Chapter 21: The Knight’s Charge
Footsteps gradually approached. From faint rustling to loud stomping. Suddenly, the footsteps stopped, and the sound of a head banging against the wall also ceased at the same moment.
Willocks twisted his neck, his cold voice cutting through the stillness of the alley. “You’re finally here.”
With a forceful push from his back, he lifted himself from the wall. His venomous eyes immediately fixed on the police knife in Arthur’s left hand. “Ha, I knew it. That useless coward Dennis couldn’t do anything right.”
Arthur spoke calmly, his voice sounding a bit hoarse. “Dennis isn’t a coward; he just had no choice.”
Willocks spat on the ground. “Getting yourself into a position where you have no choice is an act of cowardice in itself. He could have challenged me like you did, but he didn’t have the guts. He deserves it! Even those two punching bags, Tom and Tony, had the guts to come at me, though they got beaten and are now under internal investigation. At least they knew how to resist. But Dennis? He only knows how to betray others. What else can you call that but cowardice? After we settle our matters, I’ll have a nice chat with him.”
Willocks’s mouth curled into a grin. “Arthur, you know I’ll have a nice chat with him.”
Arthur felt surprisingly calm, so calm he couldn’t believe it himself. He simply took out a deck of cards he used for playing yesterday, carefully selecting his favorite suits and hands.
Seeing this, Willocks laughed even more maniacally. “Arthur, what are you doing? Planning to play a couple of rounds with me before you die?”
Arthur drew four cards from the deck and flicked them with his fingers into the puddle in front of Willocks. “Choose a way you like to die.”
Willocks looked down and saw four Jacks floating on the dirty water. In English, there are many words that start with J. For example, Junior, representing the young and lowly, also representing youthful impulsiveness. Just, representing uprightness and justice. Justice, representing fairness and righteousness. And Judge, symbolizing final judgment and decision.
Arthur removed his gloves and threw them on the ground in front of Willocks. “You shouldn’t have come for me. Didn’t your underdeveloped brain remember that I’m the only officer from Scotland Yard who dares to patrol the East End alone at night?”
Willocks stared at the four cards in the puddle, the scar on his neck twitching menacingly. “Arthur, how about continuing the lesson today? I’m not the best student, but I’m always willing to learn. Why only choose one card? Why not tell me about all the card portraits?”
Arthur said lightly, “Your idea is bold, but I accept your proposal.”
Willocks slowly drew his saber from his waist, its cold, sharp blade making his face look even more terrifying. “Arthur, it’s a good blade, seen blood?”
“Of course.”
“At Waterloo?”
“Not just there.” Willocks grinned. “Also in Saint Peter’s Square in 1819.”
( TL Note: The Peterloo Massacre involved a cavalry charge into a crowd of around 60,000 people who had gathered to demand the reform of parliamentary representation. The massacre resulted in the deaths of 15 people and the injury of several hundred more. The term “Peterloo” is a combination of “St Peter’s Field” and “Waterloo,” highlighting the irony of British troops using force against their own people shortly after their victory over Napoleon at Waterloo. )
Arthur’s heart sank sharply. “Willocks, you really are a bastard.”
Willocks laughed wildly. “I remember that, said by Arthur Hastings. I’ll never forget it!”
He sprang at Arthur, his first slash aiming directly at Arthur’s heart, intending to pierce right through.
Agareus’s figure appeared in the alley, perched excitedly on the wall, cheering for Arthur. “Arthur, my legendary swordsmanship master! Show him all your skills, don’t forget how I trained you!”
To Willocks’s attack, Arthur didn’t even draw his sword. He kicked Willocks in the stomach, sending him flying two meters into the wall.
Arthur pierced the Jack of Diamonds in the puddle with the tip of his police knife, then presented its face to the fallen Willocks. “Today’s first lesson, the Jack of Diamonds, the legendary warrior Hector, son of King Priam, brother of Paris, who died by Achilles’ hand. In an inevitable war, Achilles fought for honor, Paris for a woman, Agamemnon for profit, but only Hector fought for his country and people!”
Willocks clutched his stomach, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth, feeling as if his ribs had been broken by that powerful kick.
“Arthur, you’ve got some skills! Kid!”
Enduring the pain, Willocks got up, swinging his saber to slash at Arthur, this time intending to cleave his head.
Arthur finally drew his sword, raising it horizontally above his head, not only blocking Willocks’s attack but also elbowing Willocks in the face. Blood spurted from his nose like an uncontrollable faucet.
Arthur lightly tapped the water with his toe, lifting the next card, and caught it with his free left hand. “Second lesson, the Jack of Clubs, the abandoned child of King Ban and Queen Elaine, raised by the Lady of the Lake, King Arthur’s close companion, the legendary dragon slayer, the Knight of the Lake—Lancelot! Humility, honor, sacrifice, bravery, compassion, spirituality, honesty, justice, he is the best embodiment of chivalry!”
Willocks wiped the blood from his nose, his nose bridge now crooked, the severe pain and intense humiliation nearly driving him insane. “Arthur, you bastard!”
He swung his saber, but his footwork was already disordered, this attack even less threatening than the previous ones.
Arthur sidestepped lightly, avoiding the slash, and like a bee’s sting, he instantly pierced Willocks’s left arm.
Arthur bent down to pick up the card that Willocks had stepped on, displaying it in front of him. “Third lesson, the Jack of Spades, son of King Geoffrey of Denmark, both enemy and ally to Charlemagne, the victor over the Umayyad Caliphate, blessed by six fairies, the knight holding the holy sword Curtana, the merciful knight from the north—Holger! He died in the Battle of Roncesvalles against the infidels, but every Dane believes that death is just a long sleep, and he still watches over Denmark from his tomb. When Denmark needs him, Holger will break free from his slumber and wield his sword again to protect his country and people!”
Willocks clutched his left arm, his right arm holding the saber trembling uncontrollably, blood flowing down his arm like a stream. He swallowed hard, knowing he could no longer attack, that defense was his only chance of survival.
But Arthur didn’t care whether he attacked or defended. He picked up the last card and, with a flourish, thrust his sword towards Willocks. “Final lesson, the Jack of Hearts, the squire to Charles VII, follower of Joan of Arc, the invincible war god, commander at the Battle of Orléans, the glory of France, the irritable knight who accompanied the saint—La Hire! La Hire said to the oppressors: whatever you want La Hire to do for you, you must do for him. If you are La Hire, you are God! He told Charles: no glorious monarch like you would happily hand over his country and people to his enemies! His name is immortal because of his association with Joan of Arc, his words will not perish with his decaying body, but will grow more lasting with time!”
With a clang, the saber fell to the ground. Willocks fell to his knees, his eyes full of disbelief. “Arthur, you, you, you bastard…”
With a thud, Willocks collapsed to the ground. Blood flowed from the corners of his mouth, and in his chest was embedded a blood-red Jack of Hearts.
(End of Chapter)