Children of the Knight

by Michael J. Bowler

Arthur called back in a commanding voice, “Methinks, Sergeant Ryan, that it be thee and thy men who doth wage war against us. We have no quarrel with thee.”

  Ryan raised the bullhorn again. “You, sir, are wanted for questioning for an assault on two officers. If you surrender yourself, these children will not be hurt or arrested.”

  Gibson leaned toward Ryan. “Great diplomacy, Ry. Why not just tell the man we’re gonna put him in jail too?”

  Arthur remained unfazed by the demand. He’d been well versed in police tactics by his young charges. The police, he had been told, would lie or do whatever it took to make themselves, or an arrest, look good.

  He called out in a calm, gentle voice, “In my previous encounter with thy men, Sergeant Ryan, I acted in self-defense after being assaulted by one of their weapons. Wouldst thou this day use such weapons against children, in full view of this city?”

  He pointed to an area outside the parking lot where the TV cameras were rolling away, capturing every dramatic moment. Ryan and Gibson soberly glanced in that direction, and Helen waved to them. Ryan lowered the bullhorn and turned to Gibson, feeling as disgusted as he must’ve looked.

  “We’re screwed, aren’t we?”

  Gibson shrugged. “Maybe not. Depends on how you handle it.”

  “Sergeant Ryan!” Arthur called out.

  Ryan raised the bullhorn a third time but did not stand up. “Yeah?”

  “Canst we not stand face to face like men?” Arthur offered in a nonthreatening tone. “Thou hast my word as a knight and a king that there shall be no bloodshed this day unless it be initiated by thee and thine.”

  Ryan exchanged a look with Gibson, who just shrugged again and said, “Your call, Ry.”

  Ryan considered everything he’d heard about this guy, and reflected on the research he’d done. The King Arthur of legend had been about justice and peace and avoiding conflict whenever possible. If this guy really believed he was that King Arthur, then he hopefully believed in the same things. He sighed and handed Gibson the bullhorn.

  “Are you sure?” Gibson asked, though he’d more or less reached the same conclusion. But what about the kids? Especially the gangbangers? Arthur might not be dangerous, but they sure as hell were! But he didn’t voice these thoughts.

  Ryan shrugged and nodded. “Whatever else this nut is, I hope he’s a man of his word.”

  He stood up and stepped around his car so he was in full view of Arthur, and a prime target if anyone should get trigger-happy. Cautiously, hearing bodies shift position and feeling twenty service revolvers at his back, he took several steps into the parking lot and stopped ten feet from Arthur and his boys.

  He eyed the kids, at their set expressions and their formidable weapons, and almost gasped at some of the young faces. He’d arrested a few of them, many times. And was that, my God, Esteban? The boy who’d practically grown up in juvy and had probably been Ryan’s most frequent collar, smirked at the sergeant as if to say, “And you thought I was just a punk, didn’t you, Ryan?”

  Ryan met Arthur’s eyes. For a moment, his resolve faltered. What had he seen in those eyes? Sincerity? Truth? He shook the feeling loose. “Why? Why involve these kids?

  Arthur’s intense gaze met the sergeant’s. “They were already involved, didst thou not know this?”

  “What’s yer point?”

  “That we doth be on the same side, thou and I.”

  Ryan scoffed. “The same side?”

  “Is not thy purpose to uphold justice?”

  “My purpose is to uphold the law, which you’ve been ignoring,” Ryan retorted harshly.

  Arthur nodded. “And from whom doth the law arise if not from the people? Are not these children people too? Methinks, Sergeant Ryan, that the people doth not agree with thine idea of justice.”

  He raised a gauntleted hand and waved it over the heads of the cops and camera crews. Ryan turned, as did Gibson and many of the other officers. Surrounding the police in a perimeter were very angry local residents, armed with kitchen knives, baseball bats, broom handles, metal poles, and tools. This standoff had now become three layers deep.

  “Hellfire!” Ryan cursed and marched back to Gibson, allowing Esteban and Darnell time for a quick high five before raising their swords once more to a defensive posture.

  Ryan grabbed the bullhorn from Gibson and turned it toward the newcomers. “You people go back to yer homes. This is not yer business!”

  “Ry, you gonna get us killed,” Gibson muttered, eyeing the angry crowd with more trepidation than he had Arthur’s crew.

  One of the tiny little ladies, a wrinkled, white-haired grandmotherly type who’d given the knights food and water all day, and who everyone called “abuelita,” stepped forward, a wooden rolling pin clutched tightly in one gnarled fist.

  “The hell it ain’t! King Arthur an’ his knights dun too much fer us to let you pigs try an’ bully ’em! So you better get the hell outta here ’fore we kick you out!”

  Cheers erupted from the ring of angry locals and from the boys surrounding Arthur.

  Ryan groaned, his ulcer attacking with a vengeance, and dropped down beside Gibson.

  “Now we’re screwed,” Gibson confirmed in disgust.

  Ryan shook his head in defeat. “Knew I shoulda retired after Rodney King.”

  Knowing the time was right to affect their escape, Arthur glanced toward a tree flanking the road to where he knew Luis was hiding and nodded almost imperceptibly.

  Up in the tree, Luis had an arrow cocked, its tip wrapped in a gasoline-soaked rag, and Enrique crouched beside him brandishing a lighter. Enrique whistled like a bird, and four other duos in strategic trees around the perimeter of the parlor did exactly the same. Simultaneously, five rags were lit by five different hands, and then five flaming arrows shot forth from the trees toward the police barricade.

  The arrows struck gas tanks on the police cruisers farthest from the crowd and the cops. Arthur had been crystal clear in his directives—no matter their feelings toward cops, no one was to be hurt. To do so would destroy their crusade. The boys, some very reluctantly, agreed to the mandate.

  Five cars around the outskirts of the standoff exploded into massive fireballs, shooting flames thirty feet skyward and drawing all eyes to the scene of the carnage even as everyone, cops and locals, dove for the ground in fear.

  Pandemonium ensued as the smoke from the burning vehicles suddenly blanketed the entire area, choking everyone with noxious fumes and effectively hiding Arthur and his knights from view.

  “Knights, away!” cried Arthur, and the mass exodus began. He deftly leapt atop Llamrei and yanked Lance up into the saddle behind him as the boys scrambled from their positions and pelted through the smoke, some dodging choking cops along the way, and headed for their waiting cars and trucks. Those on bikes leapt into action, wheeling in and out of crashed and flaming police cars, past the confused local residents, and out to the freedom beyond.

  The organization and speed of the exodus was astounding, especially since this was the first time it had been attempted. The kids, however, had assured Arthur that they all had plenty of experience running from cops, and he had taken them at their word.

  Arthur did not budge, determined that every one of his knights should escape unscathed. As the cops recovered themselves and raised their guns toward the fleeing children, the locals rose up and stood between the police and the retreating kids, blocking any shot they may have had. The camera operators and reporters ran here and there, fighting to capture as much of the mayhem as possible.

  Their swords now sheathed, Arthur sat calmly, with Lance nervously fidgeting at his back, until he saw no more of his knights trapped anywhere within the perimeter. Ryan and Gibson were on their feet, coughing and choking like the rest, but trying to contain the out-of-control situation.

  “Don’t shoot, for God’s sake, they’re civilians!” Gibson barked as the locals pressed in more tightly to make certain every cop was immobilized.
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  Ryan gazed around him in despair at the complete snafu his operation had become and then turned to look through the billowing smoke at Arthur, still seated on Llamrei, calm and confident. Ryan had to give it up to the guy—this hand was well played.

  “Until our paths again cross, Sergeant Ryan,” Arthur said with a slight bow and then he spurred Llamrei into a fierce gallop, straight at the two men, almost dislodging Lance in the process. The boy gripped Arthur hard around the waist and clung for his life. The move was so sudden that Ryan and Gibson were forced to dive for the ground.

  Ryan looked upward as Arthur’s horse muscled itself up and over them like an enormous white dove. The horse sailed clear over the men and the car before landing lithely on the other side. Both men jumped to their feet, Gibson pulling his gun and pointing it at the retreating horse and rider.

  Ryan reached out and shoved Gibson’s hand down. “You crazy? He’s got a kid on the back!”

  Gibson glared angrily at Ryan as Arthur disappeared through the smoke and out of sight. Then Gibson stalked over to the driver’s side of their car as Ryan simply gazed in amazement at the disappearing horse. Gibson reached into the car and snatched up the radio.

  “This is Sergeant Gibson! King Arthur is heading for First Street, due west. He’s on horseback, and he’s got a kid with him.”

  The dispatcher’s voice crackled over the radio. “Did you say he was on horseback?”

  “That’s what I said!” Gibson repeated furiously. Man, he hated being made a fool of. “Be careful of the kid, but get his ass!”

  He threw the radio mic back into the car and glared over the roof at Ryan, who continued to stare at the spot in the smoke where Arthur had disappeared. He ignored Gibson completely, so astonished was he at the turn of events. How had one man done so much damage to the established order of the city in so little time?

  He barely even noticed the news vans screeching out of the area in pursuit of the king. It didn’t matter, he knew. He and Gibson would hear from the mayor on this one. Better refill that ulcer medicine.

  AS ARTHUR and Lance galloped furiously out of the neighborhood into the heavy traffic along First Street, astonished drivers actually stopped talking or texting on their cell phones to pause and gape in wonder at the sight. Shrieking police sirens moving in their direction alerted Arthur that they were under pursuit.

  He glanced quickly over his shoulder and spied four police cars roaring into traffic from two different side streets and weaving erratically among the same startled drivers, who attempted to get out of the way. Some, however, made it a point to block the oncoming cops since, they’d apparently decided, a guy on horseback had to be worth helping.

  Arthur spurred Llamrei on to an even faster gallop, deftly maneuvering between cars and trucks to put a little distance between him and his pursuers. While riding between automobiles was obviously new to him, he’d been an outstanding horseman in his previous life and knew well how to dodge the enemy.

  Clinging tightly to Arthur’s back, Lance kept glancing nervously over his shoulder, eyeing the flashing red lights and wondering how they could possibly get away. “You want me to shoot at ’em?” he called to Arthur. He had his bow and arrows, after all.

  “Nay,” Arthur replied without turning his head. “Merely retain thy grip.”

  Lance didn’t have to be told twice about that. Yeah, he’d been on this horse plenty of times, but never when they were fleeing for their lives, never when Llamrei was going this fast! As the horse pounded along the pavement and the wind whipped hair into his face and threatened to dislodge him, he decided this was much crazier than skating.

  Arthur weaved and zigzagged through the heavy late-afternoon rush-hour traffic, grateful for the sheer number of cars to help block their pursuers. Ahead, he spotted what Lance had told him was a freeway, an enormous concrete road passing above the one they were riding on. He spurred Llamrei, and they passed beneath the gigantic overpass.

  On the freeway above them, people had actually stopped their cars along the shoulder to gawk at the strange sight. Some were even out of their cars cheering as horse and riders passed underneath. Many had their cell phones out, snapping pictures or shooting video. One teenaged boy flipped the middle finger at the police cars that followed.

  As Arthur approached a street called Pecan, he suddenly spotted two more police vehicles heading straight for them. He quickly yanked the reins to the left and aimed Llamrei down the much smaller, less trafficked street. Without the threat of oncoming cars, he steered Llamrei straight down the centerline. To their right was a large expanse of grass and some buildings, with people, both old and young, out strolling or playing games. They stopped to gawk as Arthur and Lance flew past on a streak of white.

  The first street Arthur saw approaching was Third, so he whipped Llamrei to the right and galloped full tilt past the Spanish-style Dolores Mission Catholic Church, where a wedding was in progress. The bride and groom and their families, standing on the steps of the famous landmark, turned to casually observe the horse and riders galloping past, followed shortly thereafter by a string of flashing, blaring police cars. Everyone stood stock still, hands filled with rice. They waited for the road to clear, for the show to end, and then the rice throwing happily began. Just another day in LA.

  Arthur pelted down Third Street, dodging light traffic, not having any idea where he was headed or how to elude the pursuing police cars. They had to hide—that was their only option. But where to hide a two thousand-pound horse and two riders?

  “Doth ye have thy cell phone?” Arthur shouted against the wind.

  “Yeah,” Lance called back, releasing his right hand from Arthur’s back and cautiously slipping the smartphone from his pocket. He gripped the king tautly with his left hand and fought for balance as the up and down bouncing motion threatened to dislodge him. “What now?”

  “Use your Internet wizard to locate where we doth be and what may be near to us!” Arthur called back, the wind practically yanking his voice away. “We need a place to hide.”

  Lance opened the Internet and used the satellite map app to locate their position. It seemed to take forever as the sound of sirens echoed all around them, and the up and down pounding motion of Llamrei’s galloping strides gave Lance the beginnings of a splitting headache.

  Finally, their location appeared on the screen, and he studied it as best he could with his head bobbing up and down. “Not good, Arthur. We’re coming up to a dead end, and after that’s the river!”

  “Be it possible, ye think, to jump the river?” Arthur called out, very serious.

  Lance’s mouth fell open, his heart in his throat. “No way, Arthur, not less Llamrei can fly!”

  Arthur was running out of options. “What else doth ye find?”

  “There’s railroad tracks right before the river,” Lance shouted back, an idea forming in his mind. “Hey, Arthur, they got big-ass train cars out there! We could hide in one a them!”

  Arthur nodded. It would have to do. They had no other choice.

  Lance slipped the phone back into his pocket and clutched Arthur tightly with both arms. Just in time too. As they reached Mission Street, he spotted a huge steel factory just on the other side and more police cars plowing down Mission to cut him off.

  Arthur had to make a split-second decision. “Hang on, Lance!” he called out.

  Before Lance could even respond, Llamrei was airborne, soaring upward with a thrust of her powerful legs. As Lance looked down he saw her left rear hoof crack the flashing red light of a police car passing directly beneath them. Then they were down, off the road, and into the steel company parking lot. The police car they’d jumped slammed on its brakes and ended up colliding with the oncoming cars from Third Street in a crescendo of crunching metal and screeching tires.

  Arthur glanced back, relieved that they’d bought a few precious seconds while the police untangled themselves.

  “What now, Arthur?” called Lance.


  “Into that building!” Arthur yelled, pointing to a massive warehouse looming ahead. The truck doors were open, and Arthur easily navigated Llamrei through them. They found themselves within a large, machine-filled warehouse with towering shelves for finished products and massive machines for grinding, cutting, and welding of steel. It was near closing time, so most of the workers had gone home. The one man they encountered gaped in astonishment as the white horse carrying two riders galloped frantically past his workspace.

  Exiting the back of the building, Arthur spotted the railroad tracks just ahead and an idle freight train comprised of many cars. But what caught him completely off guard was the man standing in front of an open boxcar waving frenetically to him.

  Knowing his choices were limited, Arthur galloped toward the gesticulating man and pulled in Llamrei’s reins. There was a ramp leading up into the boxcar, and the man was gesturing wildly for them to go up. “Hurry, man, ’fore the cops see you!” And he winked.

  Arthur grinned and gave a slight bow before trotting the frothing horse up into the boxcar and into the cool shadows within. Instantly, the ramp was pulled up, and the heavy sliding door slammed shut.

  Within the silence of the boxcar, Llamrei’s heavy rasping was the only sound. Arthur and Lance looked soberly at one another, and Arthur patted the trembling boy on one shoulder. Then he lovingly stroked Llamrei’s neck, feeling the sweat and her uneven breathing, calming the animal with his touch. Then they heard voices outside and lots of feet tromping on the dirt around the railroad track.

  “Did you see a guy on horseback?” a voice asked.

  “Sure as hell did,” the trainman replied. “Damnedest thing I ever saw. Imagine that, a—”

  “Which way did they go?” the first voice interjected.

  “Up that way,” the trainman replied. “Toward Myers. Say, what’s goin’ on, officer?”

  Arthur and Lance had no idea what “Myers” was, but the cops seemed to know because the heavy footsteps pounded off, and stillness returned. Arthur and Lance exchanged another look. The boy’s shadowed face reflected the dread gripping his heart, and Arthur grinned to reassure him.