A Knight in Central Park(36)
As Alexandra peeked inside one of the smaller huts, he remained silently miserable. She held open the flap and motioned for him to enter. A good-sized bed took up most of the space within. Beneath moth-eaten blankets lay Alexandra’s grandfather. His eyes were closed and his bearded chin rested against the faint rise and fall of his frail chest.
Joe swiped a flea from his forearm, one more annoying reminder that he was trapped in the Twilight Zone. Of course, fleas existed back home, but this was beyond the norm. No amount of vacuuming could conquer the endless attack of blood-sucking parasites.
Alexandra nudged her grandfather’s shoulder. “Grandfather, wake up. Sir Joe is here to meet you.”
The old man jolted awake, then struggled upward to a more comfortable sitting position. Bushy eyebrows jutted out over piercing brown eyes. A thick wiry silver-grey beard covered his chin. “Alexandra, dear, you are a sight to behold.”
Alexandra patted her grandfather’s hand and smiled.
“I have been expecting you both.” His voice was raspy. “Come closer,” he said to Joe, gesturing with crooked bony fingers. “Let me have a look at you.”
Joe went forward, which was not an easy feat considering the leather pants were riding high and tight.
The old man stroked his beard. “So, you are The Chosen One.”
“Afraid not,” Joe said. “I’m a professor of Ancient Art and History, definitely not The One.”
The old man’s eyes sparkled. “Ahh, but I am afraid you are The Chosen One, or you would not be here now.”
Joe eyed the man curiously, tried to determine if the old man still had a full deck, so to speak. “If the only requirement for becoming The Chosen One is being chosen, then I would have to agree that I am, in fact, The One. And just for fun,” Joe went on, “let’s suppose for a moment that I am the man you’ve been waiting for.” He held his arms wide. “Now what? I am but one man. I have no armor or weapons.” He leaned forward to make sure the old man could hear every word. “I avoid conflict at all costs, holding firm to the belief that violence doesn’t solve anything.”
The old man looked Joe square in the eyes. “Are you saying you have never had to defend yourself against another?”
Joe straightened, recalling all the fights he’d gotten into as a young boy. He couldn’t count the times he’d ended up in the principal’s office, knowing there would be no consequence since he had no mother and his father was clear across the country. “I suppose you could say I’ve gotten into my share of scrabbles. But,” Joe quickly added, pointing a finger at the old man, “that was a long time ago. I was young, and it’s completely beside the point.”
As if he were a lawyer stating his case, Joe paced the hut as he added matter-of-factly, “I’m not from this time. I’ve never raised a sword in battle. But for some incredible reason you and Alexandra believe I, of all people, could travel across unfamiliar territory to fight off who knows how many armored warriors; never mind breaking into Richard’s castle or saving Alexandra’s sister.”
“You will do fine,” the old man assured him.
Joe scoffed. “Forced marriages are common during these times, am I right?” Joe asked. “Why not offer Sir Richard your congratulations then sign an agreement, requiring him to provide your village with assistance.”
Alexandra paled. For the first time since her grandfather spoke, she came forth, her face flared red in sudden anger. “You do not know Sir Richard as we do,” she said. “He has no honor. He sends his men off to kill innocent people if it suits his plans, or even his mood.” Her body trembled. “Nay, I would never know a day’s peace knowing my sister was sacrificed for our good will, knowing full well she would be forced to suffer his cruelty day in and day out.”
Joe let out a ponderous sigh. Their minds were made up. And so was his. For the next twenty-nine days he would go along with this charade. If they wanted to believe he was some sort of superhero brought here to save the day, then so be it. He would journey into the woods with Alexandra, along with anyone else she managed to gather for this suicide mission, then camp out for a few weeks. But he wasn’t going to lay siege on any castle. He wasn’t going to die for Alexandra’s sister, a woman he had yet to meet, and a cause he knew little about. “So what’s the plan?” he asked out of what he considered to be morbid curiosity.
“Go ahead, Grandfather, tell Sir Joe the plan.”