Posted by AlOmega on April 05, 1999 at 21:22:11:
ELLA
I am a Mage. My True Name is lost in history; and, rightly so, since anyone who knew my True Name could have power over me to some extent. You might have heard of some of the names others have given me. Anzor, Belzebub, Mearlynn. Some have called me Sorcerer or even Demon. Yet most consider me to be a wise, old man - old only because there are streaks of silver among the black hairs of head and beard.
One thing I have amassed in my seventeen centuries of life is a collection of tales and stories. I’ve watched as through the years, these tend to change with the mores and morals of the people. Religion plays a part in this but so-called civilized thinking has done more. This is such a story I heard long ago from the bright red lips of a beautiful young queen. You might have heard it before although it has changed over the years. But not I suspect from the lips of the one who lived it. Nor did the events happen quite as you may have heard. Place and historical names have been altered so that the tale remains a tale.
Long ago as these stories tend to be, a young wife was in labor giving birth to her firstborn. Her husband’s anxiety was warranted considering the hours she had been labor and the passage of midwives to and fro from the birthing chamber. The hall was cold as stone halls tend to be during winters in Europe. The husband, Lord Ralph, was finally forced to sit and eat some broth by an old cook. She had been there from the beginning when Ralph’s grandfather had been Lord. The Manor had grown much since then but she still remained. Now she ministered to this Lord. And even if he was almost twenty and seven, to her he remained a child. Finally she went to check on how the birth was progressing. When she returned, he read it in her eyes. His Lady had died. The baby was fine, however. A cute cuddly baby girl. Even in his sorrow, he loved his little girl and named her for his former wife, Ella.
Lord Ralph mourned for his wife for nearly two years. But about mid year, he decided to attend a ball that King Oscar was holding in celebration of his son’s eighth birthday. It was at the ball that he met Lady Barbara. Slim and dark, she appealed to him right from the start. After a bit of social talk, he found out that she was raising two daughters of her own. That appealed to him. He inquired about Lady Barbara’s family and social situation. While not as noble a position as his own, he found that her former husband, Lord Bryan, had provided her quite well . He didn’t inquire further but commenced his courtship. Foolish men do foolish things. And even the wisest can be foolish when they’re courting a lovely woman.
Nearly a week after the wedding, Lord Ralph began hearing rumors about Lady Barbara. Some said she was low born. Others that she practiced Dark Rituals. And there were rumors that her former husband had died other than from disease. Lord Ralph chose to ignore these rumors. To be sure he found out that she liked to bed women rather than men. But that failed to bother him much primarily because he still loved his first wife and wished to have no children for his primary heirs other than Ella. Lady Barbara was rather put out by this but there was little she could do. The marrage had been one of necessity rather than love. Lord Ralph had married her because he felt that a woman raising two daughters of her own could raise his own daughter without problems.
Then one morning five years later, he woke with a pain in his side. As the day progressed, the pain became worse. No one could figure what was the root cause of Lord Ralph’s mysterious malady. Two days later, everyone - servants, physicians, even the old cook - were put out of Lord Ralph’s bedchamber. Lady Barbara smiled when she approached her husband.
"How are you feeling, my Darling Husband?" she inquired sweetly. Something about her voice gave him pause. It was almost as if she hated him. Then his eyes widened as the truth dawned. Whether or not any of the other rumors was genuine, her first husband had positively died from non-natural causes. Another bout of coughing held him in thrall so he barely heard her next words. But he understood that it was his moneys and estates that she had been after. Her former husband’s moneys had about run out when she had met him at the ball. As she talked on and on, he found out more about her than he wanted to know.
Born to a trollop with no knowledge of her father, Barbara had learned how to survive nearly the same time as she had learned to walk. She would have suffered the same fate as her mother had not a kindly priest taken her in. As she neared eight, she found that he wasn’t so kind. Although a priest, he liked little girls but only until they started to mature whereupon they were thrown out. Unfortunately for him, a blade mysteriously appeared in his upper back severing his spinal column. He could neither speak nor move. Since she was still a little girl, the Church continued her upbringing. At the age of fifteen, she ran away. When she was young, it had not been hard stealing a crust or apple. Now her targets were bigger game. But she knew that a rope would end this vocation soon enough so sat her sights on other means for support. About this time she chanced on an elderly gentleman who took her to keep his final years active. Active they were for his last few months though she remained quite chaste. Before the body was cool, she stole as much as she could carry and left the country. She called herself Lady Barbara when she arrived in the Kingdom of Perth. Claiming that her former husband, Duke Darby, had been killed by ruffians before they had crossed the border, she managed to enter the circle of the nobility. It wasn’t long before she came to the attention of Sir David Kingsley. They were married; and, after three years had two daughters. However, though she loved her daughters, Marta and Bernice, dearly, she couldn’t stand their father. Since he had few servants, it wasn’t difficult to secrete a bit of poison daily. Finally he died horribly. She soon found that her former husband had debts that took nearly half of the estate. At about the same time, she found that she was attracted to women more than men. It was not that she avoided men. They provided money and position and power which she enjoyed always. But none of the men she bedded lasted more than once or twice during the night and her sexual appetite was nearly insatiable.
After her marriage to Lord Ralph, she had schemed to secure as much of his estate as she could. He had stopped her early enterprises by restricting access to merchants. In doing so, however, he created a dark enemy within his household. Her first husband had died from a mysterious illness. Her second would be eleminated as well. She imparted this information to her husband as he lay in dire pain.
Lord Ralph died horribly.
What Lady Barbara failed to notice - indeed was unaware of - was her foster daughter’s presence in a secret passage inside the walls of the Manor. Soon-to-be Lady Ella had heard everything. But what is a little girl of seven to do? Her foster sisters were older and her foster mother cared less for her than the fleas on her dogs. But though seven, the little girl’s heart burned with hatred for the one who had taken her father away.
Year followed year. The little girl grew older until she was twelve. Then thirteen. Her foster mother and sisters treated her less and less as a relative and more and more like the servant she was becoming. A few cuffs from her foster mother had taught little Ella to suffer stoically. Yet when she was alone, the old butler and cook taught her her letters and cooking and reading and sewing - anything they could do to take her mind from the drudgery the three foster relatives put her through. When the old butler died, the foster mother hired a younger one who was less kind. Soon thereafter the old cook retired to one of the local farms nearby. But Ella was forbidden to ever go there. Almost all of the original servants were let go and new ones hired in their place. Though unkind at first, as she grew older the new servants saw her kindness and loving attention and treated her kindly whenever the foster relatives were not visible. That is all save the butler who considered her little more than a servant of the House. And as Ella observed more than once from her perch behind the false wall, the butler was quite entertaining in bed.
No more was Ella the Princess of the Manor. Her bedroom was moved again and again until she was relegated to the fourth floor in a drafty room. Formerly used as a sewing room by a seamstress long gone, it was little more than a large closet. Her foster sisters had more closet space than Ella had bedroom. But she seldom slept there because of the winter drafts and occasional snow that covered her tick infested mattress. At night she would bank the fire in the large cooking fireplace. The old cook had taught her how. And the new cook did not mind her sleeping near the warm embers because Ella would waken and start the fire once again before the everyone else was moving about. And even though she barely remembered birthday parties with her father, she always sang or whistled a tune when she thought of her life before.
This went on for years until one day a servant brought a message to Lady Barbara. King Oscar had decided to have a ball to celebrate his son’s twenty-first year. Lady Barbara and her daughters were invited. Rumors had it that the young Prince expected to find a Bride at the ball. Marta and Bernice were beside themselves with joy and preparation.
Ella had turned sixteen a month earlier and reasoned rightly that she should be permitted to go to the ball as well. (For indeed, her name was on the invitation.) But as was her want, Lady Barbara refused saying she was much too young, too ugly to ever be permitted that luxury. And as the day progressed, Ella felt herself so much alone that she went to the stables. There she felt comfortable and the horses wouldn’t mind an occasional tear or two.
But she wasn’t there two minutes when a voice asked her what was the matter. She looked around but saw no one. Perhaps it was one of the horses who spoke (though in her heart, she knew this was not possible). She explained about the ball and how she couldn’t go. The voice told her to go wash up and return after her foster kin had departed. She did so removing the grit and grim of several years of sleeping near the warm coals. And when she returned, she found the old cook and a younger woman (the old cook’s granddaughter). They had sewed a dress for her - a dress of blue and white with underthings of the finest silks. There was a small coach of white which had been used only once for the young Prince when he was twelve and four white horses to pull it with. The former servants acted as footman and driver. They did warn her to return at a reasonable hour so as to avoid direct confrontations from Lady Barbara. Other than that, she was to enjoy herself for once.
To King Oscar’s ball they flew. Ella arrived at a quarter to eight. Late but fashionably late. And from the first, the Prince was taken with her. They danced again and again into the night. Once in a while she glanced at her foster mother and sisters who danced but rarely and never with the Prince. She was absorbed in the moment as the two danced once again. The clock had turned one when she saw her foster mother rise and put on her shawl.
She stopped!
Not a moment to lose.
She ran as fast as she could to the little white couch. But the steps were too many and her feet too tired from the dancing. She slipped and fell losing one of her fur-covered shoes. Starting back, she saw the Prince following after. She decided half shod was better than being caught and so leaped into the coach which fled into the night. The Prince was left with a fur-covered shoe with a broken heel.
Which he brought to me.
At the time I was staying with King Oscar and his Queen, Mildred. They provided me with food and shelter for the winter, while I provided entertainment and fun.
Besides I enjoyed talking and, to a certain extent teaching Prince Mayer. We were pretty good friends by this time which was why he brought the shoe and his story to me. I looked at the shoe from several positions. Whomever she was, she had a very narrow foot, I remember muttering. Since I had been experimenting with creating crystal skulls, I reasoned that creating a crystal replica of this shoe would be easy enough. I was prudent enough not to mention that I had made crystal shoes for a few women of my acquantance while learning to cast skulls. Nice women they were. To me at least. I liked to refer to them as my Ladies of the Evening and would have mentioned that to Prince Mayer. But even then I retained common sense. I could have used plastic, I suppose. But that would have caused no end of trouble in the Space-Time Continuum.
With only one cast each , I created two crystal duplicates. The fur-lined shoe could become malformed if more than a few ladies had tried it on. Thin and shaped to the woman’s foot, these crystal shoes would be easier to maintain. Care would of course need to be taken since they could break.
The announcement went abroad throughout the land that every woman, high or low born, from the age of sixteen and older, would be required to wear the shoe to see if it fit. If the woman’s foot fit, she would marry the Prince and become the next Queen. Yet though many tried, none fit the shoe properly. That was because I cast another spell which would tell me if the canidate’s foot actually fit all parts of the foot. You see, because the shoe was used for dancing, various parts of the woman’s foot were imprinted into the inner sole of the shoe. The effect was to turn the shoe into one of a kind footware only usable by the original wearer.
Some time and many feet later, we arrived at Lord Ralph’s Manor house. Almost from the first, I sensed that the woman we were looking for was living here. Marta was the first to try on the shoe. Although pretty, something about her alerted me to the fact that the shoe did not fit properly. But since her foot seemed to fit, we took her to the palace for the Prince’s final opinion. I offered my hand to Lady Marta when she fell into my arms in a faint. It didn’t take long to ascertain her spell was caused by loss of blood. Apparently her big toe had been sliced off in an attempt to make the shoe fit. Although she was not the proper woman, we decided she should spend the night until we could determine who had attempted to deceive us.
That evening, we returned to the Manor with the sad news. Bernice was the next to try. But even though her foot also appeared to fit, I was reluctant to take her to the palace. My suspicions were confirmed when I discovered that her heel had been deeply cut to make the shoe fit. Though outwardly calm, I boiled within. Someone, somewhere here in this Manor would fit into this shoe. Lady Barbara was miffed more than a little when I asked that all servant girls and women be brought out. I knew something was amiss when I espied a smirk touching the corners of her eyes and mouth. That changed quickly when the old cook came in leading a young girl of perhaps sixteen. She was Ella, I found out later. On seeing her, Lady Barbara proffered the crystal shoe but before I received it, she dropped it on the stone floor. The shoe cracked into six pieces. Again she smiled mischievously. I smiled back as I produced another copy. Placing the shoe on Ella’s foot, I heard the chime of my second spell. The shoe fit perfectly. Ella of course was the one the Prince was looking for. I, however, knew there was more to the story than that. Although the cook provided me with some knowledge, Ella’s testimony revealed much. I gave the information to the Prince and the King. This was their land after all.
Twelve days later, Prince Mayer and Lady Ella were married. As a wedding present, she saw her foster mother hanged. The execution took some time since the Executioner had been instructed to make her suffer. Long and slow was she hung. The rope dug deeply into her neck. Air finally forced her left eye to pop out of its socket and dangle on her cheek. But no tongue came forth in silent screaming. Like her daughters, she was a liar. And liars in this land had their tongues removed.
I looked at Ella once during the execution. Though lovely in her wedding dress, I could not repress a shudder upon seeing the sardonic smile traced on her lips. After the execution, she acted as if nothing had happened. She told me little of her life and how she had been treated. She only disclosed that never again would she be called by her servants, Cinderella.
AlOmega