at all times.”
“That kind of love I could do without,” the kitchen maid replied. “Now out of my way, child. The king will be wanting fresh bread soon and it’ll have to be hot out of the oven.”
***
After three days of the king’s residence at Margate, Afton was convinced the old castle had disappeared and something new had taken its place. Nothing was the same. King Henry now slept in Perceval’s chamber, and his counselors occupied the girls’ dormitory. Perceval and Endeline slept in the boys’ room above, and the boys were relegated to sleep downstairs in the great hall with the king’s most esteemed traveling companions. Lienor, Afton, Lunette, and Morgan slept in the hayloft of the barn, with a knight assigned to guard them. The king’s three granddaughters, strangely enough, slept in the highest part of the lookout tower, with a host of knights below them.
The pleasant pace of life Afton had come to know was gone, and she worried that King Henry would never leave. Calhoun seemed to thrive on the excitement and acted as a page for the king, running to fill the royal goblet, fetch his majesty’s counselors, or order fresh bread from the kitchen.
At the end of the day, when the men had retired, Calhoun met Afton in the stable and reported everything, his eyes shining. He described the king’s exploits in Normandy and the victorious battles in which Henry had fought. Often he stood up and embellished the tales by acting them out, frequently “dying” in the hay with great emotion and drama. Afton couldn’t understand why Calhoun loved these tales of battle. She much preferred Endeline’s gentle stories of King Arthur and fair Guinevere.
But Afton rarely saw Endeline except from a distance these days, for the lady of the castle was kept busy attending to her royal guest’s needs. It wasn’t until Henry announced that he would leave after dinner on the morrow that Endeline seemed to relax and exchanged her stiff smile for a more pleasant one. And that night Afton snuggled into her hay bed in delight, knowing that soon she’d be back in the castle next to her beloved benefactress. Life would resume and all would be peaceful once again.
Endeline actually stopped and patted Afton’s cheek on the day of the king’s departure. “Why don’t you join us at dinner, Afton?” she asked, her voice gentle. “You’ve not had a good look at the king, have you?”
Afton shook her head. All her glimpses of the august majesty had been from a distance. To her, Henry was merely a stick figure in red and purple.
“Put on your best tunic, then, and we’ll find a place for you in the hall. You may sit with Morgan and Lunette. Calhoun will be serving the king, and Lienor will sit with me at the king’s table.”
Afton’s jaw dropped when she entered the hall between Morgan and Lunette. Every table in the castle had been crowded into the great hall and put together end to end so that they stretched from the rear doorway right up to the dais where the king would sit. Bright tapestries hung from the walls, brilliantly decorated in the emblems of the royal crest and Perceval’s family herald. Already the tables were crowded with the knights and nobles of Perceval and King Henry, the colors of the two houses blending together in a rich mix of red, purple, and white.
Morgan and Lunette ushered Afton to a small table near the royal dais, but against the wall. Afton was delighted. From here she could see observe all that went on at the king’s table and yet not be seen.
She glanced over the assembled company. The tables nearest the king’s table were filled with richly dressed men in ermine-trimmed robes, the king’s counselors, Afton assumed. She had heard Calhoun speak of them as “rich men who talk of war and know little of it.” Behind them were men with swarthy faces and simple red robes, the royal knights. Perceval’s knights, in their white and purple tunics, were intermingled in their midst,
“That kind of love I could do without,” the kitchen maid replied. “Now out of my way, child. The king will be wanting fresh bread soon and it’ll have to be hot out of the oven.”
***
After three days of the king’s residence at Margate, Afton was convinced the old castle had disappeared and something new had taken its place. Nothing was the same. King Henry now slept in Perceval’s chamber, and his counselors occupied the girls’ dormitory. Perceval and Endeline slept in the boys’ room above, and the boys were relegated to sleep downstairs in the great hall with the king’s most esteemed traveling companions. Lienor, Afton, Lunette, and Morgan slept in the hayloft of the barn, with a knight assigned to guard them. The king’s three granddaughters, strangely enough, slept in the highest part of the lookout tower, with a host of knights below them.
The pleasant pace of life Afton had come to know was gone, and she worried that King Henry would never leave. Calhoun seemed to thrive on the excitement and acted as a page for the king, running to fill the royal goblet, fetch his majesty’s counselors, or order fresh bread from the kitchen.
At the end of the day, when the men had retired, Calhoun met Afton in the stable and reported everything, his eyes shining. He described the king’s exploits in Normandy and the victorious battles in which Henry had fought. Often he stood up and embellished the tales by acting them out, frequently “dying” in the hay with great emotion and drama. Afton couldn’t understand why Calhoun loved these tales of battle. She much preferred Endeline’s gentle stories of King Arthur and fair Guinevere.
But Afton rarely saw Endeline except from a distance these days, for the lady of the castle was kept busy attending to her royal guest’s needs. It wasn’t until Henry announced that he would leave after dinner on the morrow that Endeline seemed to relax and exchanged her stiff smile for a more pleasant one. And that night Afton snuggled into her hay bed in delight, knowing that soon she’d be back in the castle next to her beloved benefactress. Life would resume and all would be peaceful once again.
Endeline actually stopped and patted Afton’s cheek on the day of the king’s departure. “Why don’t you join us at dinner, Afton?” she asked, her voice gentle. “You’ve not had a good look at the king, have you?”
Afton shook her head. All her glimpses of the august majesty had been from a distance. To her, Henry was merely a stick figure in red and purple.
“Put on your best tunic, then, and we’ll find a place for you in the hall. You may sit with Morgan and Lunette. Calhoun will be serving the king, and Lienor will sit with me at the king’s table.”
Afton’s jaw dropped when she entered the hall between Morgan and Lunette. Every table in the castle had been crowded into the great hall and put together end to end so that they stretched from the rear doorway right up to the dais where the king would sit. Bright tapestries hung from the walls, brilliantly decorated in the emblems of the royal crest and Perceval’s family herald. Already the tables were crowded with the knights and nobles of Perceval and King Henry, the colors of the two houses blending together in a rich mix of red, purple, and white.
Morgan and Lunette ushered Afton to a small table near the royal dais, but against the wall. Afton was delighted. From here she could see observe all that went on at the king’s table and yet not be seen.
She glanced over the assembled company. The tables nearest the king’s table were filled with richly dressed men in ermine-trimmed robes, the king’s counselors, Afton assumed. She had heard Calhoun speak of them as “rich men who talk of war and know little of it.” Behind them were men with swarthy faces and simple red robes, the royal knights. Perceval’s knights, in their white and purple tunics, were intermingled in their midst,
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