The Reckless Oath We Made(16)

“I don’t know. Maybe he did. Honestly, I don’t always understand what he says. I got a C in English in high school, and we never got to Shakespeare. I wasn’t in the advanced class.”

I hadn’t been sure what I thought of her until then. She wasn’t stupid, but a lot of people won’t admit their own ignorance. I could respect that.

“Do you know what a champion is?” I said.

“Yeah. It’s like a knight who defends a lady, right? But in romance novels it’s more romantic, I guess.”

“Well, he means it in the chivalric sense. In the knightly tradition, a champion is a knight in service of a lady. Gentry only wants to protect you, so you don’t need to worry about him or his intentions. Today was pretty important for him, that he was able to help you. I want you to know that.”

“And there isn’t anything they can do to keep him from hearing those voices?” she said. It was what people asked: can’t he be treated or cured?

“Oh, honey, no. Plenty of people hear voices, a lot more than you might imagine. The only ones who ever make the news are the ones who have a serious untreated mental illness. The rest of them just go on with their lives. Mostly, I think Gentry’s voices are useful to him. They help him navigate the world, when that’s not easy for him.”

“But why me? Why is he supposed to be my champion?”

“Oh, you’d have to ask the Witch about that. But why not you? Didn’t you need a champion today?”

“I guess I did. I didn’t know he was so into this medieval stuff. Being a k-night,” Zee said. I laughed to let her know it was okay to think that was a weird way to say it.

“Oh, yes. Ever since he learned to read, he’s been obsessed with knights and castles. You should ask to borrow some of his books. I know he’d be happy to have you read them.”

“But he’s serious, like with the swords and everything.”

“He’s always been serious about it. Enough that it’s caused some problems. When he was eleven, he ran away because he wanted to become a knight. His older brother, Carlees, was on a Boy Scout camping trip that weekend, and Gentry really wanted to go, but we didn’t feel he was ready yet. Socially. Instead, we told him he could camp at home. My sister, Bernice, had given him a little pup tent that he set up in the backyard.

“We were getting ready to host a barbecue for Memorial Day weekend. Bill went out to light the grill, and Gentry was gone. He’d packed up his camp and left. Bless us, I think we actually laughed about it a little. When the guests came, we went out walking around the neighborhood, figuring we’d find him at the park or the school playground. Someplace obvious. Then it got dark and we panicked. Called the police. Our pastor.”

“Where was he?” Zee said.

“Oh, we didn’t find him that night. Or the next night. A ranger up at El Dorado State Park came across his camp five days later. Gentry had walked all the way there, cross-country. Pitched his little tent, built himself a fire, picked some berries, and caught a fish for dinner.”

“Oh my god. And he was how old?”

“Not quite twelve. It’s a funny story now, but there were a few days where I thought we might lose custody of him. We’d had him since he was three, as a foster, before we adopted him. After that we had to be much stricter with him.”

“Why did he run away?”

“He didn’t even see it that way. He and Gawen were on an adventure. There was this book, his favorite book at the time—I don’t remember the title of it, as embarrassing as that is.”

“One of those Barbara Leonie Picard books,” Bill called. He’d been listening all along.

“If you say so. A historical book anyway. About a young boy in medieval times who runs away and becomes a knight. That’s what Gentry was planning to do. After that, we were off the deep end into all the medieval romances. Gawain and Yvain and Arthur and Lancelot. Then we took him to a meeting for the SCA—the Society for Creative Anachronism—and he found a knight who was willing to take him on as a page.

“Until then, he’d struggled with speaking, but learning Middle English took a lot of the pressure off, because everyone starts on the same footing. Except Gentry. Even when he was twelve, he spoke better than most of the adults at those get-togethers. Of course, his voices speak in Middle English so, in some ways, it’s his native language.”

“That’s kind of cool,” Zee said, which I thought was sweet. I appreciated that she seemed interested.

“Then after he graduated high school, he got very serious about historical medieval battle, with the swords and the armor, which I am not fond of. He’s been injured a few times, as you know, but no more gallivanting around in search of knightly adventures. We like to keep him close to home.”

From the front room, over the drone of the television, I heard Bill say, “Hey there, little man.”

Then Marcus said, “Mommy! Aunt Zee, Mommy’s on TV.” When all the blood drained out of Zee’s face, I could see how much she looked like her sister.

She jumped up and ran toward the family room, and I went after her.





CHAPTER 9





Marcus



I wanted to stay and watch Mommy on TV, but Aunt Zee took me back to the bedroom.