The Testament of Lady Silvie

The turnkey has finally returned with the writing tablet, quill and ink bottle so I can commence composing my testament. I hold no illusions that this, my last work, should ever fall under mortal eye, or, if by some miracle it does, that the reader--whoever you might be, highborn or low--should believe the words I write here. However, this parchment shall most likely be burned unread by my jailer. Perhaps the Prince will have a secretary forge my handwriting and offer forth a false document agreeing with the popular reports of my grievous behavior. Indeed, except for tradition, I know not why I am even allowed access to this paper if no one shall ever read what I write hereon.

Still, I must take a chance on the truth eventually becoming known through this testament, otherwise history will call my bastard step-daughter a virtuous princess, while I and my daughters are vilified. Already I have heard the tales of "Cinderella" rampant in the kingdom, turning that scamp into a martyr among milkmaids and saint for scullery girls. She was always a skillful liar, but the tales Elise has spun about me far outstrip anything she fabricated in my household.