Afton of Margate Castle (64 page)

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 the 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.

E
ndeline watched their supper guest warily. Arnoul was brutish and coarse, but there was no denying his quick intelligence. He reminded her of a chameleon, always changing, always rising to the challenge of the moment. It would do them no good if he suspected Perceval had been anything other than a faithful backer of Matilda. As long as Charles and Ambrose held their tongues. . .

“I suppose now that you have routed the king’s army you will leave in the morning,” Endeline said smoothly, passing Arnoul another heaping plate of veal. “But of course you are welcome to stay as long as we may do service to your cause.”

“I suppose my purpose is done,” Arnoul answered, smiling in satisfaction. “Routing the king’s army was an unexpected pleasure. I had but one purpose in coming here, and that was to take the life of your son, Calhoun.” Arnoul grinned, and Endeline felt her skin crawl in fear.

“What?” Perceval asked dully. Endeline was not sure that Perceval had even understood the events of the last two days. His mind had not been clear since Arnoul’s men appeared on the road.

“I have nothing against you, my lord, but if Stephen heard that you were giving me aid--and I made certain that he would hear--then I knew the royal wrath would be kindled against Calhoun. It was he that took my eye and left me with this bloody scar.”

“Calhoun did that?” Endeline gasped, pretending more horror than she felt.

Arnoul’s face darkened. “My men and I sought refuge in a church, but your son set fire to the place. I am sure Calhoun thought me dead, but I found a trap door and a tunnel dug by some wandering priest, so I escaped the fate your son had planned for me.”

“You came here to--” Perceval gestured weakly, unable to follow the conversation.

“Calhoun is either dead, or nearly so,” Arnoul said, tearing a chunk of veal with his teeth. “My vengeance is complete.”

“Mine is not,” Ambrose interrupted from the end of the table. He stared intently at Arnoul. “Calhoun ran from my sword in a duel, thinking to show me mercy. I have not forgotten the insult, nor shall I.”

Arnoul grinned and slapped Ambrose on the back. “So you’re the young knight who made Calhoun run. Ride with us tomorrow. Swear allegiance to Matilda and serve her well.”

“My place is here.” Ambrose looked at Endeline and smiled. “I am needed here.”

“You certainly are,” Endeline purred, thankful that at least Ambrose was still thinking clearly. “What would we do without you?”

***

The horses stomped and snorted quietly in the darkness and Afton crept quietly to where Calhoun stood alone. He seemed thinner than when she had last seen him, and the hard look of determination in his eyes frightened her.

“I am sorry,” she said when he looked at her. “I know you would rather die than owe a woman for your freedom--”

“It matters not,” he cut her off. “Tonight I have a chance to redeem myself in the eyes of my king and my fellow knights. I will succeed or die.”

“Calhoun!” Gislebert walked over from the clearing and extended a hand to Calhoun. “It is time for you to get ready.”

Calhoun walked past her without another word.

***

The knights slept in two-hour shifts without the comfort of a campfire, and Afton could feel their uneasiness mounting as the night grew blacker. What if their plan failed? It sounded so simple, but these were men of war, and thought her foolish! What if she sent Calhoun to his death? What if Ambrose was killed in the fighting?

She rose from her place at the foot of the twin trees and crept to the small circle of knights that surrounded Calhoun.

“I will go over the wall at the south tower,” Calhoun told the knights who crouched around him. “You must follow me on foot, but keep low in the grasses. You will not be seen from the castle, for the darkness of night will cover you.”

“On foot?” one knight interrupted. “We are not common foot soldiers.”

“On this occasion you must be,” Calhoun answered, one corner of his mouth rising in a half-smile. “Half of you remain hidden in the trees on your horses, the other half must follow on foot. When you see that I have safely climbed over, run to the gate with your swords in hand. I will barricade the door to the garrison, then open the gate.”

“One man alone cannot open the gate,” Stephen inserted, shaking his head. “It is too heavy, and even if you could, the noise of the gate will alert the enemy. You would have Arnoul’s sword in your back before the gate is opened.”

“I will help Calhoun open the gate,” Gislebert said, placing his hand on Calhoun’s shoulder. Afton could not believe her eyes. Gentle Gislebert, poet to the king, had crept into the circle. He wore a knight’s tunic with a sword strapped to his side.

“What are you doing?” Calhoun asked, a honest smile of amusement on his face.

“I am going with you,” Gislebert announced. “I can climb better in my bare feet than any knight in a suit of mail. And I know the castle. I can help open the gate after you have secured the garrison.”

Stephen cocked his head. “It is a reasonable plan,” he said finally. “But I shall miss you, Gislebert, if you fall in this endeavor. Calhoun--” the royal eyes narrowed, “I still do not trust. If he is lying and runs to Perceval and safety, I have lost nothing. But you, Gislebert, I would miss.”

Gislebert bowed. “It is time I did things poets only write about,” he joked weakly.

“You were the shadow of my younger days,” Calhoun said, looking at Gislebert with affection in his eyes. “You were always underfoot. Come with me, old friend.”

Afton watched as they knelt together before the king to receive his blessing. The entire company parted as they walked resolutely out of the forest, and Afton realized they would be soon readying for battle. If the plan did not succeed, Stephen would kill her.

She hesitated to watch Calhoun and Gislebert vanish from sight before she slipped away from the king’s men. She crept through the forest silently, stopping occasionally to gather her bearings. Unless her memory failed her, she knew of another, more secluded route into the castle, and she planned to find it.

***

Calhoun crept through the tall grass of the pasture soundlessly, praying the sun would hold its advent for another hour. Gislebert followed behind him, matching step for step, until he darted away to scale the lavatory shaft on the north tower.

 
Calhoun waited in the grass until he was sure no guards stared sleepily in his direction, then he sprinted for the southern tower. When he felt its aging stone beneath his fingers, he kissed the wall in relief. He could bear what was to follow. He had been most afraid of being stopped by an unfair arrow from the wall.

But the foolish guards would watch the stars and listen for hoof beats.

Calhoun moved to the lavatory shaft and searched for a foothold. The lavatory shafts were rough and of new plaster, and he found it easy to grip the outcroppings of rock and pull himself up. He passed a slotted arrow loop and boldly peered through the narrow opening. No life stirred in the courtyard below. The rooster in the hen house was still dreaming.