The woman sitting across from them made a growling sound deep in her throat. “Before the young duke left to get his education in Prague, we had meat in our porridge—a little bacon at least.” She looked with disgust at the porridge on her spoon.
Katrin scooped some food into her mouth, then scrunched her face and quickly took a bite of her bread roll.
Magdalen’s stomach rumbled, so she took a bite of the porridge, then followed it with a quick bite of bread. It did not taste terrible. But it also did not taste good. After a few more bites, she began to feel queasy, and she just finished her bread. The other servants mopped out their bowls with the last morsels of their bread, then put away the bowls and spoons.
“Not eating that?” Hanns stood behind her, pointing at her bowl.
She shook her head and gave it to him.
“Come,” Katrin whispered, “before he asks you your name again.”
They hustled out the door of the servants’ dining hall. It was nearly dark now, and Katrin led her around the grassy area behind the castle. They proceeded toward a row of wooden buildings.
“Where did you say you came from?” Katrin asked.
“I am from Mallin.”
“And what is your name?”
If she told Katrin the truth, word might get back to Agnes, and she might have Magdalen thrown into the dungeon. However, she could not bring herself to say her name was Agnes either.
“You can call me Maggie.”
“Maggie? That’s an unusual name. I know three other Katrins in 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 down Almstrasse toward the Marktplatz in the center of town. Then he turned down Rathausstrasse while 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 framing the 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, but nein.” 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?”
“Ja, I met him when I was a boy. He was very kind.”
“He was indeed. Won’t you sit down and let me send the servant for some cool water and a bit of bread and butter?”
“Danke schön. That is very kind of you.”
He would never see Jacob again. How could this be true? He felt so numb he was not sure he could keep his wits about him.
The servant brought a goblet of water for him and a wooden serving tray with bread, butter, and a knife.
“How is it you have not heard of Jacob’s death? Most of the town came to the burial.”
“I have been away.”
Frau Binder’s brow wrinkled. She seemed about to speak, then only stared down at the floor.
“Frau Binder, I know you don’t remember me, but I was very close to Jacob. If something is amiss at the castle, I pray you would tell me.”
She considered his face, as though discerning his character. “You are the duke.”
Steffan sat back. “How did you know?”
“What other young man would be asking for Jacob after being away? Besides that, I remember you as a boy. You have the same brown eyes.”