Page 8 of The Noble Servant

Frau Clara put her hands up and cupped the sides of her mouth. “Katrin!”

The maiden looked up in the last rays of the bright-orange sunset, herding the geese with a stick toward a small stone structure. The birds waddled right inside. Katrin closed the door and bent to lock it, then ascended the steps toward them.

“Katrin, this is Agnes. She is taking your place as goose girl, and you will go to work in the kitchen forthwith.”

Katrin’s eyes brightened as the smile stretched across her face. “Truly?”

“I don’t know why you are so joyous. Working in the kitchen is hardly better than being the goose girl.”

“Oh, it is so much better. Thank you, Frau Clara.” She grasped the house frau’s hand and grinned up at her. Then she turned to Magdalen and clasped her hand as well. “Thank you ever so much.” Katrin darted past them, her feet tapping up the steps.

“You saw where Katrin put the geese. You will take them out every morning to forage in the meadows and along the hillside, wherever you find grass, and put them away every evening at sunset. If you lose any of the geese, you shall be severely punished. Now, come along and you can have your supper with the other servants.”

Magdalen opened her mouth to ask a question, but Frau Clara set a fast pace as she climbed the steep steps again. Magdalen hurried to keep up.

They entered a dim room where the only light came in through one window. A man came in behind Magdalen carrying a torch. He lit the torches attached to the wall. Several other servants stood inline, accepting food from a woman handing out wooden bowls and bread rolls. Then they sat at a long wooden trestle table.

“Get in line for your food,” Frau Clara said. “Katrin!” She called to the goose girl, who stood in the queue. “Show Agnes to the servants’ quarters after you finish your meal, and help her find a bed tonight.”

“Yes, Frau Clara.” Katrin smiled at Magdalen and waved her over. “You can get in front of me, since you are new. Do you live here in Wolfberg? I’ve never seen you before.”

Magdalen was thinking about how to answer her when a man yelled, “Who do you think you are?”

The man behind Katrin leaned toward Magdalen with a fierce scowl in his eyes. “You cannot cut in front of the rest of us. We were here before you.”

“Leave her alone, Hanns.” Katrin pushed his shoulder, even though she was a head shorter than he and only half as wide. “She just got here. Can’t you see you’re scaring her? But you don’t scare me, so quiet down.” She turned back to Magdalen and whispered, “Don’t pay any attention to him.”

“What’s your name?” The man peered around Katrin’s shoulder. He was smiling now and missing at least two teeth.

Katrin scrunched her face and shook her head. Someone distracted the man and he turned around.

“Thank you,” Magdalen whispered.

“You don’t want Hanns to ever start talking to you. He will make you want to slap his face in less time than it takes to tell him to go jump in the Baltic Sea.” Katrin widened her eyes and shook her head again.

They had reached the front of the line. A large woman with a cloth around her hair handed them each a bowl and a roll of bread.After they sat at the table, Magdalen lifted her spoon. It appeared to be pea porridge thickened with oats.

The woman sitting across from them made a growling sound deep in her throat. “Before the young duke left to get his education in Prague, we had meat in our porridge—a little bacon at least.” She looked with disgust at the porridge on her spoon.

Katrin scooped some food into her mouth, then scrunched her face and quickly took a bite of her bread roll.

Magdalen’s stomach rumbled, so she took a bite of the porridge, then followed it with a quick bite of bread. It did not taste terrible. But it also did not taste good. After a few more bites, she began to feel queasy, and she just finished her bread. The other servants mopped out their bowls with the last morsels of their bread, then put away the bowls and spoons.

“Not eating that?” Hanns stood behind her, pointing at her bowl.

She shook her head and gave it to him.

“Come,” Katrin whispered, “before he asks you your name again.”

They hustled out the door of the servants’ dining hall. It was nearly dark now, and Katrin led her around the grassy area behind the castle. They proceeded toward a row of wooden buildings.

“Where did you say you came from?” Katrin asked.

“I am from Mallin.”

“And what is your name?”

If she told Katrin the truth, word might get back to Agnes, and she might have Magdalen thrown into the dungeon. However, she could not bring herself to say her name was Agnes either.