Afton of Margate Castle

by Angela Elwell Hunt

  The boys came closer, reluctantly, and the older boy barely glanced at Afton before looking away. “This is Charles, my eldest son,” Endeline said, pointing to the taller boy. Afton noticed that he resembled his mother, sharing the same dark eyes and slim build.

  “And this is Calhoun, my second-born.” Afton’s eyes locked with the second boy’s and she recognized her companion of weeks earlier, the boy who had helped her make the wreath for Sheba. His eyes were as merry now as they had been on that sun-drenched day, twinkling with their secret, and he removed his cap and bowed gallantly from the waist. “I am pleased to meet you, my lady,” he said.

  “There’s no need for that, Calhoun,” Endeline reproved him. “Afton is only a child. But you will both do your best to make her feel welcome, will you not?”

  Charles mumbled something in reply, and Calhoun smiled broadly. “But of course, mother,” he said, holding his cap over his heart. “It is my sacred duty as a knight and a nobleman to protect women and children.”

  “Be off with your foolishness,” Endeline answered, shooing her sons from the hall. “If Gawain said he would meet you in the courtyard, you will find him there, not here.”

  The boys scurried out of the room and Endeline stood from her chair in one fluid motion. Her hand sought Afton’s and held it tightly. “You will now meet Lienor, Afton. You will be her playmate and companion. I think you will get along well together.”

  A girl’s playmate! Afton felt another indescribable rush of gratitude to the tall woman at her side. In her fondest dreams, Afton had never dared to hope that she would be able to play--and with a girl!

  Afton followed Endeline out of the spacious hall and ascended another staircase, this one of wood and very steep. To the right of the staircase landing lay a spacious chamber whose chief furnishing was an enormous curtained bed, and through this chamber Afton was led to a smaller room.

  Here a dark-haired girl sat at a heavy table with a solid-looking woman whose plump face was framed by a coarse cotton wimple. Afton glanced at the woman, but gazed hungrily at the girl. The girl returned Afton’s scrutiny with a scowl.

  “This will be your chamber,” Endeline said gently. She pointed to a stack of stuffed mattresses against the wall. “You will sleep in here with Lienor and my maids. Lienor, dear, greet your new companion.”

  The dark-haired girl frowned and her brows rushed together. “Hello.”

  “And this is Eleanor, who is giving Lienor a lesson in Latin. Do you read, Afton?”

  Afton shook her head, and Endeline nodded curtly. “Then you shall be taught. You will learn to read, write, and speak Latin and French. You and Lienor will be unsurpassed in your ability to sing and tell charming stories.” She patted Afton’s shoulders and laughed softly. “You two girls will be the most accomplished young women in King Henry’s kingdom.”

  “Lienor has written you a poem, Lady Endeline,” Eleanor spoke up, pointing to a scrap of parchment on the table.

  “I will hear it later,” Endeline said, dismissing Eleanor with a gesture. “Now I would like you to fetch Morgan and Lunette. We’re going to give this child a bath and get her into decent clothes.”

  ***

  Afton’s world expanded with each passing moment. Morgan and Lunette, Endeline’s two young maids, made no secret of their curiosity and zest for their lady’s latest endeavor. They bustled Afton to another small room off the bedchamber, and Afton saw nothing in the room but a wooden tub lined with thick cloth. Afton stood and hugged herself, not knowing what to do. Lunette put her hands on her hips. “Don’t just stand there, miss, strip off zhat tunic,” she ordered in a heavy French accent. “You’re in need of a good scrubbing, zhat’s for sure. When’s the last time you had a bath?”

  Afton’s eyes widened. Strip? A bath? A scrubbing? What were they planning to do to her? Morgan sighed. “Excuse me, miss, but Lunette thinks everybody in the manor knows what a bathtub is. I know better, and I know you likely ‘aven’t seen one, but Lord Perceval fairly loves the thing. He even takes it with ‘im when ‘e travels.”

  “So strip!” Lunette ordered, moving toward Afton. “Get ready to take ze bath, or I’ll have to take your clothes off myself.”

  Afton unloosed the ribbons that held up her tunic and let it fall to the floor. Morgan jiggled a spigot and water began to flow into the tub. Afton couldn’t believe her eyes. “Where does the water come from?” she asked, her voice a mere squeak under the sound of running water. Did Lord Perceval have the power to make the walls give water?

  “The water comes from the roof,” Morgan explained, pointing upward with her solid arm. “A cistern up there collects rain water and it comes down through the pipes when we need it.”

  “The rain even flushes ze lavatory,” Lunette added. She crinkled her nose and pointed to a niche in the stone wall. “So we pray for rain.” She nodded toward the filled tub. “Step on the stool and hop in, little lamb.”

  “What does the rain flush?” Afton asked, stepping into the tub. She shivered. The water was cold.

  Morgan’s head jerked toward the opening in the wall again as she began to scrub Afton’s skin. “The lavatory. Where you will relieve yourself. A long pipe against the outside of the castle wall carries everything down into the moat. The lord’s very proud of his lavatory, ‘e is, and I hear ‘e’s planning to build them all along the outer wall for the knights, too.”

  “It’s just like him to keep up with everything,” Lunette added, pouring something cold and oily into Afton’s hair. “If King Henry’s castle adds a thing, Lord Perceval doesn’t blink an eye before he’s adding it, too.”

  Afton glanced over at the famous lavatory. It was a dark recess, a wooden shelf with a single hole, and a pile of hay lay off to the side. “For what does Lord Perceval use the hay?” she asked shyly.

  Lunette covered her mouth and giggled. “Honestly,” she squeaked when she had caught her breath, “Where did ze mistress find you? Out in the fields?”

  Morgan silenced the younger maid with a stern look, and Afton shivered while the two of them continued to scrub her hair and skin. Yes, she had come from the fields, and what of it? She had come from a small mud hut with sun bleached grass on the roof and chickens underfoot. But in that rough home had been babies, and laughter, and the earthy smells of hard-working people and nurturing animals.

  Afton clenched her chattering teeth and shut her eyes tightly to block out the most recent and vivid memory of home, that of Corba in a rage. Surely her mother could not have done those things! But the sound of the slap, the sting of her flesh, and the flurry of arms and legs that literally kicked her away were still in the forefront of her memory.

  But Endeline was tall and darkly beautiful and smelled faintly of roses and summertime. Her arms had been extended, and her words were honey-sweet. In her realm there were soft mattresses to sleep on, lessons to learn, and a girl playmate. There was a boy with smiling eyes.

  Lunette stopped rubbing the coarse cloth across Afton’s neck, and Afton opened her eyes. “You really should bless ze star you were born under, you know,” Lunette said. “It’s not every girl who gets ze chance to live with ze Lord’s family. Me, I have been here two years, and a more noble family is not to be found.”

  Lunette gave Afton’s hair a final rinse, and Afton told herself Lunette was right.

  ***

  After the bath Morgan dressed Afton in a simple white cotton tunic. From her bed, Endeline nodded approval and snapped her fingers at her daughter. “Lienor, dear, show Afton around the castle,” Endeline commanded. “We want to make her feel at home.”

  Lienor grumbled as she rose from her study table, but she grabbed Afton’s hand and reluctantly led Afton out of Endeline’s chamber. Her reluctance vanished, however, as soon as they were down the wooden staircase and out of Endeline’s sight. “There is a room for my brothers up above my mother’s chamber,” she explained, pointing overhead, “and a room for my father’s chaplain. The chapel is up there,
too, of course. But the hall is on this floor.”

  Afton wanted to explain that she had already visited the great hall, but Lienor pulled her through it and kept up a steady stream of patter. “Those little rooms off to the side are for the pantler and cupbearer, but my brothers and I play in there during the day. The servants sleep in here at night. Everything happens in here, or so it seems.”

  Afton nodded numbly, and Lienor pulled her out of the hall and down the great stone staircase to the first floor. “Here and below are the cellars,” Lienor explained, skipping toward the huge arch that served as the entrance to Perceval’s home. “You will not want to go down there. I have been down there only once, and found it a dark and creepy place. Not even my brothers venture down to the cellars.”

  The girls passed through the archway and a narrow hallway, and past the hallway Afton glimpsed the blue of open sky. She followed Lienor willingly into the soft afternoon sunshine and across the sturdy drawbridge that carried them over a lily-padded moat and into the castle yard. As she trotted behind her new friend, she gathered her courage to make an observation. “I thought you did not want to come out. A moment ago, when your mother asked you to take me--”

  “I hate doing what mother tells me to do,” Lienor interrupted, whirling to face Afton. “She’s always telling me what I have to do to be a lady. I actually like wandering around the castle, but I’m not permitted to go out alone and the maids are always busy. But now that you’re here, I hope I’ll be able to do what I like.”

  Afton was shocked by the force behind Lienor’s words. How could anyone hate the gracious Lady Endeline? But Lienor’s eyes burned with the fire of righteous indignation, and Afton did not want to risk being burned by her chosen companion. She managed a weak smile. “What do you like to do?”

  Lienor’s eyes twinkled and she tilted her head. “Whatever my brothers do. Come on, I’ll race you to the kitchens.”

  Lienor turned and sprinted away, and Afton ran behind her for two steps before she slowed to a steady jog. Perhaps Lienor would not appreciate too much eagerness in a new friend. It was probably not wise to outrun Perceval’s fiery little daughter on Afton’s first day in the castle.

  ***

  “Before William the Conqueror set sail for England in 1066, Margate was a crude castle,” Eleanor said, rapping the table for emphasis. Afton’s eyes were heavy. She had not slept much the night before, and she was not accustomed to sitting still at a table for lessons. “The people here were at the mercy of the Saxon master who ruled from the top of this hill. But the Conqueror from Normandy and the Battle of Hastings changed everything.”

  Eleanor glanced at Lienor, who gazed out the window with a bored expression on her face. “What happened after the battle, Lienor?”

  Lienor didn’t take her eyes from the window, and she spoke flatly: “The Saxon ruler was killed, his lands confiscated, and all English lands were combined into fewer than two hundred estates.”

  “Aye,” Eleanor nodded in satisfaction. “This estate, where you now sit, Afton, was awarded to Lionel, Lienor’s grandfather. Today your lord Perceval rules these lands.”

  Afton nodded. That much she knew.

  “Lionel civilized Margate Castle, enlarging the castle and building a larger wall around the castle estate. He was a strong ruler, and our Lord Perceval has continued in his father’s way. Margate is now one of the largest and finest castles in England.”

  Eleanor raised her head proudly, and Afton nodded slowly. There was no need to convince her of the castle’s greatness, for it contained riches and luxury that eclipsed everything she had ever known.

  Eleanor looked again at Lienor, and a frown crossed her face. “I suppose that is enough for today, girls,” she said, crossing her arms. “Run along outside. I have other work to do.”

  Lienor smiled for the first time that morning, and bolted for the door, pausing only for a moment to make certain that Afton followed. Then the girls flew down the stairs, out of the castle, and into the courtyard.

  Outside the main castle keep and its shallow moat were other buildings Afton had not yet fully explored: a two-story kitchen, stables, a mews for housing Perceval’s hunting falcons, a smithy, an orchard and garden, a women’s work area, Hector’s humble house, and a walled pool near the back of the castle wall.

  “That’s for the horses and the laundresses,” Lienor said, jerking her chin toward the water. “Though sometimes my brothers like to splash around in there.”

  “Where does the water come from?” Afton asked, looking for magical spigots like those in the castle.

  Lienor shrugged. “From outside. There’s a stream outside the wall, and a pipe or something lets the water in. We can play there sometimes, but the maids will tell mama if they see us.”

  Encompassing the castle courtyard with its outbuildings was a larger wall, the chemise, twenty feet thick and eighty feet tall. Two imposing towers rose up from the wall to remind all who approached of the powerful man who resided in the castle and the powerful king the lord represented. An impressive barbican, or fortified gate, was built into the new wall around Margate Castle, and reinforced with sliding iron gates and a drawbridge. The barbican offered the only way in or out of the castle. In 1119, Margate Castle was impregnable.

  Afton stared dumbly at the tall towers and massive gate until she felt Lienor tug on her hand. “Come on,” Lienor urged, “I want to go to the stables.”

  Afton trudged wearily behind Lienor as they wandered into the spacious stable, empty now, for Perceval’s knights had taken the horses on patrol throughout the surrounding manors. In the cold stone castle buildings, Afton felt alien, as though she were from a distant land of animals and earth. But here in the stables, surrounded by hay and the pungent smells of animals and manure, she felt at home. As Lienor scampered about on the hay bales, Afton snuggled into a fresh pile of hay and closed her eyes in sleep.

  ***

  Her new cotton tunic was damp with sweat, but the sweet-smelling hay was cool. Afton heard the gentle rustle of the hay as she turned in sleep, and for a moment she imagined that she was back on her own straw mattress. But when she opened her eyes she saw Charles playing in the loft above her. It was not a dream. She really was in the castle.

  She stretched lazily and watched the swaying of a rope above her head. It was attached to a pulley in the roof and fell to the ground somewhere behind her, but Afton did not have time to reflect upon its purpose. Suddenly she saw a bale of hay fall from the loft, and before she could move, something cut into her ribs and hoisted her into the air. She screamed in alarm and fear, and below her dangling feet she could see Lienor laughing.

  “Oh, that’s a worthy trick!” Lienor called up to Charles, who peered over the edge of the loft. “It’s the best idea you’ve had, Charles!”

  Afton forced herself to be quiet. She saw what held her aloft; a rope had been tied around her waist while she slept and Charles had apparently slipped the other end around a bale of hay.

  “Oh, Charles, it is too funny!” Lienor screamed, rolling in the hay beneath Afton. “We’ve strung her up! My little pet villein!”

  “Let me down!” Afton shrieked, her fear crystallizing to anger. “Let me down right this minute or I’ll--”

  “What will you do?” Charles asked calmly. He clambered down out of the hay loft and stood below her, an inscrutable look on his face.

  Afton thought of her most recent deliverer. “I’ll tell Lady Endeline. She has promised that no one will hurt me.”

  “She is nothing to you, villein,” Charles answered. He sat down in the hay and leaned against a post. His voice was oddly sharp as he added: “But she is my mother.”

  “Let me down right now,” Afton said, glaring at Lienor, “or I won’t go anywhere else with you. I won’t do anything with you at all.”

  “If you don’t, you’ll be sent back to the village,” Lienor said simply, sticking out her tongue. “And given a good whipping, too.”

 
Afton grew silent. Was that true? She had heard her father speak of men who died under whippings administered by the lord’s men. Perhaps it was better just to dangle in silence until their little game was done.

  Lienor giggled a few minutes more, then grew disappointed when Afton did not respond. “You’re not fun at all,” she pouted. “Come on, tell me what you’re going to do about this, villein.” She walked directly under Afton’s dangling feet. “Threaten me.”

  Afton folded her arms and remained silent.

  “This is boring,” Charles said, standing up. “I’m going to find Gawain and play horseshoes.”

  Charles walked off and Lienor glanced anxiously at his retreating form. “Let me down, please,” Afton called, trying to sound pleasant. “I can play horseshoes, too.”

  Lienor turned and ran out of the barn after Charles. “I don’t know how to let you down,” she called over her shoulder.

  Afton was left alone in the barn, spinning like a rag doll above the stone floor of the stables.

  ***

  Her anger dissolved into fear, and her fear arched into overwhelming loneliness. Afton bore her helplessness as long as she could, then let a loud sob escape her. Was she taken from her home only to be abused by those who were supposed to be her playmates? Why was Lady Endeline allowing this to happen?

  The sound of approaching hoof beats interrupted her tears, and Afton wiped her face with her sleeve. What if she was found by a knight? Would she be beaten? Left to starve? Turned out into the forest?

  It wasn’t a knight on the bulky horse trotting into the barn, it was Calhoun. He slowed his horse to a walk and bent over the beast’s neck, gently stroking the lathered animal. Afton didn’t know whether to call out or remain silent.

  As she debated what to do, Calhoun walked the horse into a stall and dismounted. As he swung his leg over the horse’s rump, he glanced in Afton’s direction and soon came out of the stall for a better look.

  “For a moment I thought my eyes had trespassed upon an angel,” he said simply, looking up at her. The twinkle was gone from his eyes. “But you are not of the heavenly realm yet. If you were intending to hang yourself, you have placed the noose incorrectly.”