by Moore, John
Rapunzel was shaking, but whether from fear or anger, or more likely a combination of both, it was impossible to tell. “It’s not a question of looks,” she began. But then Rumpelstiltskin broke in.
“Do you keep kosher?”
“What?” said Hal.
All heads turned to the dwarf. “I was talking to Rapunzel.” He hopped up on a sofa and repeated the question in a cheery, conversational manner. “I said, ‘Do you keep kosher?’ ”
It took Rapunzel a moment to collect her thoughts. “Ah, well, not exactly. I have the separate dishes and all, but generally we only bring them out for the high holidays.”
“Yeah, I’m the same way. I’m not really into all the kashrut stuff, but you know, you got to have some respect for tradition.”
“I thought you said you weren’t Jewish,” said Hal.
“Shut up,” explained Rumpelstiltskin. He grabbed Hal’s arm and began guiding him toward the door. “Rapunzel and I, we need to talk. If you’ll just step outside for a few minutes, Your Highness—you too, Miss Emily—I think we can get all this settled.”
“But . . .” said Emily.
“Just a few details to work out,” said Rumpelstiltskin, shoving them both outside. “Be with you in a minute.”
The door slammed. Hal leaned up against the outside wall, then slid down to a sitting position. “Now that was a bit of a surprise.”
Emily pointedly ignored him. In fact, she turned her back on him and walked around the tower until she was out of his sight. “Well, fine,” he said. He was feeling very tired. He closed his eyes and thought he must have slept for a while, because when he opened them it was quite dark, and the stars had come out. Caroline was shaking him.
“Hal, are you all right?”
“Fine.” Hal tried to stand up and found that he couldn’t.
“It’s getting cool. Maybe you better get inside.”
“No, I’m fine. I’ll just rest here a bit more.”
Rumpelstiltskin came back out. He was carrying a sheet of foolscap with some notes written on it. “That Rapunzel.” He shook his head admiringly. “She’s one smart cookie.”
“You short guys always get the girls,” Hal told him. “What did she say?”
“Well, we got a problem, Your Highness. She says nothing doing, not even kissy-face, until she sees at least an engagement ring.”
“No problem.” Hal reached inside his tunic and brought out a small gold ring with a large diamond. Rumpelstiltskin whistled when he saw it. “Take it with the compliments of the royal family,” Hal told him. “And congratulations to you both.”
“Thanks, Your Highness. I’ll return it as soon as we have a chance to buy another one.”
“No, keep it. What’s next?”
“I can take care of most of it.” He looked at the list in his hand. “As soon as we cash in the gold, she wants me to visit her parents.”
“I’ve met them. They’re good people.”
“I’m gonna need a new suit. Let’s see, she wants a house in Shaker Heights, two weeks each year at the seashore—and I need to see her uncle.”
“Her uncle?”
“She’s got plans. With our share of the money, we’re going into business. I’ll make the furniture and her uncle Morty will sell it, she says.”
“Sure,” said Caroline.
“Her whole family is very big into retail.”
“Of course.”
“Is there anything else?” said Hal.
“Well, yeah, Your Highness.” Rumpelstiltskin looked embarrassed. “Uh, she wants a knighthood.”
“Rapunzel wants to be a knight?”
“No, for me.”
“A Jewish knight? Impossible.”
“Well, it would be good for the furniture business. But see, it’s about this expulsion. We kind of think that giving a knighthood to a Jew would help show that the royal court won’t support discrimination. It would discourage people from getting behind another expulsion.”
“I guess. But Dad would never go for it.”
“It’s a deal,” said Caroline definitely. “Jeff will do it, and he’s going to be king. It’s a good idea.”
Hal rubbed his eyes tiredly, leaving a smear of blood on his cheek. “ ‘Why is this knight different from all other knights,’ ” he quoted. “Okay, you’ve got it.”
“That’s all,” said Rumpelstiltskin. He looked at the ring again. “Guess I better give this to her. Miss Emily’s about to cut her hair.”
He went back inside. Caroline said, “Do you always carry around diamond engagement rings?”
“I got it for you.”
“Oh. Right. Well, thanks. That was a pretty nice stone.”
“It’s glass. We’re broke, remember? You’ll have to get Jeff to buy you another one.”
Caroline hesitated. “Hal—um—I gave you my promise—if you still want to . . .”
“Forget it.” The Prince made a theatrical gesture with his right hand. “I release you from your vow, oh fair one. Go forth and marry whom you please.”
“Thank you, Hal.”
Emily stalked past, tight-lipped. She went inside without looking at Hal.
“I suppose she’s really mad.”
“She told me what you said in there. She’s jealous. She just doesn’t know it. But Hal,” Caroline continued reprovingly, “you should have told me first.”
“I guess. I couldn’t force myself on an unwilling girl anyway. I can hardly stand up.”
“It’s a good thing we had Rumpelstiltskin along.”
“Mmmm.” Hal was quiet for a few minutes. Caroline thought he had fallen asleep again, when he whispered, “If I’d asked you, would you have done it with me?”
“Of course, Hal. We’re together in this, remember?”
The Prince let his shoulders slump. His head fell forward onto his chest. Caroline had to lean forward to hear him. “You could have closed your eyes and pretended it was Jeff.”
She gave him a sad smile. “I wouldn’t do that, Hal.”
The Prince made no reply. “Hal? Are you awake?” She took his chin and tilted his head up. Hal’s eyelids were open, and the eyeballs rolled up in his head. “Hal!”
Hal refocused his eyes. “S’okay.”
“You’re not okay! What’s wrong?”
Hal didn’t move. Caroline was wondering if he passed out again, when he pulled up his tunic. Just above the belt line was a small hole, oozing blood. “I took a stab. In the tournament. Right in the stomach.”
“Oh my God! Is it bad?”
“Not really. It isn’t bleeding much.”
“Yes it is! It’s bleeding inside, isn’t it?”
“At least I didn’t put my eye out.” Hal managed a weak laugh. “Mom would never let me hear the end of it.”
“Hal! Why didn’t you say something? We’ve got to get you back to the city.”
“Can’t. I really lost that match, don’t you see? No one knows. It happened so fast—Bear was so surprised that I dodged his thrust—he didn’t know his dagger went in—under my breastplate—then I cut his arm—so he couldn’t feel—and the judge didn’t see—I didn’t flinch, and you couldn’t see the blood—I kept quiet—I cheated.”
“You’re royalty! You can cheat if you want!”
“You’re really getting the hang of this, I see.” Hal laughed again, then took a shuddering, raspy breath. “Good. You’re going to make a great princess.”
“I’ll get Emily. She knows first aid and might have some ointment or something.”
“No!” Hal grabbed Caroline’s arm. He struggled to sit up. “No, you can’t tell them. Not Emily, not anyone. We can’t take the chance.”
“Hal, this is not a time to—”
“Caroline, I lost the match. That means I lost the bets. If word gets out, the bookmakers won’t pay up, and all this will have been for nothing. Kenny will be king, the expulsion will go on, and we’re finished.”
“Hal, you could die!”
>
“I won’t die. I’m sure I won’t die. People live for hours after being stabbed in the gut. Sometimes for days. So don’t say a word until we cash in the bets. Just make sure.” Exhausted, he slumped back against the wall again. “Just make sure we get the gold.”
Caroline ran into the tower. “Okay everyone, let’s move it. We’ve got a busy night ahead of us. Lots to do, let’s snap to it.”
Rapunzel was sitting in a chair, Rumpelstiltskin was standing on a chair watching her, and Emily was standing behind her with a pair of scissors. Rapunzel was saying, “Rumpy, honey, you’ve got to leave me some hair. I can’t go around looking like a monk. A little gold more or less won’t matter.”
“If it won’t matter, then I favor more rather than less. Your hair will grow back, sugar.”
“I can do a short flip cut,” said Emily. “Off the shoulder.”
“Excuse me,” Caroline said. “May I see those?” She took the shears out of Emily’s hand. “Thank you.” Then she grabbed a fistful of Rapunzel’s hair, made two quick cuts near the scalp, and let the long tresses fall to the floor. “All done.”
“What? What did you do?” Rapunzel looked frantically around the room for her mirror. “Did you just hack my hair off?”
“It’s the newest style. You’ve been out here all summer, so I guess you didn’t realize it. All the girls in Melinower are getting their hair done this way.”
“Really?”
“Sure. Okay, you two, where’s the bed? Upstairs? Then off you go. Time for you to get down and do the wild thing.”
“Hey!” said Emily. “Who put you in charge?”
“No one. I’m just helping out.”
“Yes, well I don’t see why you think you can boss us around. We don’t need you here, thank you very much.”
“You don’t, eh?”
“No, we don’t. We’re all set. Rumpelstiltskin brought the spinning wheel, I brought the philosopher’s stone, Rapunzel has the red mercury and the hair. We have everything we need without you . . .”
“Except someone who can spin.”
Emily stopped in midsentence.
“Unless you yourself can spin.”
“Um, no.”
“Rumpelstiltskin?”
“No. I can darn my own socks.”
“Rapunzel?”
“No,” said Rapunzel. “I never asked Torricelli about that part. I assumed he’d have someone else come in to do it.”
“Then go upstairs and leave it to me.” She nudged Rapunzel toward the winding stone staircase, then began piling stuff in Rumpelstiltskin’s arms. “Here you go. Candles, flowers, chocolate, a bottle of wine, and a book of slushy poetry. In case you need to get her in the mood.”
Emily was looking at the hair. “Can you really spin all this in one night?”
“Oh sure. It will spin up nicely. Look how smooth and strong it is.”
Rapunzel called down, “It’s because I’ve been conditioning it with collagen and silk protein.”
“Yes, yes. Go on now. Rumpelstiltskin, be gentle with her.”
“What are you giving advice for? What do you know about sex, anyway?” said Emily.
“Nothing. What would you say? Slap her around, she likes the rough stuff? Excuse me a moment.”
She went out the door and over to Hal. He was still where she had left him, slumped against the castle wall. She felt his wrist. His pulse was unsteady, and his breathing was shallow and ragged. She ran back inside and looked up. “Dammit. What’s taking them so long?”
“They’ve hardly just started. Here, help me set up this wheel.” Emily cleared a space in the mass of hair and moved the wheel into the center. She put a stool in front of it. “I’ve figured it out. The philosopher’s stone goes here.” She placed it in a cagelike holder that was on the end of the spindle. “Now spin the wheel.”
Caroline sat on the stool and worked the foot pedals. The wheel spun, quietly and smoothly, into motion. Carefully, Emily poured the red mercury into a groove on the frame. Slowly it trickled onto the spinning wheel, until the whole circumference of the rim was tinted silver. Caroline stopped the wheel and touched it. It was dry. The red mercury had absorbed into the wood and hardened like paint.
“There!” Emily pointed to the spindle. “That didn’t take long. They’ve done it.” At the tip of the spindle, the philosopher’s stone was giving off a faint, white glow, like moonlight. “Try it.”
Caroline took some hair and wound it over the wheel and around the spindle. She pumped the pedals and got the wheel going again, feeding the hair quickly and expertly through her fingers. After a minute, she stopped. “Something’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong. Why did you stop?”
“It’s not working. It looks the same.”
“It’s supposed to look the same, remember?” Emily unrolled a length off the spindle and bent it between her fingers. It stayed bent. “It’s become stiff and heavy. It’s metal.”
Caroline nodded and got back to work. The wheel spun, the spindle rotated, and the hair flowed through her hands. “Stay with me, Hal,” she whispered, and she worked steadily through the night, spinning strands of purest gold.
There comes a time, said Caroline to herself, when you have to face up to unpleasant reality. To admit the harsh truth. To acknowledge that despite all your planning, despite all your efforts, despite all your careful attention to detail, that some things just weren’t going to work out the way you wanted.
To be exact, there was no way her bridesmaids were ever going to wear those dresses again.
Still, it had been an exciting two weeks, a time that someday she would tell her children and grandchildren about, with lots of hand-waving and excited gestures. There was the mad ride back from the tower, a frantic attempt to get Hal to a surgeon, with the carriage careening all over the road, the horses whipped into a froth, and a determined dwarf at the reins. And then they had to change the gold for the betting slips, and that was followed by an equally furious race through the city. Each of them took a handful of slips and pushed and shoved their way through panicked crowds and jammed streets, evading Kenny’s Guards and hunting down the bookmakers, demanding payment before they left the country.
And still to come was the great climactic confrontation in the Council of Lords. Caroline had been there, too, right behind Prince Jeffrey, when he kicked open the door and strode in, with a sack of gold in each hand, tall and broad-shouldered and angry. He flung the bags across the table, and as the coins scattered and rolled, he demanded authorization to take an army unit and restore order to the city. Caroline thought that no man had ever looked so handsome, and she had never been so proud.
Overwhelmed by greed, and fearful of riots outside their windows, the Council had acquiesced. By nightfall it was all over—the riots broken up, the looters routed, the Royal Guards sent back to their barracks, and the Jews returning to their homes. Everywhere Prince Jeffrey was cheered as a hero, and Kenny was in disgrace. The next day the King quietly told the Council he was abdicating and named Jeff as heir to the throne.
Even now, Caroline felt a warm glow of pride when she looked upon her husband. But still, one had to have a sense of perspective. “Put down the ledgers,” she told Jeff. She crossed the office floor, took the quill out of his hand, and kissed him on the cheek. “It’s our wedding day. Business can wait until tomorrow.”
“So much to do,” said Jeff. “And the coronation is only two weeks away.”
“I know, I know. And you,” she told the circle of financial advisors, “out. There’s a wedding reception going on, if you haven’t noticed. Get out there. Have fun. Dance, eat, get drunk. Off you go. Shoo.”
With backward smiles, they left the room. Jeff started to say something, but Caroline silenced him by hopping into his lap and kissing him all over his face. Then she stood up and dragged him out of his chair. “You, too. You can’t miss your own reception. People will think I give dull parties.”
He pu
t up his hands “Okay, okay. I’m going.” He put on his jacket, but when he turned back around, Caroline had dipped the quill in the inkwell and was making a list on a sheet of foolscap.
“Coronation gown,” she wrote. “Portrait sitting. Gifts for ladies-in-waiting. Order tea!” She underlined this last one twice and was about to add a third line when Jeff took the quill out of her hand.
“I can’t appear without my wife,” he said. “People will think we had a fight.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming.” She took his hand, and they walked together through the hallways and into the Grand Hall, where the orchestra was playing, the tables were groaning with meats and roasted birds, and the reception dance was going full swing. A multitiered wedding cake, dripping with icing, rose a dozen feet in the air. Two carved ice swans floated in a fountain of wine. Jeff spotted his advisors standing beside it, hooked a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, and went to join them. They immediately began talking finances.
Caroline shook her head, smiled, and began to circulate. She spotted two girls waving to get her attention. They were her friends Ashley and Brenna, who had changed out of their bridesmaid dresses and rejoined the party. “Look,” said Ashley. “There’s Prince Kenneth. Ooh, I didn’t know he was so handsome. Do you think we’ll get to dance with him?”
“No! I mean, um, I’ll get back to you in a little bit.”
Kenny had gotten a consolation prize. He had been named the Crown Prince of Losshire, a protectorate of Melinower, and was wearing the Cross of Losshire as a badge of rank. He was surrounded by his own knot of hangers-on. When Caroline got up close she found, to her surprise, that the oldest prince was talking to Rumpelstiltskin. “There was nothing personal in it,” he was saying. “The expulsion was based strictly on financial considerations. Hell, some of my best friends are Jews.”
Rumpelstiltskin looked sour, but was diplomatic enough to let it pass. Caroline came up behind him. “That just made it worse,” she said. “Persecuting people for money.”