by Wendy Mass
“Just in case,” he says, “take this horn and use it if you need help.”
“Where did you get this?” I ask, admiring the brass-and-leather horn. It is heavier than I would have thought.
“I borrowed it from the hunt master,” Elkin says with a wink as he turns to follow the path to the hermit’s cave.
“You borrowed it?” I call after him.
“Okay, so I stole it,” he calls over his shoulder. “But he won’t need it today and you’ll make sure I give it back.” He laughs as he disappears into the trees. Perhaps Elkin has not totally changed his ways … but I did notice a big satchel of clothes tied to the back of Dusty Rose’s saddle. I have a feeling the hermit will be dressing better soon.
By following Elkin’s arrows, which thankfully were not felled by the heavy rains, I easily find the spot where I first heard the singing. With a deep breath, I close my eyes. For a few minutes I do not hear anything but the beating of my heart and the occasional squawk of a bird. Then the wind picks up a bit and I hear the singing, ever so faintly. I am tempted to gallop off in the direction I think it’s coming from, but I force myself to do as the hermit said and just listen. Snowflake whinnies, almost like he is trying to tell me something. Can he hear the girl, too? What if I drop his reins and let him find her? Could that possibly work? Well, it wouldn’t be any more surprising than all the other things that have happened in the last few days. I drop the reins.
“Okay, Snowflake, let’s go find that girl!”
And off he goes! We weave in and out of trees, sometimes hitting an old bridle path, sometimes climbing over logs and under low branches. I break off a thin twig and use the tip to paint a slash of yellow on the tree trunks as we pass. The song is getting louder and louder until I can finally hear the words.
Oh, a dipsy and a doodle and a doodle and a dip,
The maiden drops her bonnet and upon it he does slip,
But he loves her fully anyway and she agrees to wed,
Oh, a dipsy and a doodle and a doodle and a —
As we round the final bend, the song suddenly cuts off. Snowflake comes to a halt just as suddenly and I am thrust forward in my saddle. I strain to listen. Nothing. My chest is tightening up. Have we come this far for nothing? I move Snowflake forward a few feet and see past the trees into a clearing. In the middle is the last thing I thought I would see — a tower as tall as our castle watchtower! Until now, the treetops have restricted it from view. Just below the top of the tower is a small window. I peer closer and see that inside the window stands a girl. I have found the singing girl! She lives in a tower? How strange. I am about to charge forward when a stooped old woman approaches the bottom of the tower. In a cackling voice she says, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.”
A few seconds later, a thick golden braid is lowered from the window all the way down to the grass below. My jaw falls open. How could one girl’s hair be that long? Why did the strange woman want her to hang it out the window? Then the most bizarre thing of all happens — the old woman starts CLIMBING UP THE GIRL’S HAIR!!! Hand over hand, she shinnies up at a steady pace. When she reaches the window ledge, the girl backs up and the old woman climbs inside. I rub my eyes. Did I just see what I think I saw? Snowflake paws the ground with his hoof, and whinnies. I back us up a few paces, fearing the woman might not like having company.
I dismount from Snowflake’s back, give him some hay to nosh on, and sit on a nearby tree stump to wait. What I am waiting for, I do not know, but I keep my eyes focused solely on that window. After about ten minutes, the girl steps to the window again and I jump to my feet. I’m about to run to the tower when the old lady climbs out onto the ledge and starts sliding down the braid. I shrink back again and hide behind a tree until the woman disappears around the back of the tower.
The girl pulls her hair back inside and does not return to her singing. I wait by Snowflake for a long time, until I am certain the witch is not returning. Then I pace back and forth beneath the tower, unsure what to do. Should I toss a rock in her window to get her attention? That’s probably not a great idea, considering my history with anything that requires aim. No doubt I would strike her in the head by mistake. I circle the perimeter of the tower, looking for any way in. On the opposite side from the window I see a door, but it has been sealed up tight with cement. Does the girl never leave the tower? Is she a prisoner there?
I see no other alternative but to climb up the same way as the old woman. I stand under the window, clear my voice, and call out, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.” Truth be told, since my voice hasn’t completely changed yet, I don’t sound all that very different from the old lady. It works! She lets down her hair! I grab hold of the end of it and pray I am not so heavy that she comes flying out the window. My ascent is not as smooth as the old woman’s, and I occasionally bang a knee or elbow against the hard stone wall. When I finally get to the ledge, I swing my leg over and hop in. That is the last thing I remember before waking up some time later on the hard stone floor. The girl with the hair is standing over me, a heavy pewter bowl held firmly in her hands. My head is throbbing and — unless I am going crazy — a cat is licking my ear.
Perhaps I acted a bit rashly. I suppose I could have let the boy speak his peace before knocking him out. In my own defense, he HAD tricked me by pretending to be the witch. I am standing over him now, bowl poised to strike again if necessary. Sir Kitty sniffs the boy’s clothes, which look very fine and well tailored even to my untrained eye, and is now licking the boy’s ear for some reason. When he awakens from his bowl-induced sleep, his eyes slowly open and his hand reaches out to rub the spot on his head where I struck him. His glasses have fallen off his face and are dangling from one broken stem.
“What did you do THAT for?” the boy asks, grimacing. He slowly sits up and leans against the tower wall for support.
How could he ask me that? I had forgotten how dense boys could be. “You just CLIMBED UP MY HAIR! Uninvited, I might add.”
“I could not figure out any other way to get in,” he says. “This place is locked up tighter than a prison.”
“Look around,” I tell him. “This IS a prison.”
He feels for his glasses and discovers the broken stem. With a deep sigh, he reaches into a pocket inside his cloak and pulls out an extra pair. “These are my last ones,” he says, fitting them on his face and looking around at last. “So you are a prisoner, then. I feared as much. You do not look like a very dangerous criminal.” He smiles slightly and adds, “Although you know how to wield a salad bowl quite well! You can put it down now. I assure you, I mean you no harm.”
I debate my options. Compared to the witch, he does look pretty harmless. I lay the bowl down on the floor and Sir Kitty runs over to check it for milk. Disappointed, she climbs up onto the boy’s lap and curls up to sleep.
“Well, my cat seems to like you. Perhaps now you will tell me why you are here?”
“Ladies first,” he says. “Tell me why YOU are here.”
Might as well get it over with. I sit down a few feet away and tell him my sorry tale. He gasps in all the right places, and even laughs a few times, such as when I tell him how my shoe fell off when I was dangling from the window.
“That is some story,” he says, shaking his head. “I did not think such things as witches and little green creatures who live in underground caverns existed anymore.”
My face darkens. “Are you saying you don’t believe me?”
“Oh, no,” he says hurriedly. “Of course, I do.”
“Good,” I say, relieved. “Or else I might have to hit you with the salad bowl again.”
He grins. He has a nice smile. He could use a haircut, but who am I to talk about that? “So now you know who I am, but I do not know your name, nor why you are in my tower.”
The boy gently moves Sir Kitty from his lap to the floor, stands up slowly, and bows. He is quite tall for his age. “Prince Benjamin at your service, Lady Rapunzel. I h
ave come to rescue you.”
Well! This is an interesting twist in my life’s tale. Rescued by a prince! Who would have guessed it?
“But how did you know I was here?” I ask. I feel foolish looking up at him from the floor, so I stand up, too. I am pleased to report that I am only a few inches shorter than he.
“I followed the beautiful singing,” he says. “The troll — who turned out to be a hermit — told me to listen for it. The tower is far from Father’s castle, but I found you. My horse Snowflake helped, too.”
I don’t know what to say. “You think my singing is beautiful?”
He blushes. “It’s okay, I guess.”
I smile. “Now what was that about a troll?”
The prince proceeds to tell me his own story, which is filled with many adventures as well. I am touched that he is risking punishment by sneaking out to find me.
“So what do we do now?” I ask. “I still cannot jump from the window, even if you were to try to catch me below.”
“I shall alert the castle guards and they will storm the forest and free you. They will bring a ladder and have you down in no time.”
“No, no, you can’t do that,” I rush to tell him. “The witch is very smart. She will surely be alerted by all the activity in the forest and will take it out on me or my parents. Please, you can’t tell the authorities about this.”
He begins to pace the room. “But I cannot carry a ladder on horseback — it would not fit. And I have never seen a length of rope that could reach the ground.”
“I know!” I say excitedly. “We can MAKE a ladder. I think silk is the only material that would be strong enough. You’d be able to carry that easily. Do you have any silk at the castle?”
“Mum has lots of it. I can ride home and return with it tomorrow.”
I nod happily. “If you bring me long pieces, I can tie them together and form knots to help us climb down.”
“Your wish is my command,” he says, bowing again.
Now it is my turn to blush. “You better leave now. I don’t want to know what would happen if the witch caught you here.”
We head over to the window and I lower my braid outside. Climbing onto the ledge, he says, “I hope I am not too heavy.”
I shake my head. “My hair is bewitched somehow. I barely feel your weight.”
He begins his descent. “I shall see you tomorrow,” he calls up. “Be well until then.”
“Come around this same time,” I reply. “To be sure the witch has left.”
When he reaches the bottom, I lean out to watch him ride off on his white horse. The horse looks a little small for him, but I can tell by the way he greeted it that he loves the horse very much. I quickly pull in my braid and go lie down on the “bed” to think over the events of this day. The prince is sort of cute in a tall, gawky kind of way. I don’t recall thinking a boy cute before.
I turn on my side and watch the birds fly past the window. Soon I shall be as free as they are. I notice a slight soreness in my cheeks and reach up to touch my face. Ah, I am still smiling — that’s what the ache is from!
I cannot wait to return to the castle to tell Elkin and Andrew what has transpired today. They will NOT believe it. I easily follow the yellow-marked trees back to the path. I stop at the brook to let Snowflake drink and to wait for Elkin. I am anxious to start collecting the silk. Fortunately, Elkin turns up only moments after I do.
“Did you find your singing girl?” he asks, maneuvering Dusty Rose so he can join Snowflake at the brook. “Wait, you do not have to answer. I can see it on your face!”
“What do you mean?”
“Your expression is all dewy and sappy.”
“It is not!”
“So tell me the story, then,” he says as we move the horses back onto the path.
“I am in a hurry to return home. I’ll tell you and Andrew at the same time.”
“Fine,” he says curtly, and gallops off ahead.
The sun is still high when we reach the stables. I have never met a girl like Rapunzel. I didn’t feel like a clod around her. And she didn’t make fun of Snowflake’s name when I told it to her. She was smart and funny. Elkin would say that she needed a good bathing, and perhaps that is true. But her green eyes were sharp, and her golden hair glimmered like silk.
We hand the horses over to the groomers and hurry into the castle. Father walks out of his throne room, followed by Andrew and a new page, who are both carrying a pile of ledgers and some maps. The new page is so small he can barely see over the books in his arms. Andrew told me that when he becomes a squire, he will miss being a mentor to the new pages. I’m sure they will miss him, too.
“Hello there, boys!” Father booms, clasping us both on the shoulders. “Walk with me and tell me of your exploits.”
Having no choice, we walk down the long hallway to the Great Hall where I see some barons and noblemen are waiting. “Er,” I begin, “we don’t want to keep you from your work. We can talk about it later.”
“Nonsense,” he says. “I always have time for a good hunting story. So tell me, what did you bag? A fox? A few deer?”
When neither of us respond, he says, “A hare? A squirrel?”
Elkin says, “We almost had a squirrel, but then it got away.”
Father frowns, and I worry he will suggest I not return to the forest, but then a grin covers his wide face and he laughs. “When I was a youth, I did not catch anything until my fourth venture! Do not worry, it will happen.”
“Thank you, Father,” I say, my shoulders relaxing.
“Yes, thank you, uncle,” Elkin says. “We will keep trying.”
Father turns to greet his guests, and Andrew and the other page follow. As he passes me, Andrew whispers, “I shall meet you in your chambers as soon as I can free myself.”
“Do hurry,” I whisper back. “I shall need your help.”
I turn to Elkin, but he is not there. I catch sight of him turning the corner to go up to our bedchambers. I meet him on the stairs. “If I did not know better,” I say with a smile, “I would think you are trying to get away from me.”
“I am,” he snaps, and hurries his pace.
“But why?” I ask. “Don’t you want to hear what happened to me?”
“I have to wait until Andrew is available, remember?”
“I just didn’t want to tell it twice! It’s a long story!”
We have reached the top of the stairs. Our bedchambers are in opposite directions from here. Without hesitation, he walks toward his. I follow.
“Look,” he says, stopping in front of the heavy oak door, “I am tired of always coming second to Andrew. It has been this way since he arrived when we were young. I am sure the two of you can do just fine on your own.”
I am stunned. “But … but you were always horrid to me. I thought you hated me. I befriended Andrew because he actually seemed to like me!”
“Perhaps I was horrid because I was lonely. Every time I came to visit, you ignored me.”
“That is not the way I recall the chain of events.”
“Well, I do.”
“Well, I do not.”
We cross our arms and glare at each other. “So what do we do now?” I ask, breaking the staring contest. “We are not children anymore. We have hunted for treasure together and discovered wondrous things. Surely we can get past this.”
Elkin sighs. “I suppose so. I am sure that would be the opinion of the hermit as well. And he is very wise.”
I put out my hand. “Shake?”
We shake once and at the same time both do a head-bob. This inevitably leads to us conking our heads. “Ow!” we say at the same time, then break up laughing.
“That is the second time today I have been hit on my head,” I tell him. “Come to my chambers and let me give you the story.”
We walk back down the hall, both rubbing our heads. I still feel the bump from Rapunzel’s attack. Andrew is pacing back and forth in front of my door.
“I would have burst if I had to wait for you any longer!” Andrew says as I open the door and the three of us pour into my room. I shut the door behind us and gesture them as far away from it as possible. I do not want anyone to overhear.
They listen avidly as I tell the story of finding Rapunzel. They laugh at the part with the bowl, and look somber when I tell of what the witch did to her family and how she is kept prisoner in that tiny room. I finish by telling them Rapunzel’s plan, and ask them to help me find the silk. Elkin has proven excellent at providing cover, so he is to stand guard outside the seamstress’s workroom. Part of Andrew’s training is to know one fabric from another, so he is in charge of showing me which pieces of material I am to steal.
I ask Andrew where Mum is. I have not seen her since our return. The pages are the eyes and ears of this place.
“The last time I saw her was a few hours ago way down by the storage cellars,” he says. “Annabelle had led her into a game of hide-and-seek. Apparently that little sister of yours is a good hider, because your mother and half the servants went off to look for her.”
I smile. “I know where she is. She has lured me into that game, too. I always find her in the same place.”
“Where would that be?” Andrew asks.
“Right here,” I announce, throwing open the door to my wardrobe closet. Sure enough, curled up on top of my winter traveling cloak is Annabelle, sound asleep and sucking her thumb.
NIGHT
Most everyone in the castle is now asleep except for the few servants and guards on the night watch. We are creeping along the hallway with only the light of Andrew’s small oil lamp to guide us. It is very quiet and dark in this part of the castle at night, since no one usually has the need to be here. We reach the seamstress’s workroom and Elkin takes up his post. I slowly push the door open, grimacing as the wood scrapes against the stone floor. Andrew leads the way in, and we head directly to the shelves in the back. Long rolls of material line the shelves, and in the dark it is hard to tell what anything is.