The Noble Servant

  “You can put the food down there.” Steffan pointed to the floor.

  Alexander bent and placed the cloth bundle on the floor and the loaf of bread on top.

  “Will you forgive me, Magdalen?” Agnes asked from across the room.

  Magdalen was quiet, then said, “I do forgive you, Agnes, and I forgive your father, even though he’s not sorry.”

  “Do you forgive me, Steffan?” Alexander held his gaze.

  He didn’t want Magdalen to think less of him. She was so generous herself. “Ja, I forgive you, Alexander.” And then he felt a warmth inside and realized he really did forgive him. What else could he do? Christians were forgiven and therefore must forgive. But the feeling flowing through him could not be from himself. He’d been angry with his cousin for too long.

  But Steffan did not intend to let his uncle get away with what he had done, killing Jacob, and many others, no doubt. Hazen had not repented, and neither had Agnes’s father. They deserved punishment, and Jacob deserved justice.

  “Thank you.” Alexander looked genuinely relieved and even smiled. “We will leave you now.”

  “Alexander.”

  His cousin turned to glance back at him.

  “Does your father know we are here?”

  He shook his head. “He knows you left Mallin and came this way, but he thinks you are hiding in the woods nearby. But you should be careful.”

  Steffan nodded.

  The two of them backed out the door and were gone.

  Magdalen shut the window, then latched it closed. “Oh, Steffan, I’m so sorry.” She burst into tears, bowing her head and covering her face with her hands.

  He crossed the room, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her to his chest. “Why are you sorry? What heinous crime have you committed?” He said it playfully, hoping to stop her tears.

  “It is my fault they found us. I was the one laughing. How could I be so careless?” She sniffed, her cheek pressed against his chest.

  “Don’t worry. If Alexander and Agnes are telling the truth, they will not tell Lord Hazen.”

  “Do you think they could be lying?” She lifted her head, her eyes shiny with tears and wide with fear. He wanted to protect her so much it made his chest ache.

  “It is possible.” Then he said, more softly, “It is hard for me to trust my cousin. I’m not even sure I should, but if they wanted to betray us, why would they bring us food and ask for forgiveness? It doesn’t make sense.”

  She pressed her cheek against his linen shirt and patted his shoulder. “I know.”

  She was trying to comfort him. Again, his chest squeezed painfully. She was so tenderhearted. He did not deserve her. But he very much wanted to.

  “All we can do now is wait on God to save us.

  “And search for my portrait.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Magdalen held Steffan tight. He was just the sort of man she would want to marry—kindhearted enough to embrace her and comfort her when she cried, and honest enough to admit that he was struggling to trust his cousin’s word.

  Wanting to comfort him made her cease crying as she patted his back and rested against his warm, solid chest. His soft, linen shirt smelled so good—she drew in a deep breath of it—like outdoors and a particular warm smell that was distinct to Steffan.

  She cared so much for him. Should she kiss him on the lips to let him know how she felt?

  She lost her breath at the thought. She wasn’t sure she could be that bold, nor did it seem very wise. Perhaps she should say nothing and enjoy their friendship. But if they were friends, should she not be able to tell him anything?

  “Steffan.” Her breath deserted her again and made it difficult to speak.

  “Yes?” He caressed her shoulder.

  “Everything is about to change, when Lord Thornbeck arrives and all the guests come. What will happen then?”

  “What do you want to happen?” The intense note in Steffan’s voice made her lift her head to look up at him.

  “I . . . I don’t know.” But it was not the truth. She did know, but how could she tell him?

  She stared into his brown eyes. He wasn’t looking at her with that soft, sweet look he sometimes had. It was more of a bracing-for-the-worst expression. Her heart stuttered. “What is the matter?”

  “Nothing. Go on.”

  “I . . .” This was foolish. He had already rejected her once. She would not humiliate herself by forcing him to reject her again. She blurted, “What shall we do with Alexander and Agnes when we are in our rightful roles again?”

  She had an uncomfortable feeling inside, almost as if she had lied. But she’d only avoided saying what was truly on her mind. And it was a good question for both of them to consider.

  Steffan lifted his head, his eyes suddenly alert. He grasped her arm.

  A sound drifted in from outside. Steffan hurried toward the window and she followed.

  They looked out, staying far enough back so no one could see them. A group of people were entering through the gate. Was that her mother riding on a horse? Mother said a lady should never take a long trip on horseback.

  “It is my mother! My mother came.”

  Steffan’s arm pressed against her shoulder. “Ja, and Lord Thornbeck is just behind her. Look.”

  Lord Thornbeck was a tall, brown-haired, broad-shouldered man on a large black horse, and riding beside him on a smaller brown horse was his wife. “Lady Avelina!”

  They looked magnificent, with the bright-colored trappings covering Lord and Lady Thornbeck’s horses. His knights also wore the Thornbeck colors. Mother and her few men looked drab compared to them.

  “They’re coming to help us.” Magdalen’s heart swelled. “Thank you, thank you, Avelina and Lord Thornbeck,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. “See how angry my mother looks?” She stifled a nervous laugh. “I can hardly wait to greet Avelina. Do you think it’s safe now to go downstairs?”

  “We should wait a few minutes. We don’t want to risk getting seized by Lord Hazen’s guards before our friends are inside the castle.”

  “Oh, that makes sense.”

  They watched out the window until everyone had passed through the gate. Steffan’s arm pressed against hers. He gently pulled her shoulder around so they were facing each other.

  “Magdalen, I have something to say to you.” His eyes were so intense, staring straight into her, it seemed. His forehead was creased and his mouth tense.

  She raised her hand to touch his beard. A lump in her throat forced her to swallow, while her heart beat erratically. She moved her gaze from his lips to his deep-brown eyes.

  He bent his head closer until their foreheads were nearly touching. “I’ve been waiting for the right time to tell you, and I don’t want to wait anymore.”

  “This is a charming sight.”

  They spun around. Lord Hazen stood in the doorway with three guards.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Steffan placed his body between Lord Hazen and Magdalen, heat flowing through his veins, setting every muscle and nerve on alert.

  “My mother is here,” Magdalen said. “You had better not think of harming us. And Lord Thornbeck. He will—”

  “Guards,” Lord Hazen growled.

  The guards moved toward them. Magdalen screamed. One guard grabbed her and placed a hand over her mouth. Steffan eluded a second guard and leapt at the one holding Magdalen. He slammed his fist into the guard’s face.

  A third guard landed a blow to Steffan’s head. He fell back, the room going black for a moment. Then the guard grabbed his shirt front and dragged him across the floor.

  Magdalen was fighting and clawing the guard holding on to her. Steffan opened his mouth to tell the guard he would kill him if he injured her, but another guard stuffed something in his mouth and held his hands behind his back. Steffan, with one great effort, surged to his feet and fell on top of the guard.

  The guard scrambled up, still holding Steffan’s wris
ts in a painful grip, and slammed Steffan’s head on the floor. The blackness returned. He was losing consciousness. God, please. Save Magdalen.

  Magdalen watched in horror as the guard took hold of Steffan and slammed his head on the floor. Steffan went still.

  She tried to scream, but the guard’s hand was clamped over her mouth. She struck at him with her fists. Another guard grabbed her wrists and pinned them behind her back. Then the first guard took his hand from her face and stuffed a cloth in her mouth.

  She tried to kick him but missed. Still holding her wrists with one hand, the second guard picked her up by her waist and carried her across the room.

  Lord Hazen was opening the trapdoor. He must have known about it after all. The other two guards were carrying Steffan toward the trapdoor as well.

  “Now you cannot trouble me. You can stay down there until you rot.”

  While she struggled against her guard, they lifted Steffan’s limp body over the dark hole, then dropped him inside. Magdalen’s stomach sank as she watched him fall.

  The guard lifted Magdalen and lowered her in. When her feet touched the ladder inside, the man let her wrists go, and she scrambled to take the gag out of her mouth. She took a breath and screamed as loud as she could, just as the trapdoor came down and shut out every glimmer of light.

  A groan came from below her. She hurried down the ladder, which was only a couple more rungs, before her foot touched the bottom, then brushed against Steffan’s body.

  She fell to her knees, grasping in the dark for Steffan, following the sounds of his groans.

  “Steffan, are you all right? Tell me what hurts.”

  “Where are we?”

  She touched his bearded chin and managed to lift his head and shoulders and set them in her lap. “We are in the room under the trapdoor.”

  He moaned. “My worst nightmare. To die in a dark hole.” He was breathing hard.

  “We will not die here. Someone will find us. Don’t worry.” That was what he was always telling her—don’t worry. “Everything will be all right. Now tell me how badly you’re injured. Are you bleeding anywhere?”

  His breathing became calmer and more controlled. “No, no, not much.”

  She felt stickiness on the back of his head, but it was hard to tell how much blood he was losing.

  “Are any limbs broken?”

  She heard the movement of his legs on the floor.

  “I think I am well. Just a headache.”

  She remembered she had a cloth in her pocket, pulled it out, and pressed it to his head. She exhaled a long breath.

  “We should see if we can open the trapdoor.” He sat up, then moaned. “I hope they didn’t hurt you.”

  “No, I am well.” The truth was, she had hurt her ankle in all her struggling with the guard. It was throbbing, but she would be well enough, as long as they were able to escape.

  Hazen eyed Agnes. “You did well, telling me where the duke and Lady Magdalen were hiding.”

  She lowered her gaze to the floor. Did she think she could fool him? He knew she hated him and that she gave him the information only because he threatened to kill Alexander. “Now go and find my son and tell him to come immediately to the Great Hall. He has to greet our surprise guests: the Baroness of Mallin and the Margrave of Thornbeck. And be sure to tell him that both your lives are forfeit if he breathes a word that is disloyal to me.”

  She hurried away without even looking at him.

  It was so laughably easy to manipulate people who were in love. He’d discovered that many years ago when his now-deceased wife had still loved him.

  But there was no time for savoring past victories. Lord Thornbeck would be coming inside at any moment. Agnes could not fool Lady Magdalen’s mother, and probably not the margrave and his lady either. Which was why he would have to have Agnes disappear. He would also poison the baroness when she drank her first goblet of wine. They’d think she’d had an attack of the heart or some sort of apoplexy, and he’d have his physician attest to it.

  Even now he had the vial of poison inside his waistcoat pocket, which he carried with him everywhere.

  “Guards.”

  Two of his soldiers stepped forward from where they were guarding the back door of the castle.

  “Go to the north tower, to the very top. I have two prisoners under a trapdoor in the floor. You will see it when you move the table that is sitting upside down on top of it. Kill the man and bring the woman to me.”

  “Yes, Lord Hazen.”

  He motioned to Tideke. “Take Alexander’s wife to the dungeon. If my son tries to stop you, knock him unconscious.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Steffan couldn’t stop thinking about the old well. He was five years old again, and his heart beat so fast it hurt his chest.

  But he had to get control of himself. Magdalen’s life was at stake. He could not bear it if something bad happened to her.

  He had to stay calm and save them both. He had to, for Magdalen.

  When he sat up, he lost the knowledge of which way was up and which was down, but the dizziness gradually faded. Magdalen held on to his arm as he groped around for the ladder, which turned out to be a short but steep set of wooden steps.

  Magdalen stayed beside him as they groped their way up on their hands and knees. They reached the top, and he put his hand on the wooden door above him. “Do you hear anything?” he whispered.

  “They must be gone.”

  “Help me push, but be careful.”

  They both braced their shoulders against the door, and he pushed with all his might with both his hands.

  Magdalen grunted. “It’s not moving at all. What should we do?”

  “Beat on it.”

  They pounded on it with their fists. He beat so hard his knuckles were probably bleeding, and his heart was pounding as hard as his fists.

  “Nothing’s happening.”

  “I have to get us out of here.” He growled at himself for saying that out loud and for letting the panic well up and threaten to overwhelm him. His heart raced, and sweat ran down his back.

  Magdalen’s arms surrounded him, and he felt her hair brush his chin. “Don’t worry. We’ll get out.”

  He felt her cheek against his, and his heart calmed. He buried his face in her hair. She was so small, so dear and fragile, and yet so strong. He took several deep breaths.

  “Are you praying?” Magdalen said softly by his ear. “Because all I can think to say is, ‘God, please help us.’ ”

  He laughed, a hoarse sound, but it filled the tiny room.

  They sat on the steps holding each other, with Steffan’s back against the steps and Magdalen nestled against his chest, her forehead on his neck.

  They took turns saying short, whispered prayers: “God, please let someone find us.”

  “God, give me the strength of Samson to push open this door.”

  “God, please don’t let us have to spend the rest of the day in here.”

  “God, send Your mighty angels with their fiery swords to rescue us.”

  “God, give Lord and Lady Thornbeck wisdom to find us.”

  “God, how long before a person goes mad from not being able to see a thing?”

  Magdalen squeezed his shoulder.

  “I think I hear something.” Magdalen crawled up a step and beat on the door. Steffan joined her. They pounded for a few seconds, then stopped and listened.

  “I hear someone.”

  Steffan heard it too—footsteps getting louder.

  They both beat on the door and yelled. More noises, like something heavy being dragged overhead. A few moments later, the door was yanked open.

  Hands reached down.

  “Who is there?” Steffan demanded, holding Magdalen behind him.

  Alexander’s face appeared in the opening. “It is I.”

  Steffan lifted Magdalen up and let his cousin take her by the wrists and haul her out. Moments later, Alexander’s face reappeared.
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  “Make haste. My father’s guards are coming to kill you.”

  Loud footsteps sounded on the stairs. Alexander was holding a knife. Steffan took it from him, then glanced around. He leapt to the pile of old junk that had been stored in the room and snatched up a large table leg. Magdalen did the same.

  “Magdalen, get behind me.”

  Two guards appeared in the doorway.

  “You are not supposed to be here,” Alexander said to the guards. “Go back downstairs.”

  “We take our orders from Lord Hazen. Step aside.”

  Steffan hid the knife and table leg behind his back. The guard pushed Alexander out of the way and unsheathed his sword. Steffan stepped forward.

  The guard swung his sword, and Steffan swung the table leg, slamming it into the guard’s wrist while sidestepping his blade.

  The guard yelled and dropped his sword. Steffan snatched it up. He glanced behind him. The second guard was lunging for Magdalen. She screamed and ducked out of his way, holding the broken table leg out in front of her.

  Steffan went cold all over at the menacing look on the guard’s face. He could not let him kill Magdalen. He leapt across the room, yelling as loud as he could to draw the guard’s attention. But the guard ignored him and raised his sword to strike Magdalen.

  Steffan would not be able to reach her in time. He threw the knife that was in his other hand. It flew across the room and impaled the guard in the back.

  The guard stopped, his sword in midswing, and slowly turned around. He took a step toward Steffan, then fell forward.

  More footsteps were coming up the stairs. Lord Hazen’s voice echoed from the stairwell. “Kill them! Now!”

  Magdalen jumped toward the window, opened it wide, and yelled, “Help!”

  Alexander ran to the guard who had fallen, took his sword, and he and Steffan greeted the first guards who appeared in the doorway and started beating them back, striking furious blows.

  As he fought, Steffan was able to lift his foot and kick one of the guards in his groin. The guard fell backward into the men behind him, and they all fell down the spiral staircase, at least a dozen men. Steffan went after them.