Knights

A knock on the door could have changed everything. We would not be in this place if we weren’t boneheaded children…

These thoughts raced through Malcolm’s mind as he stood at the iron gateway to his father’s estate. While enduring his trials, Malcolm had nearly forgotten what life was like at home. It had already been a year, but the heavenly scent of his mother’s nearby flower gardens made the months that passed feel like minutes. The hedge that bordered the Uilkin property and the stone path winding to the front door remained unchanged. Even the grass remained the same healthy green from the day Malcolm left. He closed his eyes and pleaded to himself to wake from this nightmare in his old bed, but a hand on his shoulder snapped him back to reality.

“You can go through the worst hell, but the Homecoming after will still put a knot in your stomach,” Sir Craig’s words shattered Malcolm’s hopes. The Homecoming is a rite of passage for young squires. Required after passing the trials, the future knight must reconcile with those they hurt, and the family they shamed. This is the last hurdle before Malcolm is pardoned for his crimes.

“Are you ready, squire?” Again, Sir Craig’s words pierced Malcolm’s fantasy world again.

Taking a deep breath, he finally responded, “no, Sir, but do I have a choice?” Malcolm reached out and pressed the call button on the gate control. He still remembered the old pass code, but the Uilkin Elder may have had it changed after the incident, and he was not willing to deal with the heartbreak of that realization.

“Uilkin Residence,” responded the small box. Malcolm recognized the voice as his younger brother, Mason, and fought back tears with his response.

“This is Squire Malcolm and Sir Craig with the New England Knight Patrol. We are here for a homecoming,” Malcolm’s voice cracked. Forcing out those words was one of the most difficult things he had ever done.

Within a few seconds the gate opened, and Malcolm looked back at Sir Craig who wore a wide smile. The knight adjusted his sunglasses and gestured toward the door. “I am on your left, Squire.”

When Knights are partnered on assignment, the eldest would normally take the lead and descending from rank, would follow closely behind, covering their shieldarm. ‘On your left, or right’ is a term used to assure the superior that you will not leave their side, but more importantly, this particular moment told Malcolm he had to lead the way.

With each step Malcolm felt the heaviness in his stomach intensify. He thought he was done answering for his crimes. Was the agony of the trials not enough? Must he continue to suffer? A voice in the back of his mind told him to turn back. He is not strong enough yet. He can’t. But his legs kept moving on their own, as if his new instilled sense of purpose kept pushing him forward.

The old Uilkin manor stood in the middle of a large property dotted by gardens and a small monastery on the back ouder edge. Malcolm peeked around the back to see if he could spot any of his family members tending the smaller patches of flowers, but all he could find were his mother’s clippers dropped haphazardly near her rose bushes. He assumed she was told of his return and rushed inside to meet him at the door.

Arriving at the front porch, Malcolm scanned for any changes made since his exile. The two front doors were built from mahogany and had the image of an owl taking flight from a tree upward toward a carving of the full moon. To his disappointment these were the same doors he slammed on his mother the last time he was here. He closed his eyes tight one more time, hoping that when he opened them he would be back in his bedroom, and knocked on the doors. Malcolm heard the door latch, took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

A venerable man wearing a small pair of reading glasses with a young barn owl on his shoulder answered the doorbell. Malcolm recognized him as grandfather, the Uilkin Elder’s brother, Aki. “Master-.” Surprised, Aki nearly forgot Malcolm’s exile, and cut himself off before using the former heir’s title. “Squire Malcolm?”

Malcolm quickly bowed, “elder Aki. Good morning. I am here to pay my respects to the family after my mistakes.”

“And who is this with you,” Aki asked, shifting his gaze to Sir Craig.

The veteran Knight let out a chuckle. “I am Sir Craig of the New England Knight Patrol. I am the kid’s mentor and trainer,” he said, patting Malcolm hard on the back and grabbing him by the collar to pull him back upright. “He has unfinished business with this family and wants to bury the hatchet before beginning his duties.”

Tilting his head back Aki examined Sir Craig, nearly pushing the owlet off his shoulder. “Were you the arresting officer?”

“That I was, uh… Aki, was it?”

Aki nodded, and stepped aside to make space for the both of them to enter. “Please come in, and make yourselves comfortable here in the foyer,” he said with a welcoming and friendly tone. “I will notify the Elder of your arrival, he is probably in the monastery. I will return soon.” The foyer was decorated with restraint and only had a small table and four chairs and was only used for meetings with other families and guests.

After waiting for his pair of guests to take a seat, Aki fishes a key from his chest pocket. Across the room from the doors Malcolm and Sir Craig entered was the true front door into the manor, which remains locked at all times. Aki sinks the key into the doorknob, and exits the foyer, locking the door behind him.

For the second time in his life, Malcolm sat on the guest side of the table nervously fidgeting with his hands. The first time was one year ago, next to Mason, when he was exiled. This time he shared this side of the table with the Knight who arrested him, and helped teach him to be strong and independent. For what felt like hours, Malcolm sat in silence, letting his thoughts race.

“Don’t bow to them anymore, Squire,” Sir Craig finally broke the tense silence.

“What? Why not?”

“I know it seems like nothing has changed, and everything feels like a bad dream, but these people aren’t your family anymore. You aren’t going to walk in here, apologize and go back to your old life. This is going to hurt. They will not forgive you. You need to learn that, after what you did, the only ones who will have your back are your brothers and sisters.” Sir Craig leaned forward to look into Malcolm’s eyes. “That is why I am here. To have your back when things go bad. You are not Master Malcolm Uilkin anymore. You never will be again. You belong to the nation of New England, and we are your family now.”

A chill rushed down Malcolm’s spine. From the minute he slammed the car door shut to now, he was wishing this was all a bad dream, but Sir Craig’s words weighed down his hopes and brought him back to reality once again. This is not about the apology. Today was the last day of the squires trials. This is the most painful lesson that he has to learn. Tears began to well up in the Squire’s eyes, and Sir Craig opened his mouth to speak, but before he could form any words to comfort his protege, the lock on the door clicked, and Malcolm’s father, accompanied by the direct members of his family, walked through the door.

Malcolm nearly stood to bow, but stopped himself halfway, remembering Sir Craig’s words. Horace Uilkin, husband of Debra Uilkin and father of Dominique, Mason and Malcolm Uilkin, took the Elder’s chair at the table, and Malcolm’s jaw dropped. He expected to be meeting with the elder whom he was named after “I don’t understand. What happened to Elder Malcolm? Why does it have to be you?”

“Unfortunately, two months ago, Elder Malcolm passed away. His loss still weighs heavy on the house,” responded Debra. Like Malcolm she was also quick to forget the past year at the sight of her son. “What happened to you,” she asked, commenting on Malcolm’s fresh scars and five-o-clock shadow. His response was as simple as looking away from her.

“What is the meaning of this visit? Surely the two of you have better things to do than come harass my family,” the new elder finally spoke, maintaining eye contact with Malcolm. “Have we not suffered enough because of you?”

Malcolm jumped at the stern nature of his father. As the oldest of his generation, while he was growing up, Horace was grooming Malcolm to become the next Elder and the two would treat each other with the utmost respect. It was actually Elder Malcolm who exiled the squire from the family, while his parents objected.

“What happened to you?” Malcolm shot to his feet, “you were the one who wanted to forgive me! What the hell changed? Why are you so fucking cold now?”

“You will not raise your voice to me in my own home,” Horace interrupted. “You made a mistake, and I stupidly fought to keep you here. It was only after Elder Malcolm died that I realized why I was wrong.” Horace stood back up, “you had far more expected from you, and you will no longer disrespect his name and his memory.”

Malcolm felt his knees weaken. Was it really just his name? Was all this just because he was named after The Elder? “So you will sacrifice the memories of your son just to preserve the memory of an old man?”

“You watch your tongue,” Horace beamed. “That ‘old man’ paved the way for this nation and this family to thrive.”

Debra held the new elder’s hand in hers. “He saw the two of us together and said our children would do great things, so to honor his words, we named our first son after him.”

“And our first son turned out to be a failure. Just some common criminal.”

Malcolm slammed both his fists on the table. “I am sorry! OK,” he fell back to his seat and buried his face in his hands, crying. “I am fucking sorry. I would do anything to go back, and change what happened.”

“Pathetic,” commented Horace. “You are holding on to something that you can never have.” He motioned for his family to follow him out. “This meeting is over. I trust that you will see yourselves out.”

Three of the Uilkin’s leave the room one by one. First Horace, then Debra, soon followed by Domonique. Only Mason remained. “You know, if it wasn’t for you, I would be right there, too. I just wanted you to know that I am sorry, and thank you.” Mason bowed one last time to his brother before following his family out of the room.

“Look at that. I have never seen that before,” commented Sir Craig, who remained silent through the entire meeting. He replaced his hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. “You were one of the lucky ones.”

Malcolm looked through his tears at the empty room. “What do you mean?”

“You still have someone in this house rooting for you. I have to say I have never been happier to be wrong about something!” Sir Craig rises to his feet and offers his hand to his squire. “Congratulations, and welcome to the New England Knight Patrol, Sir Malcolm.”