Children of the Knight (62 page)

Arthur sighed heavily, shifting his gaze to the mural, a great weight settling itself upon his soul. Those early days of the cleanup campaigns, so innocent and triumphant, now seemed so long ago.

“Because of Mark? Because of what I said to him in haste?”

Jenny nodded.

“Jenny, that boy can do no wrong in mine eyes, though I know he be human.” He fought down his regret and recrimination. “I have such pride in him and all he hath achieved, I cannot even express it all.”

“Have you told him that?”

Arthur shook his head sadly. “Not as such, not for some time. Oh, Jenny, perhaps I am no better than the very people I fight against.” His voice echoed the remorse that filled his heart. “I feared the others would be struck with envy should I devote too much time to anyone, even my Lance,” adding rather sadly, and no longer with conviction, “the needs of the entire company art more important than the needs of the one, milady.”

“Not with children,” she asserted, her blue eyes ablaze with passion. “They all need individual love. That’s what’s wrong with our school system, with our one-size-fits-all, group mentality, in this country. Their individual needs
have
to be met. That’s what they’ve been missing, especially a kid like Lance, who never had anyone before you. He’s very vulnerable, and he needs to know you love him, needs to hear you say it. He needs to know he’s
worthy
of being loved.” She paused, leaning forward to search his face. “You do love him, don’t you?”

Arthur sighed again, gazing deeply at the mural likeness of Lance. “Yes, I do love Lance as the son mine own Gwen was never able to give me. Mordred never knew me until ’twas too late, till he’d been poisoned against me. I have always regretted that I didst not acknowledge him.”

“Lance is not Mordred,” she said firmly. “He needs you to acknowledge
him
, in front of everyone. He needs you to praise him and say you’re proud of him, to hold him and assure him that Mark was
not
his fault.”

Arthur rose from the swing and moved to stand a short distance away, gauntleted hands awkwardly at his sides, his heart and soul swathed in pain and regret. “When I awakened in this city, I found that my youth had been restored to me. And yet, the memories of an entire lifetime remained. Guinevere, Lancelot, Mordred, Merlin. I surmised ’twas so I should be better able to control
this
crusade, so as not to repeat the errors of the first.”

He turned back to face her, his tortured face tugging at her heart. “Yet I am making them all the same, Jenny. I thought by selecting children, they should be easier to teach than were the grown men of Britain who failed me so many centuries ago. Perhaps it seems I was wrong in that, as well.” He sighed again, more heavily, more sadly. “I am young, Jenny, yet I feel very, very old.”

She stood and placed a comforting hand on his arm. “You’re doing the best you can. That’s all you can do as a parent.”

Arthur shook his head, his soul encased within a cage of uncertainty. “I begin to doubt mine ability to fulfill my destined purpose,” he lamented sorrowfully. “Jenny, there be
so many
children. How can there be so many, with so many needs, and no one to fulfill them?”

Jenny shook her head bitterly. “That’s the great failure of our society—too many adults who want to act like children and too many who expect children to act like adults.”

Arthur noted the acrimony in her voice. “Havest I fallen into the same trap, Jenny? Do I expect too much of these children?”

She stepped away, knowing her answer might hurt him, might hurt her own chances with him, but she had to say it. “Yes, you do, especially Lance.”

His crestfallen look stabbed at her heart, for she truly believed his intentions to be good. “It’s not just you, Arthur, like I said, it’s the whole country.
We
want to pretend children are adults so we can put them in prison, and
you
want to pretend they’re adults so they can lead a revolution to get equal rights. But Arthur, much as we’d like them to be grown up so we don’t have to parent them and role model for them and set good examples for them, the bottom line is they’re children and need to be allowed to
be
children. Children can’t, and never will, think and feel like adults because they aren’t adults. Not yet. Lance is an extraordinary boy, in every way, and he loves you so much he’ll do whatever you ask. But he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and it’s too much for a child to handle. The guilt of failure, especially when you believe your failure cost a friend’s life, is impossible enough for us to bear. Do you really think a fourteen-year-old can deal with something like that?”

She paused, catching her breath, dropping her gaze in embarrassment, not having intended to say so much. “I’m sorry. Slipped into my teacher mode.”

Arthur nodded but did not look offended. In fact, he had not been. She was right. “Ye doth be an impassioned teacher, Jenny.”

She hoped she hadn’t hurt him. “Look, Arthur, what you’re doing, what you’ve given these kids is phenomenal. You’ve given them hope, the greatest gift anyone can give a child. But they also need love. And they need good, responsible adults to guide them.”

“Ye doth be correct, as always, milady,” Arthur replied with a recriminating nod. “In my zeal to create a new Camelot I have neglected the most significant element—the human heart.”

He sighed again, considered his mistakes, and what those mistakes may yet cost him. And for the first time since beginning this crusade, the blanket of possible failure wrapped itself tightly around him. “The success of my mission depends upon my ability to lead and guide these children, as ye hast said, upon my strength. But do I have that strength?”

“You have that strength,” she assured him. “I can feel it. And I’ll help all I can. We can recruit other adults too, Arthur, good people to support the kids and your cause.”

He gazed again at the image of Lance and considered what he would say to the boy, how he could possibly make amends to him.

Jenny cleared her throat. “Um, can I ask you something?”

Arthur turned to her. “Anything.”

Here it comes, she thought. She knew she shouldn’t, but her annoyingly practical mind wouldn’t let her
not
ask. “Are you really, you know,
the
King Arthur? I know you told Helen you were and, not that it matters cuz what you’re doing is good, but I just keep wondering and, well… are you?”

Arthur did not take offense, as she feared he might. “Ye still have doubts, milady?”

“Of course I do!” she blurted and then covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound like that. It’s just, you know, so impossible.”

Arthur gave her a sad smile. “Not if ye have faith, Jenny. That seems to be an element greatly missing from this era.”

“Faith?” she repeated. “You mean in God?”

He nodded. “And in one another.”

She fell silent, contemplating his words, realizing he hadn’t answered her question. Or maybe he had.

Arthur’s eyes took on a faraway look as he gazed forlornly up at the stars.

“You thinking about Mark?”

“Yes.”

Some lines from a poem came to Jenny then, at least a paraphrasing, and she recited them, “Though loved ones be lost, love shall not, and death shall have no dominion…. Dylan Thomas wrote that, something close to it anyway.”

Arthur pulled his gaze from the stars and looked into her eyes. “It’s lovely.”

He saw compassion and understanding… and love?

“It’s not your fault,” she said. “You can’t control someone’s feelings.”

Arthur’s face oozed sadness and regret. “But I did not see the signs. Perhaps I could have—”

She put a finger to his lips to stop him. “Don’t go there, Arthur. We all make mistakes. Some are… more costly than others.”

Arthur nodded, and there was a moment of silence between them.

“These drugs, Jenny… they doth be a terrible scourge upon thy society.”

Jenny sighed, thinking of all the kids at school who were addicts. Oh yeah, they’d always tell her “you can’t get addicted to weed,” except when she’d challenge them to prove it by stopping, they’d just laugh and say they didn’t want to.
Because you’re addicted.

“I know,” she said in reply to Arthur’s observation. “But even you can’t solve the drug problem. There’s too much money in it, too much crime. It’s just too big.”

Arthur considered her words thoughtfully, his mind already turning with ideas. “Perhaps.”

The tone of Arthur’s voice caused Jenny to shiver. He felt it and quickly slipped off his red cloak, wrapping it around her shoulders.

“Is that better?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

They found themselves extremely close together, gazing deeply into one another’s eyes, his hands still resting lightly upon her shoulders. There was a pause. Quiet surrounded them. They kissed, long and deeply and gently. Arthur pulled back slowly, dropping his arms to his sides awkwardly, suddenly feeling like a nervous teenaged boy again.

“Alas, I must go, Jenny, though I could stay with thee for hours and be content.” His smile turned sad. “I must find Lance, milady, and tell him what he means to me.”

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

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

“Ye be an extraordinary woman, Lady Jenny.”

She grinned, trying not to be too serious, that old commitment fear creeping back in. “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 then turned to trot off into the night. She watched him go, feeling now more than ever that she was falling in love with him.

O
N
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 dry aqueduct was already aswarm 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.