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

I could stay with thee for hours and be content. I must find Lance, and tell him what he means to me.”

“Yes, you do, before it’s too late. Now get going.”

She gave him a smile of encouragement, and he saw the love in her eyes, the very same love he felt in his heart. Lithely ascending into Llamrei’s saddle, he gazed down at her.

“Ye be an extraordinary woman, Lady Jenny.”

She grinned. “I know.”

He chuckled, and she joined in.

“Godspeed,” she said and handed him his cloak.

He took it, raised a gauntleted hand in farewell, and trotted off into the night.

On his return journey, Arthur paused to text Esteban. He asked the boy to alert as many of his knights as possible to come at once for an emergency meeting. Esteban replied that he would get on it. To Arthur’s great surprise, many had already arrived by the time he’d returned, with more streaming in from around the city. Esteban had texted Reyna, she’d sent a group text to the leadership team, and they had spread the word locally to the others.

Because of sheer numbers they could no longer assemble within The Hub for these gatherings, so everyone met in the dry riverbed near the grate leading into the storm drains. Upon Arthur’s arrival, the aqueduct was already swarming with eager young knights of the new Round Table.

Children, as Jenny had reminded him. Children who needed guidance.

From him.

As Arthur dropped down from Llamrei’s back, he scanned the faces in the crowd, but there was no sign of Lance. Reyna and Esteban hurried up to him.

“What’s wrong, Arthur?” Reyna asked anxiously. “What happened?”

“Have ye seen Lance?”

“No,” she replied with a shake of her head, and Esteban echoed her.

Arthur frowned, that shadow of doom closing in on his heart once more. “He should be here by now…,” he said, almost to himself.

“What happened, Arthur?” asked Esteban, standing before him wearing jeans and a muscle shirt. He’d obviously not had time to put on his knightly attire. “What’s going on?”

At that moment Jack exited the storm drain carrying Chris and caught Arthur’s eye. Arthur shook his head. He knew what Jack was asking, and he didn’t have the answer. Where was Lance?

Knowing he had to be strong for these children who had done so much for him and whom he must lead forward into greater achievements, Arthur stepped up onto a retaining wall on one side of the riverbed so all could see and hear him. He gazed outward, scanning the expectant faces.

“My noble young knights, I have some sad news.” He paused, his voice choking up momentarily. “Sir Mark… is dead.”

Reyna gasped below him, and dismayed chattering arose from the assembled crowd. Arthur waited for them to settle and told them about Mark and why the boy had left. The king also confessed how he’d accidentally angered Lance with his careless words, and how Lance was so filled with grief and guilt that he was embarrassed to return.

Jack fought back more tears as Arthur related the events Mark’s death.

Arthur blinked back the tears forming just behind his eyes. “Mark’s death hath felt as an open wound to me, for he was a truly good and gentle boy, and his loss be ever a painful reminder that every one of us, myself most of all, must needs use caution in our words and deeds.”

Esteban, seeing Jaime and Darnell roll their eyes, smirked and whispered, “Probably had AIDS anyway.”

Jack blanched with rage. “The hell!” He practically dropped Chris as he charged forward to tackle Esteban, and the two boys rolled and punched and raged in the dirt of the riverbed.

The other kids cheered excitedly, quickly forming a circle around the combatants. Jack was out of control. So great was his fury, and so powerful his punches, that he managed to quickly subdue Esteban and plant thick, vise-like fingers around the other boy’s throat.

Esteban pressed desperately upward with his powerful arms against the solid wall that was Jack. But Jack raged like an animal and wouldn’t be budged, those hands squeezing ever more forcefully.

“Jack, stop!” screamed Reyna, who jumped in to pull at the out-of-control boy.

Pressed hard into the concrete riverbed, Esteban flailed frantically and fought hard, but was clearly losing consciousness.

Arthur swung Excalibur above his head and smashed its legendary blade against the corner of the storm drain entrance, slicing off a chunk.

“Enough!” he bellowed.

The crash of metal against concrete, and Arthur’s booming voice, penetrated Jack’s fury, and he let go.

Breathing heavily, Jack stood and stepped away.

Reyna knelt by Esteban to help him sit up. Esteban choked and gasped for air, glaring at the panting Jack.

“You almost killed me!” he spat, his voice raspy and weak.

Jack panted and glared back.

“Sir Esteban,” Arthur spoke from above as Reyna helped lift the shaky boy to his feet, and then supported his weight. “Thy words were unmanly and without honor. Do you understand this?”

Furious, Esteban glowered up at Arthur. “Hell, homie, I’s jus’ clowning!” He shot a murderous look at Jack, who glowered back.

“That be one of the problems of this era,” Arthur went on soberly, “too much ‘clowning’ about death. Sir Mark, just as you and all these others, was a sworn knight of the Round Table, and a fallen knight deserves honor, not mockery.”

Esteban clearly saw Arthur’s pain, and bowed his head in shame. “Sorry, Arthur.”

“Now thou shall apologize to Sir Jack.”

Esteban bristled, and pulled away from Reyna. “And if I won’t?”

Arthur looked down at him, just as defiant. “You be an important member of this fellowship, Sir Esteban, but you be not indispensable.”

“You’re telling me to get out, is that it?”

“Nay, Sir Esteban, I be giving you what you have said you want—a choice.”

There was a pause, and absolute silence filled the air as everyone awaited Esteban’s decision. Arthur knew he was taking a big gamble. This boy was crucial to his cause because so many looked to him as a leader. But Jenny had been right—an adult must always guide a child in what’s right.

Esteban looked from Arthur to Reyna “I can’t believe you said that, Este.” She shook her head in disgust, her long ponytail flinging back over her shoulder. “And you say I’m the one who thinks she’s better than everybody?” She threw her arms across her chest.

Esteban glanced at Jack, then back up at Arthur.

“Thou would throw away all our success,” Arthur told him, not in anger, but with love, “all that we have been because thou art too prideful to admit thou committed a wrong? A man can and must admit his mistakes, if he be a true man.” He paused, bowing his head humbly, Mark’s face flitting before his mind’s eye. He tilted his head back up and fixed his remorseful eyes onto those of Esteban. “I never cease to learn that lesson.”

Esteban clearly saw the truth in Arthur’s eyes. He paused, as though recalling where he’d come from, and how much he’d accomplished since. And he backed down.

He turned to Jack. “Sorry, man.” He held out his hand, but Jack just stared at it.

“He was my homeboy,” Jack declared, eyes welling again.

“I know,” Esteban replied. “Mine, too.”

Jack hesitated, seeming to gauge the other’s sincerity, and finally reached out to clasp Esteban’s hand. They shook.

Letting go, Esteban turned to Reyna, whose arms were still thrown across her chest. But she nodded her approval.

Jack stepped around them and scooped Chris back into his arms. “Sorry, little man, for dropping you.”

But Chris wasn’t at all upset. Leaning in to Jack’s ear, he whispered, “You kicked his ass.”

“Thanks, Chris.” He kissed the boy on one soft cheek.

Arthur’s booming voice drew his attention back to their king and mentor. “My knights, I now believe you be ready for our most dangerous crusade yet, the one all these others have been leading up to.”

Excited chatter rippled through the crowd.

“But if we’re going on a crusade, we need Sir Lance,” Enrique yelled up from below, accompanied by nods and murmurs of agreement.

Suddenly a chant arose, “We need Sir Lance! We need Sir Lance!” and it grew in intensity and pitch.

Arthur gazed out over his knights—his children—and knew once again how right he’d been in choosing Lance. In fact, he knew something else now, knew it with a certainty that could not be disputed—without Lance, without that boy’s calming presence and steadfast leadership, his entire crusade, his new Camelot, would falter and collapse.

And I love him, he added in his heart and mind.

Raising Excalibur high over his head to signal order, Arthur gradually quelled the chants, and they awaited his response.

Reyna looked up at him with worry. “They’re right, Arthur, we need Lance.”

Even Esteban nodded his head.

“My noble knights,” Arthur began, “I, too, require the presence of Sir Lance for this campaign. However, he is grieving the loss of Mark, and I do not know when he shall return. We shall proceed with our plans and pray our Lance returns to us in time to take part.”

There were murmurs of agreement among the kids—that seemed to satisfy them for the moment.

“So what’s goin’ down, Arthur?” Jaime asked, and Reyna elbowed him. “My bad, uh, what shall our crusade be?” Reyna glowered, but Jaime just shrugged.

“These drugs, and those who dispense them must be stopped. I propose we undertake that quest, for it be a quest for true freedom.”

The muttering rose to a fevered pitch.

Still clutching Chris to his chest, Jack looked up at Arthur. “I wanna avenge Mark, too, Arthur, but there’s too much a that garbage out there, and too many dealers for us to stop it all. And they got real firepower.”

Numerous knights within the crowd, especially those from the biggest drug-dealing neighborhoods, all vocalized their agreement with Jack.

“I be not speaking of vengeance, Sir Jack, for we all here be warriors of right, not might,” Arthur said when the kids had settled down, “and we shall once again use our might to make a wrong right. We now number at more than one thousand, and methinks t’would not be difficult for thee to locate a great number of these dealers and their drugs.”

Excitement enlightened Esteban’s face. He and Jaime and many of the others exchanged an animated look of comprehension. “He’s right, guys! Most a us used to slang that sh—my bad, that stuff, and we know all the crack houses and meth labs in our hoods.”

Justin stepped forward beside Esteban, and they gave each other the chin raise.

“Yer old man know you’re out here this late?”

Justin shrugged. “Like I care?”

Esteban grinned, and they clasped hands in solidarity.

Justin looked up at Arthur. “Arthur, I know the big guy, Mr. R. He’s like the main one that supplies the streets. I know where he hangs.”

“Excellent, my boy, and we shall use thy knowledge to destroy him.”

“What you want us to do, Arthur?” Esteban asked.

Arthur gazed out at all the eager, expectant faces. Like all children, they sought guidance, and he would provide it. “The knights of the Round Table shall now fully enter the twenty-first century, with all of its marvelous technology. Our ultimate triumph in this venture shall give us the final leverage we need to go before thine elected officials, and the people of this city, and lay out our demands for the future. Your future.”

A rousing cheer erupted from the throng, and Arthur nodded his approval.

Yet he did not smile. His thoughts were on Lance.

Where was Lance?