Afton of Margate Castle (16 page)

Endeline sank onto the bed, and Perceval sheathed his sword and grabbed a silver helmet out of the wardrobe. Afton was stunned at the sight of Perceval in armor. He was a fearsome sight, tall and gleaming in his anger, and certainly a man to be feared. Ignoring Endeline’s weeping, the lord and Denton stalked out of the room.

***

The battle ended as Perceval predicted. The hapless Gerald, who had grown tired of paying allegiance to Perceval, raised his voice and his sword to Perceval’s knights without preparing an army. Now he and his wife lay dead in his castle, his lands, villeins, and servants seized now by Gawain, Perceval’s own man. The few knights of Gerald’s castle who had not fled in fear immediately swore their continuing allegiance to Perceval and followed him to Margate Castle.

Endeline instructed the servants to serve the feast she had ordered, and Afton followed behind her to help with the preparations. “We have a tournament after supper,” Perceval told his wife as Denton removed his armor. “It is not good to send knights into battle so briefly. The anger they roused in anticipation of a fight has not dissipated.”

Afton noted with surprise that Perceval’s observations were correct. The knights, fresh from their victory, were more interested in fighting than eating. The sumptuous food Endeline had prepared was passed over quickly, and the knights were quick to leave the great hall for the pasture outside the castle walls. Perceval did not even seem offended at his knights’ lack of proper appetites. He merely shrugged and smiled at his wife. “There is a time for eating and a time for jousting,” he said, rising from his place at the table. “The time for battle has come.”

***

Like a boy plunging into deep water for the first time, Calhoun found the entire experience dangerous and exhilarating. Just yesterday life had been routinely predictable, but Gerald’s fit of rebellion had brought new life into Perceval’s settled knights. The men whose highest challenge had been browbeating villeins now blazed with the ardor of victorious warriors. They had won a quick, decisive battle for Perceval! And they would win a tournament for glory, honor, and the smile of fair Endeline!

Calhoun was offended when Denton flatly refused to allow him to ride in the tournament. He was needed on the sidelines, Denton said, to keep the spectators from venturing onto the bloody field of battle. And after the first clash of mock battle, it would be Calhoun’s job to ride out to the field and rescue wounded knights unable to continue in the tournament.

His horse shifted uneasily beneath him and Calhoun made gentle clucking sounds. If only he were already a knight! He and Charles had been trained in jousting, horsemanship, and swordplay since they were small children, but Charles had never entered into the spirit of competition. Calhoun yearned to fight, to learn the secrets of knighthood that went far beyond mere fighting techniques. There were secrets Calhoun had yet to learn, and he was dying to know them.

A trumpeter blew a shrill blast, and the assembled crowd of spectators from the countryside and castle quieted themselves. Lord Perceval, Lady Endeline, and Hector stood in the walkway of the castle wall, high above the crowd. Calhoun wasn’t sure, but he thought he could see Lienor and Afton hiding behind a stone machicolation of the wall. Lienor was probably praying, and Calhoun imagined that Afton’s gray eyes were wide with interest. He smiled to himself. She reminded him of a little mouse, usually quiet, but always about, watching everything.

Perceval held up his hand, and the crowd silenced. The late afternoon sun gleamed off his golden hair and beard. “Before we begin the evening’s tournament, I wish to reward a free man who has served his lord admirably in the day’s battle,” Perceval said, his voice echoing through the field. He beckoned to someone near him and a balding man in a common brown tunic stepped out into full view. “Hubert, free man of Margate village, because it was you who killed the rebel Gerald, I bestow upon you this day a fief of the mill in Margate village, to hold forever for you and your descendants.”

Perceval then handed a straw to Hubert, who accepted it and fell to his knees. Perceval clasped Hubert’s two hands in his own, like a father comforting a son, and kissed Hubert on both cheeks. The crowd roared its approval, and Hubert stood up and gave them a victorious salute.

“Now, knights of Margate Castle, do your best to declare our honor to the knights of Gerald whom we welcome in love and forgiveness.” The air was still except for the impatient pawing of horses, and Calhoun drew in his breath. Perceval’s face turned toward the east, where the line of knights from Gerald’s castle waited with the sun in their eyes. “If there be any deceit in the hearts of Gerald’s knights, may God seek it out and trample upon it today.”

Perceval’s knights were lined up on the west side of the castle gate, the knights from Gerald’s castle facing them. Sunlight glinted off the knights’ conical, open-faced helmets, and shone steadily on their bright shirts of mail. A slight breeze blew the manes of the waiting horses who snorted in their impatience.

Perceval gripped the standard which bore the emblem of his house, and suddenly there was no sound at all. The raucous sound of Perceval’s voice startled Calhoun. “For the glory of Margate Castle and its fair Lady Endeline!” Perceval shouted, and he dipped the standard of his colors. From opposite sides of the field, riders spurred their horses and charged each other in the open meadow.

Calhoun had to keep a firm rein on his own mount, so great was the mare’s urge to run with the pounding hoof beats of the knights’ huge destriers, and he bent and patted her neck. The pounding of hooves gave way to the clash of lance against mail and sword against shield. Several knights from Gerald’s castle turned from the fight and fled through the forest, with Perceval’s knights in pursuit. Others lay scattered in the field.

When the rush of knights had passed, Calhoun gave his mare a gentle kick and rode out to the open grass. The first knight he approached was merely stunned, blinking his eyes in the sunlight. The second knight, wearing Gerald’s colors, was dead. Calhoun found two other dead knights from Gerald’s house, one missing an arm. Calhoun slipped off his horse, roped the dead bodies under the arms, and tied the ends of the rope to his saddle. He mounted again and dragged the corpses through the castle gates. The servants would bury or burn the dead later.

Any knight captured by an opposing knight would have to buy his freedom with money, horses, or armor. The victors would be pleased, for the life of a knight contained few luxuries. As the knights ended their contest and began to reenter the castle, Calhoun was relieved to see that only one knight from Gerald’s castle had bested any of Perceval’s men. This knight, a huge, surly-looking man with a livid cross-shaped scar upon his cheek, rode to the castle gate with two horses in tow, a sure sign that two of Perceval’s proud knights had ransomed themselves immediately rather than be led into the castle as the man’s captive.

“Who is that man there?” Calhoun asked a servant who had come with the contingent from Gerald’s castle. “The man with the scar.”

 
“He is called Fulk,” the servant replied. “He was new to Gerald’s house, recently come from the expedition of God to the Holy Land. Some say he branded himself with God’s mark to mark his devotion to our Lord.”

Calhoun nodded. If the man was righteous, surely God had willed that he be spared.

***

Endeline found her eyes irresistibly drawn to the knight Fulk at dinner the next day. Even Perceval seemed to be fascinated with the man, hardly touching his meat, so intent was he upon staring at the alien knight Fulk.

Endeline wondered why this knight should be different than any other. He was massive, a head taller than most men, and his laugh rang loudly above the timid laughs of others. He did bear that unusual scar upon his cheek, but his face would have been more remarkable if it had borne no battle scars at all.

After studying him throughout dinner, Endeline decided that Fulk’s uncommon quality was simple fearlessness. He bowed to Perceval upon entering the room, but his salute lacked the deference ordinarily bestowed upon a master. His obsequiousness was form, not function, and even more surprising was the fact that his brazen eyes and manner did not bring a stern rebuke from Perceval.

During the meal Perceval banged his spoon upon the table and the unruly knights quieted. “I wish the knight Fulk to approach me,” he said, and Fulk rose from his table without hesitation.

Endeline felt herself grow uncomfortable as the man approached. She kept her eyes cast down on her soup. Hector fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat and Endeline could feel his frightened squirrel eyes dart to her face in search of assurance. Knights were a rowdy, impetuous group, and Gawain had always controlled the knights with a firm hand, leaving Hector free to manage the lord’s estate. Endeline knew that with Gawain away at Gerald’s estate, Hector felt threatened, especially when approached by the fearless Fulk.

Fulk knelt in front of Perceval’s table.

“My man at arms, Gawain, is detained at Gerald’s castle until I can find a trustworthy overseer,” Perceval told Fulk. “Denton serves me in his place.” He gestured toward the table where Calhoun and Charles sat with Raimondin, the chaplain. “But my son, Calhoun, is to be engaged as a squire at Warwick Castle and now finds himself without a mentor. Will you fill this role in my service?”

Fulk bowed his head. “I would be pleased to accompany your son. And I will teach him all he needs to know to serve my lord Perceval and the king.”

“Precisely.” Perceval’s eyes narrowed, but he smiled. “I have a feeling you know more than the average knight,” he said evenly. “And I entrust my son to you. If he loses his life on the battlefield, it will be as God wills and I will not hold you accountable. But if he loses his life in any other way, you will not escape my vengeance.”

“I understand.”

“You will leave tomorrow morning,” Perceval said, standing up. Fulk bowed and stepped aside. Perceval smiled and extended his arms to his dinner guests. “Now, my people, the servants will clear the room and we shall have an afternoon of dancing.”

***

There weren’t many suitable women with whom the knights could dance, so Lienor, Afton, Morgan, Eleanor, and Lunette were sent upstairs with Endeline to dress for dancing. Surges of conflicting emotion nearly overwhelmed Afton as she and Lienor went into their small chamber. The idea of a victory dance was exciting, but because it came on the day before Calhoun’s departure, Afton did not think her feet would obey her heart. How could she dance when Calhoun would soon be leaving the castle? Another thought struck her--what if she were to dance with him? To stare into his eyes, to feel his hands on hers, might a dance bring them together and tell him how much she loved him?

She reached eagerly for a deep blue tunic, but Endeline corrected her. “Wear the white one, my dear, it suits you better,” she said warmly, placing her cool hands on Afton’s shoulders. “And I do want you to look your best. You will have a wonderful time today.”

Afton shivered in unexpected delight. Endeline had not spoken so warmly to her in weeks. Perhaps she had come to understand Afton’s declared love for Calhoun! But still Perceval was sending Calhoun away in the morning.

Afton resolved to make it a day worth remembering. She slipped into the white tunic with its gauzy sleeves and selected a light blue surcoat to go over it. She buckled a slender gold belt tightly around it to show off her tiny waist. There! Certainly she looked as good as Lienor in her yellow gown, and nearly as regal as Endeline in her red silk gown with a squirrel collar.

Afton loosened her hair and picked up a circlet of roses she had brought in from the garden. Why not wear it? It was unconventional, but if Endeline didn’t mind. . . .

She place the circlet gently on her head, careful not to prick herself with the thorns, and turned questioningly to Endeline. A flicker of reproof passed across Endeline’s face, but then she laughed. “Why not?” she said, waving her hand. “You look like a fairy sprite.” She adjusted her gown and smiled at Afton. “You have found favor in the eyes of your lord, and it is time you were rewarded. Stay close tonight, for there will be news that concerns you.”

Afton could scarcely breathe, so great was the hope rising in her heart. She glanced at Lienor for some hint of what was to come, but Lienor was taking pains to secure every single wisp of hair at the nape of her neck. Lienor apparently had no romantic illusions.

Afton sighed and waited for Morgan and Lunette. It would not be proper to go down alone with the great hall full of knights, but if she had less than one day left with Calhoun, she wanted to spend every available moment with him. After his training as a knight, he would come home, and they could be married. They would raise children in the castle, who would be brave and headstrong and--