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.”
He rubbed a hand down his beard. “I see my disguise is not as effective as I’d hoped.”
“I think you will be able to fool most people. Just don’t look directly into people’s eyes. That is a sure sign you are not a peasant.”
He nodded at the good advice. He’d rarely been around peasants enough to observe them. Even at the university in Prague he’d spent most of his time with wealthy burghers’ sons. Few people there knew he was a duke, and he’d enjoyed blending in. Everyone assumed he was an ordinary, though wealthy, young man.
“There is another reason I recognized you. My brother told me, not long before he died, that you might come looking for something. He said to give you this note.” She went to the hearth, removed a loose stone from the front, and pulled out a small rolled-up parchment tied with string.
Steffan took it from her hand, then untied and unrolled it.
I hid your portrait in the castle in the place where you used to play as a small child.
Jacob’s last words to him. But where did he mean? Steffan and his sister had played all over the castle. He would have to think more about this later. “Do you have a cook fire?”
Frau Binder led him to the kitchen. Steffan threw the small parchment in the flames and watched it burn until it was nothing but ash.
“Does anyone know you are in Wolfberg?” she asked as she led him back inside the house.
“No. But you must tell me what has been happening here.”
“Lord Hazen came to Wolfberg and sent away all the servants at the castle and replaced them with people from his own town of Arnsbaden. Then Jacob fell down the stairs at the castle and broke his neck and died.” She lowered her voice. “I do not think it was an accident. It is very likely that Lord Hazen had him killed because he was too loyal to you. Jacob must have discovered his evil intentions.”
“My uncle sent two men to have me killed as well.”
“Saints above.” Frau Binder exhaled and made the sign of the cross over her chest. “God shall have His vengeance on the man for killing my poor brother. But to have the lack of natural feeling to kill his own nephew . . . And he will try again.”
“Only if he discovers I’m still alive. You must not tell anyone you spoke to me.”
“Nein, of course not.”
“But I will need a way to get into the castle. I could work as a servant or guard perhaps.”
“I don’t know anyone at the castle anymore who could give you work. And wouldn’t that be too dangerous? Lord Hazen could recognize you.”
“I have to get inside the castle. When Lord Hazen tells everyone that I am dead, that portrait is one of the only things that can prove I am the Duke of Wolfberg.”
“You think he will tell King Karl that you are dead so he can take over Wolfberg?”
“Yes.”
She twisted her mouth and stared at the floor. “I do know one person, the steward in charge of the outdoor servants who take care of the livestock.”
“Whatever it takes to keep me close to the castle.”
Magdalen awoke to her stomach growling. She got dressed and went with Katrin to the servants’ dining hall, where they had barley bread and oat pottage. Both were tasteless, but Magdalen ate them, swallowing the best she could and washing it down with the weak fermented drink that came from a large wooden cask in the corner of the room. The drink smelled bad and tasted worse, but she drank it anyway.
She had slept better than she might have imagined, but she had been exhausted from the tense day and the long trip. Now she turned her mind to getting into the castle and finding the duke.
She walked outside with Katrin, who pointed down the side of the castle mount at the little wooden goose pen.
“The geese are mostly gentle and even like to be petted, but stay away from the one with the black spot on his beak. He bites.”
Magdalen nodded absently. She’d nearly forgotten she was supposed to take care of the geese.
“Now I must go to work in the kitchen, but I shall try to come this afternoon, if the cook allows it, to tell you all of their names—the geese, I mean. They are very clever and know when you are calling them. Farewell.” Katrin waved as she hurried back toward the brick building.
No one seemed to be around the back of the castle. She turned and stared up at the huge stone building, with its five towers and multitude of windows. A door caught her eye. She lifted her skirts and ran up the hill.
She reached the door, out of breath and panting. Waiting for her breathing to slow, she put her hand on the iron handle. She pulled down on it, but it did not move. She tried again, using all her strength to open the wooden door, but the handle did not budge.
If she was to save herself, she had to get into this castle. She continued around to the west side of the enormous stone building and found another door, identical to the one on the back. People milled about in the bailey. A few gathered around the well, and some others stood in front of the blacksmith’s little shop.
Magdalen tried to look inconspicuous as she put her hand on the handle. She held her breath as she pulled down. It opened! She pulled the door farther open and stepped inside.
“Who are you?” A guard stood in front of her. “This door is not for servants.”
Magdalen’s cheeks burned. How dare he speak to her like that? She opened her mouth to scold him but then remembered . . . she was a servant.
“I . . . I need to see Frau Clara.”
“Go through the kitchen.” He seemed to thrust out his chest, as if to push her back out.
“Very well.” She had little choice but to turn around and leave. The soldier slammed the door behind her.
All the people around her—the servants at the well, the men standing about the blacksmith stall—stared at her. She pretended not to notice them and walked back the way she had come.
The brick kitchen building was connected to the main castle by a brick enclosure that provided no outside entry. She’d have to go through the kitchen door.
She walked toward it. “Please don’t let anyone see me or ask me what I’m doing,” she whispered.
Magdalen stepped inside the kitchen. Immediately, eight pairs of eyes focused on her.
“Maggie.” Katrin stood with several other women either chopping vegetables or kneading bread at a table in the center of the room. A fire was burning in the large fireplace.
Katrin came toward her. “Are you well? Are the geese—?”
Magdalen spoke softly. “I need to speak to Frau Clara. I’m just going inside for a moment—” She took a step toward the enclosure that led into the castle.
“Where are you going?” the cook shouted. “You cannot go in there. Who are you?”
“She is the goose girl,” Katrin said. “Her name is Maggie, and she has only just arrived.”
“If she’s the goose girl, then why isn’t she tending the geese?” The middle-aged woman looked askance at Magdalen.
She should try to talk her way in, but what should she say? Every person was staring at her, and two young maidens snickered, hiding their mouths behind their hands.
“I shall speak to Frau Clara later. Excuse me.” Magdalen went back out the door. A titter of laughter followed her.
Her cheeks burned. She would have to sneak in another way, another time, as more servants finished their morning meal and headed out to work. They stared at her. In a place where people rarely came and went, of course they stared. She was a stranger. It was the same in Mallin. When someone new arrived, everyone whispered about them until they could discover everything about the person. But no one had ever treated her this way. Tears stung her eyes. Was she destined to be scorned for the rest of her life?