Prologue
Autumn 1450, Central Germany
There is darkness in Besse’s
vision. She is comforted, enveloped by it. It is her blanket, and under it the world cannot intrude. No monsters of the night hiding under the bed for her. No, her nightmares are in the broad light of day.
Besse huddles in the deepest recess of her chamber, clutching her rag doll, her one true companion, sewn by the servant Fee. The young maiden tries to shrink into herself as she folds her body over.
She sighs. “Dolly, you are my one true friend and confidante. We are alike, you and I. You are ugly and, best of all, silent. We do not want to be noticed. Gray and black are the best colors for us. Fee wants to find you to clean you up—clean us
both up and put us in bright colors. She says the change will do us good. But she does not know us at all.”
Besse hesitates a moment, in deep thought. “Fee cares for me,
but she wants me to be like Mama. But that would be impossible. Mama is beautiful. She sits up in her chamber in the tower, brushing and brushing her long flaxen hair all day. Sometimes I visit. She teaches me sewing and needlepoint. That, she says, will make
a lady of me, so that someday, I can find a husband. Husbands, she says, are necessary in a man’s world, as no lady can survive alone. That frightens me. I have no desire for a husband. And anyway, I am only thirteen.”
Besse pulls the doll close and whispers, “But there’s more to share with you, Dolly. Today during my sewing lesson, I heard soft singing outside Mama’s window. It was a man. He sang of her long, beautiful hair.”
Besse’s voice gets a bit louder with a tone of mockery. “He sang that he would cli-i-imb it endlessly to be at her side in her private little tower. Then he would steal her away from the ogre who has imprisoned her there. When Mama heard
the singing, she hurried me through my sewing and pushed me out of the chamber! I stayed outside the door, and soon I heard a man’s voice inside. Then I ran here to find you.”
Besse hugs her rag doll. “But I don’t want that singing man to take her away. Not because I really love her—I just need her to take care of me.” Besse pauses again, having surprised herself with the revelation that she feels the need
to be loved by her mother. “But Mama doesn’t take care of me—not really. She rarely leaves her bedchamber. She hides up there.” She winces and whispers, “I know why.”
Besse’s mood darkens, and she frowns. “We hide too, Dolly, in the comforting shadows. But it will not last. Soon enough, he will come. He will rant and rave and demand the servants tell him where I am. He is doing naught more than exerting
his authority. They are afraid of him. Except Fee, of course. She will have none of him. He can threaten to throw her out, but Mama will allow no other personal servant in the household.
“The household!” she repeats with more mockery. “A decent home is the province of a lady. But Mama leaves the household duties all to Fee, and he knows it. So he will not send Fee out even if she tries to keep me hidden.
Mama will not hide me. No, she will not! Why not?” Besse is unable to answer, so she sighs again.
“No matter—he can find me easily. There is no excess of places to
hide. He will find me, and he will do unspeakable things. I will not describe them, Dolly. I cannot. I do not want to think of them. This I will endure alone, but not forever.”She shudders but with some resolve does not allow herself to pout.
“Until then, I will suffer his attentions. He is my father.”