Children of the Knight (16 page)

Mark grimaced and shook his head, those huge blue eyes pooling with pain. “Didn’t want nuthin’ to do with that truth, or me. Kicked my ass right out the house and into the street, said they wasn’t gonna stand for no faggot son, and if I ever decided to ‘become straight’ I could come home. I was
thirteen
, man! Ain’t heard from ’em since. I hitched my way to Hollywood cuz, well, that’s where homeless kids go, or so I heard. Make it in the movies or some sh—crap.” He gave a tragic, hollow laugh. “That’s why you seen me on the streets. There’s no movies for kids, especially little fags like me. Just the streets. Last two years it’s all I could do to survive, ya know?”

Lance leaned forward, his brow furrowed, his heart tight with anguish and empathy. “What about the, you know, the drugs?”

Sadness settled over Mark’s soft, milky-white face. “Only way I could deal, Lance. Men using me all the time, doing whatever they wanted to my body.” He shivered at the memory, his breath halting in his throat. “Had to kill the pain somehow.”

Now little Chris, seated as close to Lance as possible without being up in the throne area with him, reached out toward Mark, took the older boy’s hand in his, and asked, “Mark, did yer mama ever say she wished ya’d never been born?”

Startled, Mark’s eyes widened, and he nodded painfully.

Chris’s small, round face echoed that pain. “That’s what my mama tole me too, ’fore she left me alone in that dirty ole alley and then never come back.”

Mark tried for a hesitant smile, squeezing the small boy’s hand gently before releasing it. Many heads nodded throughout the chamber. Sadly, parental abuse and neglect was a common element these children shared.

Lance squirmed with discomfort and sorrow, glancing at Arthur, who looked deeply troubled and sympathetic.

“What about ye, Jack?” the king asked cautiously.

Jack patted Mark on the back and said, “Kinda the same, ’cept I hitched here from Idaho. Same reason—couldn’t stay at home, so I came to Hollywood to be a star. Yeah, right!”

He stopped a moment as bitterness and anguish overcame him. Mark reached out to pat him comfortingly on the back, and Jack smiled gratefully.

“My folks weren’t super rich like his, but they didn’t want no queer-boy for a son, neither. Didn’t matter that I worked out and played football and all that ‘manly’ stuff. Hell, my dad accused me of playing sports so I could check out the other guys. He never even got that I did those things for him, cuz
he
wanted an athlete for a son.”

His whole body tensed, and he gripped the folds of his tunic, pausing before continuing. He turned his sad brown eyes up toward the king.

“I used to be quarterback, Arthur. I know that probably don’t mean much to you, but it’s kind of a big deal in football. But nothin’ I did was good enough.” He glanced at Mark and then toward Lance. “They was gonna send me to some ‘rehab’ place that was s’posed to make me straight.” He emphasized those last words with the finger quotation marks. “What bullshit! Oh, my bad, sorry, Arthur. Just like Mark said, I didn’t just wake up one day and decide to like boys.”

He paused and sighed bitterly. “Anyway, when they was going to send me to the shock treatment place, or whatever it was, that’s when I decided to split. But you wanna know the worst part? My dad tole me I was adopted, which I didn’t even know till then, and that he was so happy the faggot under his roof wasn’t his own flesh and blood. That was it for me, Arthur. I hitched over here, and Mark and me met on the streets, pretty near where you found us. That’s the only place in Hollywood for homeless gay boys to earn their keep. It’s either that or juvy.”

He dropped his eyes again in shame, stomach clenching. “So here I am, star quarterback to slut boy, just cuz my parents couldn’t deal.” He hated when he cried and angrily brushed a tear from his eye.

“Didn’t you like, hate doing all that shi—I mean, that stuff?” Luis asked, a look of disgust plastered across his acne-scarred face.

Jack just snorted. “What do you think? Old guys doing you while talking about how their kid gets all As in school or got a home run in his little league game?”

Luis had an expression of appalled revulsion on his face.

“I hate it, man!” Jack spit out. “I miss playing sports. But mostly I miss having a family, you know? I got no one ’cept Mark.” He dipped his head to hide the tears dropping into his lap.

Every muscle in Lance’s body froze as Mark and Jack shared their stories, and his own painful past welled up in his throat like bile.
Slut boy
. That’s what Jack called himself.
Was that me too?
Those words were a knife to his heart—they hit
way
too close to home.

Shoving his personal guilt aside, Lance impulsively leapt to his feet with purpose, gazing at Jack, looking for all to see the very image of youthful royalty. “Jack, look at me.”

Surprised, Jack raised his head to behold Lance and marveled at how noble and beautiful the boy appeared, how
big
, despite his small stature. Even his gold circlet seemed to glow under the lantern light.

“You do not just have Mark for your family,” Lance stated loudly and firmly. “You now have me and Arthur and all assembled here.
We
are your family!”

The gathered kids broke into applause, and Jack’s face spread into an enormous grin of gratitude. Lance grinned back and ran a hand quickly through his hair, which made Jack laugh and feel warm at the same time. Mark threw his arm over Jack’s shoulders and pulled him close, assuring him with that simple gesture that he was not, and never would be, alone.

Arthur rose to stand beside Lance and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder as he spoke. “My First Knight beeth correct. We all be family here. Every life in here and out there doth be precious in God’s eyes, even if not so in man’s. But remember, my knights-in-training, the needs of the whole company be of greater import than the needs of the few, or even the one, myself included. No one beeth indispensable to our crusade. No one.”

He glanced at Lance, and the boy nodded his understanding.

“Does that include me?” came a familiar female voice from behind the assemblage. En masse, all heads turned to look at the tunnel behind them, and there stood Reyna, haughty as ever, dressed to kill, literally. She wore a full archer’s ensemble that looked hot on her taut figure: tight brown pants that accentuated her long legs, knee-high brown boots, long-sleeve, multi-pocketed, button-down jacket, and an archer’s glove on her right hand. Her silky long hair was braided and drifted down her back like a climbing rope. Slung over her left shoulder was an expensive-looking bow and quiver filled with arrows.

Within the group, the few girls scowled, but the boys, especially the older ones, gaped at her in open-mouthed awe, exactly the effect Reyna had hoped to achieve. She tossed a contemptuous gaze toward Enrique and Luis, sitting beside one another, mouths open like grouper fish, and then turned her attention toward Arthur.

The youthful king, too, was momentarily rendered speechless. Such forward and provocative behavior from young women was still very unsettling for him. He cleared his throat. “Doth I take thy meaning, Lady Reyna, that thou wisheth to join us?”

Reyna chuckled wryly. “Don’t know about the ‘Lady’ part, but yeah. I got a few months to kill while my parents party in Europe, so why not? Might be fun.”

Arthur raised both eyebrows at her response and then turned to Lance. The boy met his gaze, understood, and looked out over the heads of the group to lock eyes with Reyna.
Don’t blush, fool!

“Does this mean you’re willing to take orders from a boy younger and prettier than you?” he asked, his voice strong and clear, his posture upright and commanding.

This time there was no laughter. The others knew Lance was not joking around. For her part, Reyna gazed long and hard into the boy’s eyes, but Lance never broke eye contact, and that impressed her. She smiled.

“Yeah, that’s what it means.” And then she looked down, feeling something ripple through her that she seldom felt, and hated when she did—embarrassment.

Lance nodded and turned to Arthur. “Sire, if it please you, I’d like to make Reyna head archery instructor so I can focus more on the swordplay.”

Arthur nodded, pleased at Lance’s new level of confidence. “Agreed.” He turned to Reyna. “Everyone, welcome our new archer, Reyna.”

Thunderous applause erupted from the assemblage, along with a few whistles and catcalls, which were not lost on Arthur. He frowned, recalling how his own beloved Guinevere had led to the downfall of Camelot. He prayed Reyna would not drive a wedge between him and his knights-to-be.

Enrique quickly shoved Luis aside to open up a space between them. “Move over, fool,” he whispered and then waved at Reyna. “You can sit here, we got room.”

She eyed both boys with disdain and smirked. “I’ll stand, thank you.”

Arthur had more business to conduct with his kids, but he felt it might be advisable to learn more about this mysterious girl. “Lady Reyna—and yes, a knight must always address any lady as ‘Lady’—it doth be of the code of chivalry—tell us thy story. How comest here to us?”

Reyna raised her well-groomed eyebrows and chuckled. “I love the way you talk. It’s so cool. Anyway, not much on me. I’m almost seventeen. My parents are rich fat cats who live out in Porter Ranch. They pretty much buy me whatever I want long as I don’t, you know, talk with them too much.” She laughed bitterly. “God forbid they’d wanna spend time with
me
. Far too busy, my folks, impressing the rich white people because they’re rich Latinos with just as much money. It’s all… whatever, to me.”

“Where did you learn to shoot like that?” Lance asked as he resumed his seat beside Arthur. He felt no physical attraction to this girl—should he? He hadn’t missed the other boys’ obviously desirous looks flung her way. How come he felt nothing?
No, don’t go there—remember what Arthur said. Not important.
Okay, so he didn’t feel any desire toward her, but then again, she intimidated the hell out of him so how could he feel anything except insecure? Still, he found her intriguing, and her skills with a bow and arrow were fantastic.

“Any of you seen that movie about the kids who had to fight to the death in this arena?” Many heads nodded in the affirmative. “I
loved
the book and told my parents I wanted to learn archery. ’Course, they got me the best instructor money could buy. He only stayed around till I got better’n him.” She again tossed off that haughty little laugh.

“How come you got a few months with nothing to do?” Enrique threw in, his eyes devouring the stunningly beautiful girl.

Reyna shrugged disinterestedly. “My parents went to Italy for their wedding anniversary. They never want me to go on vacations with them so they pay me money to stay home.”

“They pay you?” Lavern exclaimed. All he ever got was a beating when
he
didn’t bring home money.

Reyna shrugged, eyeing the small black boy dismissively. “Yeah, I got me six thousand this time. Long as I keep my grades up and don’t give the servants a hard time, it’s all good.”

“What about school?” Jack asked.

Reyna shrugged again. “I go when I need to. No tests today, so I’m good.” Then she scrutinized Jack and Mark more closely. Mark still had his arm wrapped around Jack’s shoulders. “You guys gay?”

Mark and Jack exchanged a surprised look. “How’d you know?”

Reyna smiled cryptically. “I been around.”

Arthur, like Lance, was impressed by Reyna’s skills and confidence, but her haughty attitude disturbed him, and he decided it must change if she were to become a permanent member of his new Round Table. Feeling the need to draw attention away from this mysterious girl, he fixed his gaze on the whole assemblage.

“Doth anyone have more to share before we begin training?”

Mark threw up his hand, and Jack laughed. “You’re not in school, fool!” Jack said, laughing.

Mark shrugged sheepishly. “Old habit, I guess.”

“Jack,” Arthur said before Mark could ask his question, “We doth all be knights-in-training. While it doth seem a popular word in this era, our code of chivalry requires respect for one another. Therefore, we must needs refrain from use of the word ‘fool’.”

Jack flushed red with embarrassment. “Sorry, Arthur. Bad habit.”

He and Mark smiled at each other, and Arthur nodded with a smile of his own to reassure them he understood.

“So, Arthur,” Mark began again, “that night you rescued us… well, you never said how come that bullet bounced off a you.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, tell us.”

There were excited murmurings among the assembled, especially from the boys who’d witnessed the event.

Arthur placed Excalibur in front of him, point touching the ground, his hands resting atop the jeweled hilt. “Merlin once told me that so long as I hold Excalibur in my grasp, no harm shalt befall me. I pray he be correct, for the next phase of our crusade be almost upon us.”

He lifted Excalibur and handed the enormous sword to Lance, who found he could support its weight with much greater ease than before as he gently held it across his outstretched arms. Arthur reached down beside his throne and lifted up his shield, holding it out for all to see.

There were gasps of surprise and excited murmurings from the crowd. Emblazoned on the face of the shield was a magnificent rendering of the A symbol with the sword thrust threw it, the same symbol many of these kids had seen in their neighborhoods, the symbol that had ignited gang wars throughout the city.

Enrique leapt to his feet in shock. “Shit, Arthur, you didn’t tell us youse that tagger!”

Arthur frowned at Enrique’s language, but Enrique didn’t even notice.

Luis stood beside his homeboy and pointed at the shield. “Them gangsters, they all want yer blood, Arthur. They want you dead!”

Arthur lowered the shield and raised a hand to quell the excited murmuring. “I know that, Luis. Though I did not at first comprehend the reason, upon awakening in this city, I had been given directives within several visions. There were tools, what ye call ‘spray paint’, and locations provided. I proceeded to ‘tag’ these areas as the visions dictated, and now I understand why. These gang members doth be of great import to our cause, my noble knights-in-training, and though I do sincerely hope my life shalt not end at their hands, we must needs give them that choice.”