Afton of Margate Castle by Angela Elwell Hunt Read Free Book Online Page A

voice. If we had twenty cows, we would still own nothing. All that we call ours is the property of Lord Perceval. We do not even own the children we and God have created.”
    Wido was silent, thinking. “The voice of God is our voice,” he said, finally, “And He has sent us another child to replace the one we will lose to Perceval. God is our judge, as He is Perceval’s. Father Odoric tells me so, and I do not believe a priest can lie.”
    “Aye, but will God comfort Afton when she is flogged for making a mistake in the castle? Will He teach her when she grows wise to the ways of women? Will He defend her chastity when a knight desires to have her?”
    Wido felt a slow burn begin in his stomach. “I will make it so,” he said slowly.
    ***
    The village churned with activity the day before the feast of St. Mary Magdalene. Work in the fields was suspended while the villagers prepared their rents. Each farming family had to pay one sheep, one woven tunic, and ten smooth planks of oak. For the past month Corba had been weaving continuously, and Wido had spent his evenings polishing oak planks. Afton watched the bustle with little concern and enjoyed the extra commotion in the cottage. If she was good, perhaps her father would even let her journey to the castle with him tomorrow.
    “Afton, come here.” Afton came in from the courtyard and stood in front of her mother. Corba placed her hand beneath Afton’s chin and inspected for dirt, a critical examination usually reserved for church days. Afton saw herself reflected in the worried eyes of her mother--two tiny girls with straight noses, wide eyes, and smudges of dirt on their cheeks.
    Corba dipped a cloth in her water bowl and swiped Afton’s cheeks. “You’re fine,” she pronounced, stepping back. “Tomorrow you will go with your father to the castle. And you will wear this.”
    She pulled a tunic from her work basket, a blue tunic finer than anything Afton had ever possessed. It was lightweight, woven from cotton instead of the usual rough wool, and a blue silk ribbon had been woven into the neckline. “It’s beautiful,” Afton murmured as Corba laid it across her arms. “It is really mine?”
    “It is really yours,” Corba answered. “Now put it away so that it doesn’t get dirty before tomorrow.”
    ***
    The next morning Afton felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Time to dress, daughter,” Wido told her. “We are going to the church.”
    To church? Without the family? Afton swung her legs off her mattress and yawned. The boys were still sleeping, and it was not yet fully light outside. Why were they rising so early? Then she remembered her new gown and eagerly slipped it on. She whirled gently, the full skirt circling around her legs like a whirling top. She giggled.
    From her bed across the room, Corba called. “Let me brush your hair.” Afton danced over to her mother and allowed herself to be pulled down onto the bed. Her mother brushed Afton’s golden hair vigorously, then locked her daughter in a hug so fierce Afton could barely breathe.
    “You’ll crush me like a blueberry,” Afton complained.
    Corba sniffled. “Lady Endeline has taken a special fancy to you,” she said quickly. “You are to live in the castle beginning today.” Her words streamed like a raging river. “I will see you when I go there to work, of course, and you’ll see your father, too. But you will not be returning here to sleep in this house.”
    “No?” Afton pulled away. Surely there was some mistake.
    Corba shook her head. “Go now with your father to the church. Say your prayers and be a good girl. Always remember that you are the daughter of Corba and Wido.”
    Afton looked curiously at her mother and took her father’s hand. Wido was carrying Ree in his left hand, the noisy hen that laid the most eggs. “Why are we taking Ree to church?” she asked as left the house.
    “You’ll see soon enough, child,” Wido answered. The villagers were beginning to