Read Online The Knights of the Cornerstone by James P. Blaylock - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James P. Blaylock
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her chair, looking at the water. She had a mug of coffee in a cup holder cut into the plastic arm of the chair.
“Good morning,” he said, stepping out into the daylight.
She turned and smiled at him, looking sharper and fresher than she had yesterday evening, which was a relief. He opened a chair that was leaning against the side of the house and sat down next to her. “Need a refill?” he asked.
“I’m all right,” she said, and they remained for a time in silence, sipping coffee and letting the river eddy over their feet. The low morning sun, looking right at them from over the hills in the east, was already heating up, and Calvin was grateful for the shade. “I’m wondering about joiningthe Knights,” he said without thinking about it first. It was only about 10 percent true, but the day had a what-the-heck quality about it that made it perfect for speculation.
His aunt nodded. “I had a suspicion you’d come around,” she said. His aunt seemed perfectly sane to him now—sharp, even. If she was bothered by some variety of dementia, it had taken the morning off.
“What do the Knights do, mainly? They’re a service organization?”
“Well, the Knights serve a higher power,” she said. “They do good works whenever they can, like the Bible recommends. And I mean good
work
, too—up and walking good. That’s the main part of the equation, you see. When Jesus turned water into wine out at the wedding, it was
good
wine; so the Bible says. The Knights don’t bother with halfway measures.”
“I seem to recall that most New Cyprus folks are members.”
“Pretty nearly all of them are, or have been. Some fall away, lose interest, take a breather, but they’re still on the list until they take themselves off, which doesn’t happen too often. It was a rule from the first, back after they brought the Cornerstone in from the East and set it up beneath the Bar. In those days it was just a rocky hill in the desert. That was before the earthquake changed the river’s course and revealed what lay beneath the island. Hugh Blankfort was Grand Master then. He figured that the land where he planted New Cyprus was neither here nor there once the river swerved out of its bed, but was in between, perfect homestead land. He goes way back, Blankfort does.”
“Further back than you and Uncle Lymon?”
“Oh my, yes.
Way
back, his family. Traces his roots back to France in the earliest days. Family had the Frenchspelling, with a
q
, but no one could pronounce it, so they simplified it some when they came out West. Blankfort and the Knights brought the stone out on a flatcar, overland from New Rochelle, right after the turn of the century. That’s when the waters parted, and the river turned out of its bed. That’s how they knew this was the place. If you ask me, God made the river turn aside, just like in the time of Moses, although you can believe what you want about that. They found a holy place waiting for them right out there beneath the Temple Bar, and they built over the top of it. That’s the Fourth Secret. I tell you that because that’s why you came out here, at least partly. You’ll learn the particulars soon enough when you’re a Knight.”
“
What
was it they brought out on the flatcar?” he asked.
“The Cornerstone. There was no way to transport a stone that size except by rail, all the way out from New Rochelle. Forty-mule team couldn’t do it. They still ran mule teams in those days.”
“Sounds as difficult as wheeling West Virginia,” he said, repeating one of his father’s old jokes, and he was happy to see that his aunt smiled at it.
“There wasn’t anything around here back then—just a few shacks over across the river, prospectors, mainly. And the land was worthless unless there was gold or silver under it, which there wasn’t much of, leastways not over on the Arizona side. A lot of Okies came in through Needles during the Depression, and some of them stayed to quarry
“Good morning,” he said, stepping out into the daylight.
She turned and smiled at him, looking sharper and fresher than she had yesterday evening, which was a relief. He opened a chair that was leaning against the side of the house and sat down next to her. “Need a refill?” he asked.
“I’m all right,” she said, and they remained for a time in silence, sipping coffee and letting the river eddy over their feet. The low morning sun, looking right at them from over the hills in the east, was already heating up, and Calvin was grateful for the shade. “I’m wondering about joiningthe Knights,” he said without thinking about it first. It was only about 10 percent true, but the day had a what-the-heck quality about it that made it perfect for speculation.
His aunt nodded. “I had a suspicion you’d come around,” she said. His aunt seemed perfectly sane to him now—sharp, even. If she was bothered by some variety of dementia, it had taken the morning off.
“What do the Knights do, mainly? They’re a service organization?”
“Well, the Knights serve a higher power,” she said. “They do good works whenever they can, like the Bible recommends. And I mean good
work
, too—up and walking good. That’s the main part of the equation, you see. When Jesus turned water into wine out at the wedding, it was
good
wine; so the Bible says. The Knights don’t bother with halfway measures.”
“I seem to recall that most New Cyprus folks are members.”
“Pretty nearly all of them are, or have been. Some fall away, lose interest, take a breather, but they’re still on the list until they take themselves off, which doesn’t happen too often. It was a rule from the first, back after they brought the Cornerstone in from the East and set it up beneath the Bar. In those days it was just a rocky hill in the desert. That was before the earthquake changed the river’s course and revealed what lay beneath the island. Hugh Blankfort was Grand Master then. He figured that the land where he planted New Cyprus was neither here nor there once the river swerved out of its bed, but was in between, perfect homestead land. He goes way back, Blankfort does.”
“Further back than you and Uncle Lymon?”
“Oh my, yes.
Way
back, his family. Traces his roots back to France in the earliest days. Family had the Frenchspelling, with a
q
, but no one could pronounce it, so they simplified it some when they came out West. Blankfort and the Knights brought the stone out on a flatcar, overland from New Rochelle, right after the turn of the century. That’s when the waters parted, and the river turned out of its bed. That’s how they knew this was the place. If you ask me, God made the river turn aside, just like in the time of Moses, although you can believe what you want about that. They found a holy place waiting for them right out there beneath the Temple Bar, and they built over the top of it. That’s the Fourth Secret. I tell you that because that’s why you came out here, at least partly. You’ll learn the particulars soon enough when you’re a Knight.”
“
What
was it they brought out on the flatcar?” he asked.
“The Cornerstone. There was no way to transport a stone that size except by rail, all the way out from New Rochelle. Forty-mule team couldn’t do it. They still ran mule teams in those days.”
“Sounds as difficult as wheeling West Virginia,” he said, repeating one of his father’s old jokes, and he was happy to see that his aunt smiled at it.
“There wasn’t anything around here back then—just a few shacks over across the river, prospectors, mainly. And the land was worthless unless there was gold or silver under it, which there wasn’t much of, leastways not over on the Arizona side. A lot of Okies came in through Needles during the Depression, and some of them stayed to quarry
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