But how could they help her now? she wondered. Whom would she ask? What should she ask for? How should she ask?
She hesitated, realizing the improbability of a happy outcome. Another disappointment might crush her spirit forever. Yet she knew she had to give it her very best try.
Ella selected a spot near the wall where she could see her mother’s tombstone, the hazel tree, and the whole garden beyond. Raising her arms and opening her hands, she gazed at the scene in front of her. She inhaled, closed her eyes, and felt the rush. “Mother dearest, Mother dearest, all creatures high and low, to the ball tonight go I must. Dirty and tangled must be I no more. A fair dress and shoes needeth I. All who loveth me, help make it so.”
Ella’s skin prickled with goose bumps. She closed her eyes, not daring to watch what might happen next.
She listened carefully. The breeze had died as the evening arrived, and not a leaf rustled. The birds and bees had settled down for the evening and made not a sound.
Nothing.
Ella’s heart grew heavy. Her lip quivered, and a tear slipped from the corner of her eye. Then her shoulders slumped as she realized her beautiful dream had been mere fantasy.
From atop the hazel tree, she heard a rustle, then another. With a whir of wings, the turtledoves circled her and then settled, one on each shoulder. Ella sobbed with happiness and relief that her old friends had come to console her in her time of disappointment. Between sobs, she managed to whisper, “Thank you, my sweet darlings.”
One of the doves flapped its wings as if to fly away, but as it lifted off her shoulder, its claws clutched the cloth of her shift. The dove flapped harder, and the dress pulled away from her shoulder. Fearing that the bird had tangled itself and might hurt its feet, Ella reached up to help free the dove’s claws from the cloth. But the bird’s wings flapped more rapidly, and it tugged at the dress with even more force.
The dove on the other shoulder flapped its wings and also pulled on her dress.
With wings beating against her cheeks, Ella squinted and raised her hands to protect her face. “Ow!” she said. “What are you doing?”
The doves beat their wings even harder and pulled more powerfully. Both of the doves began to coo in a plaintive tone Ella had never before heard.
From over the garden wall flew a dozen pigeons. The flock circled the garden once and then descended. Ella shrieked as beating wings covered her. She felt the birds clutch at her dress and pull. The sound of flapping wings rose to a roar, and the hemline of her dress lifted above her knees and then her waist. Claws clutched her fingers and lifted, encouraging her to raise her arms. Her dress slipped progressively farther up her body, and the collar of the dress caught on her chin and ears and then scraped against her face.
In an instant, the birds carried her dress away. Ella looked down and gasped. She stood in the garden naked and exposed to the chilly fall air. Stooping, she covered her body with her arms and hands.
Something tickled her toes, then her feet and ankles. She screamed as dozens of ants crawled up her legs. She tried to brush them off, but they were too numerous. She started to run, but the flock of pigeons circled her like a whirlwind, their flapping wings blocking her every turn.
The ants swarmed over her, and Ella nearly fainted as their tiny feet prickled her skin. They crawled up her legs, her chest, and over her face. Hundreds more marched through her hair.
Terrified, Ella stood totally still, not daring to breathe. Her lungs soon began to burn for air, and she felt lightheaded. She sucked in a breath between her lips. The swarm seemed to go on without end.
Finally, little by little, the ants crawled out of her hair, down her body, and then off her feet. One last ant crawled up the bridge of her nose and then above her eye. It seemed to wrestle with something, and Ella winced as the ant tugged at a hair, then plucked it from her eyebrow.
As the final ant disappeared, Ella took a deep breath. Her skin tingled and felt as never before. She looked at her arm and saw no dirt, not even a speck of ash. Her fingers were clean, even under the nails. Her skin felt smooth all over, too, from head to toe. She ran her fingers through her hair, and it felt tangle-free and silky.
Once again aware that she stood totally naked in the garden, Ella stooped and attempted to cover herself, hoping no one could see her.
From behind the hazel rose the flock of pigeons, their wings beating as if bearing a heavy load. Ella squealed with delight. The pigeons were bringing her the most beautiful evening gown she had ever seen. Blue silk with white trim.
As the pigeons lowered the gown toward Ella, she raised her arms. They dropped the garment over her, and she shrugged her shoulders, inviting it on. The dress settled upon her as light as a breeze. She stroked the cool material and marveled at the perfect fit, which hugged her hips, dipped for her slender waist, and swelled for her chest.
She glanced skyward at the beat of wings and gasped as the turtledoves dropped to her a sparkling-white slipper, then another. She marveled at how the shoes matched the dress and shimmered in the evening light.
But the slippers were tiny, and when she tried to put one on, she could only get half her foot into it. Frustrated, she studied the doves, now perched in the hazel, and wondered why they would provide shoes that didn’t fit.
She caressed the slippers, marveling at their velvety texture. Longing to wear them, she imagined how comfortable they would feel. Again, she slid her foot into a slipper, and when her foot was in as far as it would go, she slipped her thumbs inside and pulled with both hands. This time, the slipper warmed to her touch and expanded, flowing as if liquid, to fit her perfectly.
Giggling, Ella glanced back at the doves and wondered if they were teasing her.
As she admired the shoes, her long hair fell over her shoulders. She stood and swept back her hair. Recalling how Irmgard had instructed her to fix Claudia’s and Yvette’s hair for the ball, Ella gathered her tresses high behind her head and wished she had the time to fashion such a style.
She soon heard a buzz. A bee circled her and then landed on her hand. Fearing a sting, Ella dropped her hair, letting it cascade about her shoulders. Several more bees circled her head, occasionally plucking at her hair.
Ella’s first impulse was to run, but she stood still, hoping the bees would lose interest in her. Instead, more bees arrived, dozens at first, then hundreds. Paralyzed at the thought of being stung, Ella stood perfectly still, barely daring to breathe.
Dozens of bees crawled across her forehead, ears, and neck, their little feet clutching at her skin. In a frenzy of activity, some lifted hair, while others pulled strands to the side. Some bees tucked hair here, while others wrapped strands there.
After a few minutes, the bees slowed their frantic pace, swarmed as a cloud around her a few times, and then flew back to their hive.
Ella took a long breath, and an eerie silence fell over the garden. She noticed that her hair felt different from before. With a hand, she probed. Gone were the long straight strands. Now her hair was piled high in a swirl upon her head.
Wondering how her hair was held in place, she patted it gently. It still felt soft and smooth, but she detected something else gently holding the shape together. She licked her finger then smiled as she tasted just a trace of beeswax.
Ella had an overpowering urge to see herself. Lifting the hemline of her dress above the grass, she hurried to the pond at the center of the garden. Now, more than ever, she wanted to go to the king’s ball. She imagined herself there, enjoying all the wonderful sights and sounds.
When she leaned over the edge of the pond and gazed at herself, her fingers trembled and her lips quivered. Her legs suddenly felt weak, and she slid to the ground.
She sat and pondered what she had seen in her reflection. There is no way I can leave the house, she thought, much less go to the king’s ball. I’m a fake, an imposter. Eve
ryone will see through the deception. They will laugh at me. No, she realized, they’ll throw me in jail for being a fraud.
She should strip off the fine clothes and retrieve her drab shift from behind the hazel and then tangle her hair and dump a bucket of ash over her head. If she hurried, she would have time to clean the kitchen before Irmgard and her daughters returned.
Ella sobbed. She had wanted so terribly to go to the ball. For a few precious minutes, she had allowed herself to believe the dream could be real. She would always be grateful to her mother, the hazel tree, and all the little creatures that had helped create the possibility. But their efforts had all come down to nothing.
Her mother’s final words had indeed been a cruel joke. Attending an event as important as the ball couldn’t be as simple as believing in yourself.
She repeated her mother’s words aloud, “Possible for thee art all things, little princess of mine, but in thyself first thou must believe.” Ella thought about the meaning of the statement.
Her mother hadn’t promised that believing in herself would accomplish anything. By putting “first” before the rest, she meant that belief in oneself was just the initial step. Without belief in yourself, you are not likely to accomplish anything.
Ella strode from the garden, then through the house to the foyer. She glanced at the door that led to the outside world. Can I believe in myself just enough to step outside? If I don’t take the chance now, I may never try again.
Ella took a deep breath and stepped to the door. She slid aside the metal bolt and grabbed the iron handle with both hands. She pulled hard and slipped out the doorway.
The door slammed behind Ella with a heavy thud. While she had been in the house, night had fallen.
Ella froze. She had ventured around town before but never after dark. To her left, the cobblestone street led to the city’s southern gate and the countryside beyond. To her right, the narrow, winding street eventually led to Bechenborg Castle, which overlooked a bend in the river. A horse and carriage approached, iron-shod hooves clomping on cobblestones.
Ella stared at the horse, trying to remember the last time she had seen one, other than those ridden by the king’s men-at-arms. Prior to the plagues, the city had been filled with horses and the streets with their dung. But during the plague, as food supplies were consumed without replenishment, cattle, pigs, and poultry were butchered, followed by the horses. Later, during the worst of times, the dogs and cats disappeared. Ella learned not to be too fussy about what had been tossed into a stew pot and knew that she should never ask. She shuddered at that thought but felt relieved that those dreadful days were behind the kingdom.
Her attention returned to the carriage. High on the front sat a driver with a black hat. A man and woman rode in the back. As the carriage passed, Ella smiled. The woman wore an evening gown, much like Irmgard’s. Ella stared at the woman’s face and read her mind, discovering that they, too, headed to the royal ball. Ella eased away from the door, took another breath, and hurried downhill after the carriage.
The only light in the street was that of a full moon, but it was enough for Ella to make her way. In the gutter beside her, something squeaked and scurried into an alley. Imagining dozens of rats lurking in the shadows, she picked up her pace.
The carriage in front of her approached an intersection, and Ella recalled that the street to the right led to the city’s northern gate. The carriage turned left, and Ella followed it.
Ahead, a silhouette towered against the sky, and Ella recognized it as the castle. Another finely dressed couple stepped out of a large house and walked ahead of Ella. Hoping to blend in with others, she followed them.
Ella hadn’t seen the castle up close since before the plague, and she noted gaping holes here and there where walls had cracked and crumbled, leaving stones spread outside in disorderly piles.
Uniformed sentries, their sword hilts glistening in torchlight, guarded the entrance to the castle. They made no attempt to detain the lady and gentleman who climbed down from the carriage, nor the people ahead of Ella.
Focusing her mind on the nearest guard, Ella sensed his thoughts. She smiled and felt her heart beat faster. He thought she was pretty.
Her attention shifted to the line in front of her, where people of all ages crossed the wooden bridge spanning the moat outside the castle.
Ella had worried that everyone would notice that she was different, that she didn’t belong, but nobody seemed to pay much attention to her. Relieved she could blend in so easily, she strolled with the others across the drawbridge, through the castle portal, and into a paved courtyard. A line formed outside a massive building on the far side. Ella climbed a flight of stone steps to the entrance, where two huge wooden doors stood wide open.
Inside, she saw a mustachioed, gray-haired man in a white jacket with a red sash. The empty left sleeve of his jacket had been folded up and pinned at his shoulder. Standing erect as a spear shaft, he accepted a card from the next guest in line and then announced the man’s name to the crowd. Ella felt a rising sense of panic. She had no card, and even if she did, she wouldn’t want her name called aloud.
As the line moved forward, Ella stepped to the right and found herself a place against the wall. She glanced back at the man in the sash and saw him frown. Curious as to what was on his mind, she focused on him and sensed his embarrassment. He remembered the ballroom as it had been before the plagues and how truly grand and magnificent it had been. He hoped no one would notice the low-quality candles in the chandeliers, the stained tapestry hanging from the walls, and the cracks in the floor.
Ella’s gaze shifted back to the room, and she wondered why the man was embarrassed. Chandeliers lit the huge ballroom with an enchanting glow. Ella blinked at the bright light radiating from the high ceiling, but she noticed that not all of the chandeliers had a complete set of candles, and some gave off a dingy yellow light compared to the others.
That didn’t seem to bother dozens of finely dressed men and women arrayed in couples and groups around a vast marble floor. Beautiful young women stood with their parents or in clusters. In the far corner, an orchestra played a cheerful tune. The scene mesmerized her.
Ella focused on a woman standing near her and could sense concern that the gown she wore was old, worn, and patched. Ella studied the attire of several others and saw that their garments also showed signs of mending.
Servants wandered through the crowd, offering guests food and drink. Other guests lined up at tables of refreshments set along the near wall. Ella headed for a table stacked with cakes, cookies, and pies in a multitude of colors and sizes.
An older woman in front of Ella looked at the food and said, “Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Paltry fare compared to the old days.”
A lanky, dark-haired girl in a pink gown cut in front of Ella and selected a slice of cake. Ella did likewise and wondered why the girl wasn’t on the dance floor. Ella focused on her and learned that she was only fourteen and more interested in food than in dancing.
The girl continued along the table, and Ella followed, pausing occasionally to add something to her plate. The girl headed toward a large glass bowl of apple cider. Placed around the bowl were saucers and cups.
Ella read the girl’s mind and learned that even she recalled better times as a child, when her parents had hosted a party. The food had seemed better in those days, and more of it had been served.
Helping herself to a cup, Ella noticed that it was chipped. She found a secluded spot against the wall and sampled the cake. As soon as a bite crumbled in her mouth, she closed her eyes and groaned. Never before had she tasted such delightful sweetness, and the flavor seemed to be a tantalizing combination of fruits, nuts, and berries. She forced herself to eat slowly, savoring each morsel. Still, the slice was soon gone, and Ella turned her attention to the apple cider.
As she sipped from the cup, she studied the people a
round her, almost none of whom she recognized from around the town. Her heart nearly leaped from her chest when she realized the woman across the dance floor was Irmgard, and next to her stood Claudia and Yvette.
Ella’s first reaction was to run and hide, but running would only draw attention to herself. She eased away, moving farther down the wall. She must stay out of sight, she figured, reducing the chances that Irmgard or one of her daughters would recognize her. Ella imagined the beating she would receive if they found her out. She had settled herself into another vantage point when the music stopped and the room fell quiet.
From the orchestra, trumpets blared an impressive flourish, and then a deep voice boomed across the hall. “His Majesty, King Wilfred!”
Sentries opened wide doors, and out limped a portly old man in a purple robe. A golden crown atop his head, he had white hair, bushy eyebrows, and a pale, wrinkled face.
The room echoed with the rustle of feet and clothing as men bowed and women curtsied.
The king hobbled to a raised platform at the far wall.
When the king was seated, the deep voice bellowed again across the room. “Crown Prince Willem.”
In strode a tall man of about twenty years, dressed in a dark-blue uniform with gold buttons and braid. His brown hair had been pulled back and tied with a strip of dark leather.
Ella studied him closely and could see that his chin was prominent, square, and dimpled. His nose had a noble hook to it. The cut of his clothes suggested a lean body, with contours that marked strength and fitness. He looked exactly as Ella imagined a prince would.
Willem strode into the room, turned to the king, and bowed.
The king rose, steadying himself on the arms of his throne, and he raised a hand high. “Let the ball begin.”
To one side of the dance floor, a dozen young ladies had gathered to dance with the prince.
Cinderella Page 3
