Afton of Margate Castle (63 page)

“Yes?” Stephen lifted bleary eyes to Afton’s. “What news does she bring me?”

“Only this, sire,” Afton said, kneeling low. She took a deep breath and felt her nervousness ease. Why, Stephen was nothing like the hard and cruel Henry. She almost felt sorry for him. “I am come to tell you that Matilda’s forces are even now surrounding the Castle of Margate.”

Stephen motioned to one of his counselors, and the man bowed and sped away. “Thank you for that confirmation,” Stephen said, nodding to her. “But that news had reached us earlier. We will travel to Margate on the morrow.”

Afton took a deep breath. “There is more, Highness,” Afton continued. “It may be that Perceval will not be able to withstand the pressures exerted by Matilda’s men. If that is the case, kind King, do not hold Perceval’s weakness against his son, Calhoun, whom you hold. Calhoun’s heart has always been in your hands.”

Stephen cocked his head and regarded Afton carefully. She saw wariness in his eyes. “Where have you come from, woman?” he asked lightly, gazing at her dress. “You are not from the castle, though your speech and manners indicate you are high-born. Your clothing indicates poverty and ignorance, yet you have addressed a king today with grace and skill.” He leaned forward and absently wiped his nose with a handkerchief. “You are either very brave or very foolish. Could it be that you are a spy, come to redeem another spy, the worthy Calhoun? If I follow your suggestions, am I walking into a trap?”

“No, Your Highness,” Afton shook her head. “My life will stand for my honesty. If you promise to send for Calhoun, and spare his life, I will tell you how to surround and defeat Matilda’s forces at Margate Castle.”

Stephen paused for a moment, then threw back his head and laughed, stomping his foot in merriment. “A military advisor, this woman,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes. He blew his nose again, then abruptly stopped laughing. “How is it you have come to know so much about the castle?”

“I spent my childhood there, as a companion for Perceval’s daughter, Lienor,” Afton answered. “I was torn from all I loved and reared as a child of nobility until I reached marriageable age.”

Stephen gazed at her a moment more. “This company of Matilda’s at Margate--how many are they?”

Afton paused only a moment. “About thirty and five.”

“Mounted?”

“All.”

“Led by a woman?”

“No, sire. Led by a big man, with a patch over one eye and a scar down one cheek.”

Stephen slapped the table. “By St. Jude, it is Arnoul’s company. Not Matilda herself, but her right arm. If we could take them--”

“It will be a great victory, Your Highness,” Gislebert inserted. “I can vouch for this woman’s honesty. I knew her years ago, and I have never known her to be a liar.”

“We will ride at first light,” Stephen announced. “And--” he paused and waved a hand in Afton’s direction, “send one rider immediately to London and bring us the prisoner Calhoun.”

Afton closed her eyes in relief. “Thank-you, Your Highness.”

“Spare your gratitude yet a while,” Stephen answered. “If you plan is true, you win your life and the life of the knight. If your plan is false, you will find that tomorrow’s sun is the last you shall see.”

***

She spent the night in a small tent with two burly guards positioned outside. Gislebert brought her a bowl of porridge, which she ate quickly while Gislebert’s eyes followed her every move. When she had finished, she put the bowl aside. “How come you to ride with the king?” she asked Gislebert. “I thought you wanted to be a troubadour.”

“I am,” Gislebert answered, settling down on the ground across from her. “His highness’s troubadour. I entertain the royal court when they are in need of a story or song.”

“How came you to be in the royal court?”

Gislebert looked out the open door of her tent and lowered his voice. “When Calhoun did not return with the company from Outremer, I considered my vow to him kept.”

He read her question in her eyes. “Before he left for the East, Calhoun bade me swear that I would visit you and keep you from harm’s way. I did this, for two years, to the best of my ability.”

Afton suddenly understood the many useless visits the boy had made to the mill. He had come even more often than Josson. “I thought you were just a simple dreamer,” she said, smiling. She shook her head. “I did not know you were on Calhoun’s errand to--”

“I was his friend,” Gislebert interrupted. “We met at Warwick, and I would have followed him to Outremer, but for you. He would not leave you unprotected.”

Afton turned her head away, touched by Calhoun’s concern, but angered by his lack of confidence in her. How like him, to think her weak and helpless! “I am sorry I came between you,” she whispered. “Though it is obvious you have done well since we last met. Surely you can desire no more than a place in the King’s court?”

Gislebert shook his head. “I desire more,” he said simply. “I would see Calhoun restored to safety, but Stephen is convinced Calhoun is a traitor. If I were to say otherwise, my life would also be in danger.” He flushed and looked into her eyes. “I would give my life for him, but what good could I do for him in prison? So I have remained silent.”

“I understand,” Afton sighed.

“I also desire the hand of a certain maiden in marriage,” Gislebert whispered, and Afton turned surprised eyes upon him.

“You do not know her,” Gislebert inserted quickly. “My beautiful Nadine was very young when I met her at Margate, the servant girl of a visiting lady. I lost my heart the moment I saw her. When she left and I heard that Calhoun had not returned with the other knights, I knew I could not stay in Margate. I left to find her.”

“Have you found this maiden?”

Gislebert shook his head. “She served a lady who moved in royal circles, so day after day I have hoped for a glimpse of her, but as of yet I have found nothing. Still,” he shrugged, “I do not give up. If my beautiful Nadine is in England or France, I will find her.”

Gislebert turned again to the open doorway. “When I left Margate, I wandered through the country in my search and sang songs for my keep. It was not an easy life,” he continued, his eyes darkening with remembered sorrow, “until I met an Earl who introduced me to the king. His highness bid me stay at the castle and entertain the royal court, which I have done for many months now. While I have heard nothing of Nadine, it was there that I learned that Calhoun was alive and in the king’s service, battling Matilda. I tried to find him, but he was always one step ahead of me.”

Gislebert clasped his hands around his knees, and Afton thought to herself that he had completely lost the air of mischief that had always surrounded him as a boy. “One day I learned that Calhoun had gone home to be married,” Gislebert went on. “‘Ah,’ I thought, ‘I will go to Margate and wish him well with his bride. Perhaps Nadine and her lady will be among the wedding guests.’ But before I was granted leave, Calhoun was back in London, and imprisoned for being a spy. I have not dared to speak to him, for fear that I will be thought in collusion.”

“No one would think you have anything to do with Matilda,” Afton protested, throwing her hands wide. “You have no family ties--”

“The court now is like quicksand,” Gislebert interrupted. “No one is trusted, and certain knights and lords rejoice when others are swept away by the king’s outrage. Stephen has been especially angered by reports of Perceval’s disloyalty. One of Matilda’s knights would have a greater chance for Stephen’s mercy than a lord who has dealt loyalty with a double hand.”

Gislebert looked at Afton, his face half hid by shadows. “I have wrestled with guilt, fear, love, and my obligation to a friend,” he whispered. “When I saw you, I knew the least I could do was provide an entry for you to see the king.”

“Without your word, I would not have passed the guards,” Afton replied, as he rose to his feet. “Thank you, then, Gislebert. And good night.”

***

The camp broke before daylight. Stephen’s men dismantled the camp and mounted with astonishing speed, and his knights assembled on the road before the day had broken. Afton rode on a sturdy horse behind the king, and she kept quiet as they rode south, knowing that her life, Calhoun’s, and possibly Gislebert’s hung in the balance.

Margate village appeared deserted as they rode through, as though every villein had sensed the approaching clash and now hid within the safety of their huts. Afton peered into Corba’s tiny courtyard as she passed and saw nothing, not even a stray chicken. Corba had undoubtedly gone into hiding like the others.

The forest was cool and still as they rode through, and Afton felt her apprehension rising with every step of her horse. Soon she would see Margate Castle, and if Perceval’s colors still flew from the tower, would Stephen believe that Matilda had marched on the castle? And if Matilda’s men were no longer ensconced at the castle, would Perceval manage to convince the king of his continued loyalty, thus making her a liar?

The forest broke from around them, and before them lay Margate Castle in the early morning sun. The fields outside the castle walls were the bright green of early spring, and Afton found it hard to believe that war could erupt in these simple fields.

“All seems peaceful enough,” Stephen remarked to the knight who rode on his right hand. The king turned to look at Afton. “There are no signs of Matilda’s men, lady. What say you now?”

“All is not well,” Afton replied surely, glancing about. “Look, highness, on the towers. Perceval’s colors do not fly, nor do his guards stand watch. Look in the fields, sire. This is early spring, yet there are no villeins in the fields.”

The king reined in his horse and sat in the road, carefully observing the castle. The tall chemise seemed naked, for no guards walked the high wall, no faces peered out from the notches of the crenellations.

Stephen raised his hand. “Trumpeter,” he called, “sound a warning that we approach. Let us see what the response will be.”

The trumpeter blew a loud flourish than rang over the empty pasture and echoed far back into the rolling hills. A few moments later, the castle gate opened, and a lone rider, a knight in full armor, came riding toward them. He carried Perceval’s banner, and Afton recognized him at once: Gawain.

“My king!” The knight stopped his horse and dismounted in one agile movement. He fell to one knee and smote his breast with a fist. “We are honored by your visit, but my Lord Perceval did not expect you. If you will give him a day to prepare--”

“I do not want Perceval’s hospitality,” Stephen answered, his eyes carefully scanning the tower battlements. “I want to know of his loyalty.”

“My lord has always served the king,” Gawain answered, his words stilted. “He pledges his eternal love and fealty--”

“Gawain!” Afton spoke clearly, and the knight’s eyes widened in surprise as he looked up and saw her. “If you feel any loyalty to Calhoun, I beg you to tell the truth. The king knows that Matilda’s knights have sojourned here.”

Gawain’s face reddened and he lowered his eyes to the ground. “Matilda’s men arrived yesterday and are hidden in the garrison. They are ready to attack if you draw near.” Gawain spat on the ground. “Arnoul sent me to dissuade you from entering. He fears a siege, and has pledged to kill Lord Perceval and Lady Endeline if he and his men are not allowed to escape.”

“They will not escape,” Stephen answered, drawing his sword from its sheath. “You will ride in the fore, Sir Gawain, and take your chances fighting for your king. You, lady of Margate, shall ride in the rear with Gislebert and wait out the battle.”

“Your Highness, I do not think a direct charge upon the castle is prudent,” Afton inserted. “Perceval’s castle is well-supplied--”

“Shut up, woman!” Stephen turned surprisingly blue eyes on her and impatiently wiped his red nose. He motioned for his trumpeter, who blew a three-noted flourish, and the company of mounted knights fanned out into a single line across the road and into the pasture on both sides.