Page 9 of The Noble Servant

“You can call me Maggie.”

“Maggie? That’s an unusual name. I know three other Katrinsin 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 downAlmstrassetoward theMarktplatzin the center of town. Then he turned downRathausstrassewhile 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 framingthe 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, butnein.” 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?”