone for no more than a minute, and Shelby stood, taking in the open space of the church, the silence, and the soothing coolness of the air conditioning.
Reverend Stephen came out from the rectory entrance. “Danel! I’ve been worried about you. How have you been?” The Episcopal pastor came over and took Shelby’s mailed hand and shook it.
“I’m fine, Reverend. I brought something for you.”
“I’m flattered you would come and see me. I just saw you on the news. Well done! It looks like you’ve been accepted in your new role.”
“I wouldn’t go that far just yet. Here, this is the tract with my Creed on it.”
“Thank you, Sir Danel. Thank you. I’ll read it to my congregation this Sunday.” Stephen thumbed quickly through the tract, then amended his promise by saying, “or at least I’ll read the Creed itself to them. I’ll have to go over your commentary first, you know.”
“I’m not asking you to even mention me. I just wanted you to know.”
“To know that you’re taking this quest seriously? I never doubted you.”
“Thank you, Reverend Stephen. It may be that my life is just beginning.”
“I will pray for you, Danel.”
Shelby laughed. “I’ll take it.”
Stephen stooped down and scooped up Squire. “And here’s your Sancho Panza.”
“That’s Squire.”
“Let me walk you to the door.”
“Where do you think he is?” Rachel asked.
They had toured around the Capitol Complex and were weaving through the one-way streets south of the Capitol.
“There’s no way of knowing,” Billy said. “Look for a crowd of people. This guy sticks out like a sore thumb.”
They caught up with the White Knight talking to the Reverend on the sidewalk outside St. David’s Episcopal C
hurch.
“That’s my church,” Rachel said. “Or rather, it used to be. Shelby and I were married there.”
“What are the odds?” Billy Strongbow said. He pulled over in the No Parking zone and got out. Rachel followed him.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your conversation,” Billy Strongbow said to the two men, “but can we talk to you for a moment?”
Shelby noticed that the woman was Rachel, and his heart very nearly stopped. He was at a complete loss for words, and turned to look at Reverend Stephen.
“Why don’t you see what these people want, Danel. You can talk to me anytime. You know where I’ll be.” The reverend turned to go, and Shelby started to raise his hand and his voice to beg him to stay. Instead he turned to regard the man and his ex-wife.
“How can I help you?”
“We’re not sure,” the man said. “My name is Billy Strongbow. I’m with the FBI. This is Rachel Ward. Someone tried to kill her today. Her ex-husband is on the run from the police and she won’t allow any help from the local police and she won’t allow me to call in any additional help from the Bureau.”
Shelby nodded at the man’s words. Mindful that his visor was fully raised, that the street lamp five yards away cast a bright light on half of his face, and that Rachel was studying his face carefully, Shelby turned to address her fully. “Why won’t you allow this man to help you, Miss...”
“Ward. Rachel Ward. You were able to memorize your Creed, but you can’t remember my name from Billy saying it ten seconds ago. You might not be much help after all.”
“I’m new at this,” Shelby said. “You have caught me...off guard.”
“A good knight is always on guard,” Rachel said.
Shelby nodded.
He watched as she studied his face, her head tilting ever so slightly first one way and then the other.
“Billy,” she said to her FBI friend. “Would you mind if I spoke with the White Knight alone for a moment?”
Billy sighed with relief. “Sure. I’ll wait in the car.”
Shelby and Rachel waited until Billy was in the car and the door was closed. Rachel then stepped around Shelby and tugged on his arm until he presented his back to the car.
“I’m glad you’re okay, Shel,” she said.
