Children of the Knight

by Michael J. Bowler

  The night was preternaturally quiet, or at least that’s how it seemed to Lance, glancing nervously about him, helm prickling his face, long silky hair tickling his neck from the breeze. Arthur’s own long, straight hair hung from beneath his helm, his keen eyes expertly scanning the darkness ahead, his bearing regal and strong as he awaited the confrontation to come. He’d had years of experience as a warrior, and those skills had not left him. Tension pulled his muscles tight, his senses on high alert. He glanced at Lance, who met his gaze without fear. Arthur nodded, and the boy returned it. They were ready.

  The sound of muffled car engines drifted through the trees. Lance looked up again at Arthur, and the king nodded. Lance put a hand to his lips and whistled something that sounded like a birdcall. From all around them, answering birdcalls could be heard in reply. Then silence reigned once more, except the sound of tires on dirt. Then these sounds, too, ceased. Doors opening and slamming came next, followed by approaching footsteps on gravel. Many footsteps. Reyna and Lance exchanged a look, and she tossed him a cool, reassuring grin.

  Nervous though he was, Arthur dared not show it, so he stood impassively as hundreds of forms materialized dimly from beneath the blanket of dark, spreading outward to fill the area with writhing, living movement, almost like a horde of rats emerging from the sewers. Wavering guns and long-bladed knives glinted ominously in the moonlight.

  Several forms broke away from the mass to stand before Arthur. Among these shot callers were Esteban and Jaime; Justin and Dwayne—Lance cringed slightly upon seeing them, Darnell, another African-American, a burly sixteen-year-old Korean boy named Duc, and an enormous seventeen-year-old Samoan named Tai, who looked to Lance like a professional wrestler big enough to lift a truck over his head.

  Lance tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry, his body rigid, his eyes narrowed and expectant.

  Esteban stepped forward first, handgun tucked within the waistband of his baggy jeans. Younger than many, he’d early on established a rep throughout the gang community as calm, cool, levelheaded, and hella smart, and probably the best “talker” around, hence his street moniker “Smarty.”

  “So you the guy who been messin’ wit’ our ’hoods, eh?” He stopped up short, suddenly noticing the raised weapons, and puffed out his muscular chest in amused defiance.

  Dwayne pulled a gun instantly and took a step closer, taking aim at Arthur’s head. Esteban calmly reached out one brawny arm to push Dwayne’s hand downward so the gun pointed at the ground.

  “They got blades, man!” Dwayne protested angrily. “An’ I owe that big muther fer messin’ me up, anyways.”

  Lance gazed down at Dwayne, eyed the bandaged hand without sympathy, and realized he wasn’t afraid anymore. “Methinks now the odds be more even, eh?”

  Dwayne glared at Lance in confusion. “Huh? What kinda bullshit you be talkin’, Pretty Boy?”

  Esteban chuckled and turned to his assembled army. “Hey, dawgs, don’ you know who this guy is? I seen him on the news. He’s King Arthur.”

  Derisive laughter rippled through the darkness like ghosts in a graveyard. Arthur raised his shield higher so the symbol would be clearly visible in the moonlight. Seeing that hated “tag” sent a flurry of angry murmurs rippling throughout the crowd. More guns and knives glinted portentously.

  Reyna, Lance, Jack, and Enrique tensed up instantly, aiming their weapons at Esteban and Dwayne.

  “This ‘tag’, as thou hast dubbed it,” began Arthur calmly, his voice strong and resonant, “be my knightly symbol, displayed here upon my shield.”

  “So how come you be puttin’ it up in our turf, huh?” Tai exclaimed angrily. “We don’t know you from shit!”

  Arthur lowered the shield but gripped Excalibur tightly. His voice rang out clear and unruffled. “Doth thou taketh so much pride in these neighborhoods where thou dost live?”

  “Damn straight, Ese!” Esteban practically spat, remaining calm despite an adrenaline spike at the sight of that symbol.

  Calm and projecting a cool he didn’t really feel, Arthur looked Esteban straight in the eye. “Then, perchance, I may inquire why the dwellings be so shabbily attired, the streets overrun with trash and vermin, the children without role models? Why doth thy people have so little to show for all of thy pride?”

  Dwayne rose up to his full height, his face a mask of rage. “It ain’t our fault, fool, it’s white people like you who’s keepin’ the blacks in the ghettos, man! We can’t do nuthin ’cept fight back.”

  “Thou doth not fight back,” continued Arthur, fixing his intense gaze on Dwayne. “Thou doth run wild in the streets with no thought of anyone save thyselves.”

  “You don’t know shit, man!” Jaime spat, stepping beside Dwayne, fingering his handgun anxiously.

  But Esteban’s curiosity had risen. What was this guy’s angle? “Quiet! I wanna hear more.”

  Arthur slowly moved his intense gaze from Jaime to Dwayne and back to Esteban. “My placement of this symbol in thy midst didst accomplish its purpose. It brought all of thee here to me, united as one. When canst any of thee recall the last time thou didst gather together without bloodshed?”

  Agitated murmuring rose up from the slithering dark shadows behind Esteban. For his part, Esteban nodded and exchanged a look with Jaime. Both realized very personally the truth of Arthur’s words. Dwayne and Darnell also exchanged a look—it was clear they were enemies, as well. The other shot callers nodded in acknowledgement. This night, this gathering of enemies, was unprecedented, and yet it was happening.

  Esteban gazed at Arthur with a grudging respect. “Okay, dog, so you got us all here. Now what?” He smirked arrogantly. “We could kill you, real easy.”

  Arthur smiled, and it was not a smile Esteban liked. “Methinks not, dog, for I am not without weaponry myself.”

  Everyone laughed, yet a bad feeling like a premonition had crept up Esteban’s back.

  “Them swords, man!” sneered Darnell mockingly. “Hell, we’d cut you down ’fore you even lifted ’em!”

  Arthur maintained his calm, cool tone. “Thou dost take much pride in thy cowardly guns which shoot metal pellets from such a distance that thy lives be not even threatened. Methinks such weapons be more suited to the female gender.”

  Reyna chuckled at that, but Dwayne exploded with rage. “That’s it, you son of a bitch!” He raised the handgun and fired before Esteban could stop him. The bullet ricocheted off Arthur’s armor harmlessly, disappearing into the trees.

  A second later, an arrow whizzed through the air from the darkness and pierced Dwayne’s jacket sleeve, pinning his wrist to the tree beside him and knocking the gun from his grasp.

  Other gang members raised their weapons to shoot, but arrow after arrow flew in from the dark and expertly struck the weapons, knocking them to the ground, but not piercing any flesh or even injuring any of the gangsters. Within seconds, all who had lifted their weapons had been disarmed.

  When Esteban and the other shot callers turned from the panicked confusion behind them, their eyes met Reyna and Lavern and Luis with arrows cocked and aimed directly at their hearts.

  “Hold yer fire, dammit!” Esteban shouted angrily, a bit unsettled. More than a bit, if he’d cared to admit it, which he didn’t. He glowered viciously at Dwayne. “We said nobody shoot, fool! Lucky you still got a hand.”

  He reached over and yanked the arrow from the tree, freeing Dwayne. Angrily, Dwayne reached for his fallen gun, but Esteban kicked it aside.

  “Leave it. He’s got his homeboys out there.”

  Reyna cleared her throat, drawing Esteban’s scrutiny in her direction. His eyebrows shot up, finally realizing that she was female. She smirked, and he tossed her a slight smile. “His homegirls too.” He raised his eyebrows, and Reyna nodded, satisfied.

  “He called me a bitch, man!” shouted Dwayne angrily.

  Esteban whirled on him. “Well stop actin’ like one, and shut the fuck up so the man can finish.” Then he turned
to the others. “And that goes for the rest a you vatos!” He looked back at Arthur, lobbing a slight smirk Reyna’s way. “Go ahead, dawg. You got my attention.”

  “My knights doth be well trained in hand-to-hand combat, as befits a man. Thy way of fighting pits several against one, often with these cowardly gun weapons fired from moving vehicles against those who canst not fight back.”

  Angry chatter erupted from the assemblage. Esteban turned to quiet them. “He’s jus tryin’ ta rattle us. Don’ pay no attention.”

  Arthur leaned forward, locking eyes with Esteban. “To thee I pose a question.”

  Esteban stared right back, unnerved, but not afraid. “Yeah?”

  “Doth might be right?”

  That caught Esteban off guard. “Huh?”

  Arthur’s gaze never wavered, and Esteban noticed that the guy never seemed to blink, neither. It unsettled him, and he didn’t like that feeling.

  “Methinks this doth be thy philosophy,” Arthur continued, “that if thou hast sufficient numbers, the might, thou art always right. Is this correct?”

  Esteban chuckled, affecting an attitude he didn’t quite feel at the moment. “Sure, dawg. Survival of the fittest, or some shit like that.” Why did this guy rattle him so much?

  “We rule these streets!” Dwayne shot back. “This city belongs to us. We got respect!”

  Arthur finally broke his gaze from Esteban and eyed Dwayne appraisingly. “And having the might doth always make thee right?”

  “Huh?”

  Arthur ignored Dwayne’s response and gestured for Esteban to step forward. “Venga!”

  “You know Spanish?” So surprised and unsettled was he that Esteban stepped to the platform. Arthur nodded almost imperceptibly to Lance, who raised his sword and moved toward Esteban threateningly.

  “You fuckin’ little pussy, you got no balls and no brains, neither!” he spat.

  Esteban’s temper instantly flared, something that seldom happened, and he thrust his hands toward Lance’s throat. Reyna and the boys instantaneously aimed their weapons at Esteban’s heart and head. Still seething, the young hoodlum promptly ceased his forward motion and eyed the weapons with caution.

  Angry words and forward movement by the crowd were halted by Arthur’s commanding voice. “Hold fast, young ones, lest thy companion die!”

  They stopped and watched, many glancing apprehensively around them in the dark as though anticipating another volley of arrows.

  Esteban’s temper simmered as he glared at Arthur. “What the fuck is this, man?

  “Was he right in saying those words to thee?” Arthur asked calmly.

  “What?”

  “Was he right?” Arthur repeated, more forcefully this time.

  Esteban forced his temper down while he considered the question. “Fuck no, man, I didn’t say shit ta him!” He cast a quick glare Lance’s way. Lance’s gaze never wavered.

  “And yet, methinks,” Arthur went on, pressing home his point, “he doth have the might at his disposal to defend his words. By thine own definition, this doth make what he said right.”

  “That’s different, man, he—” Suddenly the light went on in Esteban’s head, and he realized exactly what Arthur had done. “Shit, you tricked me!”

  Arthur shook his head. “Nay. I have merely shown thee the truth.”

  Dwayne, frustrated and angry, exclaimed, “You be talkin’ in circles, man. Speak English or somethin’.”

  Esteban ignored Dwayne as Reyna and the boys pulled their weapons back. Esteban eyed the smirking Reyna curiously. Then he exchanged a look with the expectant Lance and grinned.

  “Ya did okay, dawg.” He held up one fist. Lance nodded, and they did the fist bump. Esteban then turned to face the others. “What the man be sayin’ is true. Just cuz we got guns and we got numbers don’t make us right all the time.”

  “What the fuck’s ‘right’ gotta do wit’ it?” Dwayne practically shouted. “We’re talkin’ respect, and survival!”

  “Exactly,” interjected Arthur. “Respect and survival. And I have conceived a plan that shalt not only gain thee true respect, but shall also ensure thy survival, and that of thy children yet to be born.”

  Those words resonated with Jaime, whose jaina was pregnant with his child, and he finally spoke up. “What plan?”

  “Might for right,” Arthur announced, causing a ripple effect through the crowd. “We shalt use all of my gathered strength combined with all of thine and direct it only toward that which is right. Thou mayst all become knights of my new Round Table. Ye shalt crush corruption, defend the helpless, foster with thy words and deeds the tenets of morality and righteousness. Thou shalt become the heroes thy society so desperately craves, so desperately needs. And in so becoming, right the wrongs that have been done to thy generation.”

  “We don’ need no cracker like you,” spat Dwayne. “We got our freedom, and we got the streets!” He looked to Darnell for support, but the other boy remained quiet, contemplating Arthur’s words.

  “No man hath freedom who needeth air to breathe,” Arthur went on. “And if thou canst not see beyond the color of one’s skin, then thou art already blind, and thy life is without value. I speak the truth, and truth doth be truth for all. I can give thee a real purpose in life, a goal, a channel for thy vast energies. The entire world shalt know of Arthur’s knights, and history shalt be ours for the making.”

  Dwayne spat on the ground before Arthur’s feet. Lance instantly raised his sword and Reyna her bow, but Arthur remained unfazed. Dwayne glared at them with hatred. “Not me, man! Count me out. C’mon, Darnell.” He turned to leave, but Darnell didn’t follow his lead.

  “What he say kinda do make sense, Dwayne,” he said, a trifle embarrassed to be admitting it. “I ain’t sayin’ I agree to nuthin’, but I be wantin’ to hear more.”

  “Man, you gonna listen to this honky ass white trash? You crazy, cuzz!” He stalked off in fury, with Justin and all of his homies following. A palpable silence fell over the assemblage as they watched this group depart.

  Nobody else made a move to follow.

  Duc and Tai and Jaime exchanged a look, but none of them budged. This might for right thing was a new idea, and new ideas on these streets were too rare to pass up.

  Arthur scanned their expectant faces. He’d seen that look before, centuries ago when first he’d proposed his philosophy. They were skeptical, but curious. He had them. “And ye others? What be thy feelings?”

  Esteban gave Reyna the once over and then sized up Lance’s small stature compared to the hefty sword he wielded. “Can you teach us ta fight like these guys ya got? Without guns?”

  “Assuredly,” Arthur confirmed, “but force doth be used only as a last resort, for a knight hath, above all else, honor. His word be sacred under God, and he must for always protect the weak and the innocent.”

  Esteban shook his head in wonder and then looked at the others. Jaime shrugged, knowing he wasn’t the thinker here. Tai and Duc also appeared uncertain.

  “We don’ know, man,” Esteban finally said with a sigh. “It all sounds crazy loco.”

  Reyna stepped forward into the moonlight, illuminating her striking face and cocked brow. “What’s wrong, buff boy, you scared of somethin’ new?” She flashed him a mocking smile.

  Esteban instantly bristled. “I ain’t scared a shit!”

  Reyna grinned and licked her lips tauntingly. “You sure?”

  Her taunt struck at the heart of his pride, and Esteban looked again to the others, but they clearly were leaving the decision to him. He had been chosen for these negotiations, so he had to make the call.

  Arthur leaned forward toward Esteban, his voice calm and inviting. “Thou didst come here tonight to end my life and continue thy fruitless existence. Doth this still be thine intent, or be ye willing to listen further to my loco ideas?”

  Esteban and the others exchanged yet another look between them. Darnell nodded, and then Jaime, Tai and Duc. Es
teban turned to Arthur and did something he hadn’t done since he was a child—stuck out his hand to a stranger. “Street name’s Smarty, dawg, but you can call me Esteban, an’ I guess ya got our ears.”

  As Arthur shook the extended hand, there were rippling murmurs of assent from the crowd.

  “Hell,” Esteban added, “we ain’t got nuthin’ ta lose.”

  Arthur grinned, and Lance expelled a heavy sigh of relief. Reyna kept her smirk fixed on Esteban, who eyed her with extreme interest.

  Chapter 5

  THE energized and triumphant children chattered and babbled and practically danced their way back to their underground castle following the successful gang showdown. Arthur, Lance, and Jack fronted the massive parade through the storm drains, listening as the various archers loudly laid claim to which gun they had dislodged from which gangbanger.

  Reyna, excited and thrilled with the whole experience, had taken off for her house, “so the servants don’t call my parents again,” promising to be back in the afternoon when the buff boy and his bangers showed up. Enrique and Luis were not pleased with her obvious interest in the stronger and more commanding gangster, but they weren’t ready to give up on her just yet. She was a tease, and they both liked that in a girl.

  Arthur had his arm over Lance’s shoulder as they walked, very proud of his First Knight, and all of his kids. They had performed better than he could’ve hoped, better than many adults he’d commanded in the past. Their success buoyed his spirits, and he prayed that his new Camelot would fare better than the old.

  Lance basked in the glory of their success and the warmth of Arthur’s pride in him. His fears and doubts of the night before, his self-loathing and unworthiness were, for the moment, tamped down like an old cigarette butt into a small hollow within his heart. He felt more alive and hopeful than ever in his young life.

  Jack flanked Arthur’s left side but remained silent on the return journey. His thoughts drifted, as they often did, to Mark. Despite the thrill of success this night, he couldn’t get Mark out of his head. He’d almost lost the boy he loved, something he didn’t want to even imagine.