Page 50 of The Noble Servant

The guard looked hard at Steffan, but only for a moment. He let go of Ansel with a shove. Ansel stumbled and broke into a run.

Steffan barely had time to raise his arm to protect the wound on his forehead before the guard slammed the hilt of his sword into Steffan’s shoulder, then punched him in the mouth. The next blow was to Steffan’s chin. Stars exploded before his eyes.

He fell to the ground. Blood, salty and metallic, ran over his tongue. He braced himself for the next blow. A sharp pain exploded in his side as the guard kicked him once, then again.

Steffan lay still, waiting, finally opening his eye. The guard was gone.

Steffan lifted his head and spit a stream of red on the ground.His shoulder burned, his face ached, and his ribs throbbed. At least he hadn’t lost any teeth. He lay his head back down on the ground. Perhaps he could get a few moments’ rest before anyone came looking for him.

Steffan opened his eyes to three people standing over him and the sun shining brighter than it had when he’d closed them.

“He’s awake now. You can cease your fretting.” The head cook glanced at the person beside her, then looked back down at him and thrust a cloth at him. “Cover your mouth with this. You’re bleeding. Now go upstairs and get cleaned up. You can come back to your duties after the midday meal.”

Magdalen and Katrin were hovering beside the cook. They stretched their hands to him. “Let us help you up.”

They each took his elbow and pulled him into a sitting position while the cook went back inside the kitchen.

The world started spinning. His head and lip throbbed, and his shoulder still burned, but not quite as much as before. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, the world had almost stopped spinning. He spit out the blood that had been collecting in his mouth, careful not to get it on the maidens’ shoes. He heaved himself up with the young ladies helping him.

“What happened?” Magdalen asked.

“What are you doing here?” He cringed at her coming to his rescue yet again. He wasn’t sure he could bear staring into her concerned face one more time.

“Katrin came and got me from the dining hall. She said you were badly injured.”

“I am not badly injured.” But his lip was so swollen that his words were slurred.

Katrin said, “I saw him defending an old man who was stealing a loaf of bread from the kitchen window. He offered to take the old man’s punishment if the guard would let the man go. It was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.” Katrin’s voice cracked on the last two words and she burst into tears.

Magdalen stared up at him. “Oh, Steffan,” she breathed. She took the cloth the cook had given him from his hand and wiped his face. “Your wound from yesterday is bleeding again.”

“It’s nothing.” Katrin’s crying was making him so uncomfortable, he chuckled. “You two act as if I’m the first man to ever bleed or get a few blows from a man twice his size.”

“Katrin!” the cook yelled out the window. “Get back in here. I need you. That other maiden can take care of him.”

Katrin ran back into the kitchen.

“You heard her,” Magdalen said. “I can take care of you. So come.”

She steered him back toward the kitchen and walked him through, her arm around his back and his arm around her shoulders. Most of the servants were eating their breakfast, so no one was there to see his bloody face.

“Wait here.” Magdalen propped him against the wall. She ran off into the dining hall.

He’d been beaten by two different guards. He only hoped that someday he would see both those guards’ faces when they discovered the man they had wrongfully beaten was the Duke of Wolfberg.

Magdalen came hurrying back, her expression sober, as when she had walked back to the stables with her mute friend, Lenhart, intent on defending him from the men who were mistreating him.

Her fierceness made him stand up a bit straighter and pay closer attention.

“I got you some breakfast.” She held a bundle in her hand. “You can eat it after we clean up your face.”

Now that he was standing on his own, she seemed uncertain as to whether to put her arm around him and serve as his crutch. But she only hesitated a moment. She took him by the wrist, laid his arm across her shoulders, and started toward the stairs. He didn’t protest.

They walked slowly, his sides burning as if on fire every time he took a breath. He tested his jaw again. It was still a bit sore but felt much better than earlier. His lip was still bleeding as he held the cloth against it. He would at least be able to rest until the midday meal, a few hours.

A pang of guilt stabbed him as he thought about how kind she was being, how determined she was to help him. What spoiled, privileged nobleman’s daughter was so uncomplaining and willing to help someone who was dirty and bloody?

He thought of his own sister. He couldn’t imagine her even touching him in the state he was in. He could just see her wrinkle her nose and recoil from him, having never done an hour of actual work in her life.