The Golden Braid

by Melanie Dickerson

  Her mother would just say, “You have me. Why do you need friends?” But she didn’t always want to tell her mother everything. At the moment, she had to keep her reading lessons a secret. If Mother found out she was seeing Sir Gerek, spending time alone with him . . . it was too terrible to contemplate, after all the times her mother had warned her of what men would do to her if she was ever alone with them. It would not matter that Sir Gerek had one broken arm and one broken leg. He still would not seem safe to Mother.

  Mother just didn’t understand what it was like to be young and to want to do things, to learn things, to meet new people. Mother was content to speak only with Rapunzel, to be always with her.

  What if she never did make a close friend? Was she destined to be alone with her mother until one of them died? To never marry or have children?

  At least she had her reading lessons. Learning to read felt like the greatest thing that had ever happened to her. It was the greatest thing that had ever happened. Now she could write down her songs on paper and keep them forever. Learning to read would prove that she was just as worthy as any lord’s son or daughter. She could prove she was just as significant, just as intelligent, just as worthy of love and acceptance as anyone else.

  Besides, who knew what learning to read could lead to? She might even get some kind of occupation in town with her new skill.

  How strange that it was Sir Gerek who was teaching her—against his will, she ought to remember. She really owed more gratitude to Brother Andrew for giving her a job cleaning at the monastery and for forcing Sir Gerek to teach her. And why shouldn’t he? He should want to help her since she saved his life from that evil brigand. She sighed.

  “Rapunzel? Didn’t you hear me? I said the pottage is burning. Take it off the fire.”

  “Sorry, Mother. I must have been thinking.”

  “You think too much, my dear. Thinking only makes one sad.”

  “Not if one is thinking joyous thoughts.”

  “What joyous thoughts are you thinking?” Mother gave her an intense stare.

  Rapunzel shrugged. “Me? I’m only thinking . . . about Hagenheim. Perhaps I will get my first glimpse of it soon. I’ve never seen a walled city before.”

  “I shall take you tomorrow if you like.”

  “Oh, I’m in no hurry. Now that we live here, I can see it anytime.”

  Mother gave her a suspicious glance before continuing to slice the bread for their meal. “I hope you are not thinking about that boorish knight we met on the road to Hagenheim.”

  “I wouldn’t call him boorish.” He was a little rude and arrogant, but after all, he was a noble knight. She supposed he had a reason to be arrogant. “No, of course I’m not thinking of him, Mother. But he did save us from those robbers.”

  “And then you saved him from his own prisoner who was about to kill him. If he hadn’t been so careless as to let his prisoner get loose and steal his own knife, you wouldn’t have had to save him.”

  “He wasn’t careless. It was not his fault his horse fell on him.”

  “I say it was. He should have better control over his horse or get a new one.”

  It was impossible to win an argument with Mother, so Rapunzel said nothing more.

  Later, while they ate their meal of pottage and bread and plum pie, Rapunzel asked, “Have you seen any of your old friends since we came back? Any people you know? You must know a lot of people since you grew up here.”

  “There is no one here I care to speak to.”

  “Do you have any relatives—cousins or aunts or anything?”

  “Your great-grandmother did not like any of her living relatives, so we never saw them. ‘They are all cruel and deceitful,’ Grandmother would say. She said they would only hurt us, so we stayed away. I never met any of them.” She smiled. “I’m sure it was for the best.”

  “Perhaps, but sometimes I wish we had some family, people we could talk to.” People I belong with. People who would love me.

  “You mustn’t be discontent, my darling.” Mother’s face and eyes were cold. “You have everything you need. At least you aren’t an orphan, without a mother to take care of you.”

  It was at the forefront of Rapunzel’s thoughts to say that she was nineteen years old. She was too old to need a mother to care for her. But she knew from experience how angry that would make Mother.

  “Tomorrow I will be going to Hagenheim to speak to more people about my midwifery skills. You may come with me if you wish.”

  “Thank you, Mother. I may. Or I may stay home and work on a new song.”

  “As you wish, darling.”

  At least Rapunzel had her next reading lesson to look forward to. The thought of unlocking the secrets of an entire book made her giddy and light-headed. She didn’t want her mother to see. “I’m going outside for a few minutes.”

  “Very well, darling, but don’t stay out after dark.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  The next day Rapunzel hurried through the thickly wooded area and a small sheep pasture to the monastery that lay beyond. She had the small piece of parchment in her pocket with all the letters written on it. It was her most prized possession. She patted her pocket as she made her way toward the pale stone walls of the monastery buildings. She could see the garden, half hidden from view, and someone bending over, working in the soil.

  When she reached Sir Gerek’s door, she remembered his command that she knock and wait to be invited in. She huffed but knocked, then waited. After all, she had no desire to see Sir Gerek in any state of undress.

  “Come in.”

  Rapunzel opened the wooden door. Sir Gerek was sitting up, a book across his lap. His arm was still bundled awkwardly and resting by his side and his leg equally big and awkward in its splint.

  He looked up at her with a half scowl. “Back so soon? I would not have thought your mother would allow it.”

  Rapunzel bit her lip to keep from retorting something she might regret. Why did he have to spoil her mood? “Yes, I am back. But I need you to refresh my memory of some of these letters, please.” She sat primly on the stool beside him and held out the list of letters.

  They went over the letters two more times, until Rapunzel was certain she would not forget them again. Then Sir Gerek turned back to the passage they had been reading the day before. He allowed her to sound out some more words, and this time she read several sentences aloud.

  “I would like to read the New Testament and the Old Testament.”

  “You’ll have to learn Latin. The portions of the Old Testament that I own are in Latin.”

  The smug look on his face made her long to say something that would erase it. “You’ll just have to teach me, then.”

  That did it.

  “I was only asked to teach you to read German, not Latin.” The scowl on his face did not frighten her, but why was he always so grumpy?

  “Very well, we shan’t discuss it now.” She might as well not argue with him. She could take up the Latin cause later.

  She went back to reading the text in the enormous book, which was so large it lay across both their laps so they each could see the words.

  Her reading sounded halting and broken and slow, and she sometimes had to reread passages to understand the meaning. But she kept going and finally came to this passage: “ ‘I urge, then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for all people—for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness. This is good, and pleases God our Savior, who wants all people to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth.’ ”

  What a freeing thought—that, perhaps, she didn’t have to do great exploits for God, didn’t have go on long, painful pilgrimages or suffer in some way.

  “Is that all we have to do to please God? Only to pray for all people and to live a peaceful life in godliness and holiness?”

  Sir Gerek quirked one brow up. “Jesus said the greate
st commandment is to love God with all your heart, and the second greatest is to love your neighbor as yourself.”

  Rapunzel had heard a traveling friar teach that several years before. She eyed Sir Gerek from a new angle. Perhaps, behind his arrogance, he was not so terrible. He was only a man, after all, and she should not expect him to be perfect in temperament as well as principles. Though he had seemed perfect, in a physical sense, the first time she saw him—strong in body, handsome of face, and mighty in a fight—his arm and leg had been broken by a simple accident on horseback. Now he lay fairly helpless on the bed, barely able to stand on his own.

  But he was rude, arrogant, and grumpy. Why should she overlook those things? Perhaps because of what Pavel said, she should pray for Sir Gerek.

  She still didn’t like Sir Gerek very much, but she did need him to teach her to read and to allow her to read his books since she had none of her own. Perhaps he needed her too.

  “Does anyone besides me come to talk to you every day? I would think you would be grateful for the opportunity to teach me, to break the monotony of your routine.”

  “Read on, if you please,” he said with a frown.

  “You are going to give yourself wrinkles with all that frowning. You’re only, what, twenty-five?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  “And are you now growing a beard?” The stubble on his chin, jaw, and above his lip had grown quite thick since she first saw him.

  “I think I will. It makes me rather more intimidating, don’t you think?” He rubbed his whiskered jaw.

  “Frightening, you mean? Yes, rather like a bear or a wolf.”

  His expression, lowered brows and curling lip, caused a laugh to bubble up in her throat. Rapunzel covered her mouth with her hand.

  “I’ll have you know, when I traveled with Duke Wilhelm’s eldest son, Valten, to all the best tournaments, ladies often told me how handsome I was.”

  “Women are notoriously poor judges of character.” She wasn’t sure why she said that, except that she wanted to aggravate him.

  “What does character have to do with being handsome?”

  “Exactly.”

  He eyed her askance, out of the corner of his eye, then took a slow breath. “Are you going to read, or are we going to keep talking until your mother gets home?”

  Rapunzel cleared her throat and kept reading. The second and third chapters were short, and it ended with what seemed like verses from a song:

  “ ‘He appeared in the flesh,

  was vindicated by the Spirit,

  was seen by angels,

  was preached among the nations,

  was believed on in the world,

  was taken up in glory.’ ”

  She especially liked that part. Perhaps she might memorize it or think of some tune to go along with it.

  “Tired of reading?”

  “Just a moment.” She read it through again in a whisper this time. Then she turned and looked at the first chapter again.

  “What is this ‘law’ he keeps talking about?”

  “The Jewish law, of course.”

  Rapunzel raised her brows at him.

  “The rules that the Jewish people followed, the law of Moses, keeping the Sabbath day holy, tithing all of their crops, all those sorts of laws.”

  “Oh.” She remembered a question she had had for a long time now. “A friar once came to my village, and he said that we are all equal because we are Christians. You are a noble-born knight, I am a peasant, and Andrew is a monk, but we are all the same to God. Is this true? Is that what the Bible says?”

  Sir Gerek scowled. “Are you sure you are not staying too long again?”

  “Very well.” She closed the book and pushed it onto his lap. “Is there anything you need before I go?”

  “No, thank you.”

  She nodded primly. Just as she reached the door, she glanced back at him. “But I shall return very soon.”

  Chapter Ten

  Rapunzel accompanied her mother the next day to Hagenheim. Her mother was beginning to seem suspicious of why she was not eager to see the largest town Rapunzel had ever been near. So she and Mother set out for the town market.

  As they approached the town gate, Rapunzel stared up in awe at the brick wall around the town. People were coming and going through the opening, which was guarded by two men. The guards were dressed similarly to Sir Gerek, each with a sword on his hip, but were not nearly as handsome.

  Rapunzel followed her mother, who ignored the guards and walked through. Rapunzel glanced at the one nearest her. He pinned her with a severe look. His expression was even more frightening than Sir Gerek’s scowl. She expected him to grab her by the arm and order her to stay out of Hagenheim since such a rustic peasant girl, as poor and unsophisticated as she, did not belong in a grand town like Hagenheim. But he said nothing, and she walked on through.

  Rapunzel was wearing her brown wool kirtle, which laced up to her neck. She wore the outer sleeves, which were tied on with leather laces, over the white sleeves of her underdress. She had never thought about it before, but her clothes must look rather drab and ugly compared to most of the other dresses around her.

  She shrank as far into her head-covering shawl as she could. She peeked out of the sides but tried not to draw attention to herself. Everyone on the streets of Hagenheim appeared as different from the villagers she had grown up amongst as if they were from another world. Their clothing was made of the brightest and prettiest of colors—and that was only the men! The women wore fabrics of more variety than she had ever seen. Some looked soft and shimmery, like the smooth surface of a lake, and some of the veils were light and airy as a cloud and hardly covered their hair at all. One woman wore peacock feathers in her headdress, so elaborate it must have cost a year’s wages.

  Most of the women her age only partially covered their hair, or they left it entirely bare. She drew in her breath to see one, and then another and another, grownup maidens wearing their hair loose and uncovered or braided to keep it out of their eyes. She saw shoes that were wondrously strange, that curled up at the toe.

  Suddenly, she realized she had lost Mother. She searched through the crowded street for her mother’s familiar back and finally spotted her. She ran, losing sight of her again as more people passed between them, but finally caught up. She touched her mother’s sleeve and held on to it as she allowed herself to take in the fine buildings surrounding her.

  Such tall buildings, with windows on each of the three or four levels, and the upper floors jutting out over the lower ones, over the very street. What would it be like to live in such a sturdy looking house, with so many windows and so many floors? They also had chimneys. The hovel she shared with Mother only had a pit in the middle of the floor for the fire and a hole at the top of the roof for the smoke to go through. Having a place in the wall for the fire and a chimney going up through the roof worked much better, she had been told, for helping the smoke go out instead of circulating through the house and making everything black and smelly.

  Everywhere she looked was a new, interesting sight. Some of the buildings had carvings in the wood timbers, of faces or animals, or even words and numbers. Other buildings were made of half timbers, but instead of plaster or wattle and daub, they were surrounded by red bricks and mortar in interesting, angled designs. They towered even higher than the other buildings.

  A lady riding sidesaddle on a white horse passed by. She kept her eyes focused ahead. On the back of her head was a tiny gold caul with all her hair stuffed inside—she must have had very thin hair—but with its mesh design, did nothing to actually cover her hair.

  Rapunzel suddenly bumped into someone. “Oh, excuse me. I was not looking—”

  The young woman backed away from her, lifted her nose in the air, and twisted her perfect, plump lips into a look of repulsion as she stared at Rapunzel.

  On the lady’s head was a gold circlet trimmed with a white veil that was so thin and delicate, she cou
ld see the girl’s lustrous blond curls underneath it, not to mention that several long wavy curls hung outside the veil and across her shoulders. Her bright-red dress was trimmed in fur at the neckline, sleeves, and hem. She was beautiful and looked to be about the same age as Rapunzel.

  “You oafish girl,” she said, looking down. “I hope you did not soil my slippers.” She shook her hand at Rapunzel, as if to shoo her away.

  Another woman, dressed much less showy, pulled on her arm. “Come, Rainhilda. The horses are ready.”

  The woman, Rainhilda, deigned to give one more backward glance. “Ignorant peasant girl. Must be from the village.” She didn’t even lower her voice. “Look at her dress! And her hair—or lack thereof.” She snickered behind her hand and the woman beside her turned to stare, as did several others nearby.

  Rapunzel rushed away, her face burning and her stomach churning. Of course, anyone could see by Rapunzel’s clothing and her wide-eyed stares that she was poor and had never been outside her rustic village.

  “That is Rainhilda,” Mother pointed out, drawing Rapunzel to her side.

  “Did you hear what she said?”

  “No, I was talking to those women over there. Did she say something to you?”

  “No.” Rapunzel kept her head down, still feeling the sting. “Is she one of Duke Wilhelm’s daughters?”

  “No, but she is as proud and haughty as if she were. Her father is only a knight, but he is very rich and has no sons. Rainhilda has an enormous dowry.”

  “She isn’t married, then?”

  “No. She wanted to marry Duke Wilhelm’s oldest son, Valten, but he ended up marrying the orphaned daughter of one of the duke’s former knights. Everyone was surprised, but she is beautiful beyond compare and is pregnant with his first child.” Her mother’s lip curled, as if she did not like him. Though she couldn’t possibly know him.