Children of the Knight (63 page)

“What happened, Arthur?” asked Esteban, standing before him wearing jeans and a muscle shirt. He’d 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 cautiously forward into even 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 of his friend’s death, and his heart lurched at the thought of Lance out there somewhere, lost and alone.

Arthur paused, knowing he had to be strong. He blinked back the tears forming just behind his eyes and said, “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, slipped into his callous old ways without thinking. He smirked and whispered, “Probably had AIDS anyway.”

Jack heard the remark and blanched with rage. “What the fuck!”

He practically dropped Chris as he charged forward to tackle Esteban, and the two muscular 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. He would kill this asshole! 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 boy’s throat. All his anger, sorrow, and rage went into those fingers, and he squeezed with every ounce of his prodigious strength.

Esteban, not used to being on the losing end of a fistfight, suddenly found himself losing a battle for his very survival, pressing desperately upward with his own 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. Black dots danced before Esteban’s eyes, and he grunted and gasped for air and felt himself slipping away.

“Jack, please 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 with what consciousness he had left just to keep from losing his life.

Arthur swung Excalibur above his head and smashed its legendary blade down against the concrete 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 saw Esteban turning blue beneath him, could feel Reyna’s fists pounding on his back, and he let go.

Standing, breathing heavily, Jack stepped back as Reyna knelt by Esteban to help him sit up. Esteban choked and gasped for air, glaring at the panting Jack.

“Fuck, man, you almost killed me!” he spat, his voice raspy and weak.

Jack merely panted and glared right back.
And I would have too.
For Mark
.

“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. Doth ye understand this?”

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

“That doth 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 only honor, not mockery.”

Seeing the pain on Arthur’s face, Esteban suddenly felt like shit and bowed his head in shame. “Sorry, Arthur.”

Arthur nodded. “Now thou shalt apologize to Sir Jack.”

That
made Esteban bristle, and his old defiant streak reared its ugly head. Arthur he could apologize to, but a faggot? He pulled away from Reyna. “And if I won’t?”

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

“You’re telling me to get out, is that it?” Esteban’s eyes burned with fury.

“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, who glared at him in anger. “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 think
I’m
better than everybody?” She threw her arms across her chest and turned her head away from him.

Esteban glanced at Jack, then back up at Arthur.

“Thou wouldst 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 own 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 have learned that lesson.”

Esteban saw the truth in Arthur’s eyes and heard it in his voice, remembering how the king admitted he’d failed Mark and Lance. He thought about all they’d accomplished thus far, how he’d worked side by side with Mark, how Jack had put that tub into his mom’s friend’s house. He thought about Lance’s words that day in The Hub about them all being more alike than different. He thought about how he wanted to be a man and not a boy anymore. And he backed down.

He turned to Jack. “Sorry, man. That was a shitty thing to say.”

He held out his hand, but Jack just stared at it.

“He was
my
homeboy,” Jack declared, eyes welling against his will.

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

Jack hesitated, gauging the other’s sincerity, and seeing it deep within the other boy’s steely eyes, reached out to clasp his 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. He was thrilled. Leaning in to Jack’s ear, he whispered, “You kicked his ass.”

Jack had to stifle a grin, glancing around to see if anyone else had heard. But all eyes were on Arthur. He leaned into Chris. “Thanks, Chris,” Jack said and 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 ye 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, as well,
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 at that, though his own pride wouldn’t allow him to vocalize it. The kid might be small and girly looking, but he could fight, he was hella smart, and he was a good leader. Esteban respected those qualities in any man.

“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 shalt return. We shall proceed with our plans and pray our Lance returns to us in time to take part.”

There were murmurs of agreement amongst 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 shalt our crusade be?” Reyna glowered, but Jaime just shrugged.

“These drugs,” Arthur announced with authority, “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 shit out there—sorry, and too many dealers fer 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 doth be warriors of right, not might,” Arthur said when the kids had settled down, “and we shalt once again use our might to make a wrong
right
. We now number at more than one thousand, and methinks ’twould not be difficult for thee to locate a great number of these dealers and their drugs.”

Excitement rose within Esteban. 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.”

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

“Yer old man know yer out here this late?”

Justin just shrugged. “Like I care?” Esteban grinned, and they clasped hands in solidarity.

Then 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.”

Arthur nodded at Justin. “Excellent, my boy, and we shalt 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 shalt now fully enter the twenty-first century, with all of its marvelous technology. Our ultimate triumph in this venture shalt 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?