The Noble Servant Page 3

  He bowed to Agnes, who stepped forward and smiled at the guards.

  Their mouths went slack and they bowed respectfully, then stepped back to let them pass.

  As Magdalen walked past, their gazes lingered on her and her brown woolen kirtle. One of them gave her a lascivious wink.

  Magdalen had to look straight ahead to hide her expression. It seemed these men respected only a woman of noble rank, and nobility was only as deep as one’s clothing.

  A guard escorted them up the steps toward the door of the castle, while a servant came to lead away their horse, cart, and mules.

  “Let this servant boy help with the horse and mules,” Erlich said. “He is fit only to serve in the stables, since he is mute.”

  The guard nodded.

  Magdalen picked up a bag of her things from the cart, but Agnes snatched it out of her hands, then shoved her own bag at Magdalen.

  A woman appeared in the doorway and bowed to Agnes. “Lady Magdalen, I am Frau Clara, and I am the head house servant. Please allow me to welcome you to Wolfberg Castle.”

  “Thank you, Frau Clara. Before we go in”—Agnes pointed at Magdalen—“would you please send this servant girl to do some menial task outside the castle? She has displeased me greatly, and I no longer wish her to be my personal servant.”

  “I believe our most menial task would be seeing to the geese.” She looked down her pointed nose at Magdalen.

  “Yes, that is the best task for her.” Agnes narrowed her eyes. “She cannot unleash her sharp tongue on anyone, gossiping and lying, which is her wont, for there will be no one around except the geese.”

  The guard hurried up the steps and through the front door, which was guarded by two more soldiers. He disappeared inside, then several moments later he returned, accompanied by four servants who rushed toward the cart, gathered all their things, and carried them back up the steps and into the castle.

  A middle-aged man with dark hair mixed with white emerged from the castle door and met them at the top of the steps.

  Frau Clara said, “Lady Magdalen, this is Lord Hazen, the duke’s uncle.”

  Agnes smiled at Lord Hazen, a short, balding man with small eyes.

  “Frau Clara,” Lord Hazen said, “take Lady Magdalen’s servants to their quarters while I show the lady to her room.”

  As Magdalen and Erlich walked away, Lord Hazen said, “The duke is not feeling well this evening, but I believe you will get a chance to meet him in the morning.”

  The rest of their conversation was lost as Frau Clara hurried Magdalen along.

  “No dawdling. And if you think you shall be turning your sharp tongue on me, you shall regret it. We do not accept such behavior here from our servants. You will find yourself without a position at all. You can sleep in the maidservants’ quarters and take your meals with the other servants. I expect Katrin will be pleased to let you take her place with the geese. She’s been asking to be promoted to the kitchen.”

  Magdalen said nothing, her cheeks burning at the unjust scolding. What would the woman say when she discovered she’d been speaking this way to the actual Lady Magdalen?

  And what if the duke did not realize Agnes was an imposter before Magdalen could convince him he was making a mistake? The thought of the Duke of Wolfberg marrying Agnes made Magdalen’s stomach churn. Her people needed her to help them have enough food again. She could not allow Agnes to ruin Mallin.

  How furious Mother would be at Magdalen for allowing this to happen.

  Frau Clara led her outside. They passed the kitchen, which was a detached brick building only two feet from a side door of the large stone castle. They descended a series of steps built into the grass-covered mountainside until they curved to the right and revealed a gaggle of geese and a young woman beside them.

  Frau Clara put her hands up and cupped the sides of her mouth. “Katrin!”

  The maiden looked up in the last rays of the bright-orange sunset, herding the geese with a stick toward a small stone structure. The birds waddled right inside. Katrin closed the door and bent to lock it, then ascended the steps toward them.

  “Katrin, this is Agnes. She is taking your place as goose girl, and you will go to work in the kitchen forthwith.”

  Katrin’s eyes brightened as the smile stretched across her face. “Truly?”

  “I don’t know why you are so joyous. Working in the kitchen is hardly better than being the goose girl.”

  “Oh, it is so much better. Thank you, Frau Clara.” She grasped the house frau’s hand and grinned up at her. Then she turned to Magdalen and clasped her hand as well. “Thank you ever so much.” Katrin darted past them, her feet tapping up the steps.

  “You saw where Katrin put the geese. You will take them out every morning to forage in the meadows and along the hillside, wherever you find grass, and put them away every evening at sunset. If you lose any of the geese, you shall be severely punished. Now, come along and you can have your supper with the other servants.”

  Magdalen opened her mouth to ask a question, but Frau Clara set a fast pace as she climbed the steep steps again. Magdalen hurried to keep up.

  They entered a dim room where the only light came in through one window. A man came in behind Magdalen carrying a torch. He lit the torches attached to the wall. Several other servants stood in line, accepting food from a woman handing out wooden bowls and bread rolls. Then they sat at a long wooden trestle table.

  “Get in line for your food,” Frau Clara said. “Katrin!” She called to the goose girl, who stood in the queue. “Show Agnes to the servants’ quarters after you finish your meal, and help her find a bed tonight.”

  “Yes, Frau Clara.” Katrin smiled at Magdalen and waved her over. “You can get in front of me, since you are new. Do you live here in Wolfberg? I’ve never seen you before.”

  Magdalen was thinking about how to answer her when a man yelled, “Who do you think you are?”

  The man behind Katrin leaned toward Magdalen with a fierce scowl in his eyes. “You cannot cut in front of the rest of us. We were here before you.”

  “Leave her alone, Hanns.” Katrin pushed his shoulder, even though she was a head shorter than he and only half as wide. “She just got here. Can’t you see you’re scaring her? But you don’t scare me, so quiet down.” She turned back to Magdalen and whispered, “Don’t pay any attention to him.”

  “What’s your name?” The man peered around Katrin’s shoulder. He was smiling now and missing at least two teeth.

  Katrin scrunched her face and shook her head. Someone distracted the man and he turned around.

  “Thank you,” Magdalen whispered.

  “You don’t want Hanns to ever start talking to you. He will make you want to slap his face in less time than it takes to tell him to go jump in the Baltic Sea.” Katrin widened her eyes and shook her head again.

  They had reached the front of the line. A large woman with a cloth around her hair handed them each a bowl and a roll of bread. After they sat at the table, Magdalen lifted her spoon. It appeared to be pea porridge thickened with oats.

  The woman sitting across from them made a growling sound deep in her throat. “Before the young duke left to get his education in Prague, we had meat in our porridge—a little bacon at least.” She looked with disgust at the porridge on her spoon.

  Katrin scooped some food into her mouth, then scrunched her face and quickly took a bite of her bread roll.

  Magdalen’s stomach rumbled, so she took a bite of the porridge, then followed it with a quick bite of bread. It did not taste terrible. But it also did not taste good. After a few more bites, she began to feel queasy, and she just finished her bread. The other servants mopped out their bowls with the last morsels of their bread, then put away the bowls and spoons.

  “Not eating that?” Hanns stood behind her, pointing at her bowl.

  She shook her head and gave it to him.

  “Come,” Katrin whispered, “before he asks you your name again
.”

  They hustled out the door of the servants’ dining hall. It was nearly dark now, and Katrin led her around the grassy area behind the castle. They proceeded toward a row of wooden buildings.

  “Where did you say you came from?” Katrin asked.

  “I am from Mallin.”

  “And what is your name?”

  If she told Katrin the truth, word might get back to Agnes, and she might have Magdalen thrown into the dungeon. However, she could not bring herself to say her name was Agnes either.

  “You can call me Maggie.”

  “Maggie? That’s an unusual name. I know three other Katrins in Arnsbaden. One came here with me and works as a servant in the castle—she does things like change the bedsheets for the duke’s family. Although he hardly has any family anymore since his grandmother died two years ago. Only his uncle is staying in the castle, and Lord Hazen brought all new indoor servants with him from Arnsbaden. But the young duke has just arrived back in Wolfberg.”

  “He was in Prague, was he not?”

  “Yes. They have a university there where men educate themselves about all sorts of matters. Been there for almost two years. I cannot imagine how there could be enough books to study to keep oneself occupied for two years, can you? He must know so much by now. What do you suppose he studied? I don’t even know how to read or write, but it probably would be too difficult for me to learn.”

  “I could teach you to read,” Magdalen said.

  Katrin stared at her, open-mouthed. “Truly? And you think I could learn?”

  “I should think so, and very quickly too. I enjoy teaching others to read.”

  “I am not sure Lord Hazen would approve of that.” Katrin’s brows drew together. “Perhaps you should not tell anyone you know how to read.”

  Yes, perhaps she had not been wise to reveal that information. She should be asking Katrin for information.

  “When did you say the duke arrived back in Wolfberg?”

  “Only in the last day or two.”

  But Katrin must be mistaken. Had the duke written asking her to marry him while he was still in Prague? Why would he ask her to come immediately to Wolfberg if he might not arrive before she did?

  They entered the maidservants’ barracks and Katrin led Magdalen to her bed. Magdalen stared down at the narrow bed she would have to sleep on . . . for how long? How long would she be a goose girl and herd geese? How long would people think she was a servant and Agnes was the daughter of a baron? Magdalen had thought she would be sleeping on a giant featherbed as the soon-to-be Duchess of Wolfberg.

  And she had thought she would see the duke again, would be able to speak to him, to learn why he wanted to marry her and make her his wife. Now she wasn’t sure if that would ever happen. What would become of Mallin’s people? Would they all starve?

  Somehow Magdalen would find a way to get back into the castle and warn the Duke of Wolfberg—in case he did not already realize it—that the woman pretending to be Lady Magdalen was actually an imposter.

  Chapter Four

  Steffan’s beard had grown an inch long and his hair fell almost to his shoulders by the time he reached the northern regions and drew near to his beloved home. He’d traveled many days from Prague. He sold the two assassins’ horses along the way, exchanged his fine clothes for those of a peasant, and when he entered the gates of Wolfberg, he was sure few people, if anyone, would recognize him.

  The person who knew him best since his grandmother died was Jacob. His father’s steward had been like a father to him since Steffan was six. Perhaps he could pay Jacob’s sister a visit and she could help him speak to Jacob without alerting anyone at the castle, particularly his uncle.

  He walked down Almstrasse toward the Marktplatz in the center of town. Then he turned down Rathausstrasse while trying to go back in his memory to the day when he’d gone with Jacob to visit his sister. The air had been slightly cool, as it was late summer or early autumn, not so different from today. Steffan must have been about twelve years old, as his head barely reached to Jacob’s shoulder.

  They’d entered an abode with large wooden beams framing the front door with intricately carved animals and birds, and Steffan distinctly remembered a rooster and a mule by his head as he walked in.

  There. Steffan stepped up to the door and knocked.

  A young maiden answered the door. “Kann ich Ihnen helfen?”

  “Guten Tag, Fräulein. Can you tell me if the sister of Jacob Klein lives here?”

  “Come in,” a woman from inside the house called out. “I am Frau Binder, Jacob Klein’s sister.”

  The young servant who had answered the door hurried away as an older woman stepped forward. She wore a kerchief over her gray hair and smiled out of a round face that reminded him of Jacob.

  “May I know your name?” she asked.

  “My name is Steffan. I’m looking for Jacob Klein. Does he still live at the castle?”

  “Ach, but nein.” The woman seemed to study him more closely. “My brother died several months ago.”

  Steffan’s heart crashed against his chest, then sank. “I am very sad to hear that.” His throat was so tight it was hard to speak.

  “You knew him?”

  “Ja, I met him when I was a boy. He was very kind.”

  “He was indeed. Won’t you sit down and let me send the servant for some cool water and a bit of bread and butter?”

  “Danke schön. That is very kind of you.”

  He would never see Jacob again. How could this be true? He felt so numb he was not sure he could keep his wits about him.

  The servant brought a goblet of water for him and a wooden serving tray with bread, butter, and a knife.

  “How is it you have not heard of Jacob’s death? Most of the town came to the burial.”

  “I have been away.”

  Frau Binder’s brow wrinkled. She seemed about to speak, then only stared down at the floor.

  “Frau Binder, I know you don’t remember me, but I was very close to Jacob. If something is amiss at the castle, I pray you would tell me.”

  She considered his face, as though discerning his character. “You are the duke.”

  Steffan sat back. “How did you know?”

  “What other young man would be asking for Jacob after being away? Besides that, I remember you as a boy. You have the same brown eyes.”

  He rubbed a hand down his beard. “I see my disguise is not as effective as I’d hoped.”

  “I think you will be able to fool most people. Just don’t look directly into people’s eyes. That is a sure sign you are not a peasant.”

  He nodded at the good advice. He’d rarely been around peasants enough to observe them. Even at the university in Prague he’d spent most of his time with wealthy burghers’ sons. Few people there knew he was a duke, and he’d enjoyed blending in. Everyone assumed he was an ordinary, though wealthy, young man.

  “There is another reason I recognized you. My brother told me, not long before he died, that you might come looking for something. He said to give you this note.” She went to the hearth, removed a loose stone from the front, and pulled out a small rolled-up parchment tied with string.

  Steffan took it from her hand, then untied and unrolled it.

  I hid your portrait in the castle in the place where you used to play as a small child.

  Jacob’s last words to him. But where did he mean? Steffan and his sister had played all over the castle. He would have to think more about this later. “Do you have a cook fire?”

  Frau Binder led him to the kitchen. Steffan threw the small parchment in the flames and watched it burn until it was nothing but ash.

  “Does anyone know you are in Wolfberg?” she asked as she led him back inside the house.

  “No. But you must tell me what has been happening here.”

  “Lord Hazen came to Wolfberg and sent away all the servants at the castle and replaced them with people from his own town of Arnsbaden. Then Jacob
fell down the stairs at the castle and broke his neck and died.” She lowered her voice. “I do not think it was an accident. It is very likely that Lord Hazen had him killed because he was too loyal to you. Jacob must have discovered his evil intentions.”

  “My uncle sent two men to have me killed as well.”

  “Saints above.” Frau Binder exhaled and made the sign of the cross over her chest. “God shall have His vengeance on the man for killing my poor brother. But to have the lack of natural feeling to kill his own nephew . . . And he will try again.”

  “Only if he discovers I’m still alive. You must not tell anyone you spoke to me.”

  “Nein, of course not.”

  “But I will need a way to get into the castle. I could work as a servant or guard perhaps.”

  “I don’t know anyone at the castle anymore who could give you work. And wouldn’t that be too dangerous? Lord Hazen could recognize you.”

  “I have to get inside the castle. When Lord Hazen tells everyone that I am dead, that portrait is one of the only things that can prove I am the Duke of Wolfberg.”

  “You think he will tell King Karl that you are dead so he can take over Wolfberg?”

  “Yes.”

  She twisted her mouth and stared at the floor. “I do know one person, the steward in charge of the outdoor servants who take care of the livestock.”

  “Whatever it takes to keep me close to the castle.”

  Magdalen awoke to her stomach growling. She got dressed and went with Katrin to the servants’ dining hall, where they had barley bread and oat pottage. Both were tasteless, but Magdalen ate them, swallowing the best she could and washing it down with the weak fermented drink that came from a large wooden cask in the corner of the room. The drink smelled bad and tasted worse, but she drank it anyway.

  She had slept better than she might have imagined, but she had been exhausted from the tense day and the long trip. Now she turned her mind to getting into the castle and finding the duke.

  She walked outside with Katrin, who pointed down the side of the castle mount at the little wooden goose pen.