The Noble Servant

by Melanie Dickerson

  “The geese are mostly gentle and even like to be petted, but stay away from the one with the black spot on his beak. He bites.”

  Magdalen nodded absently. She’d nearly forgotten she was supposed to take care of the geese.

  “Now I must go to work in the kitchen, but I shall try to come this afternoon, if the cook allows it, to tell you all of their names—the geese, I mean. They are very clever and know when you are calling them. Farewell.” Katrin waved as she hurried back toward the brick building.

  No one seemed to be around the back of the castle. She turned and stared up at the huge stone building, with its five towers and multitude of windows. A door caught her eye. She lifted her skirts and ran up the hill.

  She reached the door, out of breath and panting. Waiting for her breathing to slow, she put her hand on the iron handle. She pulled down on it, but it did not move. She tried again, using all her strength to open the wooden door, but the handle did not budge.

  If she was to save herself, she had to get into this castle. She continued around to the west side of the enormous stone building and found another door, identical to the one on the back. People milled about in the bailey. A few gathered around the well, and some others stood in front of the blacksmith’s little shop.

  Magdalen tried to look inconspicuous as she put her hand on the handle. She held her breath as she pulled down. It opened! She pulled the door farther open and stepped inside.

  “Who are you?” A guard stood in front of her. “This door is not for servants.”

  Magdalen’s cheeks burned. How dare he speak to her like that? She opened her mouth to scold him but then remembered . . . she was a servant.

  “I . . . I need to see Frau Clara.”

  “Go through the kitchen.” He seemed to thrust out his chest, as if to push her back out.

  “Very well.” She had little choice but to turn around and leave. The soldier slammed the door behind her.

  All the people around her—the servants at the well, the men standing about the blacksmith stall—stared at her. She pretended not to notice them and walked back the way she had come.

  The brick kitchen building was connected to the main castle by a brick enclosure that provided no outside entry. She’d have to go through the kitchen door.

  She walked toward it. “Please don’t let anyone see me or ask me what I’m doing,” she whispered.

  Magdalen stepped inside the kitchen. Immediately, eight pairs of eyes focused on her.

  “Maggie.” Katrin stood with several other women either chopping vegetables or kneading bread at a table in the center of the room. A fire was burning in the large fireplace.

  Katrin came toward her. “Are you well? Are the geese—?”

  Magdalen spoke softly. “I need to speak to Frau Clara. I’m just going inside for a moment—” She took a step toward the enclosure that led into the castle.

  “Where are you going?” the cook shouted. “You cannot go in there. Who are you?”

  “She is the goose girl,” Katrin said. “Her name is Maggie, and she has only just arrived.”

  “If she’s the goose girl, then why isn’t she tending the geese?” The middle-aged woman looked askance at Magdalen.

  She should try to talk her way in, but what should she say? Every person was staring at her, and two young maidens snickered, hiding their mouths behind their hands.

  “I shall speak to Frau Clara later. Excuse me.” Magdalen went back out the door. A titter of laughter followed her.

  Her cheeks burned. She would have to sneak in another way, another time, as more servants finished their morning meal and headed out to work. They stared at her. In a place where people rarely came and went, of course they stared. She was a stranger. It was the same in Mallin. When someone new arrived, everyone whispered about them until they could discover everything about the person. But no one had ever treated her this way. Tears stung her eyes. Was she destined to be scorned for the rest of her life?

  Chapter Five

  Magdalen ducked her head and ran down the hill toward the goose pen.

  The geese started honking. Her hand shook as she unlatched the gate. What did she know about taking care of geese?

  The goose girl at home would herd the geese with a long, thin, flexible stick. Magdalen looked around and saw just such a stick lying on top of the low pen. She picked it up and opened the door to let the geese out.

  The large gray birds flocked out the door, some of them extending their wings, as if stretching after being cramped. A few of them looked at Magdalen and honked.

  What was she to do now? Of course they were surprised to see her and not Katrin. Would they keep honking until people came to see what was the matter?

  She slapped the ground twice with the long, limber stick. The geese started waddling one behind the other down the little path of worn grass down the side of the gentle hill, and the honking lessened until only one goose was still raising a ruckus. Eventually the noisy one honked less enthusiastically.

  She had to get into the castle as soon as possible. What would she do with all these geese? She had no idea if they could be left alone. At the bottom of the hillside, the geese spread out and nibbled at the green grass with their little orange beaks.

  Magdalen became more and more aware of a sound, something like the wind rushing through treetops, but more like a dull, far-off roar. Where was it coming from? But she had no time to chase the sound. She had to figure out what to do with the geese.

  Some of them were smaller than the others. Perhaps those were the goslings. She seemed to remember that the geese that nested in the area around the lake near the back of her home in Mallin had babies following them around in the spring and summer. These must be the goslings, as they were a bit fuzzier than the larger ones, while the larger ones seemed to be losing some of their feathers.

  The birds seemed restless, occasionally honking at each other or flapping their wings. But at least none of them were trying to run away. Magdalen sat on the grass and rubbed her eyes.

  What was the duke doing at this moment? Had he met with Agnes over a large breakfast in the Great Hall? Or was Agnes sleeping late and reveling in her newfound luxury?

  Magdalen should probably hate Agnes. She still could hardly believe what she had done. What had driven the maidservant to do something so drastic? If she were found out—and she certainly would be—dire consequences for her actions would ensue. Would the Duke of Wolfberg have her put to death? Magdalen supposed she could beg the duke to banish Agnes instead. Perhaps they could send her and her father away to the Kievan Rus region where the savage Cossacks lived, or even to the north country where it was rarely ever warm. Then they would be sorry for the way they treated Magdalen.

  What she needed was a plan to get into the castle and speak to the duke. She had to tell him she was Lady Magdalen. Could she disguise herself as an indoor servant? What did they wear? Frau Clara wore a white kerchief on her head. Now that she thought of it, she remembered another house servant wearing the same white kerchief and . . . a green kirtle. Or was it blue? With the gray sleeves of her underdress showing. Perhaps she could find the laundry and snatch some clothing.

  She stood and looked around. Should she leave the geese? Though they were pecking at the grass, they mostly stayed together as a group, except for one goose that was waddling away from the others.

  She ran toward the goose that had wandered astray. What had Frau Clara said? If she lost a goose she would be “severely punished.”

  As Magdalen got closer, it looked up and saw her and bolted the other way.

  “No, no. Come back.” She clenched her teeth. Would more geese wander away while she was chasing this one?

  She worked at sneaking around it. When she was on the other side, she slapped the ground with the stick. “Go on, goose. Go back with your friends. Go on.” But instead of moving, he stretched his neck toward her and let out a loud honk.

  “I’m not afraid of you. Now go!”
She slapped her stick on the ground to punctuate her words.

  He flapped his wings and honked again.

  Oh God, please help me. I have no idea how to make this lack-witted bird do anything I want it to.

  The goose put its head down to pluck at the grass.

  “Go on, I said. Go.” She tapped its tail feathers with the stick.

  Gradually the errant goose waddled its way back toward the rest of the flock. They were all intent on eating, their heads bent to the ground.

  “Stay.” Maybe this would not be so difficult after all.

  Magdalen hurried up the hill and found the path that would take her to the castle. She ran, glancing back to make sure none of the geese followed her. They did not, so she kept running.

  When she reached the castle, she slowed so as not to attract attention to herself. She was breathing hard as she walked around to the front and watched as people came and went through the gate. A steep cliff and deep ravine around this side of the castle formed a natural barrier, and the only way into the castle yard was a bridge over the ravine, with a gatehouse on the bridge.

  A cart rolled through the gate, drawn by a mule with a man leading it. Several people milled around the courtyard. Some maidservants were gathered to one side, standing around a fire and a huge black cauldron. Were these the laundresses?

  Magdalen moved closer, skirting as close to the edge of the ravine as possible, hoping no one would notice her. On the other side of the women near the cauldron was a clothesline with several gray underdresses, white kerchiefs, and blue kirtles hanging along it. Just what she was looking for.

  Magdalen hid behind a bush. She eyed the garments, trying to decide which kirtle would best fit her. The women were pulling items out of the cauldron and laying them on the ground to cool. Then two women would stretch out a cooled piece of clothing and twist and squeeze it between them. They did not seem to be paying any attention to the apparel on the line.

  Magdalen sprang forward. She flipped a kerchief off the line, then a blue kirtle, tucked them under her arm, and raced for cover. She crouched behind the nearest bush.

  No one yelled. No one ran after her. She waited until her breathing slowed. Sweat was dampening her underarms. Never had she stolen anything. Surely God would forgive her for trying to save the duke from marrying Agnes—as well as trying to save herself and her people.

  Magdalen moved away from the ravine and found a stand of trees. She stared down at the clothes. Her hands were shaking. But she couldn’t approach the same guard again, not so soon after he had turned her away. The other back door was locked, and the door through the kitchen was swarming with the maidservants who had snickered at her less than an hour ago. The only other door was the front door, and she would probably get a harsh scolding if she endeavored to go through it.

  She would simply hide the clothes under her bed in the servants’ barracks until she could get past the back-door guard or enter the kitchen without being seen.

  When she neared the long wooden building, she saw several other servants congregated out front. So she steered herself back toward the hill where she’d left the birds.

  The geese were still grazing on the grass, but they had spread out. She glanced around. Where could she hide the clothes? A pile of brush at the edge of the woods caught her eye. She approached, lifted the branches, and stuffed the stolen clothing underneath. The blue and white still showed through the cracks. She found a few rocks and piled them on top. There. That was the best she could do.

  Magdalen headed back toward the geese. Her hands still shook and sweat tickled her forehead. She wiped her face with her sleeve.

  “Oh no.” Some of the geese were wandering away. One was almost in the trees, and another was scores of feet away, nearly out of sight.

  She couldn’t lose the geese, even if she would not have charge of them much longer. They would be easy prey for a fox or wolf or whatever predatory animals lived in this region.

  She focused on the long stick, which lay just on the other side of a large goose who lifted its head and took a step toward her.

  She moved toward the goose, intent on retrieving her stick. It honked and Magdalen jumped back. Then it lifted its enormous wings and flapped once, twice, then flew at her face. She raised her arm to protect herself. Its beak sliced into her skin as if it were a knife.

  Magdalen screamed, flailing at the enormous bird.

  “Maggie!” a voice called.

  The vicious bird flapped away, still honking at her, as Katrin hurried down the path toward her.

  “Are you all right?” Katrin stared at Magdalen’s arm where a line of blood was forming. “That mean old Gus. Shoo!” Katrin turned and threw out her arms, flapping them at the goose. “You have done it now!” She chased him away toward the rest of the geese, picked up the long stick off the ground where Magdalen had left it, and went after the goose that had wandered so far across the hillside.

  Had Katrin seen her steal the clothes and hide them?

  Blood oozed out of the spot on her forearm where the goose had bitten her. She didn’t even know geese could bite.

  She looked around for something with which to wipe it. Nothing—except for the stolen clothes, and she’d never use them for that.

  Katrin was still a long way off, shooing the straying geese back toward the others. Magdalen stared at her bleeding arm and tears filled her eyes. “What did I ever do to you, you stupid goose?” Her bottom lip trembled, and she clamped it between her teeth. What had she done to deserve being thrown out to tend geese? She was supposed to marry a duke.

  A tear escaped and ran down her cheek. She hastily wiped it on her sleeve. Her mother would die of shame to see her wiping her face with her sleeve or herding geese. But her mother was not here and Magdalen was glad. Mother hated tears—though she often used them for her own purposes.

  Katrin finished herding the geese into a smaller group, then hurried toward her. “Gus is prone to bite. You have to be careful around him.” Katrin lifted her apron and dabbed at the blood on Magdalen’s forearm. “I’m so sorry. I should have helped get the geese accustomed to you. I wasn’t thinking. Come. We’ll take the geese to the spring so you can wash this off.”

  Katrin used the stick to get their attention and then walked in front of them. They followed her as if she were their mother, and she took them down a little path on the side of the hill until they came to a small glade of trees.

  A trickle of water bubbled up out of the ground, flowed a few feet, then formed a pool before trickling on down as a little stream.

  “This is where I take the geese every day for a drink. I’m sorry I did not show you. I suppose Frau Clara didn’t consider that you would need help. It’s not as if she has ever concerned herself with me. The indoor servants think they are so much higher than the outdoor servants.” Katrin rolled her eyes.

  She squatted by the spring and dipped her apron in the clear water, then stood and wiped the rest of the blood from Magdalen’s arm. “I wish I had a cloth so I could fashion a bandage for it.”

  “It is nothing. It will cease bleeding soon.”

  “You will have to stand up to Gus. He thinks he is the king. You must show him that you are bigger and stronger.” Katrin pressed a corner of her apron on Magdalen’s wound while she talked. “The rest is easy. Just lead them to the water once or twice a day, make sure none of them wander off, then lead them back to their pen just before sunset.”

  Magdalen nodded.

  “Oh, and Lord Hazen made an announcement this morning. The duke apparently was sick when he arrived from Prague, and Lord Hazen wanted him to have time to rest from his trip and recover his full health before letting people know he had returned.”

  Magdalen’s heart jumped at hearing someone mention the duke.

  “And his betrothed, Lady Magdalen, has arrived from Mallin. He only just announced it.”

  “The duke and Lady Magdalen have seen each other?”

  “They have now,
I suppose.” Katrin sighed. “She is a fortunate woman. Can you imagine marrying the Duke of Wolfberg and living in Wolfberg Castle? It is so grand.”

  “I can imagine it.” The hollow space in her chest seemed to swallow up her hope.

  Agnes must have fooled the duke.

  Chapter Six

  Magdalen rose, dressed, and skipped breaking her fast, since the food was so disgusting anyway.

  After the other maidens had left, including Katrin, Magdalen got on her knees, reached under her bed where she had hidden the blue dress and white headscarf, and pulled them out. As she put them on she imagined confronting the duke, telling him that Agnes was not the real Lady Magdalen.

  He would look into her eyes and exclaim, “It is you!” He would kneel in front of her and say, “My dear Lady Magdalen. Please allow me to tell you how sorry I am for all that you have suffered at the hands of this woman and her father. I shall banish them forever.”

  Then he would kiss her hand and promise to love and cherish her always.

  She whispered, “Oh, God, Lord above, help me. Don’t let me get turned away at the door. Help me find the duke, and let him believe that I am who I say I am. Thwart the plans of the wicked and the deceitful”—she pictured Agnes’s and Erlich’s faces—“save me, Jesus, from their plot, and give me success today.”

  She lifted her eyes heavenward and breathed an “Amen” before she tied the kerchief around her hair at the back of her neck.

  She stuck her head out of the barracks doorway and glanced around. A few people mingled around the side of the castle, but no one looked her way. She hurried out and focused on the door where the guard had turned her away the day before. Her heart seemed to tremble as she headed straight for it.

  Magdalen grasped the handle, opened it quickly, and stepped inside.

  “Who goes there?” A guard advanced toward her.

  “I am Maggie, a new upstairs servant. I stepped out to speak with my brother, but I must get back to my duties now. Excuse me.” She curtsied and rushed away without waiting for his permission.