Children of the Knight

by Michael J. Bowler

  The other boys laughed as Lance flushed red with embarrassment. And his pride rose to the surface. He hated being embarrassed, especially in front of other kids. “I don’t give a shit about history,” he sullenly retorted.

  Now the boys laughed with him, not at him. That gave Lance a good feeling, though he wasn’t quite sure why.

  Arthur frowned in annoyance and confusion at Lance’s petulant attitude.

  “Thy first lessons as future knights of the Round Table shalt be in the use of chivalrous language. And in the elimination of ignorance.” He glared slightly at Lance, who looked quickly away. “Britain be the sire of America, Lance. Merlin called me the once and future king because I had been destined to return when Britain didst need me most. Tell me now, young Lance, what could be a greater need than the salvation of Britain’s best and most promising child?”

  Lance looked up at the man, and their eyes met, but he had no answer, and the other boys remained silent. Arthur slipped Excalibur easily into its sheath and announced to the boys at large, “Come, lads, it doth be time for food.”

  As the boys cheered, Arthur glanced at Lance once again, but the boy refused to meet his gaze. What had just happened, he wondered?

  OVER the ensuing days and nights, these initial recruits fanned out to their various neighborhoods to seek new candidates for Arthur’s crusade. Runaways and homeless youth were targeted first, for obvious reasons—they had nothing else. But since most of the initial fifty boys had homes of their own, they sought out friends within their schools or communities, whether or not those friends were poor or rich. They pitched Arthur’s plan, and many of these others felt eager to join up. Why not? It sounded like fun. And maybe, finally, the kids in this city would get the last word.

  Some stayed the night within Arthur’s underground lair, whilst others preferred to visit only for meetings and weapons instruction. There were girls as well, though not as many as there were boys. Even the runaway girls, however, felt uncomfortable sleeping within the storm drains amongst numerous unfamiliar boys. Yet they’d show up each day for training, often surprising Arthur with their energy and vigorous attention to detail.

  Lance instructed them in proper bow and arrow technique, as Arthur had instructed him: how to almost instantly whip an arrow from a quiver, fit it to the bow, and fire with strength and accuracy. He had become an expert marksman in just a few weeks, which pleased Arthur immensely. He observed a number of the girls obviously flirting with Lance during their training sessions, but the boy purposely pretended not to notice.

  Such forwardness on the part of young ladies, as well as their willingness to fight, made him realize anew just how much times had changed since his day and age. Still, he looked on with a combination of hope and sadness as the ranks of his knightly “army” began to swell. So many disenfranchised youth, he’d noted as each day more and more appeared. How didst such a once great country come to such a shameful place?

  On one evening, Arthur and Llamrei set back out into the Hollywood area, sadly, a mecca for lost and abandoned kids. He had a small entourage following him, to fan out and bring in strays they found loitering on the streets. Lance, for once, did not accompany them. Little Chris had taken ill and would have no one but Lance care for him.

  Arthur assured his First Knight that the boys he was taking could handle themselves, but Lance had looked deeply troubled when Arthur rode off without him. Preoccupied with the growing number of children he’d begun to acquire, Arthur failed to notice Lance’s uncertain state of mind.

  As the group casually moved along the side streets, mostly to keep Arthur and Llamrei out of sight, they rounded a corner, and Santa Monica Boulevard came into view ahead. It was late on a weeknight, and there was less traffic than usual. Arthur surveyed the boulevard before approaching. There were boys standing singly or in pairs, usually beside light posts or on corners, particularly in the vicinity of liquor stores. The situation struck Arthur as most peculiar. What would youngsters be doing so late at night in such an unsavory area?

  His gaze finally settled on two such boys wearing tight wifebeaters and very tight pants, one sturdy, muscular, and dark-haired, the other delicate, thin, and shaggy blond. Arthur eyed the blond one a moment. Had he seen this boy prior? And then he recalled. This was the youth he and Lance had witnessed purchasing drugs on Hollywood Boulevard. Arthur spurred Llamrei forward, his squires flanking him on either side. They quietly approached the two boys.

  As they drew near, he heard the blond tell the other, “Looks like no business tonight, Jacky.”

  “Yeah, which means nowhere to go unless Marcus lets us crash,” replied the dark-haired one.

  Suddenly, both boys gasped, stepping back in startled fright when, out of the shadows, trotted Arthur on his horse, dressed in his tunic and cloak, and sporting an armor chest plate that gleamed brightly under the streetlights. His shield hung from the saddle at his left side, Excalibur in its sheath at his right. The boys recoiled.

  “Holy shit!” exclaimed the muscular one.

  Arthur reigned in Llamrei and gazed down reassuringly at the two boys. “Do not fear me, lads, for I have come to help thee.”

  The long-haired blond leaned closer to his friend and whispered, “Great, another freako. What’ll we do, Jack?”

  The dark-haired one rose to his full height, easily six feet, and thrust out his sizable chest. “Just hang tight, ole Jacky’s got it covered.” Then he looked at Arthur with as much courage as he could muster. “So, big guy, you lookin’ for some action tonight?”

  Arthur scrunched up his face in confusion. “Action?”

  Jack’s bravado was failing him. “Yeah, you know, you pay us money, and we do whatever you want.”

  Arthur eyed both boys appraisingly. Then he looked around the street at the other boys lounging indolently by light posts and corners. All eyes were upon him. And suddenly Arthur understood what was happening here. His eyes widened in horror, and he was appalled. “This doth be thy work, selling thy most private parts to strangers?”

  Now the delicate-featured blond spoke up, stepping in front of his much bigger friend boldly. “Our privates is all we got, mister, if we wanna eat. Now get the fuck outta here!”

  Arthur’s boys kept their hands at their blades in case trouble erupted.

  The king frowned at the blond, whose soft features and striking blue eyes displayed pain, rather than anger. “If thou didst not spend thy money on drugs, young one, thou mayst not have to degrade thyself in this way.”

  The boy leapt back a step, clearly shocked, and he and Jack exchanged a quick look of surprise. “Shit, he’s a cop!”

  Jack shook his head. “Dressed like that? Hell, he’s just got yer number.”

  Jack stretched out his friend’s bare arm to draw the boy’s attention to the rows of needle marks, tracks that revealed his serious addiction. The blond yanked his arm away and glared up at Arthur, while Jack nervously eyed Arthur’s obviously armed followers.

  Arthur opened his hands to demonstrate his nonthreatening intent. “Now tell me, lads, how art thou called?”

  Jack scrunched up his handsome face. “Huh? Oh, our names?”

  Arthur nodded, and the two boys exchanged a look before deciding. The blond spoke first. “I’m Mark.”

  “Jack,” the other added uncertainly.

  Arthur gazed at them sympathetically. “Mark and Jack, doth thou enjoy this empty and fruitless life thou dost lead?”

  Jack snorted with disgust. “Lettin’ these creeps have at us every night? You kiddin’ me? Fuck, no, man, it’s shitty!”

  Mark nodded sadly, his shaggy blond hair falling in front of his eyes. “We don’t got nobody ’cept each other.” His voice was barely a whisper.

  Arthur sat high in the saddle and smiled. “If thou wisheth, ye shalt have me and mine from this moment forward. There be food and shelter and a way of life far more noble and worthy than that which hath been thrust upon thee.”

  “Who the he
ll are you, anyways?” Jack asked, keeping himself between Arthur and Mark.

  “I am King Arthur. Hast thou heard of me?”

  Mark and Jack exchanged another look of disbelief. “Yeah, in made-up stories, when I’s a little kid,” Mark snorted derisively. “My mom used ta read ’em to me. But they’s just stories, man.”

  Arthur tilted his head and eyed the boys earnestly. “They be true stories, lad. I am seeking youths with whom to rebuild my Round Table. If thy life doth not please thee, come and join me on my quest for justice and peace.”

  Mark and Jack exchanged yet another look, this one of bewilderment. Arthur’s sincerity touched them both. He wasn’t like the johns who trolled the area, picking up boys for casual sex and then dumping them back into the street. Those guys were as easy to read as a children’s picture book. But this guy? Neither boy could figure his angle, and out here they thought they’d seen it all.

  “You shittin’ us?” Jack exclaimed, his thumping heart slowly subsiding.

  “A knight always speaketh the truth, lad. It beeth his solemn oath,” Arthur assured them. The boys in his entourage all nodded, confirming Arthur’s veracity. “Now, there be others like thyselves in this area?”

  Mark and Jack looked at Arthur uncertainly and spread their arms wide, taking in the whole of the street. Jack whistled loudly, and the other hustlers jogged quickly over to join them.

  DEEP within Arthur’s underground lair, those children with nowhere to go, or whose homes were worse than the streets, had elected to stay the night. Arthur possessed numerous bedrolls and blankets, and the children quickly adapted to the dripping, echoing sounds that permeated the drain system. The damp, rotting smell took more getting used to, but it was still better than what they’d left behind. Most were fast asleep. A few practiced their sparring under lantern light but did it quietly so as not to disturb the sleepers. Some were busily hanging wet clothing on several makeshift clotheslines strung from wall to wall across the tunnels.

  Lance and Chris sat off to one side. The small boy, clothed in a billowy tunic three sizes too big and equally large leather pants tied around his waist with a leather drawstring, now had his blond hair washed and combed, and he was clean and comfortable. He sneezed, and Lance handed the boy some tissue.

  “Thanks, Lance,” he snuffled. “Thanks for staying with me. I know you wanted to go with Arthur.”

  Lance nodded, watching the swordplay, but not really seeing it. He sighed heavily. “It’s cool, Chris.”

  “You’re the best, Lance,” replied the smaller boy, snuggling up against his hero as though afraid to let him go. Lance squirmed with discomfort. He knew Chris doted on him because he saw him as his savior, but he was a loner. He didn’t like being close to people, and he hated having people touching him. Even little kids like Chris. Getting close to people always ended up… hurting.

  What he’d just told Chris was not the truth, however. He had accepted Arthur’s request that he be First Knight, and he knew that meant he was in charge whenever Arthur was not present. But did it mean that now he’d never be able to go 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. Methinks 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. “Oh shit, 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 shit, Mel, look at that!” exclaimed the one 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, hoping for something that might make them famous. They would not be disappointed.

  Arthur sat calmly atop Llamrei, who neighed nervously as the two cops exited the vehicle and approached the group with caution. The new boys fidgeted nervously, ready to bolt if this didn’t go well, but Arthur’s squires stood their ground, hands to their waists in case blades should be required.

  “Hold it right there, mister!” said Mel, the older of the two who’d thought he’d seen it all before tonight.

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

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

  “Shit, he’s got a sword!”

  He drew his service pistol instantly, and Mel rapidly 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,” Mel 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.”

  The cops exchanged a quick, startled look. “King Arthur?” Mel exclaimed in bewilderment.

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

  Mel nervously eyed the boys flanking Arthur, suspecting they were armed, but not certain, and then jerked his head toward the ones in back. “I don’t know nothing 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. “Ye, the adult establishment of this city have cast these children into the streets to live as animals. Why wouldst thou now lay claim to that which thou hast previously discarded?”

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

  Arthur again shook his head in amazement. “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 both skittered out of reach under the police car as the rookie’s hand gushed copious torrents of blood.

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

  “Shit, I think you broke my arm!”

  Arthur sheathed Excalibur and fixed his potent brown eyes upon the two injured officers of the law. “Let this be a warning to all who doth 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 leapt 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?” Mel asked his partner, but the rookie just 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 heading toward him from one of the tunnels. He also heard the echoing clop, clop of Llamrei. Relief flooded his heart and soul. At last!

  He stood still, facing the tunnel from which emanated the voices and 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 not.

  He’s my king, that’s all. Lance finished his thought before the distraction of the new boys caught his attention.

  “Uh, what happened out there, Arthur?” He 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 and surprised.