The Noble Servant

by Melanie Dickerson

  Alexander stared back with a blank look.

  “Must I explain everything to you?” He glared at his son. “Has it never occurred to you that Lady Magdalen, your wife, does not possess the manners of a baron’s daughter? Is there not something a bit coarse about her?”

  “Are you saying . . . ? Fa—” He checked himself. “Just because we are perpetrating a deception does not mean Lady Magdalen is as well. Perhaps it is your guilty conscience causing you to think such a thing.”

  Hazen burst out laughing. His son’s face turned pink. He was almost showing a backbone finally. Almost.

  “What makes you think I feel guilty about anything I’ve done? The wealth of the world belongs to the strong, and that is how it should be.” Hazen eyed his son and shook his head. “I am only saying you should keep an open ear and eye for discrepancies in her story, evidence that she may not be who she says she is.”

  “And what will you do if you discover she is an imposter?”

  “I shall find out how she might be helpful to us, and when her usefulness is exhausted, she must die. A deceptive person who is not loyal to me is not someone I wish to keep around.”

  Alexander’s already pale face turned ashen. “She is not an imposter,” he said, his voice raspy. “She is not.”

  “We shall see.”

  With Wolfberg’s nearby harbor and lucrative shipping trade with its neighbors, not to mention its fishing revenues, Hazen would have found another way to take over Wolfberg had he not chosen to have his son impersonate the duke. But it amused him to do it this way. And if Alexander proved himself unequal to the task, he would simply have to kill him. With no duke to steward this busy and wealthy area, and with Hazen already entrenched at the castle, the king would no doubt grant his petition to take over.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Steffan’s head still pounded, but Frau Clara was allowing him to follow around the young man who was currently in charge of starting the fires and fetching and carrying firewood. The kitchen maids were quick to instruct him on where things were kept and what he would be expected to do.

  Katrin, Magdalen’s friend, hurried toward him with a big smile after he watched the other fetch-and-carry boy stoke the kitchen fire.

  The cook said, “Katrin, why don’t you show him where the extra buckets are kept for drawing water.”

  The smile stretched wider. “Of course. Come with me, Steffan.”

  He cringed, but no one seemed to notice that she called him a different name.

  As she led him outside to the small storage room, she said, “What happened to your head?”

  “A guard hit me with his sword hilt.”

  “What were you doing in the castle?”

  “Looking for Maggie.”

  “Here are the extra buckets. You will need several of these on wash days, when we have to clean all the linens and—”

  “Katrin, I need you not to call me Steffan. For now, my name is Stoffel.”

  “I noticed they called you Stoffel, but I thought your name was—”

  “In order for me to get this indoor job, I needed them to think my name was Stoffel. I also got this job because they think I am addled and simpleminded. You mustn’t ruin my disguise or bad things could happen to me.”

  “Oh.”

  “I know it doesn’t make sense.” He lowered his voice as a guard walked by where they were standing outside the kitchen. “But I thank you for your help.”

  “So, I am to call you Stoffel and pretend you are daft?”

  “Yes.”

  Her smile had vanished. “Very well. Does Maggie know about this?”

  “Yes. She is also helping me keep my disguise so I can keep this job.”

  “Oh.” She nodded, but she looked confused.

  “Maggie is also working inside the castle now.”

  “Already? It took me months just to get a job in the kitchen!”

  “It is a special circumstance. But one day she will explain it all to you, and she might even be in a position to help you get a much better job.”

  “As an upstairs servant?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very well. I shall help you and not breathe a word to anyone.”

  “Danke schön, Katrin.”

  “You’re very welcome.” She smiled and winked, then turned to go back into the kitchen.

  He sighed. He was a duke. He should feel humiliated at what he was being reduced to—first a shepherd, then a fetch-and-carry boy pretending to be simpleminded and unable to control his attachment to a fellow servant. But perhaps this was God’s way of humbling him, of making him more grateful and mindful of his people.

  The tale of David from the Bible came to mind, when he was trying to get away from King Saul and he pretended to the Philistine king he was insane, marking on doors and letting saliva run down his beard. David, God’s own anointed, was afraid for his life, not so unlike Steffan and his present situation. And just as King David had been forced to leave his home by his son, Absalom, Steffan had been forced to leave his place as the Duke of Wolfberg. People cursed David and pelted him with stones as he left Jerusalem. But David would not even allow his guards to stop one old man from taunting him, but told his guard, “Let him curse . . . It may be that the Lord will look upon my misery and restore to me his covenant blessing.”

  As Steffan went back into the kitchen with Katrin, he prayed, Lord God, I may be cursed and mistreated for the moment, but let me pass this test of humility, and please restore to me Your blessing. And restore Lady Magdalen to her rightful place as well.

  Lady Magdalen didn’t deserve to be treated this way by her servants, by people she trusted. But because she was so kind and good, he also needed to guard his heart. He didn’t want to end his life as his father had. Besides, he owed it to his people to marry well, and he couldn’t marry a poor baron’s daughter, no matter how kind and fair of face she was.

  Agnes did not send for Magdalen all afternoon as she waited in the servants’ room in the highest level of this part of the castle. Apparently she’d be sharing the chamber with four other women, as five beds were in the room and four of the beds had bedclothes, while the fifth was a bare mattress, probably filled with pokey straw, like the mattress she’d been sleeping on in the outdoor servants’ quarters.

  She did not have any of her things, as she’d left them in Agnes’s rooms, so all she had to do was look out the window. But she would not complain about that. The ocean was visible over the tops of trees, and a small part of the white cliffs as they curved around. She could also see the far meadow and the small forest that separated it from the cliffs and the water. At the farthest point was the sea, sparkling as if it were made of stars.

  “This place is so beautiful. I can see why a greedy person would try to take it.” She soon began to feel greedy herself, wishing she could climb up the highest tower of Wolfberg Castle and see more of both the countryside and the ocean. One of the other servants told her there was a harbor just out of sight where ships brought goods from other lands and fishermen brought their catches to sell. She’d never seen a ship before.

  The sea was so full of power and hope and possibilities. Here in Wolfberg, her mother could not make her feel small or use words to crush her.

  When it was time for the evening meal, Magdalen hurried down to the servants’ dining hall. Katrin was arriving at the same time and pulled Magdalen aside. “Your Steffan, the shepherd, is working in the kitchen as our new fetch-and-carry boy. What happened to him? Why was he in the castle looking for you? And why does he want me to call him Stoffel and pretend he is daft?”

  “Did he tell you all that?”

  “He said he had to pretend to be daft in order to get the job.”

  “That’s right. It is too difficult to explain. Is he coming to supper?”

  Just then Steffan walked into the room. He looked tired, his shoulders slumped. She could not tell in the dim room if he was pale, but his eyelids drooped.

  She
hurried toward him. “Are you well?”

  “I’ll survive.”

  “Perhaps this was a bad idea.” Magdalen stood in line with Steffan to get their food. She spoke just loud enough for him to hear her over the noise of the other servants.

  “No, it is good. I am in the castle. It’s only a matter of time before I can get the things that will prove my identity.”

  “But you are injured and unwell. They will work you too hard.”

  “I just need a good night’s sleep. I shall be well in the morning.”

  He was so resolute she did not question him further. At least no blood seeped through her rudimentary bandage on his forehead.

  She should not care so much about him, since he didn’t intend to marry her. At least, that’s what her mother would say. But from a practical side, he was her only ally, the only person in Wolfberg who knew she was Lady Magdalen. A decidedly impractical part of her, however, worried that his head injury would fester and, combined with his exhaustion, would make him sick.

  But even Agnes had said it: Magdalen had always been a compassionate person. It didn’t mean she had romantic feelings for Steffan.

  Katrin sat beside Magdalen and kept up a nearly constant chatter, which was for the best since it prevented Magdalen from talking to Steffan about what his plan was and what she could do to help him. They should not risk someone overhearing them.

  When the meal was nearly over, Magdalen turned to Steffan. “Where will you sleep?”

  “On the top floor with the other menservants.”

  “I will help you find your thing you’ve been looking for. But I think we should wait until another day.”

  “You might be right.”

  “You will not try to find it without my help, will you?”

  He turned his half-closed eyes on her. He opened his mouth just as a man rose behind him.

  “Hey, you, shepherd boy.” The man nudged his shoulder.

  Steffan looked down, probably trying to look submissive.

  “The work’s not finished. I need you to fetch some more water and wood.”

  Steffan stood and went with the man. She wanted to intervene, to tell the man that Steffan was injured, that he needed rest, but she did not think her interference would be welcomed by either the overbearing man or Steffan.

  Was this how Avelina had felt before she came to Thornbeck, that because she was a servant, no one would listen to her or care about her opinion? Avelina had been a servant most of her life, and she had not been inclined to stand up for herself. Magdalen had actually scolded her for not demanding respect from other people, especially Lord Thornbeck.

  Her cheeks heated at the thought. How silly and unworldly she had been then. She had not realized how difficult it was to be a servant. Even when Magdalen was not a servant, knowing she had the right to demand respect—especially from her mother—and actually doing so were two different things.

  Katrin touched her arm. “Do you think Steffan—Stoffel—is well enough to work?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Katrin sighed. “Now I’ll have to find a new boy to look at. There are precious few handsome ones. The blacksmith’s apprentice is pleasant to look at, but he’s bedded half the maidservants.” Katrin wrinkled her nose. “A man who is fair of face is usually empty of conscience. That’s what my mother says. But that is not a lovely thought, is it?”

  Magdalen frowned and shook her head. “Why did you say you’d have to find a new boy to look at? Stef—Stoffel will be around more than before.”

  “I assumed you and he were sweethearts now.”

  “Nein, not at all.”

  “Oh, good.” Katrin did not seem fully convinced as she ate her food.

  Magdalen impulsively squeezed Katrin’s arm. “Thank you for being my friend, and Stoffel’s friend too. Please watch out for him as much as you can when he’s in the kitchen.”

  Katrin hugged her back. “I can tell you are worrying, but all will be well.” She lowered her voice. “Your shepherd will be well.”

  Magdalen shook her head. “Katrin . . .”

  “Never mind. I shall see you in the morning.”

  Katrin went back to the kitchen to finish her work for the day and Magdalen went back upstairs to see if Agnes needed her.

  Magdalen reached the corridor that led to Agnes’s door. Should she knock? Would Agnes be in the Great Hall having her evening meal? If she wasn’t, she might be vexed with Magdalen for disturbing her. Agnes was not accustomed to having servants invading her room constantly as Magdalen had been.

  “There you are.” Agnes approached her. “Come to my chamber for a moment. I need you.”

  “Yes, Lady Magdalen.” She plastered a smile on her face and followed Agnes to her room.

  “I need your help unbuttoning my gown.” Agnes presented her back to Magdalen.

  Magdalen began the task, pushing Agnes’s hair aside to reach the buttons that started at the base of her neck and went all the way down her back. She could not help wondering who had buttoned them for her but refrained from asking.

  Agnes stepped out of her gown. Dressed in her underdress, she said, “Take the gown and hang it over there. In the morning I will want you to bring me my breakfast. Then I will instruct you as to your duties for the rest of the day. Now I wish you to fetch me a fresh pitcher of water, then leave immediately. I will not need you for the rest of the night.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  After Magdalen hung up the dress, she took the large water pitcher from Agnes’s chamber and left.

  Downstairs in the kitchen she found Steffan carrying in an armload of wood for the kitchen fire. He dumped it by the oven.

  “Is that Lady Magdalen’s water pitcher?” Frau Clara strode into the kitchen. “Kitchen boy.” She looked at Steffan. “Go fetch a fresh bucket of water for the lady’s pitcher.”

  Steffan looked at her.

  Magdalen set down the pitcher. “I’ll go with him.” She hurried out the door before Frau Clara could protest.

  It was nearly dark outside as they made their way to the well. Steffan looked all around. Everyone must have gone to their beds for the night.

  “You need a good night’s rest,” Magdalen told him.

  “I would agree with that. But tomorrow, sleep or no sleep, I will break away and search for my portrait.”

  “May I help?”

  “Perhaps. Where will you be tomorrow?”

  “I have to bring the lady her breakfast. After that, I’m not sure. I had at least two hours this afternoon with nothing to do. If I’d known where to look I could—”

  “You will be free until the cook gets her breakfast prepared, ja?”

  “Ja.”

  “But I do not want to endanger you.” He glanced away and shook his head. “If Lord Hazen caught you snooping around the castle, you would be in just as much danger as I am.”

  “I do not think he would kill me, since he doesn’t know who I am. Whereas with you . . .”

  Steffan hauled the water bucket back up, pulling the rope hand over hand, his upper arms and back flexing against his shirt in the waning twilight. When the bucket reached the top, he unhooked it from the windlass. The Duke of Wolfberg had grown some muscles since she danced with him at Thornbeck.

  “Come. We should go inside.”

  “So you think the portrait is in Lord Hazen’s room?”

  “I think it could be, since that room belonged to my parents. I used to play there when I was a boy, and my steward said he hid it in the place where I used to play as a small child. But you should not go there. I want you to promise me you won’t.”

  She wanted to tell him that she was not a child and she was not betrothed to him and therefore could do what she wanted. But they were already entering the kitchen.

  Steffan lifted the bucket and tilted it to pour into the pitcher.

  “Thank you, Stoffel,” Magdalen said. “I shall see you tomorrow.”

  Behind her Frau Clara told
him, “You may go to your room. Climb to the top of the stairs and go to the room on the left.”

  Magdalen walked slower, waiting for Steffan to reach her. When she was halfway up the first flight of stairs, he caught up.

  “Are you well? Perhaps you should see a healer.”

  “Lord Hazen sent away the only good one.” His voice was deep and gruff.

  “Is there a physician or barber who could look at your head?”

  “I just need to sleep.”

  She didn’t say anything the rest of the way up. When they arrived at the third level, he nodded at her and continued up. Her heart squeezed painfully as he passed out of sight, his shoulders slumping.

  “There you are.” Agnes stood in front of her open bedchamber door.

  Magdalen hurried toward her with the pitcher of water.

  “What took you so long? Are you consorting with that simpleminded boy?”

  “I was concerned about his injury, but he is going to bed now.”

  “He is not your concern. Your only concern is to please me.” Agnes raised her chin.

  “How may I please you, my lady?” Magdalen couldn’t quite keep the irony out of her voice.

  “You may bring me my water.”

  Magdalen entered the room and set the pitcher on the table.

  “I have no more need of you this evening. You may go.”

  Magdalen left the room, refusing to curtsy to her. When she reached the stairs, she hurried up, but at the top Steffan was nowhere in sight.

  She sighed, went into her shared bedchamber, and thankfully one of the other maidservants had put a sheet on her bed. Magdalen closed her eyes, clasped her hands, and prayed silently for Steffan’s well-being.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The next day Steffan’s head felt much better, except for a tiny pain over his eye, but every muscle in his arms and legs was screaming for his full attention.

  He got dressed slowly, with Lord Hazen’s personal servant telling him to make haste and get down to the kitchen to stoke the morning fire.

  Steffan walked down the corridor, but the first step he took down the stairs made him gasp in pain. He grimaced with every step, and when he reached the next level, Magdalen was waiting for him.