Page 38 of The Noble Servant

“Good. Now, here is what every house servant wears at Wolfberg Castle. I will expect you to attend me at all times during the day, but at night you may sleep with the other house servants at the top of the stairs.”

Magdalen looked down at the clothes, the same color and style as those she had stolen and were now stuffed under her bed at the servants’ barracks.

Agnes put one hand on her hip and gestured with the other. “Now I want you,Agnes, to put on these clothes and clean my rooms while I go downstairs and join my husband. He is in the Great Hall waiting for me, and we have a wedding feast to attend.”

Magdalen’s blood boiled.She will get what she deserves when everyone finds out what she’s done.When Steffan revealed the truth, she would discover that she wasn’t married to the Duke of Wolfbergat all, but his cousin, and Agnes and her pretend husband would be executed for their actions. People had been hanged for far less.

Agnes spoke muffled words to the guard on the other side of the door. Magdalen was left alone in the silent room.

Trapped. If only she had left as soon as she saw the man Agnes was marrying. But it was dangerous for a woman to travel alone. And she had not looked forward to going home and facing her mother.

This deception Lord Hazen had played on the people of Wolfberg and the true Duke of Wolfberg would have been chiefly perpetrated against Mother. His actions would have caused her by far the most injury. And Agnes ... Mother would be convinced that Agnes had forced Magdalen to switch places with her to get back at Mother for some unjust reason. And Magdalen’s suffering at Agnes’s hands would be nothing compared to Mother’s disappointment, Mother’s humiliation, Mother’s suffering.

Father had always been quick to ask himself how someone else might feel in any situation. He seemed to know, instinctively, what other people were thinking and feeling. He was sympathetic, gentle, and kind. At least she’d had his example.

Magdalen sighed. Perhaps Lenhart could go home with her, minimizing the dangers.

Poor Lenhart. He was not accustomed to working in a stable any more than Magdalen was used to cleaning up after the woman who was once her own servant.

“This is unfair, God,” Magdalen whispered. “I never mistreated Agnes in any way. Please come to my rescue. Defend me and restore to me my fortunes.”

It was the people’s plight that filled Magdalen with guilt and regret. They were depending on her to marry someone wealthywho could help them improve their lives and provide a better way of sustaining themselves than trying to live off crops grown in their rocky soil.

She tried not to dwell on these painful thoughts as she tidied up Agnes’s room, putting away her discarded clothing.

Shouting erupted from the corridor outside the bedchamber door. Magdalen stood still and listened. Was that Steffan’s voice?

She ran to the door and opened it, just in time to see the guard slam the hilt of his sword into Steffan’s forehead, then punch him in the stomach.

He crumpled to his knees. The guard grabbed him under one arm and raised his sword.

“Stop!” Magdalen lunged forward and threw herself between the guard and Steffan. “What are you doing to this poor shepherd?” She glared up at the guard, then remembered that she was not the daughter of a baron now. The guard could knock her out of the way and no one would blame him.

“He does not belong here,” the guard growled. “Get back in Lady Magdalen’s chamber whereyoubelong.”

If she obeyed, he would surely continue to pummel Steffan. Her limbs went weak at the thought.

“Please, please do not harm this man. He ... he did not know where he was. He was looking for me.” Her mind was spinning, trying to think of the most plausible thing that might convince him to stop beating Steffan.

“Looking for you?”

“Yes, he ... he is very simpleminded and has attached himself to me.” She clasped her hands together in what she hoped was a meek and humble posture. “Please, he is quite harmless. Do not beat him anymore. In your great strength you will surely kill him.”

The guard stepped back and his face lost some of its scowl. “Simple? Do you mean he is daft?”

“Yes, now please, help me get him up. He is bleeding all over the floor.”

The guard didn’t move for a moment, then he sheathed his sword and placed a hand under Steffan’s arm, lifting him up.

Magdalen put his other arm over her shoulders and walked him through the open doorway of Agnes’s bedchamber.

The guard growled, “If you get blood on Lady Magdalen’s chamber floor—”

“I’ll clean it up. Please don’t trouble yourself.”

He guided Steffan to a bench by the wall, where Steffan plopped down, his head still lowered. That was when Magdalen noticed the blood dripping on the floor.

“Clean his face,” the guard said, “then send him out before Lady Magdalen gets back. Tell him he’s not to be in the castle. His place is with the sheep.”