A strange weight entered Rapunzel’s throat. She coughed and then wiggled into a more comfortable position on the makeshift bed. Poor Mother. Something had happened, something she had never gotten over. She must have been brokenhearted, abandoned by the man who had pretended to love her, as she had said. But would Mother never trust anyone again? Would she truly “protect” Rapunzel until she was too old for anyone to want her?
She wouldn’t worry about it tonight. Besides, she was about to get what she’d always wanted. While Mother was telling the monks that she was a midwife and impressing them with her piety so that they would recommend her to any pregnant women who might come their way, Rapunzel had asked a young monk who was walking nearby if they had any work for her to do at the monastery in exchange for reading lessons. He had looked quite thoughtful, then told her he would go and ask someone higher in authority, for her to wait there.
Rapunzel had waited nervously, not wanting Mother to know what she was doing. Miraculously, Mother was visiting the privy when the young monk came back.
“We need someone to help clean the rooms where the female travelers stay,” he said, “and the abbot prefers it be a woman. If you can come every two days and clean and perform a few other chores, I will teach you.”
“Oh, thank you, Brother . . .?”
He bowed. “Brother Andrew.”
Now if Mother would make a trip into town tomorrow to buy what they needed or to try to find midwifery business, Rapunzel would walk back to the monastery, which was even closer than the town of Hagenheim to their little home, and perhaps have her first reading lesson.
Chapter Seven
Gerek was now in a slightly larger room, closer to the chapel where the monks prayed five times a day. He lay listening to the monotone chants, prayers, plainsong hymns, and repeated scriptures.
Only his third day and already he was sick of reading. Now he was awkwardly polishing his sword with one hand, making the best use of the fingers of his left hand that peeked out of the splint on his broken arm.
He sighed in frustration but kept working.
A knock came at the door.
“Come in.”
Andrew stuck his head in. “Do you need anything?”
“A new leg and a new arm. That is what I need.”
Andrew nodded. “Speak to God. Perhaps . . .” He raised his eyebrows and shrugged.
Gerek growled. Why would God give him a new arm and leg, or even miraculously heal his old ones? They would likely be healed on their own in six weeks. “God must have more important things to attend to.” Besides, God probably wanted to teach him patience.
“While you wait for your miracle,” Brother Andrew went on cheerfully, “I have a task for you, to keep you from becoming too dull and frustrated.”
A task? When his friend didn’t elaborate, Gerek asked, “What could I possibly do with two broken limbs?”
“Something that will be easy for a man of your learning. How many languages do you know?”
“Four.”
“Well, I only need you to teach someone to read their native German. That will not be difficult for you, and it’s something you can do while lying down—or sitting with your leg propped up.”
“Who is to be my student?” Gerek eyed Andrew, who was fidgeting and not meeting his eye. He had a feeling he wouldn’t like Andrew’s answer.
“Someone very eager to learn, I assure you. In exchange for working here at the monastery—and we do very much need her to clean the rooms where the female visitors stay—she wishes to be taught to read.”
“She? You wish me to teach a woman?”
“She is not just any woman, she is the very woman to whom you owe your life.”
“My mother is dead, Andrew.” Gerek infused his voice with the growling tone that made most squires’ eyes round with fear and sent maidservants skittering for cover.
“I was not speaking of your mother, Sir Gerek. I was speaking of the young woman who saved you from the prisoner who escaped and nearly carved out your heart with your own dagger two or three days past.”
Gerek stared at him and expelled a loud burst of air. “No. I won’t do it.”
“Why? It is the perfect way to repay her for saving you.”
“As far as I am concerned, she was repaying me for saving her. No. I emphatically refuse.”
“But why?”
Gerek blew out another noisy breath, hesitating. “Have you seen the girl, Andrew?”
“Yes.”
“Then you have seen how . . . fair she is.”
“She is very comely, it is true.”
“Do you not see the problem?”
Andrew shrugged and shook his head.
“What sort of monastery is this?” Gerek sat up straighter, and his sword that he had been polishing slipped with a loud clatter onto the stone floor. “Why don’t you teach her?”
“I must keep my vow of chastity. Being alone with a beautiful young maiden would not suit our abbot, nor be conducive to my vow.”
“Andrew, I do not wish to succumb to temptation any more than you do. I have taken a vow of chastity as well, a vow never to know a woman before marriage, and I have promised myself that I will never marry a peasant girl. I shall marry an heiress or widow with a large estate, or marry into a noble family who can make my fortune. So, because of this, I have no less claim to the vow than you do.”
“I could argue that, and I believe my brother monks would agree with me, brother knight.” Brother Andrew failed at hiding his grin. “You need only leave your door open when she is here. The brothers passing by your room will keep you from breaking your vow with the maiden.”
“I happen to know her mother would not approve of her learning to read from me, and I do not want to teach her!”
He chuckled and shook his head. “You always were overly excitable.”
Andrew’s words struck him like an accusation. His first inclination was to defend himself and demand why Andrew would say such a thing. But instead, he studied his friend’s face. Andrew couldn’t know about Gerek’s father. Gerek had never told any of the other knights. He tried to push back the memories that were invading his thoughts and making his face and neck feel hot and prickly. Was he his father’s son?
“You have nothing else to do,” Andrew explained calmly, “but if you are so adamant about not teaching her, I suppose I could find an older monk to do so.”
Before he could stop himself, Gerek asked, “Which older monk?” In his experience, a monk’s age did not necessarily end his lasciviousness.
“Oh, any monk over the age of thirty should do.”
Gerek sputtered, then cleared his throat.
“You are not afraid,” Andrew said, “that the maiden will try to seduce you, are you?”
“Are you afraid she will try to seduce you?”
Andrew shrugged. “I am much more handsome than you.”
Gerek glared at him.
“And since you have too much self-control to seduce her, I believe you are the safest person to teach her.”
Gerek growled. Why did his life have to be so frustrating? Was God preparing him for some huge, sacrificial quest? “I suppose I can make an attempt at teaching her. But if for any reason it seems a bad idea, I will end it.”
“Of course. But do not worry. Your vow of chastity should remain safe.” Andrew hid his mouth behind his hand.
Andrew was laughing at him. Gerek wanted to tell his old friend that he was not treating him nobly, as befitted a knight who was nearly killed trying to protect the people of the Hagenheim region from brigands and thieves. But Andrew might tell him he was being excitable again.
He did not want to teach the maiden to read, but she might give up after a lesson or two, thinking it was too hard. Or her strange mother would force her to cease them. He couldn’t imagine her mother would approve of Rapunzel learning to read, especially from him, since she seemed to have a special dislike of him from the moment she saw him.
<
br /> Brother Andrew soon left and returned a few minutes later with Rapunzel. Her hair was completely hidden by an opaque wimple, but her cheeks were pink and she was smiling. However, when she saw Gerek, the smile faded.
“Rapunzel, I believe you know Sir Gerek van Hollan, a noble knight of Hagenheim. He has agreed to teach you to read, so I will leave you two to your studies.” Andrew ducked out of the room before either of them could say anything.
The coward.
Chapter Eight
Rapunzel stared at him, her mouth open. She had expected to see an older monk, or perhaps a bedridden invalid, but to find Sir Gerek here . . . “Brother Andrew is forcing you to teach me, isn’t he?”
He looked up at her through his eyelashes as he lay on the low bed. “I don’t mind telling you . . . yes, he is forcing me to teach you.”
Rapunzel crossed her arms. She wanted to tell him she’d rather not learn to read than to be taught by someone who did not wish to teach her. She imagined herself leaving the room and slamming the door. But if she did that, she might be giving up her one chance to learn to read.
Closing her eyes, she reminded herself that Mother would only be gone a few hours and Rapunzel had already spent at least two hours cleaning the monastery rooms.
“I can only stay an hour, so let us get this lesson started.”
“Why can you only stay an hour?” he asked. “Is it because your mother doesn’t know you’re here?” He raised his brows at her.
Was he trying to make her feel bad? To make her go back home?
“Yes, if you must know, but I am not leaving. I will stay right here for an hour.”
He made a grunting sound, then turned, leaning over the side of the narrow cot, and picked up a large book.
Rapunzel was breathing hard. She focused on his splinted leg, which was stretched out on the low bed, and his splinted arm, bent at the elbow and lying across his stomach. Looking at them helped her feel a bit of pity for him, and her breathing gradually returned to normal.
“Since I saved your life from that brigand who was about to slit your throat”—she lifted her head an inch or two higher—“I would think you would want to teach me, to repay me.”
When she deigned to glance down at him, he was glaring up at her from half-closed eyes.
“If I had not first saved you from said brigand, you would not have needed to save me from him.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Why can’t you just be grateful and stop being arrogant?”
“I am a knight in Duke Wilhelm’s service. I am not accustomed to being bullied by a novice monk and a peasant girl.”
“You are insufferable!”
“Why can’t you just be grateful,” he shot back, “and . . . be quiet.”
“Be quiet? Oh, yes, I’m sure that’s what you think all women should do. You probably think a clout or two to the head once or thrice a day would do them good too.” She tried to calm down, to take slower breaths. Did she sound like an imbecile, arguing with a knight over who should be the most grateful? But when she looked back down at him, he had turned a shade paler.
“No.” The arrogant look was completely gone from his face. He stared down at the book in his lap, away from her, and spoke softly. “That is not what I think. I do not think women should be struck. Ever.”
Why had her words created such a reaction? She waited to see what he would say next, to give a clue as to why his demeanor had changed so.
“Won’t you bring that stool over here so we can begin?”
Rapunzel stared. He looked earnest, actually meek, so she complied.
Sir Gerek stared down at the book and frowned. “Do you know how to read any words at all?”
“No,” she admitted. “I don’t know any words.”
“This is a copy of the Holy Writ that I commissioned—”
“What? You have a copy of the Holy Writ? How did you get it? I’ve never seen one before.”
Now that she was sitting and they were at the same level, he stared into her eyes.
“As I was saying,” his voice was quiet, and he spoke slowly, “it is a copy of the Holy Writ that I commissioned from the monks at this same monastery.” He opened the book.
“You are not going to teach me to read using the Bible, are you?” Rapunzel leaned away from the large tome. “A priest once told me that people who have not said their vows or been consecrated to God should not interpret the Bible for themselves. I do not want to be excommunicated.”
Gerek frowned. “You will not be excommunicated.”
“How do you know? A woman in Heidelberg was ordered beaten by the bishop, and she only saw a vision and said she heard the voice of God. If I were to read God’s words . . .”
Sir Gerek sighed very loudly. “Listen. You are not considered a heretic just for reading the Bible. I have been reading it for years and—”
“But you are a man! A knight noble born. I am a woman, and a peasant woman at that. Will you swear an oath that you will not tell anyone I read the Holy Writ?”
“I don’t even know if you will learn to read it. Now stop with your ignorant fears and let me begin before you have to go.”
Rapunzel’s cheeks burned at his calling her fears “ignorant.” She pressed her lips together and watched him turn the pages.
He pointed to the open page. “See this? It’s the first missive to Timotheus written by the apostle Paul. See this word? It says ‘Timotheus.’ The first letter is tay.” He pointed with his large forefinger at a mark on the page. “And there is another tay there.”
“But that doesn’t look like the other tay you pointed to.”
“That was a tay at the beginning of someone’s name. These tays are not at the beginning of a sentence and are not names or nouns, and therefore they are small tays and not big tays.”
Rapunzel fought to understand the seemingly random thing he was telling her. Why would you call something a tay and something else a tay when they looked completely different? Perhaps he was lying to her, trying to confuse her. But she had little choice but to trust him.
“Each letter makes a sound,” he continued. “This letter tay sounds the same as these other tays. All tays make the same sound.”
“Oh. You said this word is ‘Timotheus’ and this is a book in the Bible?”
“Yes. Now this word is—”
“Is this written in German? I thought the Bible was only written in Latin.”
“Yes, but occasionally you can find someone who will translate it into German for you.”
She wouldn’t tell him, but she was impressed that he would spend his money on Scripture books and then carry them around with him.
“This is not the entire Bible. It is only the parts that were written after Jesus came. I do not have the Old Testament writings in German, except for what is in my Psalter.”
“Is the Bible very expensive?” she asked.
“Yes, and when I have a home of my own, I shall commission a copy of the entire Bible, all the holy writings.”
“But even this much must have been very costly. The illuminations are very bright and color—”
“Yes, now pay attention. This word is “Pavel.” See? It is the first word of the first verse in the first missive to Timotheus.”
“What sound does this letter make?” Rapunzel pointed to the second letter in the word Timotheus.
He sighed, then made the sound. He pointed to each letter and made the sound, which might have made her laugh, hearing him saying, “Tuh, ee, mm, oh, tuh, ee, oo, ss,” if she had not been afraid of offending him. Then he went back to the beginning of the word and made the sound of each letter, but a bit faster than before.
“So I only have to remember what sound each letter makes and I will be able to read?”
He shrugged and nodded.
She wanted to ask him more questions but forced herself to tuck them away for later.
“The first three words are: ‘Pavel, an apostle.’ ”
; “Will you teach me the letters?”
“Yes, of course. But I will need something to write on and a writing instrument. I can get those from Brother Andrew. Do you think you can find him?”
Rapunzel jumped up and hurried out. When she found Brother Andrew in the large garden behind the dormitory, he was hoeing around some young plants. He agreed to find the implements they needed, and Rapunzel went back to Sir Gerek’s room. She opened the door without knocking, and he gave her a piercing stare. “Do not enter this chamber until you have knocked and have been invited to come in.”
“I was just here, and you knew I was returning, so I didn’t think it necessary—”
“Do not do it again. You must not be careless around men. It is very unwise.”
Rapunzel huffed. “If there is one thing I am not,” she said, trying to infuse her voice with cold dignity, “it is careless around men.”
He narrowed his eyes, his brows lowering to create a crease across his forehead. “Very well.” He continued speaking about the first verse of the missive to Timotheus, but Rapunzel could not understand what he was saying—something about words being put together to form ideas and different words having different meanings, depending on what order they were in or what the words around that word meant. It all sounded like gibberish.
“I think you’ve made my brain hurt.” Rapunzel rubbed her temple.
“If you don’t want to continue, I understand. It will only get more difficult.”
“I will not give up and I will learn to read. That is, if you are a good enough teacher.”
He gave her that narrow-eyed look again.
Just then, Brother Andrew came in the door—without knocking or announcing himself—and said, “I brought you a slate and some chalk rock. I can probably get someone to make a wax board for you, if you’d rather have that.”
Rapunzel took the small slate, which was about as big as her two hands, and the chalk from Brother Andrew. “Thank you very much.”
“And I can bring you a bit of parchment and a quill, but the abbot is not very free with parchment. It’s rather expensive.”
A Melanie Dickerson Collection Page 58
