by David Miller
As the summer wore on, our conversations grew more intimate, each of us telling the other things we had never told anybody else.
Often his stories were about his father, or his family, the future he had mapped out for him, but sometimes he spoke of girls as well, both those his friends had known and ones he had known, until one day he told me of the girl in the city his father wished him to marry, of her kindness and suitability.
When he had finished, I said nothing, just lay looking upwards. Next to me I could feel him listening, waiting for me to respond. When I did not, he placed a hand on my cheek.
“I have offended you.”
I gave a little shrug. “Of course not,” I said. “Why would I be offended?”
For a long time he did not answer, just lay there, his hand stroking my cheek. And when he did speak again, his voice was different, softer.
“Tell me about her.”
“Who?” I asked.
“The witch.”
I made a dismissive sound.
“Is it true, what they say? Can she really turn herself into a cat and speak to the dead?”
I laughed, pulling away from him. “Perhaps.”
He shifted his weight to look at me.
“And you, June, what secrets do you have?”
For a long time I did not answer. His body was so close to mine I could feel the movement of his blood beneath his skin.
“She has a girl,” I said at last, my voice scarcely more than a whisper. “In the tower.”
He stared at me, his eyes narrowing in disbelief.
“No.”
I did not answer, just grinned.
“You’ve seen her?”
I shrugged. “I know her.”
He laughed, leaning away.
“You’re lying.”
I shook my head. “She took her, as a baby.”
“From whom?”
I hesitated. “My parents.”
He looked at me warily.
I nodded. “Come with me and I’ll show you”.
I sat up, watching him. “Are you afraid?”
He shook his head. “Only of you,” he said, although when he smiled there was something behind it I had not seen before.
Why did I tell him? Because I loved him and thought it would impress him? And what did that say about how I saw her? Although we were friends, although I took pleasure in the time we spent together in the tower, talking and laughing, and although it pleased me to see the way she trusted me, there was something else there, too, some sense in which her innocence brought out something cruel in me. It was exciting, knowing she was there, knowing she was at my mercy, and like a child I wanted to share that excitement, to show off my power.
Three days passed before Jinka left for long enough for me to chance taking Will to the tower. Then, on the third day, she slipped away, taking the path I knew led to her traps in the hills, a journey that never took less than three hours.
Will was by the river when I found him and, taking his hand, led him back towards the tower. As we hurried through the forest we barely spoke, but by the gate I looked around at him and was surprised to see him smiling, scared, but excited. Catching my eye he grinned, and I felt a sudden thrill of pleasure at being there with him like that.
Inside the wall, the gardens were quiet, the only sound the buzz of the bees and the heavy hum of the insects, and as I led Will through them towards the tower I watched the way he looked about himself, taking in not just the swelling beauty of the plants and trees, but the charms and talismans hanging from their sticks to scare the birds. To one side a scarecrow stood, a nightmare thing of straw and cloth and crow feathers; by its feet, one of the cats watched us with its fathomless yellow eyes.
By Jinka’s hut we stopped, and I slipped in to take the key from its place. Then, emerging into the light again, I motioned him across towards the tower.
I went first, but I did not tell her Will was behind me until he appeared in the window, and I still remember how she took a step away in shock, one hand raised to her mouth.
“Juniper!” she shrieked, but before I could speak Will raised a hand reassuringly.
“Please. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Beside me Rapunzel clutched my arm.
“It’s all right,” I said. “He’s a friend.”
Although her grip did not slacken, I felt her breathing gradually slow. I saw her eyes fixed on his.
“Who is he?” she asked. He spoke over me, past me.
“My name is Will.”
If he was ever mine, I lost him that day. Although she was awkward with him, and shy, it was easy to see the way she bloomed under his gaze, the way his kindness made her smile. Once her fear of him was overcome, she was eager to know all she could, and she plied him breathlessly with questions about the city and the town and the world beyond her tower, her eagerness disarming him, delighting him.
An hour passed, and then another, and then I interrupted them, saying that we had to go. Will looked at me, and for a moment I was aware of how her golden beauty made my thin limbs and ragged hair look.
“Already?”
I nodded, and reluctantly he stood, his eyes taking in the two of us. He grinned carelessly.
“Had you not told me, I would not have known the two of you were sisters,” he said.
At his words, something went still inside me. Turning, I saw Rapunzel staring at me in confusion.
“Sisters?” she said. “I don’t understand.”
Will hesitated. “You didn’t know?” he asked.
“No!” Rapunzel said. “You’re lying!” As she spoke she looked at me imploringly. I shook my head.
“He’s not.”
“But I don’t understand,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you lie to me?”
Uncertain what to say, I drew back towards the window. “We need to go,” I said. “Jinka will be back soon.”
Things were different after that. Although he still came to me, something had changed between us, our bodies no longer congruent, no longer bound. One night we fought, my ill temper curdling into fury at his indifference, and after that I saw him less, and when I did he greeted me as he might any girl.
No doubt my shame and anger showed, for Jinka noticed.
“There is a charm,” she said one evening, speaking lightly, as if it were no great thing she was suggesting. “A spell that would make him yours.”
I hesitated, feeling the thrill of the possibility, then shook my head.
“No,” I said.
“Then we should punish him,” Jinka said, the tone of her voice making me turn in time to see the way she smiled. I went cold.
“No,” I said again, “not that either.” Although I think I wanted to, at least a little bit.
Rapunzel was different as well. For almost a week, the only times I saw her were when Jinka was there, so Rapunzel could not speak. The first time we were alone she stood and backed away from me.
“Why did you lie to me?” she demanded.
I shrugged. “She told me not to tell you.”
“So that woman, the one outside: she is my mother?”
“And my mother as well.”
It hardened me, to see her wounded like that, to feel the sting of her disapproval. Taking up her needlework, I cast it at her. “Finish your sewing,” I said.
There is a potion, the making of which I know, a draught designed to harden the heart, to make one forget that which has been lost. Brewed from belladonna and poppy seed, it is taken sometimes by grieving mothers. Yet its powers are false, for grief withheld is only grief delayed, and by refusing pain we also forget how to love. But I was too young to understand that, too foolish.
And, as it turned out, too blind. For one day, as the summer drew down, I approached the wall to find Will standing by the gate. He was ahead of me, and could not see me, so I slipped behind a tree, and then, after waiting for a moment, followed him.
Inside he moved quickl
y, certainly, cutting towards the house and stealing in, only to emerge a moment later with the key. Beneath the tower he paused, and, looking up, called for the rope.
As he shimmied up the wall I stole closer, concealing myself by the thorn bushes. From where I knelt I could not see them in the tower above, but even before I heard her cry out, I understood what his visit meant, and how long it had been going on.
That night I did not sleep, just lay awake, listening to the dark. After Will had gone, I had climbed the rope myself, paced about her room, watching her for some sign she thought I suspected, but she just ignored me in the manner that had become her habit since Will’s first visit, answering my questions as briefly as possible. Yet in my bed, as I closed my eyes, I could reconstruct the scene in my mind, their nakedness, the closeness of their bodies. I knew them both so well, it was easy to make it real to myself. And as I did, I felt my fury grow.
Jinka was still abed when I arrived the next day; as I entered she hissed.
“It’s only me,” I said.
“What is it?” she asked, lifting herself to look at me.
“It’s Rapunzel,” I said.
Even as I spoke I saw the look of fury on her face, the black rage. When I was done, she was silent, then with a shriek she stood, and ran to the tower.
Rapunzel looked confused as we entered, her eyes flicking first to Jinka’s face and then to mine. Jinka was wild, terrifying, and as she moved she swayed like a snake.
“What is it, Mother?” Rapunzel asked, backing away.
“You think I am a fool then?” Jinka hissed.
“No, Mother.”
“Liar!” Jinka spat, lunging forward with the speed I knew so well. “Faithless child!”
Rapunzel twisted in her grip, but Jinka was too quick, too strong, and before she could get away Jinka had her on the bed, her face clutched in her hand.
“So, you give yourself to him, do you? And lie to me, your loving mother?”
Rapunzel shook her head, fighting against Jinka’s grip. “No,” she said, but as she spoke her eyes met mine, and I saw understanding appear.
“What did he promise you?” Jinka asked. “And what did you give him?” As she spoke she snaked a hand into Rapunzel’s dress, her hand pressing into her, her face thoughtful for a moment, then harder than before. With sudden force, she thrust Rapunzel away from her, sending her sprawling across the bed, then, turning to me, reached into her skirt pocket and drew out a length of cord and cast it at me.
“Tie her,” she said.
I worked quickly, binding my sister to the bed. When I was done Jinka produced a pair of scissors, and with rough strokes began to cut Rapunzel’s hair away. Then she brushed the hair onto the floor and sat beside Rapunzel, one hand raised to touch her cheek.
“Did you not know your mother loved you?” she asked. Rapunzel jerked her head away, and once more Jinka looked at me.
“Gag her,” she said.
It was after midday before Will appeared, slipping through the garden to the hut. As he called her name on the platform beneath, Rapunzel strained at her bindings and tried to cry out, but Jinka just crossed to the window, and cast the rope down.
I did not move as he ascended. And so, when his body appeared in the window, it was me he saw, seated on the bed, Rapunzel shorn and bound behind me. In that moment I understood what I had lost.
“June?” he said, swinging his legs over the sill, but before I could speak Jinka grabbed him from behind and pressed a knife against his neck.
“Come here like a thief, will you?” she hissed, her free hand sliding up until it touched his head.
“What have you done, witch?” he asked, but Jinka only laughed.
“Nothing yet,” she said, then with a look at me, she had me fetch the chains she had prepared.
I did not speak as she closed them about his wrists and ankles. I was afraid now.
“You were Juniper’s man, weren’t you?” she said, standing over him. He looked at me and then away.
“What if I was?”
She smiled a cold, crafty smile.
“She brought you here, didn’t she? To show you her sister?”
Will did not answer, just glanced at me again. But it was enough. Jinka looked at me.
“And you: you thought this would be your vengeance?”
I began to shake my head, but Jinka spat at me.
“Save me your lies. I’ll deal with you later.” Then, turning back to Will, she smiled again.
“So what shall I do with this thief?”
She drew something from her pocket, and I saw she held a black iron needle.
“Such a beautiful boy,” she murmured, turning his face towards her. “So easy, so sure.” Then with a sudden movement she pushed him from her, and, pulling his head up, pressed the tip of the needle against his eye. Will fell still.
“But a thief all the same. This will teach you,” she said. “Let the poison enter you,” and as she spoke she took the needle and pressed it deep into his eye.
Will screamed; behind me Rapunzel moaned and strained against the rope that held her. Jinka smiled, murmuring a spell as the needle did its work, then slowly drew it forth. Turning to me she ordered me to help her lift him, and together we dragged him to the window and with a push shoved him out, into the air.
I have heard many versions of what happened next. Some say Jinka slew Will, and cast his body down into the brambles. Others say he went mad from grief, and threw himself out to die. Still others say Jinka pushed him out into the thorns, and, blinded, he wandered off into the woods, to live as a beggar until Rapunzel found him, and her tears healed his sight.
There are other stories, too. About how the woodcutter’s daughter fooled the witch, made her say her name, so she was dragged down to hell; about how the girl fooled the witch into drinking poison, or climbing into the oven. About how the dark-haired girl set her sister free, yet was cursed to stay behind.
Perhaps they are all true. This is what stories do, after all: go out into the world, become real. We think we tell them, but more often they tell us, make us theirs. So much so, I sometimes think, that the truth lies less in what actually happened than in the ways we tell ourselves about what happened, the things we need to hold on to.
They are gone now, both of them, passed away with the wind and years, so I could tell you anything, make any story that I wanted to. Yet I will tell you the story as I remember it.
The first thing I remember is the silence, the quiet in the space before he struck the ground below. Then the sound itself, so small, so ordinary. Beside me Rapunzel tensed for a moment, then turned her face away.
Turning back to Jinka, I found her looking at me, her face full of the knowledge of her victory. There was no invitation there to share, just the pleasure of what she had done. And all at once I understood. Not just that she did not love me or care about me but that she had no love in her at all, that all she cared about was power. That all her magic, all her powers were simply ways of bending others to her will. That I had never been anything more than a convenience, a thing for her to play with. And that I hated her.
“Wait here,” she said, and, swinging out over the sill, went down towards her hut.
I understood what it was she meant to do, that the herbs she had gone to fetch were ones that would kill the baby in my sister’s womb. And so I crossed to where Rapunzel lay, and, moving quickly, unbound the ropes that held her.
At first she sprang away from me and would not look at me. She was weeping, I saw now, silently and furiously.
“Come on,” I said. “I need your help.”
When Jinka returned we grabbed her. She was fast and strong, but there were two of us, and we had the element of surprise. I held her fast as she kicked and spat and swore, and we wrestled her to the floor.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, fighting and straining.
“Why did you do that? He never hurt you,” Rapunzel said, and Jinka shook her head.
“I did it because I love you. Can’t you see that?”
Something knotted inside me at her words, but before I could act Rapunzel had lunged forward, and pressed a knife to Jinka’s throat.
“I should kill you,” she said.
“No,” Jinka said, “my child, please, you know I love you. If I erred this time I’m sorry.”
“You are not my mother,” she said then, “and you never were,” and as she spoke she pressed the knife closer, Jinka whimpering at the feel of it, her eyes rolling back in her head.
For a long moment they sat like that, the knife pressed close, Jinka’s breath coming sharp and ragged. I think there was a moment when Rapunzel meant to do it, too, but instead all at once she let the knife go.
“Tie her up,” she said. “And gag her.”
“We should kill her,” I said when I was done, “or cut out her tongue and break her fingers.”
“Would you do that?” Rapunzel asked, and I looked at Jinka. Part of me wanted to, but instead I took the knife and began to cut Jinka’s clothes from her, piece by piece, and with them the charms and talismans she wore against her body. As each one came loose, I placed it on the ground and broke it with my foot, some cold part in me exulting in the way Jinka hissed and bit at the gag.
Rapunzel watched until I had finished. Then she addressed Jinka.
“You will leave this place,” she said, “and never return. For if you do, I shall kill you myself.”
Turning to her, I said her name, but she lifted a hand to silence me.
I knew then that I had lost her, that whatever came after this was the end for us.
I climbed out, lowering Jinka ahead of me, then, picking her up, marched her out the gate into the trees.
When I removed her gag, she spat and swore, but I lifted the knife and she retreated.
“Where will I go?” she wheedled. “Who will care for me? Please, June, don’t.’
But I just threw a blanket after her and turned away.
When I returned, I found Rapunzel kneeling by the bushes at the base of the tower, Will’s body cradled in her arms. As I approached I saw him move, and realised he was not dead, and began to run towards them, but as I reached them she shook her head and told me to stay away.