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Although the ball had lost its former luster, I was very much looking forward to it, as it finally offered an opportunity to escape from the golden cage and exchange ideas with Charly. I missed her so painfully.
Here, at home, I was surrounded mainly by men. My father, my brothers, Stephan, and sometimes, in secret, Alex. The female maids were not allowed to speak to me, and my mother had died. I had no sisters. I was lonely and alone in a world dominated by men, and no matter how much effort my family made not to exclude me, I was no longer part of their world order. This was also why I often dwelled on my dreams and stories—diving into other worlds. Worlds that may never have existed but now, in retrospect, were brought to life in my mind only for me. A brief escape from reality instead of an image of reality.
Could my dreams be explained in this way? Amazons riding and fighting. Women who stood up for themselves took whatthey desired and met the enemy with strength. The opposite of what the entire female population of the world and I have done since the current witch burnings.
Startled, I looked at the index finger of my left hand. The needle tip was stuck in its tip, and red blood was dripping onto the white cloth, already adorned with a dainty little blossom. A red rose. In a shade of red that resembled that of my blood.
Sighing, I put the embroidery aside, removed the needle from my finger, and stanched the blood by placing the knob in my mouth. The taste of iron hit my senses. In childhood, I often wrestled with my brothers and occasionally got into fights. A busted lip or a bleeding nose had been no exception. But these little squabbles did not make me a brave Amazon.
Annoyed with myself and my ridiculous thoughts, I just shook my head and sighed again.
It didn't help; I had to submit to the new system, play by its rules, and, above all - not stand out. Anyone who was a thorn in the side of the Knights of the Seals put himself and his family in danger. The familiar anger rose in me, mixed with the feeling of powerlessness, and ended in hopelessness.
With trembling hands, I picked up the embroidery again and placed another red rose over the bloodstain, caught in thought in my little odyssey known only to me—the odyssey of a heroine, an Amazon.
That night,I waited in vain for Alex. It wasn't the first time he didn't show up. Sometimes, he couldn't get past the campus guards, or a policeman was posted too close to the loophole in the wall that lined our property.
I would have loved to talk to him about the abducted women and the plans of my father and brothers. I was still unsurewhether I should approve the planned training sessions with Chris or consider them too risky.
Alex usually had a sober and, at the same time, optimistic view of things. In contrast, I tended to see only the worst.
It had been different in the past when I had gone out into the world spontaneously and fearlessly, letting myself be blown by the wind and messing up fate with many an ill-considered decision, if there was such a thing as fate at all. But if God had given us free will and therefore could not take influence on our acting, how did it look then with fate? Were we able to determine our fate ourselves? Or did this thought arise only from the wish that it was so? Who liked to be a puppet in a game? Being steered without being able to decide which direction one wanted to go.
For hours, I lay brooding on my bed, staring up at the whitewashed ceiling, watching the moon's shadows play with the trees and shrubs of the garden in the wind. It was almost as if the black dancing figures could tell me the answer if I stared long enough. I wouldn't say I liked self-pity, but my loneliness overcame me that night. I longed for someone to listen to me, be there for me, laugh and cry with me. Maybe marrying Alex could fulfill these desires for me. Yet, deep inside me, I felt even that would not give me the freedom I needed to be happy.
Alex was a great man, and I loved him very much, but the change in society and the new position of women had not passed him by unnoticed. It was apparent in the teeny tiny gestures, in his facial expressions, and in the unspoken words between sentences. But I could not give up hope for a fulfilled life at his side because otherwise, I would have nothing left.
Eventually, I fell into a dreamless sleep just before sunrise, and when one of the maids woke me up two hours later, I knew even working out with Chris today would be a challenge. That's how tired, confused, and emotionally empty I felt.
Disgruntled, I rolled out of bed, quickly washed, and put on the good Sunday dress, which was kept in an inconspicuous black for going to church. In addition, I had decided against rebellion and also slipped into underwear that looked like my grandmother's from the past. After braiding my hair and putting it up, I chose comfortable, flat ballerinas where training should not be a problem.
My father was already waiting for me at the breakfast table. Stephan was in the process of instructing the maids, who were busy serving the food. When I entered, his gaze shot directly in my direction. His eyebrows shot up while his eyes darted over my black dress.
Undeterred, I went to my father, kissed him on the cheek, and then sat in the chair on the other side of the table.
"Good morning, Dad," I said, giving him a loving smile, which he answered nervously. He, too, had apparently slept poorly. His hair was wilder than usual, and black circles under his eyes made his face look older than he really was.
"Good morning, Stephan," I turned to the butler who had appeared next to me with the bread basket. The latter did not react to my greeting but only leaned forward slightly, and I heard him draw in his air strongly near my hair. This man was just scary.
A sound of surprise rang out behind me, and Stephan muttered, "No visit from Mr. Alexander tonight, and still unslept." I pretended not to have heard that remark, topped my roll with cheese, and bit into it more heartily than I felt. Hastily, I swallowed the tasteless lump in my mouth. Having to eat something even though I lacked any appetite was not foreign to me.
"Dad," I addressed the man across from me. He raised his eyes directly, and two worried brown eyes looked at me tiredly. Both my parents and brothers had brown eyes, as didmy grandparents. Only I stood out with my green. I had often wondered from whom I might have inherited this eye color and how many generations must lie between them.
"Dad, thank you for granting my wish to go to confession more often now. This is extremely important to me. The wedding is in a few months, and I want to do everything right," I played my part in this play we had to maintain in the presence of Stephan and the other servants.
"With pleasure, my child," my father replied calmly, and only in his eyes was there the flicker of uneasiness deep within him. "My chauffeur Thomas will drive you to St. John Cathedral in half an hour and escort you as far as the new chapel. There, Chris will be waiting to hear your confession. An hour later, Thomas will pick you up again. Please don't keep him waiting."
The warning at the end had not been missed. We had to return to the confessional in time so no suspicion would be aroused. But an hour was much too short for a training session. I urgently had to think of something to extend the time. Two hours per session was essential for it to be meaningful, especially if I had to learn the handling of weapons.
But I merely nodded silently for the moment and washed down my misgivings with my tea. Without turning around, I felt Stephan's probing gaze at my back.
The butler had started his service with us only a few weeks ago after our former butler, James, had passed away at an advanced age. He had belonged to our family, having been in my grandfather's household for decades and then with us for as long as I could remember. We all missed him, his humor, and his faithfulness daily.
In his place, Stephan took this position, which previously belonged to what felt like another family member. We had to learn quickly that many of the things we could discuss or do in the presence of James now no longer found a place within ourown four walls. This was as detrimental to family cohesion as it was to the atmosphere in the house. Distrust, fear, and secrets were piling up higher and higher in each of us, and it was only a matter of time before this growing tower would collapse.
Was that what Stephan was waiting for to strike? And to whom did he report what he noticed, what he learned? Not once since Stephan worked here as a butler had he left the house, being always present, ears and eyes, and apparently also his nose, on anything that might be suspicious.
The burning in my back became unbearable. Turning around to face him was out of the question, but I could no longer bear the urge to look at him. Unobtrusively, I raised my knife and turned it so the reflection showed the man behind me.
