Afton of Margate Castle (67 page)

The room fell totally silent, and every eye turned to Afton—every eye save those of Endeline, who continued to sing a soft lullaby.

The king’s question seemed to ring in Afton’s ears. She glanced over at Endeline, who sat between the lifeless bodies of her husband and son, her sources of joy and pride. She had lost everything: home, family, position, power . . . . The scene should have brought Afton joy, but as she watched Endeline distractedly rub her son’s dead hand, she remembered another pale hand that had reached out to her in love: Agnelet’s.

A year ago Afton could have taken a dagger and plunged it with pleasure into Endeline’s heart. Six months ago she could have dressed the lady in sackcloth and sent her into the forest to fend for food like a wild animal. But that was before she had met, mourned, and come to understand Agnelet . . . before she had come face-to-face with forgiveness.

Agnelet, flesh of her flesh, had suffered the lack of beauty and mother and brother, yet she had borne all through the power of faith. Instead of hatred, she had known peace; instead of vengeance, she had sought to bring joy.

Suddenly Afton knew that the divine purpose in sending her to her daughter, at least in part, was to prepare her for this moment. With Endeline’s fate in her hands, Afton had the opportunity to choose forgiveness or vengeance. And again, she could hear the small voice that had been beseeching her since Agnelet’s death . . . but this time she understood.

She drew a deep breath before speaking. “I once thought myself a victim of this woman’s evil schemes,” she said slowly, looking up at the king. “My suffering blinded me to the truth of my own pride. For me to assuage that price now—” she crossed the room, putting her hand on Endeline’s shoulder—”would be a greater wrong than all those visited upon me.”

Endeline did not respond to her touch, but Afton continued. “I forgive you, Lady Endeline, and pray that you would forgive the hate I have borne you these many years.”

Responding to her name, Endeline turned slowly, but the dark eyes that had always been so proud and scheming now reflected only the black void of madness. Shocked, Afton withdrew her hand and stepped back.

“So what say you?” the king demanded. “What shall be done with her?”

Afton looked up into Calhoun’s blue eyes, which searched hers and waited. She held his gaze as she answered the king. “Let the lady be given a house on the castle grounds and a nurse to care for her,” she said, moving to Calhoun’s side. She placed her hand on her love’s arm. “And let her be kept near her son, for children and their mothers should not be forced apart.”

Stephen raised his brow in surprise, then nodded. “It shall be done,” he said. Then, turning to Calhoun, the king cocked his head as a pleasant, almost teasing, smile crossed his features. “Can it be that Afton is the young woman you were promised in marriage?”

Calhoun stepped forward. “Yes, sire.”

“And would it please you if I were to offer her to you now?”

Calhoun looked down at Afton, who knelt on the floor at his feet. His eyes shone with unspoken desire, and she knew he still loved her, indeed, that he had never stopped loving her. His pride had come between them, as had her bitterness, but pride and anger had vanished in that instant when Arnoul lay dead at their feet. They had conquered more than an enemy army in the last few hours. They had conquered the worst parts of themselves.

His voice was low and quiet. “If she will agree, sire, it would please me greatly.”

The king nodded and held out his hand toward Afton. “Do you agree, Lady Afton?”

She rose to her feet and placed her hands in Calhoun’s. It was all she wanted, to stand by his side forever. “Yes, sire. I most surely do agree.”

“Then upon my decree, you two shall be married two days from now. For a wedding present I present you, Calhoun, with all the estates and lands formerly held by Perceval of Margate, to be held by you and your progeny for all time.”

Gislebert clapped his hands in delight.

“So be it!” the king called out. “Calhoun! Order dinner at once, my new Earl of Margate, for your king is hungry.”

For the first time in his life, Calhoun broke royal protocol and did not answer. With Afton in his arms, he claimed the kisses he had sought for years.

So Friar Odoric married them twain,

Calhoun and Afton, their love new ordained.

And on that bright morning, when it was day,

They prayed by the grave of sweet Agnelet.

Steward Josson married Lizette the maid,

And Margate’s brave dead to their rest were laid.

A small house for two, built of Margate loam,

Corba and Endeline made their new home.

Within a year’s time Margate found joy,

In the birth of Afton’s twin baby boys.

Alard and Albert, strong handsome babes both,

Were honored by knights and protected by oath.

Peace was not found on fair England’s shores,

Till cruel war had raged for twelve years more.

Stephen and Matilda, the crown their due,

Agreed to crown Henry, son of Anjou.

Gislebert, whose heart was heavy and sad,

Wrote tales of danger in pop’lar ballads,

Served Lord Calhoun and his fair Afton queen,

But finally left Margate to seek his Nadine.

You ask what became of poor Gislebert--

The singer of ballads, the friend debonair?

His tale is daring, yet full of love’s pain,

Where much love is lost before it is gained.

I have not time, nor breath to tell

His story that I know so well.

So now, fair listeners, I bid adieu,

This song I dedicate to you.

Read the next two adventures in this series:

The Troubadour’s Quest

Ingram of the Irish

Christy-Award winner Angela Hunt writes for readers who have learned to expect the unexpected in novels from this versatile author. With over three million copies of her books sold worldwide,
she
is the best-selling author of more than 100 works ranging from picture books (
The Tale of Three Trees)
to novels.

Now that her two children have reached their twenties, Angela and her husband live in Florida with Very Big Dogs (a direct result of watching
Turner and Hooch
and
Sandlot
too many times). This affinity for mastiffs has not been without its rewards--one of their dogs was featured on
Live with Regis and Kelly
as the second-largest canine in America. Their dog received this dubious honor after an all-expenses-paid trip to Manhattan for the dog and the Hunts, complete with VIP air travel and a stretch limo in which they toured New York City.

Afterward, the dog gave out pawtographs at the airport.

Angela admits to being fascinated by animals, medicine, unexplained phenomena, and “just about everything” except sports. Books, she says, have always shaped her life— in the fifth grade she learned how to flirt from reading
Gone with the Wind
.

When she’s not home writing, Angela often travels to teach writing workshops at schools and writers’ conferences. And to talk about her dogs, of course.

Readers may visit her web site at
www.angelahuntbooks.com
and write her at
[email protected]
.