“Gislebert?” she asked. “Can it be you?”
The young man, now full grown, nodded gravely. “Yes. I will be happy to escort you to the king, my lady. I am sure what you have to tell us is of great worth.”
***
Afton had imagined that King Stephen would travel in a magnificent shelter, but she was led to a spartan tent of coarse wool containing only a rough table and a simple cot. The tent was filled with men in armor, but they all gave attention to a plain-looking man who sat on a bench enveloped in a tapestry. The man’s nose and eyes were red and puffy, and he was blowing his nose with great force as Gislebert led her into the tent.
“It’s a ruinous thing, this war,” the man told his counselors as he wiped his ample nose. “It may cost England more than she knows. Not only are we killing our own fair land and its people, but the French have begun to watch us with a wary eye. How can we keep the peace abroad if we cannot maintain it at home?”
“Your Highness,” Gislebert interrupted, bowing from the waist. “I present to you Afton of Margate Castle, a free woman. She has urgent news for Your Highness.”
“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,” Gisleber
t 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.
With his knights in position, Stephen motioned to the trumpeter again, who blew a long, shrill blast. The knights gripped their shields, spurred their horses, and thundered over the soft turf. Afton held her reins tightly, watching in alarm. She glanced at Gislebert, whose face had paled at the trumpet blast.
As the king’s knights stormed toward the castle, the faces of Matilda’s men arose along the top of the castle wall. A wall of flaming arrows shot forth from the flared arrow loops, dastardly little holes that allowed weapons to be launched without exposing the archer. Wave after wave of deadly arrows fell upon the riders, and the fortunate knights who actually reached the wall were picked off by Matilda’s marksmen.
It did not take long for Stephen’s knights to realize the futility of storming the castle wall. After a brief bloody battle, Stephen’s trumpeter sounded retreat, and the remaining royal knights withdrew as quickly as they had advanced. As their horses rushed past her like the hounds of hell, Afton’s horse trembled and bolted after them, down the castle road and into the stillness of the forest.
***
The horses churned on the road in a restless melee’, and Afton waved her scarf to get the king’s attention. “Follow me,” she cried, and Gislebert echoed her. “Let us follow the woman,” he suggested to the king, “for she knows the area.”
Afton dismounted and led her trembling horse through the familiar forest. The king and his company followed in a single line, and soon she had found her landmark, the twin trees. She led her horse to the pool, and noticed with relief that the other knights did likewise.
King Stephen dismounted, looking at his surroundings with approval. The knights who had escaped without injury watered the horses, then tended to the walking wounded. Afton noticed that the group was smaller by at least ten knights, and Gawain was among the missing.
“This foray is useless,” one knight grumbled to the king. “Margate Castle is well-fortified. We cannot hope to storm it with our small number.”
“Would you have Arnoul laugh at us?” the king snapped, pacing the ground. “We must take the castle. I will not have the crown sullied by such a braggart.”
The king turned to face Afton. “Did you bring us here to be slaughtered?” he asked, wiping perspiration from his brow. “You will die in the morning. You, and Calhoun when he arrives.”
“Your Highness has not heard my plan,” Afton answered, folding her hands calmly. “It is true that Margate Castle is well fortified, for Perceval updates it regularly. Did you know that he has installed lavatories along the wall for his knights?”
Stephen snorted. “What good do lavatories do me now?”
Afton smiled gently. “The lavatories are made with stone shafts along the outside of t
he wall,” she said. “They are not large enough to see from the field, but a man could climb them. I climbed them often as a child.”
“Climb them?” Stephen turned to look at his knight. “Could you climb a lavatory shaft?”
“It is a simple matter, highness,” Afton said, stooping down. She drew a large circle in the dirt at the king’s feet. “This is the castle wall. Here and here--” she drew two smaller rings, “--are the towers. Tucked away on the towers are the lavatory shafts. If you hide in the forest until dark, then send one man in to climb the castle walls, you can likely catch Matilda’s entire force napping in the garrison--” she drew a large rectangle inside the circle--”here. Lady Endeline and Lord Perceval will be in the castle, of course, and it is likely your dread enemy Arnoul will be there, too.”
“A knight climbing the walls would be totally exposed,” the king’s knight pointed out, running a stick through her diagram. “He could not climb with his lance or shield. At most, he could carry his sword and his dagger.”
“Perhaps that is all he will need,” Afton answered, looking steadily into the king’s eyes. “Matilda’s men are tired. They think they have just won a great victory. They will drink Perceval’s ale and feast on his food, and they will go to the garrison for sleep. Their eyelids will be heavy, and their swords at rest. If their door is guarded, and they are bottled up inside the garrison, the victory will be yours. Select your bravest knight, Your Highness, and the strongest. If the plan fails--”
“It’s suicide,” the knight interrupted.
“If it fails, you have lost one knight of twenty,” Afton summarized. “But if it succeeds, you can capture Arnoul’s entire force without bloodshed.”
“Whom shall I send?” Stephen looked around at the circle of knights that had gathered.
“Send me!” The crowd parted as a knight pushed his way through, and Afton trembled at the unexpected sound of his voice. With chains binding his hands, Calhoun stood before her and the king.
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