“You called me your queen last night.”
“I wanted your guests to respect your station. But I am sure even they know you’ve not taken the blood. If you had, you wouldn’t be asking them for their help with magic.”
“But don’t you see…if they don’t show me how to use Mother’s magic, who will? I need them!”
“Now listen to me, little one. This is important. Whatever you decide, do not let those witches anywhere near the blood or the flower. I don’t care if your sisters’ lives depend upon it. If you can’t save your sisters on your own, then their lives were not meant to be. I’m sorry to say it, but these witches are not to be trusted. They’re not your friends.”
Gothel stood there, gobsmacked. She didn’t have the proper words. She loved and respected Jacob, but she thought he was wrong.
“I hope you are wrong, Jacob.”
“For your sake, I hope I am.”
It had been several weeks since the solstice, and the strange sisters were still in the dead woods. Jacob kept his reservations to himself, and Gothel kept him busy so she wouldn’t have to see his disapproving looks and the worry on his face. She was convinced it was she her mother had seen in her vision and these witches were the only way she was going to be able to save her sisters.
Hazel and Primrose had now taken to their beds. They were weak and in constant pain. Gothel couldn’t stand to see them that way and hid herself away in her mother’s library with Lucinda and Ruby, desperately trying to find a way to save them. Martha stayed with Hazel and Primrose, doing everything she could to make them more comfortable. She brewed them a daily poppy flower tea to manage their pain. She had offered to put them into a deep magical sleep, but Gothel was fearful that if their condition changed while they were sleeping, she wouldn’t know.
“I can send them to the land of dreams, Gothel. They will be happy there, content and no longer in pain,” Martha had said with sad eyes.
“But they wouldn’t be able to tell me if they needed me! Please don’t send them away,” Gothel said. She could see the heartbreak on Martha’s face.
“I understand. I will brew a powerful tea to keep them calm and without pain. It’s made from the seeds of poppies. I promise it will not harm them.” She touched Gothel’s hand tenderly.
“Yes, please do that.” Gothel felt helpless but, thankfully, not so alone with the odd sisters there to help her.
Gothel played the conversation she’d had with Martha again and again in her mind, wondering if she had made the right decision to keep Primrose and Hazel sedated rather than put in a magical trance, as she pored over her mother’s books, desperately trying to find a way to save them.
“Gothel, please stop torturing yourself,” said Lucinda, reading both Manea’s book of the dead and Gothel’s mind.
“What’s that you’re reading?” asked Gothel.
“Nothing that will help us, I’m afraid,” said Lucinda, putting down the book in the pile designated as useless to their cause. “May I ask you a question? Why don’t you want to give your sisters your mother’s blood?”
“They don’t want it! Especially Primrose.”
“At this point I don’t think she has a choice if she wants to live,” Lucinda said, giving Gothel a sad look.
“It feels like I would be forcing something on her she doesn’t want. But I can’t stand by and watch her die.”
“That is exactly what we are doing. We are on a deathwatch, Gothel. Whatever your reasons for not wanting to use your mother’s blood, you need to make a choice. Either use your mother’s blood or your sisters die.”
“I think you’re right. I really wanted to find another way, but it doesn’t look like we will. I feel terrible we didn’t use the blood sooner. But honestly, I’m afraid, Lucinda. I’m afraid of what will happen to us once we take her blood. And not just because my sisters will know my thoughts, but because I’m worried I will become more like my mother and I will lose my sisters forever.”
“You will definitely lose them forever if you do not use your mother’s blood,” said Lucinda.
Gothel sighed. “Keep looking. We need to find the blood ritual.”
“I have it right here, Gothel,” said Lucinda.
“Thank you. I’ll be right back.”
Gothel stood at the door of her sisters’ room. My beautiful sleeping sisters.
Martha heard Gothel’s thoughts. “They are beautiful. I will give you some time alone with them. Where’s Lucinda?”
“She’s in the library,” said Gothel, not taking her eyes off her sleeping sisters.
“I’ll go find her,” said Martha, patting Gothel on the shoulder.
Gothel quietly walked over to her sisters. She didn’t want to wake them, but she wanted nothing more than to see their eyes. She just stood there, looking at them and wondering if they would be okay. Wondering if they would ever forgive her for giving them their mother’s blood against their will. And like magic, Hazel opened her eyes and said, “Gothel, I love you.” She held out her hand. “Take my hand, Sister.”
Gothel took her sister’s hand. “What is it?” she asked, tears running down her face.
“I trust you, Gothel. I want you to know that.”
Gothel couldn’t help bursting into tears. She sobbed and sobbed. “Thank you, Hazel. I hope Primrose will be able to forgive me.”
Hazel smiled weakly, drifting back to sleep. “Don’t worry. She will.”
Gothel hoped Hazel was right. “Sleep now, my sister. I love you.” But Hazel was asleep.
Gothel met with Lucinda, Ruby, and Martha in the hallway on her way down to the vault. “Can you sit with my sisters until I come back?”
“Of course. It will be our pleasure,” said Lucinda.
As she was about to open the vault door with the large skeleton key, she was overcome by an inexplicable feeling that her mother was waiting for her in the vault. Don’t be so ridiculous, Gothel! she told herself. Maybe it was just her mother’s blood she was sensing. Maybe it was nothing at all, but she couldn’t shake it. She had been standing there for what seemed like hours before she finally opened the door.
There was nothing there but wooden chests with her family’s fortune. They had more money than they could need for many lifetimes over. But she supposed that was the point. Her family members lived extremely long lives.
Focus, Gothel. Find the blood.
She counted from the ceiling, like Jacob had instructed her, and pushed the seventh stone. There was a resounding sigh as a stone drawer sprung out of the wall, knocking her in the chest. It was as if her mother was giving her one final blow. But that wouldn’t be the final blow, would it? Not if her sisters died.
“Stop it, Gothel!” she said aloud to no one but herself. “Your sisters are not going to die!”
Her mother’s blood was in the drawer, as promised. It was in a glass bottle sealed with a waxed cork. Along with it was a note. Gothel’s hands shook and her heart sank as she read it. She couldn’t bear to see her mother’s handwriting. It was fancy script, and old-fashioned, the capital letters large and ornate. It was addressed to her.
My dearest Gothel,
If you are reading this, then I have passed into the mists without giving you my blood. It is likely your instinct is to share the blood with your sisters, but this blood is meant for you alone.
If your sisters should ever fall ill, the only thing that will help them is the rapunzel flower. Take your sisters to the conservatory amongst the flowers and recite this incantation.
Flower, gleam and glow
Let your power shine
Make the clock reverse
Bring back what once was mine
Heal what has been hurt
Change the fates’ design
Save what has been lost
Bring back what once was mine…
What once was mine
As the flowers glow, your sisters will be restored. Keep reciting the incantation until they are fully healed
. This is your most important magic, Gothel. This is how you will stay young as long as you wish.
Protect the flower, my blackhearted daughter, until you are ready to meet me and your ancestors in the mists.
Mother
Gothel ran out of the vault, slamming the door behind her and forgetting to lock it. She ran up the stairs as fast as she could, but before she got to her sisters’ bedroom, she met Lucinda, coming down the stairs to find her. “Oh, Gothel, I am so sorry.” Lucinda was crying. She took Gothel’s hand and led her to her Hazel and Primrose’s room, where she found Ruby and Martha with wet blotchy faces. They were crying over her sisters.
“What happened?” Gothel asked, but she could see for herself what had happened. Her sisters had died. They had died while she was musing in the vault. They had died because she had taken too long.
“We’re so sorry, Gothel. Lucinda was coming to get you!” said Martha, crying.
“What happened?” asked Gothel again, running to her sisters’ bedside.
“I don’t know! They just suddenly stopped breathing!” Martha said, clearly heartbroken.
“Jacob! Jacob!” Gothel screamed. She ran to the fireplace and pulled the lever that rang the bell for someone to come.
“Let me go find him,” said Lucinda, running out of the room. “I will find him, don’t worry!”
“Tell him to bring some others. We need to get my sisters to the greenhouse now!”
Gothel paced around the room, her heart pounding. “They can’t die! They can’t die. Oh please, don’t let them die. This is all my fault.”
Ruby and Martha went to Gothel and wrapped their arms around her, trying to calm her. “Shhh, Gothel, it will be okay.”
Soon Jacob and his minions crowded into the room. “Jacob! Take my sisters down to the greenhouse, quickly.”
Everyone in the room could see Jacob didn’t think that would work, but he followed his queen’s instructions. The minions took Primrose’s and Hazel’s bodies into their arms gently and carried them down the stairs, spiriting them away to the greenhouse.
“Jacob, please be careful! Don’t hurt them!”
Gothel and the odd sisters followed the skeletal creatures out of the house, through the courtyard, and into the greenhouse. The greenhouse wasn’t as large as the conservatory had been, but it was a beautifully built structure, with paned glass windows and a hinged ceiling that could be opened to let in the elements when desired. The skeletons stood there, wondering where Gothel wanted her sisters. “Put them there, on the ground next to the flower!” said Gothel.
“What can I do?” asked Jacob after the skeletons followed Gothel’s orders.
“Nothing, just give me some room,” Gothel replied.
She took out the crumpled letter she had shoved into her pocket. Her hands were shaking, and her voice quivered as she recited her mother’s incantation.
Flower, gleam and glow
Let your power shine
Make the clock reverse
Bring back what once was mine
Heal what has been hurt
Change the fates’ design
Save what has been lost
Bring back what once was mine…
What once was mine
The flower glowed brighter as Gothel said the words, but her sisters remained the same.
Flower, gleam and glow
Let your power shine
Make the clock reverse
Bring back what once was mine
Heal what has been hurt
Change the fates’ design
Save what has been lost
Bring back what once was mine…
What once was mine
Nothing happened. Gothel panicked. She didn’t know what to do.
“Mother said this would work! She said it would heal them!”
“I don’t think one flower alone is enough, Gothel,” said Jacob, looking utterly helpless, his heart breaking for his queen.
“Let us say it with you, Gothel, maybe our magic can help!” said Lucinda.
“Oh yes! Please!” Gothel and the odd sisters said the incantation again, their voices in a fevered pitch and desperate.
Flower, gleam and glow
Let your power shine
Make the clock reverse
Bring back what once was mine
Heal what has been hurt
Change the fates’ design
Save what has been lost
Bring back what once was mine…
What once was mine
Nothing. “Say it again!” screamed Gothel.
Lucinda looked at her sisters as if to say what they were doing was useless, but they said the words again, this time gathering all their power and sending their call into the many kingdoms and beyond in hopes that other witches in the world would send their power as well to help this poor little witch who was losing her precious sisters.
Flower, gleam and glow
Let your power shine
Make the clock reverse
Bring back what once was mine
Heal what has been hurt
Change the fates’ design
Save what has been lost
Bring back what once was mine…
What once was mine
Then, suddenly, Hazel’s and Primrose’s bodies started to convulse. Their eyes opened briefly, locking their gazes on Gothel. “Please, let us die!” said Primrose before her eyes rolled back in her head and her body violently shook.
“Say it again!” Gothel screamed. “We have to save them!”
They said the words again as Gothel’s sisters’ bodies thrashed on the greenhouse floor. It was a grotesque image, their poor frail bodies thrashing about, as if some invisible force was beating them senseless. A putrid black oil poured from their mouths, and they continued to convulse, causing Ruby and Martha to scream in horror.
“Sisters! Stop the theatrics and say the words!” screamed Lucinda. She tried to give Gothel an encouraging look, but Gothel could see she was just as frightened as Gothel was.
“Come on! Say it again, this time using all of our power!” screamed Lucinda.
Flower, gleam and glow
Let your power shine
Make the clock reverse
Bring back what once was mine
Heal what has been hurt
Change the fates’ design
Save what has been lost
Bring back what once was mine…
What once was mine
Hazel and Primrose sputtered something unintelligible, spitting the black oil-like substance all over Gothel and the odd sisters. Their bodies seized one final time and then stopped so suddenly it startled the witches.
“Did it work? Did it work?” Ruby asked.
Gothel was slapping her sisters on the cheeks, trying to rouse them. “Hazel? Prim? Wake up! Hazel!”
Gothel was beside herself. She couldn’t stop crying. She was slapping her sisters harder and harder, trying to wake them, until finally Ruby and Martha had to pull her off them. Lucinda put her face in front of Gothel’s so she would have something else to focus on. “Gothel, look at me. Listen. They’re gone. There is nothing we can do. We tried our best.”
“No! I won’t give up!” Gothel scrambled back to her sisters, clawing at the ground, trying to get to their bodies, as the odd sisters held her tight in their embrace. She made a terrible guttural scream that broke all the windows in the greenhouse, showering glass on all of them. Gothel was cutting herself on the glass as she struggled on the ground to get to her sisters. Lucinda put her hands over Gothel’s eyes and said the word sleep, putting Gothel into a deep dreamless sleep, ending her pain. Lucinda couldn’t stand to see Gothel in such torment. She couldn’t imagine what Gothel must be feeling. Losing her sisters was Lucinda’s greatest fear.
Her heart broke for Gothel, and for Primrose and Hazel.
At least Primrose and Hazel have each other in death, she thought.
Gothel was now alon
e.
Gothel slept as if in a fairy tale. Almost endlessly. Her sleep was not a curse; it was a blessing bestowed by the odd sisters, who had been sent away by Jacob in the chaos after Hazel’s and Primrose’s deaths. Lucinda, Ruby, and Martha left without a fuss but not before leaving Gothel with one more enchantment. One more bit of magic.
“We are so sorry for your loss, little witch,” they said to her as she slept.
“The world is dark, selfish, and cruel. If it finds the slightest ray of sunshine, it destroys it,” said Lucinda. “Do not wake until your heart heals,” she whispered in Gothel’s ear, kissing her on the cheek before she took her own sisters by the hands to make their way out of the dead woods.
Jacob thanked the sisters and promised to care for his queen. “Call on us if you need anything at all, Jacob,” Lucinda said as they reached the thicket. He promised he would but didn’t intend to keep his promise. “We’ve left a raven, Jacob. Please send it if Gothel needs anything.”
Jacob nodded as he watched the sisters pass through the thicket like wraiths. The sight sent a chill through him he hadn’t known was possible. He was relieved to see the sister witches go. But he quickly turned his mind to his little sleeping witch.
He had never in all his years been without a queen in the dead wood. His little witch hadn’t taken the blood, and even if she had, she couldn’t rule while she slept. He had no choice but to act as regent.
He arranged majestic crypts for Hazel and Primrose, with stunningly beautiful weeping angels in the image of Gothel, just to the left of the courtyard. Their crypts and weeping angels flanked the tree-lined path that led to the city of the dead, right on the border of where their legions of minions slumbered….He had almost entombed them in their own corner of the city, but he knew the soil there was still steeped in Manea’s magic. He had vivid waking nightmares of Hazel and Primrose rising from the dead to do his bidding. The thought terrified him. He was seized with worry that Gothel would try to resurrect her sisters in that fashion in a fit of grief when she woke. So he instructed his minions to place the crypts carefully on the border and to remove from Gothel’s library all of Manea’s books that pertained to necromancy, for fear she would foolishly try something out of desperation.
Mother Knows Best: A Tale of the Old Witch Page 10