Children of the Knight

by Michael J. Bowler

  THE MTS football field was located at the rear of the campus and had to be accessed by crossing railroad tracks, tracks that were still in use by the rail companies. It had always amused Lance the few times he attended PE when a long-ass train had taken like the entire period to go across, and the class would be trapped on the other side. Crazy-ass setup, he’d always thought. But no train was crossing this day as he hurriedly dragged Jenny out to the field.

  He’d waylaid her in her classroom while she was scrambling to get her grades finished in time for graduation the next day, but now none of that mattered. She had a thousand questions for him, but the boy refused to answer them. He just told her she needed to come with him and literally pulled her from the room. His newfound muscles were not lost on her either as he gripped her wrist with a strength not previously there.

  As he drew her along a narrow walkway between the baseball field and back of the bleachers, Jenny finally became too exasperated and forcibly yanked her hand from his.

  The boy turned to her in frustration. He was dressed in a green tunic, long-sleeved, that she had to admit set off his eyes well, brown drawstring leather pants, and leather boots up to his knees. His fancy attire made her feel like a slob in her jeans and short-sleeved, blue shirt that she’d bought at Ross.

  “Thou must come with me, Lady Jenny!”

  She stood her ground, hands on her hips, and shook her head. “Not till you tell me what’s going on, Lance. Where is Arthur? And what’s with this Lady Jenny stuff?”

  The boy turned on the charm and gazed imploringly at her with those eyes and that beautiful face that always reminded her of a Botticelli painting. “All thy questions shalt be answered, milady, but thou must come now. Please!”

  Sighing, she reluctantly followed him. He rounded the corner where the bleachers ended and turned to step underneath them. As Jenny followed she found herself face to face with Arthur. His sudden presence startled her, and she gasped in surprise.

  Arthur bowed courteously then gently took her hand and kissed it. He was dressed in a royal-purple tunic, with light brown leather pants, soft leather boots, his long red cloak, and a circlet crown on his head.

  “We meet again, Lady Jenny.”

  Jenny pulled her hand back brusquely. “What do you want?”

  Lance leaned in and whispered to Arthur, “Told ya she still don’t trust you.”

  Arthur nodded. “Stand guard, Sir Lance. Alert me at anyone’s approach.”

  The boy bowed respectfully. “Yes, sire.” Casting a backward glance in Jenny’s direction, he hurried to the edge of the bleachers and stood at attention.

  Jenny watched the boy go and then turned to face the man she’d so badly wanted to find. “Sir Lance?”

  Arthur nodded. “He hath been knighted, milady, as have all the others.”

  Jenny felt triumphant. “So I was right. You’re recreating the Round Table and filling it with children.”

  Arthur bowed slightly in deference to her conclusions. “Thou art as insightful as thou art lovely. We must needs talk, Lady Jenny. I doth require thy help. There be much I must tell and show thee, and methinks we have little time. Be ye willing to accompany Lance and myself?”

  She paused and considered. This was what she’d wanted. She needed to know what the man was up to. She’d wanted to know that Lance was safe, and Lance was not only safe, but apparently quite happy from the look of him. Yet if she went with Arthur to who knew where and told no one, they could easily make her just disappear, and no one would be the wiser. But no, she knew, that was not this man’s intent. Lance would never be with him if the guy were dangerous. Lance was too smart for that. So she made her decision.

  “All right. I’ll come.”

  Arthur grinned, a look that struck her as very handsome. Though she hated to admit it, he was very good-looking and very charismatic. He took her by the arm and led her gently into the shadows to where Lance was waiting. Then the three of them walked to Jenny’s Prius parked in the rear lot that abutted the campus.

  Lance sat in the backseat of the compact car and Arthur in front with Jenny. She looked askance at him when Arthur directed her toward the closest storm drain entrance. He merely smiled and sat a trifle uncomfortably in his seat. This was his first time in an automobile, and while he understood the appeal, he preferred the safe and secure confines of Llamrei’s saddle.

  Entering through the storm drain grate was the first of many surprises for Jenny that afternoon and evening. Arthur had arranged for Esteban, Darnell, and Reyna to conduct training in his absence, and all was in full swing when the king, Lance, and Jenny arrived.

  She gazed about in amazement as they wended their way through the various tunnels, and Arthur pointed out the different training areas, sleeping quarters, eating areas, the weapons and clothing storage. Jenny was astonished to see Reyna and her girls teaching teenaged boys how to shoot a bow. Chris especially enchanted her when he latched onto Lance as soon as the boy entered The Hub and wouldn’t let go.

  Mark and Jack, who’d been sparring with swords and shields, ceased their workout when Arthur and Jenny appeared. Arthur introduced her to the boys but failed to notice Mark’s lack of cordiality toward her. Jack noticed, however, and he didn’t like it. An idea began forming in Jack’s mind as Mark mad-dogged Jenny with his eyes while she wandered The Hub, an idea that almost made Jack sick to his stomach with despair.

  As Lance watched Arthur and Jenny together, that pang of jealousy arose again, and he hated himself for it. But he just couldn’t help it. When she was around, Arthur didn’t even notice anyone else was in the room. Including him.

  All that she had seen rendered Jenny speechless, but what astonished her most of all was the obvious love and fealty these children felt toward Arthur. In her mind, she’d conjured all manner of nefarious scenarios involving the man and his plans for these kids. But maybe Karla was right. Maybe he was teaching them more valuable lessons than they could ever get in school.

  Just then, little Chris tugged on Arthur’s luxurious tunic, and the man scooped him into his arms.

  “What is it, my boy?”

  “Is it dinnertime, Arthur?” Chris responded, eliciting an easy, comfortable laugh from both Arthur and Jenny.

  Feeling guilty over his jealousy, Lance quickly stepped forward and grabbed Chris from Arthur’s arms. “I’ll feed him,” he said, a bit more sullenly than he’d intended. Then he softened a little. “I mean, you’re… busy.”

  He took off before Arthur could respond, but Jenny had noticed the tightness in his voice and frowned. Arthur, eyes and soul fixed only on Jenny, failed to notice anything awry. He led her to his throne and seated her carefully in it.

  Jenny squirmed a bit, feeling awkward and out of place, but no one was really paying any attention.

  “Now, milady,” Arthur began, “that ye have seen my new Round Table, what be thine opinion?”

  Feeling overwhelmed, Jenny didn’t really have a response. This was way too much to process all at once. So she just shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it depends on what you plan to do.”

  He flashed that winning smile, the one that accentuated his good looks, and replied, “I plan to ask ye for a favor.”

  Her eyebrows rose questioningly.

  THE following day proceeded much the same as the previous one for Arthur’s young and exuberant knights. They fanned out across the city, searching for cast-off junk they felt could be reused. Today, they targeted construction sites, inquiring if there was any wood or old fixtures that were being tossed out.

  At one large site where several buildings were being demolished in preparation for the raising of new ones, a group led by Lavern and Enrique, all dressed in older, less fancy tunics for fear of dirtying the newer ones, explained to the foreman of the site what they sought. He told them that most of the area was “hard-hat” and off-limits to them. However he did point out a spot toward the back of the site that was used for the throwaway stuff.

&nb
sp; “You boys are welcome to take whatever ya want.”

  Lavern and the others, per Arthur’s instructions, thanked the man with a courteous bow before heading off in that direction. The foreman and all the workers gaped at the kids in astonishment.

  Lavern and his crew found old wood, not-quite empty paint cans, nails, bathroom fixtures, and a host of other so-called throwaway stuff they felt certain could be used again, and loaded it all into the truck Enrique had driven.

  WITHIN the warehouse owned by Mr. Ramirez and Mr. Lee, Dwayne handed over a large wad of cash and a handgun, setting both onto the table before Ramirez. As always, Mr. Lee stood, rather than sat. Being somewhat short of stature, he also felt it made him appear more intimidating.

  Ramirez studied the slightly jittery Dwayne, eyeing the boy with deep scrutiny. “You seem jumpy, Dwayne. Been sampling my goods again?”

  Dwayne’s eyes bulged in fear, and he shook his head. In truth, he had been sampling. Ramirez’s meth was the purest around. “No, sir!” he insisted, but Ramirez’s eyes told him he knew the boy was lying.

  He just stared a moment, a very intimidating tactic he’d learned years ago. “You’re sure they saw you?”

  Dwayne nodded vigorously. “They seen me. Prac’ly stuck my whole head out the winda!”

  Ramirez nodded. He snapped his fingers, and one of Mr. Lee’s Asian footmen hurried over. Ramirez indicated the handgun. “Dispose of this.”

  The young Asian, who couldn’t have been much out of his teens, nodded and scooped up the gun, hurriedly exiting the office.

  Ramirez gazed long and hard at Dwayne, who was so hopped up he kept shifting from foot to foot. “Villalobos was the target, Dwayne, not his little sister, and even at that, the girl didn’t die.”

  “It was hard, Mr. R., trying ta shoot an’ make sure they all seen me too,” Dwayne protested. “Plus that fool Marquis be swervin’ the car too much fo’ me ta aim!”

  He was sweating now, profusely.

  Mr. Ramirez drummed his fingers lightly against the wood of his desktop.

  “I wanted a gang war, Dwayne,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “It appears this King Arthur has robbed me of that.”

  “That ain’t my fault, Mr. R.!” Dwayne exclaimed, his voice cracking with fear.

  Ramirez sighed again. “I suppose not. Mr. L.?”

  Lee stepped forward and pulled a wad of bills from his thousand-dollar suit pocket and handed them to Dwayne. “For selling, and half for the shooting, because you missed the target. Do you have a problem with that, boy?”

  Dwayne hurriedly pocketed the cash and shook his head vigorously, anxious to get out of there.

  “You may go.”

  Dwayne gave a nod to Mr. Lee, glanced once more at Ramirez, who was lighting a cigar and eyeing him soberly, and then bolted from the office.

  Lee looked at Ramirez. “He’s becoming a liability.”

  Ramirez sighed. “Yes, and so is this King Arthur. Have your guys dig up what they can on him.”

  Mr. Lee nodded.

  JACK and Chris played catch in the river basin near the grate entrance to Arthur’s underground kingdom. Much as they enjoyed all the training and sparring with weaponry, the shadowy darkness of those tunnels got to everyone after a while, so they’d go topside and soak up the sunlight or play ball or just walk and hang out.

  Arthur would not allow them to practice swordplay or archery outside during the day for fear they would be spotted. While Chris idolized Lance above all others, the little boy also loved Jack for his muscles and athleticism and because he could always make him laugh.

  Jack had been teaching Chris how to throw and catch a football for the past hour. The California sun was setting with its usual kaleidoscope of red and orange and gold, and Jack knew Arthur and Lance would likely be at the park with that teacher lady by now. Jack considered the implications of Arthur’s idea. So far, the gathering of materials for their Cleanup Tour, a name Mark had come up with, had been going well.

  But tonight, Arthur planned to introduce himself and the crusade to the city at large, and that might change everything for him, Mark and all the kids. Would it change for better or for worse? So far, people had been confused, but nice, when Arthur’s knights had asked for their cast-off junk. But what would everyone else say? Would the police and politicians try to stop them? The future, which seemed so clear and joyous the evening he’d been knighted, now suddenly seemed very cloudy and uncertain.

  As he and Chris tossed the ball back and forth, Jack’s eyes kept flitting involuntarily to Mark, who sat on a concrete balustrade deep in thought and looking forlorn. Jack had told Mark about his talk with Lance and how they were all buds now, and that seemed to please his friend. But there was something eating away at Mark, and Jack felt despairingly certain he knew what it was.

  Chris tossed him a long bomb for a six-year-old, with a perfect spiral. Jack easily plucked it from the air and trotted over to high five the boy.

  “That was perfect, Chris!” he enthused. “I couldn’t throw a spiral like that at your age. NFL here you come.” Chris laughed with delight, and they high-fived again.

  As they did, Jack caught another glimpse of Mark. His best friend hadn’t budged for the entire hour. Now was the time.

  “Go on in now, Chris,” he told the boy, tossing him the football. “It’s getting dark.”

  Chris beamed excitedly. “Thanks, Jack, for all the tips. I’m gonna be a big, buff football player when I grow up. Just like you.”

  Jack grinned down at the small blond boy who’d already grown quite a bit in the weeks since he’d met him. “I’ve no doubt, little man.”

  Chris got that devilish look in his eye that always made Jack laugh. “Can I punch you one more time ’fore I go in?”

  Jack laughed, as always. “Sure.” Chris had recently discovered how hard Jack’s six-pack abs were, and he loved punching them because it was like hitting a wall.

  Pulling back his small fist dramatically, Chris punched with all his might. His fist impacted with the rock-hard abs, and pain shot up his arm. “Ow!” he screamed dramatically, shaking his hand as though he’d broken it. Jack just laughed, and Chris grinned at him. “Gonna have those too,” he insisted, still shaking his hand.

  Jack tousled his shaggy blond hair. “That you will. Now head on in. Almost dinnertime.”

  Chris beamed again that innocent, trusting smile that melted Jack’s heart and almost made him feel innocent again too.

  Almost….

  The little boy darted through the grate and vanished into the darkness.

  Jack watched him depart and then turned to gaze at Mark, looking beautiful and sad in the setting sun. A light breeze ruffled his unruly hair, and the ever-present sound of freeway traffic in the distance filled the coming night. Sighing, and with a heavy heart, Jack approached the boy he loved more than anything in the world and sat beside him.

  Hoping he was wrong about the cause, he decided to try a lighter approach. “Okay, Marky Mark, out with it. You been in the dumps all day, and I don’t mean the ones we been raiding.” He smiled, hoping his joke might elicit some response, but Mark didn’t even react.

  “He hardly notices me no more,” Mark stated, his voice laced with hopelessness.

  Jack looked at the ground, anywhere but at Mark. Here it comes. “You mean Arthur, don’t you?”

  “’Course I mean Arthur,” Mark replied as though Jack had asked a really stupid question. “He never hardly talks to me no more, it’s always Lance an’ them gangbangers an’ now that teacher….”

  Jack groaned, his blood pounding, his heart breaking. “So it’s true.” His voice was barely a whisper. “I kept hoping it weren’t.”

  “What?” Mark asked, looking at Jack for the first time.

  Jack met his gaze sadly. “You’re in love with him, aren’t ya?” Mark quickly broke eye contact. “I seen the way ya look at ’im, Mark. C’mon, this is Jacky here. I’m yer best bud, and I know you better’n anyo
ne.”

  Mark leapt down from the balustrade and stepped away in frustration. Jack jumped down and grabbed him by the shoulders, turning him around so they could face one another. “Look, Mark—” He stopped short at the sight of Mark’s huge blue eyes brimming with tears.

  “I can’t help the way I feel, can I?” the blond boy asked despairingly, tears dribbling down his soft, smooth cheeks.

  Those tears felt like acid burning Jack’s heart away. “No, buddy, ya can’t.” He grabbed Mark in a tight hug, comforting the one he loved, his own heart shattering into a million pieces.

  “He’s the only guy I ever met who don’t want sex outta me, ya know?” Mark went on, crying against Jack’s comforting shoulder. “He jus’ likes me cuz I’m me.” He pulled away from Jack and gazed at his friend imploringly. “Nobody ever cared ’bout me like him before.”

  “I do,” Jack insisted, and Mark eyed him uncertainly.

  “You’re different, Jacky.” He hesitated, lowering his eyes. “You’re my best friend.”

  But I wanna be more, Jack thought. Lance’s words rang through his mind: “Why don’t you just tell him?” and the words were there on the tip of Jack’s tongue. The “L” word was there, and he wanted to confess it, he wanted Mark to know, desperately wanted Mark to love him back. But now, standing there before Mark, knowing he needed to say just three simple words, Jack melted like a snowman under a warm spring sun and dropped his gaze in shame, lest Mark see the pain tattooed across his eyes.

  But Mark hadn’t even noticed. His own pain took precedence. “It’s like he don’ hafta care, but he does.” He paused, and Jack looked up. “You think, Jacky, ya think maybe it’s possible he could…?” He stopped in frustration. “Shit, Jack, I don’ know what ta do! Every time I see the guy I wanna tell ’im how I feel.”

  Despite his broken heart and the tightness in his chest, Jack wanted the best for Mark. “Maybe ya should tell him, ya know? He’s cool, Mark. Lance said he don’t care if a guy’s gay or straight. He says we’re all God’s children. He’ll understand.”