Page 47 of The Noble Servant

“Yes, my lady.”

After Magdalen hung up the dress, she took the large water pitcher from Agnes’s chamber and left.

Downstairs in the kitchen she found Steffan carrying in an armload of wood for the kitchen fire. He dumped it by the oven.

“Is that Lady Magdalen’s water pitcher?” Frau Clara strode into the kitchen. “Kitchen boy.” She looked at Steffan. “Go fetch a fresh bucket of water for the lady’s pitcher.”

Steffan looked at her.

Magdalen set down the pitcher. “I’ll go with him.” She hurried out the door before Frau Clara could protest.

It was nearly dark outside as they made their way to the well. Steffan looked all around. Everyone must have gone to their beds for the night.

“You need a good night’s rest,” Magdalen told him.

“I would agree with that. But tomorrow, sleep or no sleep, I will break away and search for my portrait.”

“May I help?”

“Perhaps. Where will you be tomorrow?”

“I have to bringthe ladyher breakfast. After that, I’m not sure. I had at least two hours this afternoon with nothing to do. If I’d known where to look I could—”

“You will be free until the cook gets her breakfast prepared,ja?”

“Ja.”

“But I do not want to endanger you.” He glanced away and shook his head. “If Lord Hazen caught you snooping around the castle, you would be in just as much danger as I am.”

“I do not think he would kill me, since he doesn’t know who I am. Whereas with you ...”

Steffan hauled the water bucket back up, pulling the rope hand over hand, his upper arms and back flexing against his shirt in the waning twilight. When the bucket reached the top, he unhooked it from the windlass. The Duke of Wolfberg had grown some muscles since she danced with him at Thornbeck.

“Come. We should go inside.”

“So you think the portrait is in Lord Hazen’s room?”

“I think it could be, since that room belonged to my parents. I used to play there when I was a boy, and my steward said he hid it in the place where I used to play as a small child. But you should not go there. I want you to promise me you won’t.”

She wanted to tell him that she was not a child and she was not betrothed to him and therefore could do what she wanted. But they were already entering the kitchen.

Steffan lifted the bucket and tilted it to pour into the pitcher.

“Thank you, Stoffel,” Magdalen said. “I shall see you tomorrow.”

Behind her Frau Clara told him, “You may go to your room. Climb to the top of the stairs and go to the room on the left.”

Magdalen walked slower, waiting for Steffan to reach her. When she was halfway up the first flight of stairs, he caught up.

“Are you well? Perhaps you should see a healer.”

“Lord Hazen sent away the only good one.” His voice was deep and gruff.

“Is there a physician or barber who could look at your head?”

“I just need to sleep.”

She didn’t say anything the rest of the way up. When they arrived at the third level, he nodded at her and continued up. Her heart squeezed painfully as he passed out of sight, his shoulders slumping.