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  Praise for Melanie Dickerson

  “This book will have you jumping out of your seat with anticipation at times. Moderate to fast-paced, you will not want this book to end. Recommended for all, especially lovers of historical romance.”

  —RT Book REVIEWS, 4 STARS,

  FOR THE SILENT SONGBIRD

  “When it comes to happily-ever-afters, Melanie Dickerson is the undisputed queen of fairy-tale romance, and all I can say is—long live the queen! From start to finish The Beautiful Pretender is yet another brilliant gem in her crown, spinning a medieval love story that will steal you away—heart, soul, and sleep!”

  —JULIE LESSMAN, AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR OF

  THE DAUGHTERS OF BOSTON, WINDS OF CHANGE,

  AND HEART OF SAN FRANCISCO SERIES

  “I couldn’t stop reading! Melanie has done what so many other historical novelists have tried and failed: she’s created a heroine that is at once both smart and self-assured without seeming modern. A woman so fixed in her time and place that she is able to speak to ours as well.”

  —SIRI MITCHELL, AUTHOR OF FLIRTATION WALK AND

  CHATEAU OF ECHOES, ON THE BEAUTIFUL PRETENDER

  “Readers will find themselves supporting the romance between the sweet yet determined Odette and the insecure but hardworking Jorgen from the beginning. Dickerson spins a retelling of Robin Hood with emotionally compelling characters, offering hope that love may indeed conquer all as they unite in a shared desire to serve both the Lord and those in need.”

  —RT BOOK REVIEWS, 4½ STARS, ON

  THE HUNTRESS OF THORNBECK FOREST

  “I’m always amazed at the way Melanie Dickerson creates a world. Her writing is as fresh and unique as anyone I know, and I am always pulled into the story and taken far away on a wonderful, romantic, and action-packed journey.”

  —MARY CONNEALY, AUTHOR OF NOW AND

  FOREVER, BOOK TWO OF THE WILD AT HEART

  SERIES, ON THE HUNTRESS OF THORNBECK FOREST

  “Melanie Dickerson does it again! Full of danger, intrigue, and romance, this beautifully crafted story will transport you to another place and time.”

  —SARAH E. LADD, AUTHOR OF THE CURIOSITY

  KEEPER AND THE WHISPERS ON THE MOORS

  SERIES, ON THE HUNTRESS OF THORNBECK FOREST

  “Melanie Dickerson’s The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest is a lovely, romantic read set during one of the most fascinating time periods. Featuring a feisty, big-hearted heroine and a hero to root for, this sweet medieval tale is wrapped in a beautiful journey of faith that had me flipping pages well after my bedtime. Delightful!”

  —TAMARA LEIGH, USA TODAY BESTSELLING

  AUTHOR OF BARON OF GODSMERE

  “Melanie Dickerson weaves a tantalizing Robin Hood plot in a medieval setting in The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest. She pits a brave heroine with unique talents against a strong, gentle hero whose occupation makes it dangerous to know him. Add the moral dilemma and this tale makes a compelling read for any age.”

  —RUTH AXTELL, AUTHOR OF SHE SHALL BE

  PRAISED AND THE ROGUE’S REDEMPTION

  “The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest is a wonderful romantic tale filled with love, betrayal, and forgiveness. I loved this book and highly recommend it for readers of all ages.”

  —CARA LYNN JAMES, AUTHOR OF

  A PATH TOWARD LOVE

  “The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest reminds me of why adults should read fairy tales. Author Melanie Dickerson shoots straight to the heart with a cast of compelling characters, an enchanting story world, and romance and suspense in spades. Reaching The End was regrettable—but oh, what an ending!”

  —LAURA FRANTZ, AUTHOR OF

  THE MISTRESS OF TALL ACRE

  “For stories laden with relatable heroines, romantically adventurous plots, once-upon-a-time settings, and engaging writing, Melanie Dickerson is your go-to author. Her books are on my never-to-be-missed list.”

  —KIM VOGEL SAWYER, AUTHOR OF WHEN MERCY

  RAINS, ON THE HUNTRESS OF THORNBECK FOREST

  “Ms. Dickerson deftly captures the flavor of life in medieval Germany in a sweet tale filled with interesting characters that will surely capture readers’ hearts.”

  —KATHLEEN MORGAN, AUTHOR OF THESE

  HIGHLAND HILLS SERIES, EMBRACE THE DAWN,

  AND CONSUMING FIRE, ON

  THE HUNTRESS OF THORNBECK FOREST

  Other Books by Melanie Dickerson

  THE MEDIEVAL FAIRY TALE NOVELS

  The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest

  The Beautiful Pretender

  YOUNG ADULT

  The Healer’s Apprentice

  The Merchant’s Daughter

  The Fairest Beauty

  The Captive Maiden

  The Princess Spy

  The Golden Braid

  The Silent Songbird

  The Noble Servant

  © 2017 by Melanie Dickerson

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Christian Publishing, Inc.

  Thomas Nelson titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].

  Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan. com. The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.®

  Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Dickerson, Melanie, author.

  Title: The noble servant / Melanie Dickerson.

  Description: Nashville, Tennessee: Thomas Nelson, [2017]. | Summary: “After being betrayed and cast out, Lady Magdalen and Steffan the Duke of Wolfberg must work together to reclaim their rightful titles”-- Provided by publisher.

  Epub Edition March 2017 ISBN 9780718026769

  Identifiers: LCCN 2016052625 | ISBN 9780718026608 (hardback)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Nobility--Fiction. | Love--Fiction. |

  Impersonation--Fiction. | Identity--Fiction. | Middle Ages--Fiction. | Christian life--Fiction.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.D5575 Nob 2017 | DDC [Fic]--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016052625

  Printed in the United States of America

  17 18 19 20 21 LSC 5 4 3 2 1

  Contents

  Praise for Melanie Dickerson

  Other Books by Melanie Dickerson

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty
>
  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Acknowledgments

  An Excerpt from: The Silent Songbird

  About the author

  Chapter One

  The year 1365, Barony of Mallin, the Holy Roman Empire

  Where do you think you are going looking like a beggar?” Mother asked.

  Magdalen’s hand was on the door. “Just walking.”

  “I’d think you would be ashamed to be seen in such clothing.” Mother narrowed her eyes at Magdalen.

  Magdalen wanted to say, “Even Hegatha allowed me to go for a walk in my oldest dress,” but Mother did not like it when she spoke of the dead.

  “Just don’t let anyone see you, and if you are not home before dark, I will send Hans with his dogs.”

  Magdalen hurried out the door before her mother changed her mind.

  The path led away from Mallin Park House across a gentle green hill. The village of Mallin was visible in the valley over her left shoulder. The farther she went, moving away from both her home and the village, the more grass grew on the once well-worn path.

  Vegetable plots lay on either side. A middle-aged man stooped over a row of cabbages with his hoe. He looked up as Magdalen approached.

  “Guten Morgen,” Magdalen greeted.

  “Guten Morgen, Lady Magdalen.” He smiled and nodded. His frightfully skinny legs in baggy, thigh-length hose showed below his tattered woolen shirt that hung over his bony frame.

  A pang of guilt twisted inside her, as it did every time she thought about her people being in need. If only the mines had not run out of copper. “God, please provide for them,” she whispered.

  She kept her gaze on the path that led down one grass-covered hill and up another, looking for interesting rocks to add to her collection, such as the rock that hung around her neck on a gold chain. It was the last gift her father had given her—a necklace made from a red jasper stone found in the copper mines.

  As she neared the first of the three abandoned mines, the trees became thicker and the hills rockier. She stepped up to the narrow entrance, barely wide enough to admit a broad-shouldered man but plenty wide enough for Magdalen. Two large tree limbs lay across the opening. Magdalen lifted her skirts to step over them.

  “Magdalen!” Jonatha called out.

  Magdalen stopped, dropping her skirts back over her ankles. “I am here,” she called out, catching sight of her sister’s bright-blonde hair and Lenhart’s tall, lanky frame through the trees.

  “Mother wants you home right away. She sent Lenhart and me to fetch you back.”

  Lenhart’s brown eyes widened as they did when he was excited or confused.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “A missive arrived just after you left.” Jonatha’s normally loud voice was slightly hushed. “Mother started screaming for you as soon as she read it.”

  What could this mean?

  Magdalen started back down the narrow path toward home with Jonatha skipping in front of her and Lenhart striding behind.

  While Jonatha sang a song, Magdalen’s thoughts raced to that letter. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was from the Duke of Wolfberg.

  She had danced with the duke at Thornbeck Castle two years ago. Her mother had hoped he might seek to marry her, but that was unlikely. She was only a baron’s daughter from a poor region.

  She entered the house and could hear Mother’s strident voice giving orders to one of the servants.

  “Magdalen, you must make haste and pack your trunk.” Her cheeks flushed, Mother motioned her forward. “The Duke of Wolfberg has sent for you. He wishes to marry you.”

  Her stomach fluttered and sank at the same time. It took a moment before she could speak. “He does? But why?”

  Mother shook her head. “He probably heard about your brother and knows you will be the heir to Mallin now. What does it matter? He is rich, he can do as he pleases, and he has chosen you.” Mother’s eyes lit as she clasped her hands in front of her.

  Jonatha danced around in a circle, squealing. “Let me come for a visit!” Jonatha threw her arms around her. Her other sisters ran into the room and joined the commotion.

  “Be quiet!” Mother shrieked. “You’ll make me go deaf.”

  Magdalen absently patted her sister’s shoulder. “But I thought the duke studied in Prague at Karl University.”

  “He has come home, then.” Mother held up a crisp parchment and shook it, making the ribbons dance from where they were sealed into the wax. “Because here is his seal and his colors on the letter. He wishes you to come to Wolfberg at once.”

  Her duty to her family and to her people required that she marry the wealthiest man she could to save them from extreme poverty. Indeed, she had hoped the duke would want to marry her. He was young and handsome, unlike most of the wealthy unmarried men in the Holy Roman Empire. Two years had passed, however, since she had seen him, and marrying him had sunk into the realm of the impossible.

  But the impossible was happening. She, Magdalen of Mallin, was to marry the Duke of Wolfberg.

  She took the parchment from her mother’s hand and read it. It seemed to be in order, but the missive contained no reference to meeting her at Thornbeck, no expressions of eagerness to see her again, and no sentiment of any kind. Her heart sank. He barely knew her, but she’d hoped . . .

  “He doesn’t say why he wants to marry me. He must know I have no fortune.”

  “You will marry him, and do it quickly.” Mother shook her finger at Magdalen. “Don’t you dare tell him you are poor either. Lady Thornbeck, whose father was nobody, managed to get herself a margrave, and now you’ll have a duke.”

  Mother’s lip curled in that way of hers that always made Magdalen’s insides squirm.

  “And you had better not think of going to Wolfberg and being mousey and submissive. After he has made you his wife, you will demand he live up to his responsibilities to your family. Make him think there is still copper in our mines, but insist that he send money and livestock. He can well afford it. Everyone is depending on you.”

  Mother jabbed her finger one last time in Magdalen’s face. “Now make haste and pack your things. You shall leave at dawn tomorrow.”

  What if he’d heard false information about her fortune? She had been betrothed to an earl three years ago, but he had the betrothal annulled when he realized how poor she was. Her face still felt the sting of that humiliation.

  Magdalen had hoped her mother would want her to be joyful in her marriage. A lump formed in her throat as she went to her room and began to collect her things.

  Her desire was for true love, but perhaps that was selfish. And yet, the thought of having the same kind of marriage as her parents felt akin to a boulder sitting on her chest.

  At least her marriage would save the people she loved from starving.

  Steffan rode his horse between the two men his uncle had sent to escort him back to Wolfberg.

  The road heading north from Prague was frequently shaded by large oak and birch trees in this verdant part of the Holy Roman Empire, but Steffan hardly noticed his surroundings. He had begun to doubt the honesty of these two guards. His suspicions had grown the farther down the road they traveled.

  “Do you know Sir Burgen?” Steffan asked them just as a hawk took flight from the tree several feet in front of them.

  “Oh yes, Your Grace,” said the tall, dark-haired guard. “He was well when we left Wolfberg a few days ago.”

  “And Sir Ruger? He was in good health as well?�
��

  “Yes, Your Grace.” The stockier blond guard answered this time. “He sends his greetings to you.”

  Steffan felt a twist in his gut as all his senses heightened. Breath rushed into his lungs and energy flowed through his limbs as he noted the sword on each man’s hip. What other weapons did they carry?

  His own dagger was in his saddlebag. He had a smaller knife in the sheath on his belt, and his sword hung at his hip.

  The dark-haired guard said, “Let us leave the road and enter the woods to find a place to sleep for the night.”

  Darkness had not yet descended, and they had only been riding for a few hours. Steffan eyed the two men. “There is an inn a few miles ahead.”

  The guards glanced at each other. “Very well, Your Grace.”

  They approached a stone bridge over a swift-flowing river.

  “I believe my horse needs a drink,” the dark one said. “And truth be known, I am thirsty myself.”

  Steffan slowed his horse to let the two men move ahead. When they reached the river, the guards dismounted from their horses. Steffan approached the water’s edge. The men didn’t even look his way, so he let his horse drink. He dismounted, keeping his hand on his sword hilt.

  The men stared and slowly started moving toward him and away from each other. They flanked him, preparing to attack from both sides.

  Steffan took a step to the left and one back, to shift nearer to the short guard. “Who sent you?”

  “We told you,” the tall one said. “Your uncle, Lord Hazen.” A devious smile stretched his thin face.

  “You said Sir Burgen and Sir Ruger were well.” He continued to move to the left and back. “Sir Burgen died ten years ago, and Sir Ruger fifteen years ago.”

  “Everyone must die sooner or later.” The tall one drew his sword with a metal-on-leather sound.

  The short one followed suit, but Steffan beat him to the draw. He leapt at him and hit the man’s wrist with his sword blade. The short, blond guard dropped his sword with a screech.

  Steffan crooked his arm around the man’s neck and jerked him around, holding the short one in front of him like a shield.