First story for Fiction 2
Greater than Himself
Rod Landreth
Sir Ronald crept through the dank crypt, brushing the jungle moss away from his face. He knew the Bowl of Purity was here, the writings had been clear. He clutched tightly at the sword, named Sordrith after the great knight who first wielded the blade. He moved around the altar, draped in fine silks with expensive trinkets and gold candlesticks. These meant nothing to him, a Knight of the Order, who served the Holy Five Divines, his only goal retaking the artifact stolen by fowl thieves who clearly intended to defile the sacred vessel with some nefarious deed.
He came to the ancient iron door, reached out his mailed hand to push it open. A slow load creak echoed through the crypt. The Knight stopped, expecting to stir the thieves into attack. Silence, Sir Ronald heard nothing but the low whistle of the wind through distant cracks. He moved casually forward into the chamber at the depth of the crypt. Sir Ronald touched the amulet around his neck and a bright light shown around him, illuminating the chamber in its soft glow. He mentally thanked the Abbot for his gift as he raised the amulet high. A glint, it was against the back wall on a high shelf. He moved forward knowing the thieves would never leave such a treasure unguarded.
Bright light flooded the room, “Ronnie! What the hell are you doing in the utility closet?” Moving a bang away from her eyes, Mabel sighed. Before her stood her twelve year old son in some weird cardboard outfit he clearly made himself, holding a flashlight pilfered from the kitchen drawer in one hand and one of his many plastic swords in the other.
“Ma! I was just about to get the Bowl of Purity!” Ronnie whined.
Mabel sighed again, “Ronnie, it's time for lunch. Stop this silly game, come up and eat the O’s I made for you.
The young “knight’s” shoulders drooped, plastic sword dragging on the concrete floor kicking up a puff of dust. “Alright Ma,” and slumped past his mother.
“Really, you’re getting to old to be playing all this make-believe. There are only a few weeks until summer is over and you will be going back to school. We can’t have you off in some corner of the playground again by yourself off in some fairyland. It won’t be long till you’ll be getting ready to go to Middle School. Do you think the children their go traipsing around in some get-up like that,” Mabel motioned one of her flabby arms that fell out of her flower print sundress.
“No, Ma.” He continued to slump down the hallway towards the kitchen. It was a bright day, light streaming into the lime green kitchen. Faded pastel and faux flowers were everywhere. It all seemed so forcibly cheery, and missing the mark.
He pushed his glasses off the tip of his nose, tossed the plastic sword his Uncle Mike had given him for his birthday two months back onto the table and drug himself up into the chair. A bowl of spaghetti-o’s clumped at him off the pale green plate that clashed with the pale yellow table. Ronnie grabbed the spoon, propped his chin in his other hand and shoved the spoon in his mouth.
His mother moved past him, smelling of that weird perfume of watery lilac, “Stop that! Sit up straight, what if your Grandfather came in and saw you sprawled all out like that?” Mabel moved over to the sink, picked up a plate out of the soapy water and mechanically started scrubbing it with the brillo pad.
“No, Ma,” Ronnie pulled himself up and let the now cold O’s quiver. He remembered when his father would come in from his construction job, covered in grime and sawdust, snatch him up, and ask him what adventure he had today. That was three years ago. Ronnie was never clear on what the “Accident” was but it changed his mother. She got distant, gained weight, and just never did anything. He had to wait until his Uncle Mike or Grandfather came over to go outside he and his mother’s apartment to the park a ways down the street. That was maybe two or three times a week during the summer. Grandfather ran a chain of Cleaner’s, so was always going on about this or that business thing, that investment, and never had any time to do much with him. His Uncle Mike was a lot like his dad, but worked on a bridge across the city. Ma always fretted that a girder would fall on him. So he could only come over every once in awhile. So, Ronnie retreated into his books and his fantasy. Whole worlds opened to him.
“Oh, I have to finish that Wedding cake for Tina today and I need you to go the store at the corner to get me some more cake mix.” Mable said distantly as she continued to scrub the various baking pans in the sink.
Ronnie turned to her, “What Ma? Did you say I could go get you something at the store?”
She stopped, turned. “Yes, I have to get working on the first level of the cake or I’ll never get done in time. You could run down and get me some more cake mix can’t you.”
Ronnie exploded out of his chair, “Can I! Oh Ma, that would be great! Like an adventure!”
Mabel wiped her hands on the bottom of her dress, “No, it is going down to the store and coming right back. I just don’t have time, and I need to get the top layer in the oven, and I ran out of cake mix.” She put her hands on her ample hips as the boy practically hopped about the kitchen.
“Go get my purse.” Ronnie had rocketed off before she finished. She sighed and brushed her bang out of her eye.
*******
Ronnie stood at the front stoop of the apartment complex just looking up and down the street! Cars and Taxi’s sailed past intermittedly, an occasional bus chugged down the street, they reminded Ronnie of fish in that big aquarium his dad took him to the Fall before the “accident.” He remembered seeing the Manta Ray glide by and was just amazed at it.
Touching the money in his pocket, he started to walk down the sidewalk towards the market that was about four blocks away. He imagined this is what it was like when a knight would begin his quest. He felt the familiar feeling of everything slipping away, glens and fields going by as he rode his War horse. The armour clinking on his horse, called Challenger. He would nod his head at the milkmaids or old woman in their yard knowing he was shining in his plate armour, a champion of the people.
“Look who decided to come out of his hole, Johnny!” A taller dark shape stepped out of the alley to Ronnie’s left.
“T..t…tommy! Where did you come from?” Ronnie quickly looked around realizing he was in front of the apartment building the two brothers lived in. They were about two years old than he was, but were held back a year so still hadn’t gone to the Middle School yet. Tommy was clearly the lead, big, broad, dirty and just mean. His twin brother Johnny, was just as big, just as broad, even dirtier, and did whatever his brother told him to do. Ronnie did everything he could to avoid them on the playground at school. To get caught in whatever brutality they could cook up was just asking for trouble.
Wearing a collared shirt and some suspenders to hold up his three sizes to big pants, probably hand-me-down from his older brother, Tommy looked like he had fresh shiner on his left eye. He and his brother being from a huge Catholic family, in an apartment about the same size as he and Ma’s, you had probably to fight for everything. The burly ruffian crossed arms and glared at Ronnie.
“Betcher head was in the clouds again weren’t they? Do you ever come down here to da real world?” He laughed, as much grunted as anything. Johnny, brayed out his laugh, clutching his rear end as he did it.
Ronnie drew himself up, “Hey at least I use my head for something.”
Two things happened at one time, Johnny had quickly managed to get behind him, and Tommy as quick as a snake pushed Ronnie over his now crouching brother. Ronnie went sprawling, landing hard on his bum as his glasses went flying. Ronnie tried to roll to his side to get up, but Tommy had him by his collar, nose to Ronnie’s, fist hovering back as Johnny brayed behind his brother.
“You know, I was really bored till you came along. You are going to innertain me so I won’t be bored no more. Then I’m gonna let Johnny have some innertainment.” Ronnie gasped because the smell of unwashed thug surprised him more than any threat of violence.
“Hit ‘em good, Tommy!” Another bray was all Ronnie heard when the white pain of fist hitting his face came.
Ronnie knew he was hit two more times before Tommy let him drop into a heap. It hurt, but only in a distant way. He was angry, angry that he hadn’t thought of going past these thugs, angry that if he managed to get to the store, he would still have to come back by them, possibly losing the cake mixes his mother needed. Angry that even if he wanted to fight he couldn’t see because he didn’t know where his glasses were, and angry that they were broke and his mother couldn’t afford to get him another pair. He felt helpless in that anger because he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t run back home, as it was too far and surely they would get him again, and going to the store still meant coming back.
A shadow fell over Ronnie he flinched expecting another blow. He felt his glasses shoved into his hands.
“Ronnie, get up.” A serious older male voice stated.
“Uncle Mike!” Ronnie gasped as he shoved his glasses on his face. The short curly brown hair, sharp nose, and angular jaw came into focus.
“Are you OK?” Ronnie’s uncle turned to look at the retreating brothers.
Wiping his nose, tasting a little copper from the blood from nose, Ronnie guessed not that bad, “I’m fine. What are you doing here?”
The man in his mid-twenties stood up, fished out a white handkerchief out of his back pocket and handed it to Ronnie. “I’ve come to help set up for Tina’s wedding. Ronnie, why did you let that boy hit you?”
Ronnie gulped, “He sort of surprised me, it all happened sort of fast.”
“You were daydreaming again weren’t you?”
Felling his stomach fall as he heard the disappointment in his Uncle’s voice, “yes,” was all Ronnie could say.
His uncle knelt down again getting his eyes level with Ronnie’s, “I know you’ve gone through a lot these past few years, but Ronnie you have to start paying attention to what is going on around you. Your Ma needs you to be there for her, to be the man of the house. You need to start growing up and paying attention.”
Ronnie stared at his uncle. Uncle Mike was right, Ronnie couldn’t stay in his fantasy when his Ma really did need him. Instead of wishing to be the Knight, he needed to be the knight, to his mother, to himself.
His uncle stood; worry creasing his young face as he looked at his nephew.
“Uncle Mike, could you walk with me to the market? Ma asked me to go get some more cake mix for her for Tina’s Wedding cake.”
“Sure, Ronnie, but we have to be quick, they need me to help set up.”
His uncle laid his arm on Ronnie’s shoulder casually, “… and Uncle Mike, could you tell me how my dad died?”
His uncle stopped, looked down at his nephew, “Are you sure you’re ready?”
Ronnie took a deep breath, “Yes, I think it is time for me to know.”