Why. Because Leonora is an old woman. Because Leonora is a powerful woman. Because Leonora, like Hurrem Sultan, feeds and clothes the people of her town. 

He presses his face to the bars. “Who is there? Who are you?”

She answers with a calm that surprises her. “It is me, Papa. Bilhah.” It is on her tongue to say, your daughter, but he does not deserve it.

“What?” He shakes his head in confusion.

Then, suddenly, his face grows red. He jerks forward, banging his head against the bars. Thud, thud, thud.

Bilhah stares, trying to push away the horror building up inside her.

He pulls back and his mouth twists into a terrifying hole. “Let me out! Daughter, I command you. Open the door. Release me.”

She stands there, not moving, watching the impotence of his rage. She searches for something, some level of feeling, some fear. Is it exhaustion that has left her feeling numb?

His knuckles are white, his fingers red and swollen. His eyes bulge. His beard pushes through the bars, and most of it is white.

He is an old man.

He may have printed the Talmud, but he is no messenger of G-d. He is no giant, no ogre, just a cruel old man.

And he is locked away.

And she walks free.

All of a sudden, laughter wells up inside her. She opens her mouth and it is there, echoing around the cell. She smacks her hands over her mouth, covering the noise, in fear and sudden exultation, but then uncovers it again, and allows the laughter to ring against the stone walls.

It is a sudden sound of freedom.

Then she turns and she leaves.