Chapter Five
Magdalen ducked her head and ran down the hill toward the goose pen.
The geese started honking. Her hand shook as she unlatched the gate. What did she know about taking care of geese?
The goose girl at home would herd the geese with a long, thin, flexible stick. Magdalen looked around and saw just such a stick lying on top of the low pen. She picked it up and opened the door to let the geese out.
The large gray birds flocked out the door, some of them extending their wings, as if stretching after being cramped. A few of them looked at Magdalen and honked.
What was she to do now? Of course they were surprised to see her and not Katrin. Would they keep honking until people came to see what was the matter?
She slapped the ground twice with the long, limber stick. The geese started waddling one behind the other down the little path of worn grass down the side of the gentle hill, and the honking lessened until only one goose was still raising a ruckus. Eventually the noisy one honked less enthusiastically.
She had to get into the castle as soon as possible. What would she do with all these geese? She had no idea if they could be left alone. At the bottom of the hillside, the geese spread out and nibbled at the green grass with their little orange beaks.
Magdalen became more and more aware of a sound, something like the wind rushing through treetops, but more like a dull, far-off roar. Where was it coming from? But she had no time to chase the sound. She had to figure out what to do with the geese.
Some of them were smaller than the others. Perhaps those were the goslings. She seemed to remember that the geese that nested in the area around the lake near the back of her home in Mallin had babies following them around in the spring and summer. These must be the goslings, as they were a bit fuzzier than the larger ones, while the larger ones seemed to be losing some of their feathers.
The birds seemed restless, occasionally honking at each other or flapping their wings. But at least none of them were trying to run away. Magdalen sat on the grass and rubbed her eyes.
What was the duke doing at this moment? Had he met with Agnes over a large breakfast in the Great Hall? Or was Agnes sleeping late and reveling in her newfound luxury?
Magdalen should probably hate Agnes. She still could hardly believe what she had done. What had driven the maidservant to do something so drastic? If she were found out—and she certainly would be—dire consequences for her actions would ensue. Would the Duke of Wolfberg have her put to death? Magdalen supposed she could beg the duke to banish Agnes instead. Perhaps they could send her and her father away to the Kievan Rus region where the savage Cossacks lived, or even to the north country where it was rarely ever warm. Then they would be sorry for the way they treated Magdalen.
What she needed was a plan to get into the castle and speak to the duke. She had to tell him she was Lady Magdalen. Could she disguise herself as an indoor servant? What did they wear? Frau Clara wore a white kerchief on her head. Now that she thought of it, she remembered another house servant wearing the same white kerchief and . . . a green kirtle. Or was it blue? With the gray sleeves of her underdress showing. Perhaps she could find the laundry and snatch some clothing.
She stood and looked around. Should she leave the geese? Though they were pecking at the grass, they mostly stayed together as a group, except for one goose that was waddling away from the others.
She ran toward the goose that had wandered astray. What had Frau Clara said? If she lost a goose she would be “severely punished.”
As Magdalen got closer, it looked up and saw her and bolted the other way.
“No, no. Come back.” She clenched her teeth. Would more geese wander away while she was chasing this one?
She worked at sneaking around it. When she was on the other side, she slapped the ground with the stick. “Go on, goose. Go back with your friends. Go on.” But instead of moving, he stretched his neck toward her and let out a loud honk.
“I’m not afraid of you. Now go!” She slapped her stick on the ground to punctuate her words.
He flapped his wings and honked again.
Oh God, please help me. I have no idea how to make this lack-witted bird do anything I want it to.
The goose put its head down to pluck at the grass.
“Go on, I said. Go.” She tapped its tail feathers with the stick.
Gradually the errant goose waddled its way back toward the rest of the flock. They were all intent on eating, their heads bent to the ground.
“Stay.” Maybe this would not be so difficult after all.
Magdalen hurried up the hill and found the path that would take her to the castle. She ran, glancing back to make sure none of the geese followed her. They did not, so she kept running.
When she reached the castle, she slowed so as not to attract attention to herself. She was breathing hard as she walked around to the front and watched as people came and went through the gate. A steep cliff and deep ravine around this side of the castle formed a natural barrier, and the only way into the castle yard was a bridge over the ravine, with a gatehouse on the bridge.
A cart rolled through the gate, drawn by a mule with a man leading it. Several people milled around the courtyard. Some maidservants were gathered to one side, standing around a fire and a huge black cauldron. Were these the laundresses?
Magdalen moved closer, skirting as close to the edge of the ravine as possible, hoping no one would notice her. On the other side of the women near the cauldron was a clothesline with several gray underdresses, white kerchiefs, and blue kirtles hanging along it. Just what she was looking for.
Magdalen hid behind a bush. She eyed the garments, trying to decide which kirtle would best fit her. The women were pulling items out of the cauldron and laying them on the ground to cool. Then two women would stretch out a cooled piece of clothing and twist and squeeze it between them. They did not seem to be paying any attention to the apparel on the line.
Magdalen sprang forward. She flipped a kerchief off the line, then a blue kirtle, tucked them under her arm, and raced for cover. She crouched behind the nearest bush.
No one yelled. No one ran after her. She waited until her breathing slowed. Sweat was dampening her underarms. Never had she stolen anything. Surely God would forgive her for trying to save the duke from marrying Agnes—as well as trying to save herself and her people.
Magdalen moved away from the ravine and found a stand of trees. She stared down at the clothes. Her hands were shaking. But she couldn’t approach the same guard again, not so soon after he had turned her away. The other back door was locked, and the door through the kitchen was swarming with the maidservants who had snickered at her less than an hour ago. The only other door was the front door, and she would probably get a harsh scolding if she endeavored to go through it.
She would simply hide the clothes under her bed in the servants’ barracks until she could get past the back-door guard or enter the kitchen without being seen.
When she neared the long wooden building, she saw several other servants congregated out front. So she steered herself back toward the hill where she’d left the birds.
The geese were still grazing on the grass, but they had spread out. She glanced around. Where could she hide the clothes? A pile of brush at the edge of the woods caught her eye. She approached, lifted the branches, and stuffed the stolen clothing underneath. The blue and white still showed through the cracks. She found a few rocks and piled them on top. There. That was the best she could do.