Page 18 of The Noble Servant

Finally, Alexander’s shuffling footsteps passed right by where Steffan stood hidden behind his own bedchamber door. He longed to reach out, clap a hand over Alexander’s mouth, drag him into the room, and threaten him with immediate death if he did not reveal his true identity.

Steffan could not kill Alexander after promising the priest he would only kill in self-defense. But his cousin did not have to know that.

He had to be wise, to wait until he had proof before making his claims known to the world.

His cousin continued to the stairs and soon was gone. Was he going to Steffan’s father’s bedchamber? Was Alexander sleeping in Steffan’s dead father’s bed? Heat rose to his forehead as he itched to chase after him and strangle him for his insolence.

He took a deep breath. It was not enough. He dragged in another and another. Finally, his breathing had calmed enoughto allow him to proceed quietly down the hall to Lady Magdalen’s chamber.

Attempting not to make a sound, he tried her door. The handle did not even creak as he turned it. Ever so slowly, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

No one screamed. In fact, he did not see anyone in the room at all. Had he gotten the wrong door? But then he heard voices from an adjoining room. The door between the two rooms was partially open, enough for him to see and hear two women talking, probably Lady Magdalen and her maidservant.

He took a step toward them, intent on telling Lady Magdalen the truth and taking her away from here. But something made him stop. He shifted until he could see the two women better.

The servant was wearing the usual white kerchief and blue sleeveless overdress. She was brushing Lady Magdalen’s hair while the lady sat on a stool. Lady Magdalen was instructing the servant on how she wanted her hair braided for her night’s sleep.

“Yes, Lady Magdalen.” The servant put down the brush and started to braid.

The woman’s hair seemed somehow different from Lady Magdalen’s, and when she turned her head to look at the maidservant ... the eyes and the mouth were all wrong. Even the shape of her face was wrong.

That woman was not Lady Magdalen.

His mind raced as he took a step back. The two women had not seen him, so he kept moving backward as quietly as possible as he let himself back into the corridor.

He raised a hand to his head. “What is happening?” he whispered. He shook his head. There was no reason to save the lovelyand interesting Lady Magdalen from his dim-witted cousin because this woman was not her.

“Ho, there,” a guard called from the other end of the corridor. “What are you doing in front of Lady Magdalen’s door?”

“Oh, I am looking for Lord Hazen.” Steffan walked toward the guard. “He asked me to come and—” Steffan struck the back of the man’s neck at the base of his skull, knocking him to the floor. Then he ran as fast as he could down the stairs, taking them three at a time, and leapt for the back door.

He ran outside, then locked the door with his key. He walked at a normal pace toward the menservants’ barracks.

His heart was pounding, partially from his encounter with the guard and from running down all those stairs, but also because of his thoughts.

Who is that woman who was kissing Alexander, and where is Lady Magdalen?

Magdalen herded her gaggle of gray geese down the side of the hill to a large meadow Katrin had told her about. It was too late in the summer for flowers, but she imagined this green grass would be covered in wildflowers come spring.

She had devised a plan. She would send a letter to Avelina, the wife of the Margrave of Thornbeck, and ask for her help. Magdalen could make a pen out of a goose feather. But how would she find ink and paper?

She did not like asking for Lady Thornbeck’s help. Avelina had just given birth to her first child, and she did not need to be bothered with Magdalen’s problems. It would also be humiliatingto admit what had happened. Not to mention that it was partially her own fault—Magdalen could not even inspire loyalty in her household servants.

And yet ... she needed help. She had no power, no money, no friends or family who knew of her problem. Her mother would be outraged, but she hardly had a contingent of soldiers hanging about Mallin waiting to rescue Magdalen from her embarrassing situation.

The geese were ambling about the meadow, making their contented noises—little half honks that sounded like laughter—while they grazed in the tall grass.

They looked safe, so she covered her face with her hands. “Oh Lord God in heaven, I don’t know what to do.” Her voice was muffled and low, but God could hear everything. “I am afraid. I have no one to help me, except Lord and Lady Thornbeck, and I don’t know how to ask them. They are so far away. I need Your help.” What else could she say? “I might ask more specifically, God, for help, but I don’t even know what to ask for. But I assume You know what to do. You are God, after all. So please help me.”

Her way of praying to God was not the usual way, and perhaps it was not the prescribed way, but she had started praying as if she were speaking to her father when she was a child. She would never pray this way if anyone could hear her.

There seemed to be nothing else to do but write a letter to Lord and Lady Thornbeck. And she must write to her mother as well. As humiliating as it might be, they would send help and restore Magdalen to her rightful place.

Now she just needed to figure out how to get paper and ink—and messengers to take the letters.

The sounds of the geese broke into her thoughts. Being alonewith them in this open field reminded her of the long walks she used to take. Sometimes she would sneak away so she wouldn’t have to hear her mother’s disapproving words about a baron’s daughter “climbing up and down the rocks like a mountain goat.” And when she went with her father to visit the mines, Mother would say nothing—until she came back.

“Disgraceful for a baron to take his oldest daughter to the mines around those rough peasants,” she would say. “Your father wishes you were a boy.”