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--
“Afton, go down with me.” Endeline’s voice was edged with impatience, so Afton sprang to her feet and followed her mistress down the stairs.
***
The dance was the most elegant affair Afton had ever attended. When Afton and Lienor were younger Endeline had allowed them to watch dances from the pantler’s tiny room off the hall, but now they were actually allowed to dance! There was no shortage to the men who asked for their hands, either. To the dainty music from the reeds and pipes of the musicians, Afton twirled and stepped and curtseyed gracefully. Though Calhoun did not ask her to dance, she was aware of his gaze upon her.
Endeline watched the dance with speculative eyes. Calhoun was standing against the wall quietly, as well he should. She noticed that the hulking figure of Fulk was nearby; he had already assumed his position as Calhoun’s mentor and guardian. Perhaps Perceval had made a good choice, but Endeline was frankly frightened by the man. He looked like a man who would not fear death--or even God.
Lienor was dancing gracefully and gently, but without animation or a smile. The knights did not leave her sitting idle, but Endeline knew it was not out of love on their parts, but because she was Perceval’s daughter. Afton, on the other hand, danced lightly and with the glee of a young girl. As she twirled in the gauzy cotton dress with her golden hair flowing freely behind her, she looked like a heavenly spirit dropped down to earth. The roses in her hair matched those in her cheeks, and her smile lit up her face. Men lined up for her dances, Endeline noted, silly men who made no effort to hide their fascination for the girl.
“My lord, I would dance with you,” Endeline said, placing her hand on Perceval’s arm.
“It would give me pleasure,” Perceval answered, standing to his feet. The crowd parted as Endeline and Perceval joined into the dance.
***
The musicians were allowed a few moments’ rest, and Endeline made her way to Afton. Two knights stood in front of the girl, backing her up against the wall. “Kind sirs, I need to talk to this maiden,” Endeline said, nodding regally. The knights bowed and left the women alone.
“Afton,” Endeline said, nodding gently, “You are quite lovely tonight. Have you not noticed how desirable these brave warriors find you?”
Afton blushed. “No, my lady, I was only enjoying the dance.”
Endeline nodded again. “I am concerned about my son. He is nearly of marriageable age--”
Afton’s heart skipped a beat. Was this part of Endeline’s “plan” for her?
“--but he is much too shy and has nothing to do with girls. I wonder if I could persuade you to dance with him.”
Dance with Calhoun? “I’d be happy to, my lady,” Afton answered. She looked down at the floor and folded her hands, remembering well her lessons in decorum. “If that were proper. Shouldn’t a man speak to a maiden first?”
“I will see to it,” Endeline said, taking Afton’s hand. The musicians were resuming their places, and Endeline pulled Afton through the crowd. She whispered in the girl’s ear: “And if all goes well, would you let him kiss you?”
The question caught Afton off guard, and she felt her cheeks redden. Did Endeline know Calhoun had kissed her already? “If it pleases you, my lady,” she murmured automatically.
“He need to become self-assured in the ways of women,” Endeline continued, whispering in Afton’s ear as they made their way over to where Calhoun lounged against the wall. “I cannot ask him to marry if he has never even spoken to a maiden, can I?”
Afton was so embarrassed she didn’t realize what Endeline had done until they stopped and Afton found herself in front of Charles, not Calhoun. “Charles,” Endeline said, placing Afton’s hand in his, “dance with this young lady. She is my maid, and I give her to you. Perhaps you will learn that maidens are not two-headed dragons.”
Endeline walked away, her head high, and Afton suddenly realized how the hare feels when the hawk descends upon it from the sky.
***
Endeline watched her older son dance with Afton and her hope turned into anger and frustration. The boy was hopeless when it came to wome
n! He wouldn’t look at Afton, wouldn’t even raise his head except when he faced the wall of waiting knights. He was dancing with the most beautiful maiden in the room and the boy looked as though he had just had a tooth pulled.
But her other son never took his eyes off the girl. He had not approached her to dance, as Endeline knew he would not. She and Perceval had spoken to him about his inappropriate behavior after Gawain told them about seeing Calhoun and Afton ride in one night after dark. Endeline didn’t mind Calhoun taking his pleasure from the maids, but he certainly couldn’t become attached to one of them.
“It is a good thing our son leaves tomorrow,” Endeline said, tapping the arm of her husband. “See how he watches the villein Afton.”
“I have noticed,” Perceval answered agreeably. “And I have noticed that our eldest son ignores her. Perhaps I should give him a lesson in how to appreciate the girl.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Endeline’s tone was sharper than she intended, and it annoyed her that she should let her displeasure show. It was a wife’s duty to overlook the dalliances of her husband, and a faithful wife did not scold or complain.
Perceval turned to her and winked. “I’m only teasing you, my flower. The girl is but a child’s toy, more suitable for my sons than for the master.”
“And yet you would give her to--”
“That is no matter of consequence, only a well-deserved reward. You said yourself you were tired of the girl. It is time she left.”
Endeline did not answer, but she tapped her foot impatiently. If only Perceval would get things over and done with.
***
“Valiant knights and guests.” The music stopped abruptly and Afton was glad to release Charles’ hand. Even though he hadn’t even looked at her since they began to dance, he had doggedly kept anyone else from dancing with her, and she found his persistence endlessly frustrating. Would she never dance with Calhoun?
“According to the blessings of God, our family has grown and prospered,” Perceval said, holding his hand out to his chaplain in acknowledgement. “And we are here to announce tonight that tomorrow our beloved son Calhoun will leave for Warwick Castle to be trained for knighthood by the honorable Fulk.”
Calhoun and Fulk were surrounded by celebratory pats on the back and the crowd cheered.
“Tomorrow morning we will also welcome the arrival of Abbot Hugh, who will soon escort our beloved daughter Lienor to a nunnery at the abbey,” Perceval continued. “We are honored to give our only daughter to God.”
The crowd raised another cheer and salute to Perceval, and he held up his hand. “And it may interest you to know that for some time we have acted as a loving father to a child left here, the maid Afton. We have decided to give her as wife to the honored Hubert, upon whom we have also bestowed a fief of the mill in the village.”
The crowd cheered as Afton’s ears rang. She was being given to whom? Hubert? The old man who would run the mill in the village? As a wife?
“Thank you, my lord!” The balding man in the rough tunic raised his hand in salute to Perceval. His voice was heavy and slurred, and he rocked on his feet. “Can the wedding take place tonight?”
The men roared lusty approval, and Afton felt faint. She looked up at Endeline and saw that the lady wore a satisfied smile. Suddenly Abbot Hugh’s words from long ago rang in her memory: “You, child of the earth, cannot be what you are not.”
She was a villein, not free, to be used by the lord and lady as they chose. Suddenly she understood that wishing for Calhoun’s love was like wishing for the stars in the sky. She was not worthy of him. She was only a villein, worthy of slavery, of work, of companionship, but never love! Worst of all, Calhoun knew this! He kissed her, but he would not dance with her, and he would never love her! He admired her beauty and spirit as he admired the garden roses, but the thorniness of her poverty prevented him from drawing her close.
Hubert, a wide smile on his red face, staggered through the crowd toward her, reaching out with fat, dirty fingers. Afton screamed like a trapped animal and ran, her sleeve ripping off in Hubert’s hands. Afton left the great hall and flew down the stone staircase, running out of the castle into the night.
Nine
Hubert
1123-1125
“The guests thought it an interesting comic escapade, but running away did nothing to raise your esteem in your future husband’s eyes,” Endeline spoke sharply to Afton in her chamber. “Nor did the knights enjoy searching for you throughout the night. Your behavior belies your previous words of gratitude to Lord Perceval. You have been given a glorious home, an excellent upbringing, and in Perceval you have a powerful patron. How could you run and defy his wishes?”
Afton lifted her tear-streaked face to her mistresses’, but Endeline merely turned her back on the girl and fussed with the sleeves of her gown. “Marriage to a worthy man like Hubert is beyond the reach of a plowman’s daughter. He is a valiant man, prized by Perceval, and as his wife, you will remain in your lord’s favor. Of course, any grateful girl would have consented to the marriage immediately out of respect for her mistress’s wishes.”
“He is so old!” Afton managed a strangled cry.
“My dear, the man is barely fifty, and his age is a benefit to you. You will be marrying a man wise in years, and if you serve him well, he will overlook the faults of your youth. Men often overlook the faults of immature girls because of the great love they hold toward them.”
“I cannot love him,” Afton sobbed. “Because--”
“Because you are inexperienced,” Endeline interrupted. “My dear, the heart can love whomever it chooses. Loves that fly into our hearts unbidden are best chased back out the door. The love that a wife holds for her husband must be cultivated as a delicate flower garden.”
A rare aspect of tenderness played across Endeline’s face and she sank onto the feather mattress where Afton lay. “Do you think I loved Lord Perceval on the day I married him? Nay, I did not. But as I gave him gentle deference and humble service, my love for him grew as a well-nourished sapling. And when I gave him his firstborn son, that love grew into the confident strength of an oak. With each child I grew in his love and estimation.”
Afton realized Endeline was revealing rare secrets from her heart, and she calmed her sobs to listen. In all her years at the castle, Endeline had never given lessons of love in marriage. She had taught Afton and Lienor how to walk, talk, dress, and entertain, but after that fateful day when Prince William’s ship sank in the ocean, Endeline had not spoken of marriage.
“I thought you had taught me all a woman needs to know,” Afton said softly. “But you have never spoken to me of these things.”
“Nor shall I again,” Endeline answered, standing up. The well of introspection closed up, and the lady’s face hardened. “It is for your mother to teach you about a husband. I am not your mother.”
The words stung like a slap, and Afton turned her face so Endeline would not see the hurt plainly revealed there. She took a deep breath to calm herself before asking one other question: “How can I marry Hubert if I love another?”
Endeline laughed. “You were not listening. All other loves will pass out of your heart when another man holds you as his wife. Past flirtations of the heart must be forgotten. And although your husband may parade you before other men so that they will fall in love with you, you must not return one glance or even a shade of affection.” Endeline paused and moved to the open window, and Afton remembered the many occasions when Perceval had offered the favor of Endeline’s smile or a dance as a trophy for the knights engaged in tournament. Had she felt affection for the young knights who vied desperately for her approval?
Given Endeline’s reflective mood, Afton was about to ask, but the lady suddenly gathered her skirts and turned away from the window. “Hubert will be a fine husband for you,” she said, clasping her hands as if the matter were settled. “My son Calhoun will not marry. Charles will not marry the son of a plow
man’s daughter. You should thank God that a free man like Hubert seems willing to have you as his wife. You will give your consent to this marriage at dinner tomorrow.”
***
Lunette and Morgan dressed Afton the next morning in a new blue tunic and vibrant yellow surcoat. “You look lovely,” Morgan said, braiding Afton’s long tangle of hair. “This Hubert is a fortunate man.”
Afton was trying not to think of Hubert. She would face the possibility of marriage to him later, perhaps tomorrow, but today was more important than a thousand tomorrows. It was the last morning she would see Calhoun. He and Fulk were leaving for Warwick Castle after dinner.
“Can you hurry?” she asked Morgan.
Morgan misunderstood Afton’s reason for haste and chuckled. “Of course, any girl would be anxious to see her future groom. My fingers will fly for love, but you must be still, girl!” She tied the end of the braid with a long white ribbon. “There!”
Afton flew to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Calhoun or the knights who would escort him to Warwick Castle, but the courtyard was empty save for a ramshackle wagon driven by a villein and his wife. She would have given them but a cursory glance, but there was something familiar in the driver’s form, and she groaned with the shock of recognition. Perceval had sent for Wido and Corba.
***
The mid-day dinner was a never-ending nightmare, where seconds stretched into minutes and minutes into hours. Afton had looked forward to sitting across from Calhoun at their last dinner together, but she had been seated across from Wido and Corba at the first row of tables on the main floor. Hubert, red-nosed and simpering, sat at the lord’s table with Perceval, Endeline, and Hector. Calhoun, Fulk, and other knights sat at the center table, where there was much noise and laughter, and Charles and Lienor were with other members of the household at the third table.
As the servants passed the ale, Perceval stood and raised his glass. “Honored guests, we drink today in celebration of the impending marriage of the miller Hubert to the maid, Afton, whom we have raised from a child.”
Afton of Margate Castle Page 11
