Children of the Knight (10 page)

His gaze finally settled on two such boys wearing tight wifebeaters and very tight pants, one sturdy, muscular, and dark-haired, the other delicate, thin, and shaggy blond. Arthur eyed the blond one a moment. Had he seen this boy prior? And then he recalled. This was the youth he and Lance had witnessed purchasing drugs on Hollywood Boulevard. Arthur spurred Llamrei forward, his squires flanking him on either side. They quietly approached the two boys.

As they drew near, he heard the blond tell the other, “Looks like no business tonight, Jacky.”

“Yeah, which means nowhere to go unless Marcus lets us crash,” replied the dark-haired one.

Suddenly, both boys gasped, stepping back in startled fright when, out of the shadows, trotted Arthur on his horse, dressed in his tunic and cloak, and sporting an armor chest plate that gleamed brightly under the streetlights. His shield hung from the saddle at his left side, Excalibur in its sheath at his right. The boys recoiled.

“Holy shit!” exclaimed the muscular one.

Arthur reigned in Llamrei and gazed down reassuringly at the two boys. “Do not fear me, lads, for I have come to help thee.”

The long-haired blond leaned closer to his friend and whispered, “Great, another freako. What’ll we do, Jack?”

The dark-haired one rose to his full height, easily six feet, and thrust out his sizable chest. “Just hang tight, ole Jacky’s got it covered.” Then he looked at Arthur with as much courage as he could muster. “So, big guy, you lookin’ for some action tonight?”

Arthur scrunched up his face in confusion. “Action?”

Jack’s bravado was failing him. “Yeah, you know, you pay us money, and we do whatever you want.”

Arthur eyed both boys appraisingly. Then he looked around the street at the other boys lounging indolently by light posts and corners. All eyes were upon him. And suddenly Arthur understood what was happening here. His eyes widened in horror, and he was appalled. “This doth be thy work, selling thy most private parts to strangers?”

Now the delicate-featured blond spoke up, stepping in front of his much bigger friend boldly. “Our privates is all we got, mister, if we wanna eat. Now get the fuck outta here!”

Arthur’s boys kept their hands at their blades in case trouble erupted.

The king frowned at the blond, whose soft features and striking blue eyes displayed pain, rather than anger. “If thou didst not spend thy money on drugs, young one, thou mayst not have to degrade thyself in this way.”

The boy leapt back a step, clearly shocked, and he and Jack exchanged a quick look of surprise. “Shit, he’s a cop!”

Jack shook his head. “Dressed like that? Hell, he’s just got yer number.”

Jack stretched out his friend’s bare arm to draw the boy’s attention to the rows of needle marks, tracks that revealed his serious addiction. The blond yanked his arm away and glared up at Arthur, while Jack nervously eyed Arthur’s obviously armed followers.

Arthur opened his hands to demonstrate his nonthreatening intent. “Now tell me, lads, how art thou called?”

Jack scrunched up his handsome face. “Huh? Oh, our names?”

Arthur nodded, and the two boys exchanged a look before deciding. The blond spoke first. “I’m Mark.”

“Jack,” the other added uncertainly.

Arthur gazed at them sympathetically. “Mark and Jack, doth thou enjoy this empty and fruitless life thou dost lead?”

Jack snorted with disgust. “Lettin’ these creeps have at us every night? You kiddin’ me? Fuck, no, man, it’s shitty!”

Mark nodded sadly, his shaggy blond hair falling in front of his eyes. “We don’t got nobody ’cept each other.” His voice was barely a whisper.

Arthur sat high in the saddle and smiled. “If thou wisheth, ye shalt have me and mine from this moment forward. There be food and shelter and a way of life far more noble and worthy than that which hath been thrust upon thee.”

“Who the hell are you, anyways?” Jack asked, keeping himself between Arthur and Mark.

“I am King Arthur. Hast thou heard of me?”

Mark and Jack exchanged another look of disbelief. “Yeah, in made-up stories, when I’s a little kid,” Mark snorted derisively. “My mom used ta read ’em to me. But they’s just
stories
, man.”

Arthur tilted his head and eyed the boys earnestly. “They be true stories, lad. I am seeking youths with whom to rebuild my Round Table. If thy life doth not please thee, come and join me on my quest for justice and peace.”

Mark and Jack exchanged yet another look, this one of bewilderment. Arthur’s sincerity touched them both. He wasn’t like the johns who trolled the area, picking up boys for casual sex and then dumping them back into the street. Those guys were as easy to read as a children’s picture book. But this guy? Neither boy could figure his angle, and out here they thought they’d seen it all.

“You shittin’ us?” Jack exclaimed, his thumping heart slowly subsiding.

“A knight always speaketh the truth, lad. It beeth his solemn oath,” Arthur assured them. The boys in his entourage all nodded, confirming Arthur’s veracity. “Now, there be others like thyselves in this area?”

Mark and Jack looked at Arthur uncertainly and spread their arms wide, taking in the whole of the street. Jack whistled loudly, and the other hustlers jogged quickly over to join them.

D
EEP
within Arthur’s underground lair, those children with nowhere to go, or whose homes were worse than the streets, had elected to stay the night. Arthur possessed numerous bedrolls and blankets, and the children quickly adapted to the dripping, echoing sounds that permeated the drain system. The damp, rotting smell took more getting used to, but it was still better than what they’d left behind. Most were fast asleep. A few practiced their sparring under lantern light but did it quietly so as not to disturb the sleepers. Some were busily hanging wet clothing on several makeshift clotheslines strung from wall to wall across the tunnels.

Lance and Chris sat off to one side. The small boy, clothed in a billowy tunic three sizes too big and equally large leather pants tied around his waist with a leather drawstring, now had his blond hair washed and combed, and he was clean and comfortable. He sneezed, and Lance handed the boy some tissue.

“Thanks, Lance,” he snuffled. “Thanks for staying with me. I know you wanted to go with Arthur.”

Lance nodded, watching the swordplay, but not really seeing it. He sighed heavily. “It’s cool, Chris.”

“You’re the best, Lance,” replied the smaller boy, snuggling up against his hero as though afraid to let him go. Lance squirmed with discomfort. He knew Chris doted on him because he saw him as his savior, but he was a loner. He didn’t like being close to people, and he hated having people touching him. Even little kids like Chris. Getting close to people always ended up… hurting.

What he’d just told Chris was not the truth, however. He
had
accepted Arthur’s request that he be First Knight, and he knew that meant he was in charge whenever Arthur was not present. But did it mean that now he’d never be able to go out with Arthur again because these other kids needed someone in charge? He didn’t think he could handle that.

“When’s Arthur coming back?” Chris asked sleepily, pulling Lance out of his reverie.

“Don’t know, little man. Methinks soon.” At least he hoped so.

Chris smiled as he drifted off to sleep in Lance’s arms. Lance gazed absently at the practicing boys, but his mind and heart were out there with Arthur.

A
RTHUR
trotted along on Llamrei, who’d grown very comfortable in the presence of cars and honking horns and other odd, loud noises. His armed squires, dressed in their medieval finery, marched by his side, followed by Mark, Jack, and four other teen boys who chose Arthur’s crusade over street hustling. Had there been serious traffic on Santa Monica that night, there would’ve been gridlock for all the rubbernecking. Arthur appeared especially majestic, perched atop the dazzlingly beautiful mare, a rag-tag group of boys in tow. The newcomers were chatting and laughing amongst themselves, obviously enjoying this grand new adventure, despite not knowing its eventual outcome. As Jack had told them, anything was better than what they were doing before.

Some distance down the boulevard, a police car approached, cruising slowly, obviously on patrol.