Children of the Knight - Michael J. Bowler (best books to read non fiction .txt) 📗

the short time they’d spent on it, they were pleased with the result. And so were the locals. They clapped and cheered as the boys added more and more detail to the scene.

The day turned into a kind of street party, with everyone pitching in to clean and rebuild and repair. And always center stage was Arthur directing this group or that, praising this effort or that, encouraging, patting his knights on the back, helping to load or unload, chatting amiably with the residents. His charm, and the efforts of his knights, won over the entire neighborhood.

Gibson sat at his desk texting Justin again, angry because his son had not responded, when the call came in. He snatched up the landline phone.

“Yeah, Gibson!” He listened a moment, and his mouth went dry. “You sure? Okay, get every available unit out there ASAP.”

Ryan walked in swigging from a large bottle of liquid antacid. “Damn, I hate ulcers,” the older man spat.

Gibson made eye contact with his partner and listened a moment more. “Yeah, don’t move till we get there. Ryan and I will lead you in. Don’t blow this!”

He hung up and looked at Ryan’s raised gray eyebrows. “We have him, Ry. He’s got hundreds of kids over in Boyle Heights, probably gangbangers. I’ve called for backup. Lots of backup.”

“Let’s roll.” Ryan slipped the antacid bottle into his pocket, and they ran from the room.

Exhausted, but satisfied, Arthur and his knights stood in the center of the neighborhood late in the afternoon and looked around at their handiwork. The streets were cleared of trash and debris, the homes and businesses now multi- colored, but graffiti-free. At least, on the surface, the neighborhood had been transformed, like Cinderella’s pumpkin turned into a golden carriage. The happy, grateful residents and storeowners, whose excitement was palpable, stood with the kids in awe of what they had done, and their gratitude and hopefulness was the real gift to this community.

Esteban stood beside Reyna. Each held Rosa’s hand, with Esteban’s mother beaming beside them. The painting crew, led by Enrique and Lavern and Luis looked like walking rainbows with splashes of myriad color splattered all over them. They grinned at the freshness their hard work had brought to this place and these people.

Lance and Jack stood beside Mark and Chris, next to Arthur, who sat astride Llamrei once more. Lance flicked his eyes at Jack, who caught the movement. Quickly, so no one would see, Lance did a quick flex with his right arm, tapping his sore, biceps. They both laughed silently, and Jack patted him on the back.

Mark and Chris had not done as much of the heavy lifting as the others, because they’d been entrusted with the care of Llamrei, lest the noise and distractions spook the animal. But the two of them had washed her down, scrubbed and brushed her mane and tail, groomed her coat, fed her, and even tied to her bridle some ribbons the local children had given them. Many of these youngsters had helped bathe and groom and feed the horse, allowing Mark to have fun and also feel a sense of accomplishment by day’s end.

Arthur gazed around in wonder, along with the locals. These were his kids, and this is what they had accomplished in just one day. Might for right. It did work, and it would work. Today was only the beginning.

“Methinks, my noble knights,” he called out to the throng, “you have much to take pride in. Behold the fruits of thy handiwork!”

The locals applauded and cheered as Arthur’s multitude of knights erupted with gushing excitement, clapping each other on the back, high-fiving each other, truly proud, some for the first time in their young lives, of having accomplished something great, something meaningful, something that helped other people, rather than hurt them.

Reyna turned and joyfully kissed Esteban on the lips. He was so startled that when she pulled back, his mouth dropped open comically, and she burst out laughing. He grinned and shook his head in wonder, and Rosa giggled with delight.

The mural of Arthur and his knights on the area’s largest building, directly below “Pray for Peace in the Barrio,” stood out strikingly in the background and accented exactly what this moment signified. Hundreds and hundreds of kids, many of them enemy gang members, had descended on this neighbourhood, not to make war, but to bring peace. And it had worked.

Chris reached up and tugged at Arthur’s leggings, and the king looked down at the small boy. “Yes, Sir Christopher?”

Chris grinned, but rubbed his tummy dramatically. “I be hungry, sire.”

Everyone who heard the comment laughed, including Arthur, who reached down to put a loving hand on the boy’s blond head. “Methinks we all be, lad.”

He and his knights had actually been eating all the while. The local ladies had been cooking and serving them food throughout the day as a gesture of good will and gratitude, but there had been no real respite. The kids had worked from the moment they’d arrived until now, and Arthur knew they just needed to sit and eat and bask in the glow of their achievement.

However, he hadn’t planned on where such a multitude could actually do that. He still had crown jewels to use for money, but where to use them? Trusting in God to give him that knowledge, Arthur turned his regal, grateful gaze to his troops.

“We feast heartily this night, my most noble and blessed knights!”

Once again there was an eruption of cheers and clapping and backslapping. “Follow me, my lads and ladies!” he called out, and the crowd began reforming a marching line similar to their arrival, with the drivers hurrying to their trucks. There was good-natured jostling and shoving as the hundreds of kids queued up behind Arthur.

Lance, suddenly remembering, ran to Enrique’s pickup and grabbed something from the back seat, hurrying up the line to Arthur.

“Arthur, wait! Methinks we should carry this.” He unfurled the large banner Enrique had created—the “A” symbol with a dragon in the background. It was attached to a pole, and Lance held it up before the king expectantly.

Arthur grinned down at him. “Well done, Sir Lance, and I can think of no one more suited to the task. Lead on, my boy!”

Lance winked at Jack, who smiled back with a quick little flex, and hefted the pole high so all could see the banner as it wafted gently in the late afternoon breeze. Another cheer arose from the knights and the locals, and Lance began to march. Arthur followed, then Jack, Mark, Chris, Reyna, Esteban, Darnell, Lavern, Luis and the others on foot, the bicyclists and skaters, and lastly the vehicles. As the triumphal procession marched nobly up the street, it was hailed by the residents and storeowners and children who lined the sidewalks to wave and gush and give thanks once more.

As the procession prepared to exit the neighborhood, it found itself blocked by a large, portly Latino man standing in the middle of the street.

Lance stopped marching, as Arthur shouted behind him, “Halt, my knights!”

The procession ground to an unexpected halt, with kids at the rear craning their heads to find out what was going on.

Arthur gazed down at the newcomer expectantly. “May I be of assistance, sir?”

“You already have, King Arthur,” the middle-aged man said with a slight bow. “I got to say I ain’t never seen a man wit’ yer heart, señor. Thanks to you, mi barrio be fixed up real nice. I don’ care if I go broke, for you and yer knights all the food you can eat. No charge. I say thanks to you.”

He bowed courteously, and Arthur felt genuinely moved by the man’s offer. “Sir, thy generosity humbles me. Where is thine establishment?”

The man pointed up a small side street. “Just up there, señor.”

Arthur turned his gaze in the indicated direction, and did a double take. Just ahead, set off the main drag was a strip mall surrounded by some trees. At the corner of the mall, standing out with its colorful shield logo, stood a Round Table Pizza.

Arthur looked at the man, who grinned, and then at Lance.

Lance shrugged. “Works for me,” he said with a grin, and Arthur laughed.

“To the Table, Lance!” he called out for all to hear. Beaming with pride, Lance led the procession up the street toward the pizza parlor, leaving the cheering locals behind to bask in their good fortune.

Ryan navigated their unmarked cruiser through heavy traffic as safely as he could manage. His red light had been placed atop the car, but no siren accompanied it. Several black and whites zipped in and out of traffic in pursuit, also with flashing lights, but no sound.

As always, the bumper-to-bumper traffic in and around downtown bordered on horrific, and Ryan became frustrated, cursing under his breath. Gibson sat beside him with the radio in hand to issue orders to the other units as needed.

“Tell the backups to surround the area, but stay away from direct contact. Those kids are dangerous—we don’t wanna spook ’em,” Ryan said, taking another swig from the antacid and then dropping the bottle into his cup holder.

“Already taken care of, Ry,” Gibson replied with surprise.

“Sorry, Gib. I know you got it covered.”

Gibson nodded.

The Round Table Pizza was fairly old, but clean and well-kept, but the strip mall, which it anchored, had clearly fallen on hard times. There was a dingy-looking lavanderia, a small liquor store, a hair and nail salon, and a tiny tattoo parlor. At the moment, exhausted, but exuberant, boys and girls dressed in medieval clothing filled the parking lot and surrounding area, sitting in groups on the pavement, all munching on pizzas. The owner had instructed his staff hours before to begin preparing the pizzas, having planned, early in the afternoon as he told the king, to surprise Arthur and his kids as a thank you for their hard work.

Inside the brightly lit pizza parlor, which sported a corner housing old- school video games, Arthur watched in amusement as Lance, Jack, and the others dove into their pizzas with gusto. He marveled at this new kind of food, which he’d never heard of in old Britain.

“What be this food called?” he inquired of the owner. “Pizza, sir,” the burly man replied with a wide grin.

“I think you can hang with it, Arthur,” said Esteban around a mouthful, sauce dribbling down his chin, causing Reyna to elbow him with a laugh.

Arthur grinned. “I shalt trust thy word, Sir Esteban, and I thank you for thy hard work today.”

Uncharacteristically, Esteban looked flustered with emotion. “Uh, thanks, sire.”

Arthur eyed the seventeen-year-old appraisingly. “You have made great strides, Sir Esteban, in overcoming thy past. Can you now see a future without criminal activity, but rather one of hope?”

Esteban nodded. He looked like he’d seen some huge revelation, like people do in the movies.

Lance, sitting beside Mark, Jack, and Chris found himself scowling at the attention Arthur seemed to be lavishing on Esteban, and, as always, hated himself for feeling that way. Esteban had done great work today, more, probably, than he’d ever done for his neighbourhood, so it was right for Arthur to praise him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Arthur gingerly lifting a slice of pepperoni to his mouth and biting into it. His jealousy turned to mirth as a long pull of cheese stretched from Arthur’s mouth when he attempted to disengage the slice. The cheese stuck to his beard, and everyone laughed, including Lance.

“I