Wolfberg Castle stood on a hill overlooking the sea. She’d never beheld the sea. What would it be like to hear the waves crashing against the shore? What kind of rocks might she find there?
“Rosings Abbey is just ahead.” Erlich pointed to the lane off to the right.
Darkness closed in on them. Erlich reined in his horse as he waited for Lenhart to turn the mules, drawing Magdalen’s cart into the lane that would carry them to the abbey. The tall convent buildings, with their steep roofs, were visible above the rows of trees.
At the abbey a young nun greeted them with a bow. She led Magdalen and Agnes to a long, low building, then to an austere room with two small cots. Magdalen’s legs were like jelly after using them all day to brace herself as she rode in the jarring cart.
Agnes set her bundle on the floor. She turned one way then the other, her tight blonde braid swaying as she stretched her back. “I shall go and speak with my father and return soon.” Agnes did not ask permission but simply walked out before Magdalen could reply.
Gretha, who had been her constant companion since Hegatha had died of a sudden apoplexy, had been all set to come to Wolfberg with her. The day before they were to leave, Gretha told Magdalen she would not be going with her, but Agnes would be taking her place.
Not wanting to hurt Agnes’s feelings, Magdalen had agreed.
Now as Magdalen prepared to lie down and sleep before the third and final day of their journey, she wished she had inquired more particularly about how this change had come to pass. Every day Agnes had done something—given Magdalen a shrewd look or spoken more sharply to her than any servant should—to make Magdalen regret allowing her to accompany her.
And now, instead of asking her mistress if she needed anything, Agnes had left Magdalen to struggle alone to take off her heavy overdress.
Magdalen didn’t want to embarrass Agnes in front of her father, but as soon as they arrived in Wolfberg, she would have a stern talk with Agnes about her duties as a lady’s maidservant. And if her attitude did not improve, she would replace her with someone from Wolfberg.
Magdalen lay on the narrow cot, covered with a thin blanket since it was still late summer and warm, and thought of her future husband.
Good sense told her it was strange that the Duke of Wolfberg would ask to marry her when Magdalen was only the daughter of a poor widowed baroness. He had seemed sensible when she met him and a man of integrity as well. Every time she closed her eyes and recalled his face, his smile, the kindness in his eyes, her heart fluttered.
But truly, she knew very little about him. She had talked to him, all total, for only two or three hours.
Agnes opened the door, then shut it behind herself, interrupting Magdalen’s musings.
“When you are ready for bed, you may blow out the candle,” Magdalen told her.
“I will.” A snide tone infused her cheerful voice.
Magdalen said a prayer to quell her uneasiness and closed her eyes.
The next morning when Magdalen awoke, Agnes was gone. Magdalen gathered her things, dressed herself, and was ready to go when Agnes came back in.
“Here is your breakfast, Lady Magdalen.” With bold eyes she handed Magdalen a warm bundle. Inside was a bun stuffed with meat and cheese. “I also snagged us some apple pasties. Are you ready to go?”
Soon they met Erlich and Lenhart with the cart, mules, and horse and set out on the road to Wolfberg.
When they halted for their midday meal, Magdalen climbed down from the cart and took a drink from the small spring nearby. She splashed some of the cold water on her face, then wiped her cheeks and forehead with a cloth.
When they had finished eating, Agnes and her father kept glancing at each other. A nervous flutter in the pit of Magdalen’s stomach caused her to watch them closely. Agnes clutched a small bag to her midsection as she turned to face Magdalen.
“This is how things are.” Agnes’s eyes were hard and dark as she stood five paces away. “I want to be married to a duke, to be rich, and you are going to change places with me.” Agnes pulled her hand out of the bag withdrawing a knife. Her father stepped behind her.
A cold tingling crept into Magdalen’s face and spread to her fingertips. Her gaze flitted from Agnes’s knife to her father. “Erlich?”
“Do as she says, if you wish to live.” He skewered her with a dark, hard look.
Agnes held the knife higher, at the level of Magdalen’s chest.
Just then, Lenhart came out of the trees after relieving himself and gasped. He halted and stared.
“Boy, stay back.” Erlich glanced at Lenhart. “Agnes is your new mistress. From this day on, Magdalen is no better than you are. Do you understand?”
Lenhart continued to stare, his eyes big and round, his mouth hanging open. He shook his head.
Magdalen tried to think of how she might defend herself and Lenhart, but she had no weapon. What could she possibly do?
“Take off your outer dress.” Agnes motioned with the knife. “I will wear yours and you will wear mine. From now on, your name is Agnes and mine is Lady Magdalen of Mallin.”
Lenhart grunted, an angry sound, as he stepped toward Agnes.
“I said stay back, boy.” Erlich faced Lenhart with clenched fists.
Lenhart shook his head at him and grunted again. He lunged at Agnes’s arm. She screamed and Erlich grabbed Lenhart’s shoulder. Erlich drew back his fist and slammed it in Lenhart’s face, knocking him to the ground.
“Stop it!” Magdalen rushed to Lenhart’s side and fell to her knees. “How can you be so cruel?” Blood oozed from a cut over his eye.
“If he tries to interfere again, he’ll get worse than that.” No hint of remorse tempered Erlich’s voice. “Now do as you are told.”
Magdalen pulled a clean cloth from her sleeve. She pressed it against Lenhart’s eyebrow to stanch the bleeding.
“Get up!” Erlich yelled.
Lenhart took the cloth and nudged her away. Fear and compassion shone in his eyes—he was worried they would hurt her.
Magdalen stood to her feet.
Both Erlich and Agnes glared at her out of narrowed eyes and hardened faces. But the knife Agnes thrust at Magdalen’s face was shaking.
“Agnes, you cannot be in earnest.”
“I am. And if you do not make haste to remove your dress, my father will rip it off.”
Erlich stepped around Agnes and stalked toward Magdalen.
“Very well.” Magdalen reached under one arm to untie the laces at the side of her overdress. “But I do not know how you think you will get away with this. The duke knows what I look like. Do you think he will believe an imposter?”
“He will have no choice. I will show up saying I am you. I do not look so different from you. While wearing your clothes, I will be just as good as any baron’s daughter.”
Magdalen could do naught except comply. Underneath her overdress she wore a long-sleeved, ankle-length chemise. She untied the other side of her sleeveless blue overdress.
“And you had best not get any ideas about telling the duke who you are, or I will kill you and the boy. At least we don’t have to worry about him telling anyone.” Erlich alluded to Lenhart’s muteness.
Magdalen’s hands began to tremble. If Agnes and her father killed Lenhart and her, how would anyone know what had happened to them? In fact, Erlich and Agnes might decide they were safer if they did. Should Magdalen try to fight them?