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There once was a young woman named Beger. She lived in England long, long ago, in a time before

the one we know now. When the land stretched onwards for miles and the sea whispered its quiet

lullaby. She lived with her father amid tumbling hills and rumbling streams, where the mountains

seemed to touch the sky. Beger was happy in her home. She wandered the land during the day,

and she gazed at the big, open sky. Sometimes the afternoon clouds would roll in,

and she felt the rain touch her skin and soothe her spirit.

One day, when the sun was low in the sky, Beger's father came to her and told her it was time

for her to marry. Beger's father had chosen a husband for her. He was a noble man in a neighboring village.

Her father insisted that he would make a very good batch for Beger. She would have everything she

would need with this man. He had a fine home, untempered horses. He had Persian rugs by an

open, crackling fire. He had a carriage that would take them to balls and great feasts.

But Beger did not know this man and she was unsure, so her father arranged for them to meet.

On the day of the meeting, Beger wore a green dress like a summer lawn. She wore her mothers

gold and necklace and ruby red earrings. She placed soft, velvet slippers on her feet,

so her steps made no sound.

She composed herself carefully and she walked forward to welcome this stranger.

Beger's father had ordered a feast in their dining room. The ceiling stretched up like a

...