Afton of Margate Castle

by Angela Elwell Hunt

  “You’ll see soon enough, child,” Wido answered. The villagers were beginning to stir, and several villeins were already out in their courtyards, checking their stores to make sure all was in order for Perceval’s steward. Wido waved to Bodo, who was inspecting his lamb to make sure it had no deformity. Only the best could be given to the lord.

  The village church stood at the northernmost point of the village, a sturdy structure with a large oak door and two windows. Afton had often thought the church looked like a face, with a stubborn nose and two gleaming eyes to watch over the small village houses. Wido once told her that God lived there, and it was comforting to think of Him watching over her, even if the face of the church did not have a mouth. If it did have a mouth, would it smile or frown?Wido knocked on the church door. It was be hours before the church opened for Mass, but Wido knew Friar Odoric rose early for prayers.

  The good friar opened the door slowly. “I’ve come for a blessing for the child, Father,” Wido said. “I’ve brought my best laying hen as an offering.”

  The priest nodded and held his right hand above Afton’s head. He murmured lyrical words Afton did not understand, made the sign of the cross above her head, then his smooth thumb firmly traced the sign of the cross on her forehead. “May God go with you,” he said, holding his hands out for the chicken.

  Wido handed the hen to the priest, then took Afton’s hand again. “Thank you, father,” he said, stepping away from the church. He did not speak as they began walking on the castle road, but Afton looked up once and caught her father wiping something from his eye.

  ***

  The Latin phrases of Mass still echoed in Hector’s head as he left the castle chapel and hurried toward his own house. The villeins would begin to arrive soon, and Perceval was most anxious that the day’s bounty be well-counted. It was not a day for mistakes.

  A hulking man with a child stood outside the door already, and Hector quickened his pace. Was he so slow? Or was the man early? Hector glanced at the villein and squinted, trying to place the man’s face. “Wido, isn’t it?” he asked, going past the man to his door. “Allow me a moment. You’re early.”

  “I am bringing the tribute Lady Endeline requested,” Wido said, his voice and manner solemn. “I could not do this in front of the eyes of others. I will return later with the planks and the garment.”

  Hector’s eyes widened and he turned from the door. Oh, yes, this was the man who was to give his daughter! He was going to do it, then, surrender the girl without a fuss. Of course, it wasn’t a question of if he would bring his daughter, but how. Any dispute or reluctance at all would have resulted in a much higher fine, most of which would have ended up in Hector’s pocket.

  “This is the child my lady specified?” Hector said, peering at Afton. “She is healthy? Without defects?” He reached for the edge of her tunic to inspect her more closely.

  Wido growled. “She is perfect. Take your hand off her.”

  Hector backed away and waved his hands in the air. “Fine. I will leave you to answer if a problem arises.” He went back to his door, his keys jingling with importance. “I’ll mark your entry in the book, Wido, when all is paid in full.” Hector gestured impatiently to Afton. “Follow me, child.”

  Wido did not let go of her hand. “You’re not going to leave her here all day?”

  Hector pushed his door open and frowned at Wido. “What else am I supposed to do? I haven’t the time to take her into the castle just now.”

  Wido stepped forward and flexed his mighty arms. “Do it.” He glared into Hector’s eyes. “Afton is to be taken to Lady Endeline. I will not have her kept waiting here like an animal.”

  Hector would have liked nothing better than to remind the man of his lowly status, but he had neither the time nor the force, for the knights who were to stand guard at his desk were not yet at their posts. His eyes gleamed in derision. “I will take her up myself,” he said slowly, as if the idea were repugnant to him. “But only for the sake of Lady Endeline. And I expect you to return here with not only the planks and garment, but a chicken as well, for the consideration I have shown you.”

  Wido scowled, but he backed away and released his daughter’s hand.

  ***

  Afton clung to the hand of the elderly man who hurried her across the dusty castle courtyard. They did not stop at the kitchen buildings or at the animal pens, but walked straight through the rugged doors of the stone castle itself and up a staircase to the second floor. Afton tried to look around her, but the man rushed her up the stairs so briskly that she had no time to see anything but stone walls, wooden floors, and a timbered ceiling.

  The staircase opened into a large hallway, and through an arch she saw a group of people gathered. Men in armor sat around tables, ladies in beautifully colored dresses sat conversing with them, and one lady in particular caught Afton’s eye. She broke away from the others as soon as she saw Hector, and her narrow face lit up in a smile as she came to greet them. “Finally,” she said, her eyebrows arching across the white of her forehead like the wings of startled birds. “I thought this day would never come.” She opened her arms and looked down at Afton. “Hello, dear. I hope you understand that from this day forward you will live with us.”

  Afton did not answer, but involuntarily clenched the hand of the old man who had bought her to his place. The man shook his hand free. “Her name is Afton,” he said, folding his own hands and bowing respectfully to the lady. “Though, of course, you may change it to anything that pleases you.”

  “Afton pleases me very well,” the lady replied, still looking at the little girl. “Very well indeed.” She knelt on the floor and looked directly into Afton’s eyes. “I am Endeline, dearest. Won’t you come to me? We will have a wonderful time together.”

  Afton found her voice. “I want my mother,” she said clearly. “Of course, dear.” Endeline’s face did not change its expression, but she regally stood and nodded at Hector. “Keep the child with you now and go at once for the child’s mother. Bring them both back here.”

  Hector bobbed his head nervously. “But, my lady, the rents are due today and the villeins are even now lining up at my house-”

  “Do as I say!” Endeline snapped, glaring at the older man. “And be quick about it!”

  Afton’s hand was snatched again, and Hector hustled her down the stairs and out of the castle as if the hounds of hell were after him.

  ***

  “Is there a problem, my lady?” Perceval left the group of knights he had been entertaining and stood at Endeline’s side. “Don’t tell me the child of your dreams wants nothing to do with you.”

  “It is only natural for a child so young to be diffident with strangers,” Endeline answered, forcing a smile upon her face. “How do you think your children would fare if they were taken to another man’s house?”

  Perceval’s eyes darted to the small side room where his three children were playing. Charles and Calhoun were deeply involved in a game of chess; their sister, Lienor, was watching in fascination. “I think my children could live anywhere,” Perceval drawled. “For they know what they are.”

  “Charles knows he is your firstborn and heir,” Endeline replied, her dark eyes sweeping over her children. “But does he know he must marry soon? His interests lie more in the fields.”

  Perceval shrugged. “He will discover women in time.”

  “Calhoun knows he is the noble son of Perceval,” Endeline spoke again. “But does he know what he must endure to become a great knight?”

  “He will learn,” Perceval answered, irritation edging his voice.

  “And Lienor, our daughter,” Endeline said, more softly. “She must marry well, and her only possible choice is a son of the king. It is for her sake, dear husband, that I welcome the villein’s child.” Endeline took her husband’s hand as he led her to their seats at the raised table. “She is too much with the boys, and too unlike a lady. She is eight years old, and should begin to know
a woman’s place.”

  “You think a villein can teach her how to behave like a lady?” Mischief danced in Perceval’s eyes.

  “I will teach her,” Endeline answered, smoothly adjusting her gown. “The village girl is to be her companion--and her competition.”

  Perceval’s eyebrow shot up. “Explain yourself.”

  “Certainly.” She nodded gently toward their daughter. “You may not have noticed, my husband, but Lienor is not beautiful as men count beauty. Her hair is too dark, her features too irregular. The plowman’s child, on the other hand, has skin of milk and hair like the rays of the sun. When Lienor looks at this girl day after day, she will pay heed to the lessons I will teach her. She will yet be fit to marry the son of the king.”

  Perceval sighed and stood up. “I still think you would do better to keep this child in a servant’s place,” he said, patting his golden belt contentedly. “What will happen when she grows up a lady? What will you do with her then?”

  “I will do whatever needs to be done,” Endeline whispered, but Perceval was no longer listening. He gestured to his knights, and led them out of the room.

  ***

  Afton’s legs felt as though they would fall off from running behind the old man, but he had taken her home! Hector stood outside her cottage and called for Corba, who came out immediately, her eyes puffy and red. When she saw Afton there, she wiped her face on her apron and smiled tremulously. “Did the girl not suit Lady Endeline?” Corba asked, her eyes shining with hope. “Would Lady Endeline like a woven tunic instead?”

  Wido appeared in the doorway, his eyes snapping with joy at the sight before him. “Hector, my deepest gratitude,” he said sincerely. “I must do something for you to earn this unmerited favor.”

  “It’s nothing to do with you,” Hector snapped. He looked at Corba. “Lady Endeline would like you to return to the castle with me. We must go at once.”

  Corba dashed into the house and came out a moment later with a shawl tossed over her disheveled hair. “May the saints be praised,” she whispered to Afton as Hector set a furious pace back to the castle. “Your father said God would keep His eye on you.”

  ***

  The hall was ominously quiet when Hector returned with Corba and the breathless little girl. Only Endeline was in the room, her face lined with impatience. She scowled at the sight of Hector, but her face brightened when Corba and the child followed him into the room.

  “Hector, keep the child outside until I call you,” Endeline said, nodding graciously. “I wish to speak to this woman alone.”

  Hector pulled Afton’s hand again and led her outside the hall. He was beginning to feel sorry for the girl. She’d been dragged up and down the castle road three times, and the simple blue tunic she was wore was streaked with grime and dust. He forced himself to look away. No matter. She was Lady Endeline’s worry.

  But a barb of curiosity pierced his thoughts. What sort of servant would this girl be? Endeline had never taken this amount of trouble with a servant girl before.

  ***

  “Corba.” Endeline spoke her name gently, and the woman seemed to blush. She was pretty, for a villein, and very large with child. Endeline ignored the dart of jealousy that penetrated her heart.

  “I understand you could not pay the tribute this year.”

  Corba bowed her head in respect. “‘Tis true. Our sheep died. Wido says it ate baneberry.”

  Endeline smiled in pity and walked over to where Corba stood. “And now you give me this girl. I promise you that she will be cared for. I don’t intend for her to be a mere serving girl, you see, I wish her to be a companion for my own daughter, Lienor.”

  Corba’s face fell. She thought I had changed my mind, Endeline realized. The poor fool. She spread her hands in a gesture of generosity. “Of course, just as Perceval is a father to all who live on his lands, I will be a mother to your child, too.”

  “Thank you, my lady.” Corba’s voice was flat.

  “But a child can have but one mother.”

  Corba’s face was uncomprehending. Endeline pressed on and gently placed her arm around Corba’s shoulders. “You must turn the child against you.”

  Corba smiled in surprise. “I cannot. ‘Twould be unnatural.”

  “Not really,” Endeline purred. “You must simply do as I tell you, then all will be well. Do as I say and promise never again to speak to the girl should you see her at the castle.”

  Corba chewed her knuckle in fear. What a peasant. Endeline put her hand on Corba’s pale cheek and turned the woman’s face toward hers. “If you want all to go well with your family from this day forth, you must do what I tell you. . .”

  ***

  “Hector!” The old man heard his mistress’ voice and he looked at Afton. She stood up and willingly placed her hand in his. Perhaps now she could go home.

  Endeline and Corba stood together in the hall, a study in opposites. Endeline was tower of power, and Corba was a stumpy tree, bulging with hopelessness. Endeline smiled at Afton when Hector brought her into the room, but Corba would not meet her eyes.

  “Afton, darling, this woman has something to say to you,” Endeline said, leaving Corba’s side. “Hector, you are free to go attend to the rents.”

  Hector slipped out of the room in relief, and Afton ran to her mother, pillowing her head in the coarse wool of her mother’s skirt. Corba was silent until Endeline sat on a bench against the far wall.

  “Get away from me, you hateful child,” Corba said suddenly, her voice trembling. With both arms Corba pushed Afton away, holding her at arms length. Her face was contorted in fury. “We don’t want you with us, you’re to stay away,” she screamed, her voice cracking.

  “But mama--” Afton’s own voice broke and tears began to stream down her face.

  Corba released her iron grip on Afton’s shoulders and Afton once again rushed toward the security of her skirt, but Corba’s hand swung back and slapped Afton’s face with a resounding crack. The shock of it left Afton speechless.

  Corba covered her face with both hands and turned away, sobbing wordlessly. “Mama?” Afton sobbed, reaching again for her mother.

  “Stay away!” Corba shrieked, and her arms and fists flew in Afton’s direction. Afton ran instinctively for protection to the only other person in the room, the calm and protective lady who held out her arms to the girl. Once Afton’s sobbing head was buried against her neck, Endeline nodded at Corba, who flew out of the room and down the wide stairs.

  Four

  Endeline

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  In Endeline’s arms Afton found comfort. “There, my pretty one,” Endeline whispered in Afton’s ear. “You are safe with Lady Endeline. No one will harm you here at Margate Castle. You are under the beneficent protection of Lord Perceval himself.”

  Afton wasn’t sure what “beneficent” meant, but she had often heard her parents speak of Lord Perceval in the same hushed voice they used to speak of God. Afton’s family prayed for favor from Perceval as often as they prayed for God’s; indeed, Perceval had a much more direct role in their lives. If Perceval willed, they had firewood. If Perceval granted his favor, Wido was allowed to hunt in the forest. If Perceval called, Wido and Corba were commanded to obey. God, who lived in His little church with Father Odoric, only asked for goodness and that the villagers adore the Virgin, whose statue lived in the church with Him.

  So why was she to remain here where Perceval and his lady lived? Afton did not feel especially good or holy. And why were the revered hands of Lady Endeline actually stroking her hair? She lifted her tear-stained face and cautiously pulled away from the woman who held her, half-expecting to find herself at the feet of a maid or surrogate mistress, not the divine lady herself.

  But this woman was neither servant nor statue. Endeline’s eyebrow arched as she smiled, and her breath was sweet as she spoke: “You are a lovely child, Afton, and we will enjoy having you with us. Things will be quite different for you here at
the castle, and I want you to forget all about the things you knew before. Here you will find happiness, playmates, and protection. As long as you remain here, no one will ever strike you again.”

  Afton’s hand went involuntarily to her cheek, which still stung. More painful than the blow, however, was the memory of Corba’s face contorted in anguish and her harsh words of rejection. Afton choked back a sob, and the blessed woman pulled her into soft scented robes and cushioned Afton’s head against the delicate skin of her breast. “My brave, brave girl,” she whispered. “I know you will bring us honor. And you will have pretty dresses, and lessons, and--”

  “Pomegranates?” Afton whispered, pulling away. She looked wistfully at the gracious woman at whose feet she knelt. She had often asked for things at the feet of the Virgin, but the Virgin had never smiled as generously as this woman. “If I am very good, can I have pomegranates?”

  Endeline’s laughter rang through the hall. “As many as you like, dear heart.”

  Afton buried her face in the woman’s neck, overcome with gratitude. She could find no reasons for this exceptional honor, just as there were no natural explanations for the angelic visitors who often visited the saints. She only knew that God often chose simple folk to spread his message. In the same manner, for some unearthly reason, Lady Endeline had chosen her.

  ***

  Afton could have worshipped at Endeline’s feet for the rest of the day, but the purified atmosphere dissipated when two boys burst into the hall. Both boys were carrying bows and quivers of arrows, and the shock Afton felt at seeing weapons in the holy place was quickly surpassed by incredulity when the older boy actually complained to the revered Lady: “Mother, Gawain is supposed to meet us in the courtyard but we can’t find him.”

  “Hush,” Endeline answered. She slipped her slender arm loosely around Afton’s shoulders. “I would like both of you to meet Afton. She will live here at the castle as a companion for Lienor.”