Page 30 of The Noble Servant

“What an awful thing to happen to a child. It must have been terrifying, being stuck in a deep, dark well.”

He could still hear his own screams, his throat aching and raw from so much shouting for help and crying. When they finally found him, it seemed to take forever for them to reach him. They lowered one of the house servants, a small young man, down on a rope. He’d been terrified the man would fall on top of him and send them both down into the black water below. But he hadn’t fallen, and he held Steffan in his arms as several men hauled them to the top.

“If that happened to me, my mother would have been yelling at everyone, including me. What happened when they pulled you out? Did you tell them it was the goose’s fault?”

He might as well tell her the whole tale so she would stop asking questions. “I was crying and begging to see my mother. But ... her time had come to give birth to my younger sibling. She died while they were bathing the stench and slime of the well off me. Both she and the baby died.” His father had been so distraught ... too distraught to pay any attention to a sobbing little boy. Even his nurse was not very attentive.

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Her voice was breathy and her face even softer. “Just when you needed your mother to comfort you.”

She fell silent, and he tried to swallow past the constriction in his throat. The compassion in her face and her tone made it harder to push the feelings away.

Finally, she squeezed his arm and let go. “I can see why you hate geese. They make you think of that terrible day. I should take the geese to graze somewhere else so you won’t have to see them.”

“I don’t wish you to do that. I like talking with you.”

“I like talking with you too.”

“Then tell me about your family.” Anything to take their minds off the worst day of his life.

Magdalen sighed, still feeling pity for the poor shepherd’s terrible experience. But he obviously wanted her to talk now.

“I have a sister named Jonatha. She is closest to me and sleeps in my bed. My other sisters are sweet too. There’s Hildegard, Britta, and Anna. I had a brother, Wilhelm, but he died.” Her voice hitched and she had to take a deep breath to drive away the sorrow. “A year and a half ago. He was always sickly.”

“I’m very sorry.” And he sounded as if he was.

“It was very sad. But what about you? Do you have sisters or brothers?”

“I have one sister.”

Was his sister named Gertrudt, like the Duke of Wolfberg’s?

“She married and I have not seen her since the wedding. We are good friends, as much as a brother and sister can be, I imagine, she being only one year older. I told you about my parents dying when I was very young. Tell me about your parents.”

“My father died three years ago. And my mother ... she doesn’t care for me very much.”

“Doesn’t care for you?” He sounded surprised.

“It’s difficult to discuss.” Perhaps she should not have told him. She fingered the paper he had given her.

“It must be painful to feel your mother doesn’t care for you.”

“She once told me that I was selfish for wanting to see my father when he was sick. She said he just wanted to rest and not be bothered with me. But I sneaked in after she left, and he said mypresence made him feel better. I think she was jealous of me.” She made this last statement more quietly. “You don’t want to hear my sad stories about my family.”

“No, I do. Please, go on.”

She hesitated, then said, “My mother yelled at my father a lot. She often accused him of ignoring her and paying more attention to his children than to her. And it was true. He did.” She didn’t say anything for a few moments. “That was wrong of him, I suppose, but she was always so angry, always yelling. And I was so grateful for his love. And I tried to make up for my mother’s coldness by doting on my younger sisters. I didn’t want them to feel unloved. I hope they are being affectionate to each other while I’m gone.”

“Your mother’s coldness was not your fault. She must have been an addled and sad person not to love a sweet girl like you.”

His words caused a dryness in her throat, and she found herself unable to speak. It was as if he knew the exact words she needed to hear. At least a part of her had always believed her mother’s cruel criticism and blame to be true, that it was Magdalen’s fault her mother was always so angry with her. The first time she’d ever seemed close to being pleased with her was when she thought Magdalen was going to marry the Duke of Wolfberg.

She swallowed twice before she was able to say, “That is kind of you.”

“It is the truth. Any mother would be proud to have a daughter such as you—clever, brave, kind, and generous.”

Her foolish heart fluttered, but it was strangely pleasant to be so complimented by a handsome shepherd who thought she was only a goose girl.

Steffan should not say such complimentary things to Lady Magdalen. At least she still thought him only a lowly shepherd.