Rapunzel refused to answer. She ate slowly.
“I think I can tie our straw mattress to the rope and we can haul it up.”
“Hmm.”
How strange to have a conversation with this woman, as if the woman had not robbed her of her own human dignity. But she had to pretend to be calm so she could keep her mind clear.
After they ate, Gothel walked around the tower room making plans about how to furnish it and make it more comfortable.
“So you expect me to stay trapped in this room, never leaving, because you wish it?” Rapunzel couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t stop the breathless, disbelieving tone.
“You left me no choice, Rapunzel.” Gothel’s voice was hard. “I didn’t want to do this, but you forced me.”
Rapunzel wanted to scream. But she concentrated on breathing slowly.
Rapunzel asked her questions, discovering that Gothel had hired a man from the nearby village to lay the stones and mortar to close up the doorway to the high tower room.
“Did this man see me lying on the floor?” Rapunzel asked, making her voice unemotional and matter-of-fact.
“No, I covered you up. He did not know you were in the room.”
“Weren’t you taking a chance that I would die up here? You could not get up here to help me unless I woke up and was strong enough to eat and drink by myself.”
Gothel did not answer. Apparently she had been willing to take the risk. Finally, she said, “Do not think Sir Gerek will come and rescue you. As long as he thinks you are only a peasant girl, only a maidservant, he will not come searching for you.”
Heat rose into Rapunzel’s cheeks. She was breathing hard when she said, “I will never listen to anything you say ever again.”
“He does not love you. I am the one who loves you.”
Rapunzel turned and lay down on the hard stone floor, staring out the window at the trees and the sky beyond them.
Later that afternoon Gothel finally said she needed to leave to fetch their mattress. Rapunzel helped lower Gothel down and watched her walk away.
She blinked back angry tears. O God, help me find a way of escape.
Chapter Thirty
Gerek had not found anyone on the north road who had seen Rapunzel and her mother, so he struck out to the west, traveling, wandering around for days, which turned into weeks, talking to people, searching the woods, the villages, and the roads.
By the time he returned to Hagenheim, he had been searching for six weeks. His beard was quite long now. He couldn’t even bring himself to go to Frau Adelheit and tell her he had failed to find any sign of where Rapunzel might be.
Feeling like a defeated challenger, rather than the champion he had prayed to be for Rapunzel, he went to sleep in his own bed in the knights’ barracks. He slept all night and part of the next day. He bathed and went into the chapel.
The stone chapel was lit with candles and the sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows. He thanked God that it was empty.
Kneeling before the large crucifix, he prayed, “See my suffering, Sovereign Lord. See my affliction. Though it is not as great as your own when you went to the cross, please have mercy and show me the way. My quest is noble. I seek an innocent girl who has been taken against her will. Merciful God, do not forsake me. Do not forsake Rapunzel. Forgive me for being unkind to her at times. Forgive me for not recognizing what an exceptional woman she is.”
He felt a great weight on his shoulders and chest. “O Sovereign Lord, I wanted to marry Lady Lankouwen. I wanted her for her castle. I wanted to be her defender, but not out of love for her. O God, you know the motives of my heart. I wanted to prove that I was better than my brother. I wanted to be greater and wealthier than he.” It hurt to admit it, but the heaviness on his shoulders lifted a bit.
A verse from the Proverbs came into his mind. Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.
Gerek had thought his plans were wise. He had thought he understood success and what he wanted. But he had been leaning on his own understanding. He had not trusted in the Lord with all his heart or submitted his ways to God. He’d been wise in his own eyes, thinking he knew what was best.
Rapunzel. She was one hundred times nobler than he had been, and he loved her.
“Forgive me for wanting riches and status more than to give love to a woman who deserves it. I promise, if it is your will, I shall marry Rapunzel and give her everything I am, everything you provide, and I shall begin by giving her my love.”
He meditated on the Savior’s love, on how great was the Father’s love for his children, for himself, for Rapunzel, and even for Lady Lankouwen, since God surely had another man for her. How much greater was God’s love than man’s love! How much greater, more perfect, more holy. But God knew man, that he was but dust, that man’s love would fail, to various degrees and in various ways.
So selfish was Rapunzel’s mother’s love for her child. She had forbidden Rapunzel to speak to a man and had made her mistrustful of all men. And when she could not bear to see Rapunzel free and living away from her, she had seized her and fled far away. Gothel must have done something truly atrocious to keep Rapunzel from being able to escape and come back to Hagenheim.
As the day turned into evening, Gerek continued to fast and pray. Eventually, his mind turned to his own father and mother.
What must his mother have felt, being yelled at and beaten by her husband?
He had not cried over his mother’s death since he was a little boy, but now, as he continued to kneel before the altar and crucifix, he wept for his mother, and he wept for himself and the guilt, shame, and pain of what had happened to her, of what his father had done, killing her in a drunken rage. He wept for the older brother who had been his hero but who had taken his grief out in anger on Gerek. And he wept for Rapunzel, the courageous young woman who had saved his life, who had gracefully endured his ingratitude and irritability when he had been forced to teach her to read. She was clever and beautiful, and she had no one to protect her from the one person who should love her the most.
Just like his mother.
When Gerek looked up, the crucifix was glowing.
Take the north road toward Thornbeck and listen for my instruction.
The words just seemed to appear in his mind. When no other words came, he fell prostrate on his face. “Thank you, Sovereign God. Worthy are you, O Lord. I thank you with all my heart.”
He stood up, the weight gone from his shoulders.
He went to the Great Hall and found all his friends gathering for the evening meal. They clapped him on the back, asking, “Did you find the girl, Rapunzel?”
If he had expected them to tease him for still looking for a maidservant, he was surprised to see that they seemed genuinely concerned for her.
“After what Frau Adelheit said, we all looked, but there was no sign of her. It was as if she vanished.”
But Gerek had guidance now. He knew where to look, or at least where to start—the road to Thornbeck. He believed he would get further instruction when he needed it.
He had also decided on a new course that filled him with joy—he would ask Rapunzel to be his wife.
Rapunzel gazed out the window. She still shouted for help sometimes, even though her shouts had never brought anyone. It seemed worth the effort anyway, and Gothel was usually gone all day and only came back at night to bring food and water and to sleep.
Every night Gothel still asked her, “Won’t you sing to me tonight, Rapunzel, one of your songs?”
She had not sung a single note or thought of a single verse of song since Gothel had taken her away from Hagenheim.
Rapunzel always answered, “I will sing when you set me free.”
Today Gothel smiled as she was preparing to leave for the day. “I will have another child soon.”
“What do you mean?”
“I am attend
ing a young maiden who is with child. She doesn’t want it and says she will give it to me.”
Rapunzel tried to think of something to say. Gothel would do this to another person, the same thing she had done to Rapunzel—poison her against men—and poison her literally if she ever defied her and tried to get away.
“Then you will not need me anymore,” Rapunzel said. “You can set me free.”
Gothel simply shook her head, averting her gaze. “I cannot do that, of course.”
When she was gone, Rapunzel stared out the window. Leaves had started growing on the trees, particularly the tree that was nearest Rapunzel’s window. The air was warmer, the sun stayed out a little longer, and the birds tweeted and sang from early morning to night. The squirrels and chipmunks were hard at work, scurrying around, gathering food. And Rapunzel was still trapped.
Where was Sir Gerek today? She couldn’t stop hoping that he was searching for her and would find her someday. It was too painful to think otherwise. It occupied so many of her thoughts, especially when she lay awake at night. The pain of being trapped, the injustice of what Gothel had done, was so heavy in her chest, she couldn’t even cry. Oftentimes she just felt numb.
Her comfort was the three books that Sir Gerek had loaned her and she read them every day. She supposed she was getting lazy because she hadn’t even tried to memorize them. It was the consequence of being able to read and to actually have the books in her possession.
Today she opened to where she had left off in the letter to the Romans. She read, “Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.” That was certainly a passage she could easily commit to memory. She read on. When she reached chapter fifteen, there seemed to be a lot of verses about hope. Rapunzel’s hungry heart latched onto them.
“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
She could easily let anger close her off from hope. And fear of disappointment would cause hope to wither. She had to believe Sir Gerek would find her. Besides, Frau Adelheit knew she was the daughter of Duke Wilhelm and Lady Rose. She would keep sending knights out to look for her. But what if Frau Adelheit didn’t want to hurt Lady Rose again? She would not want them to know that their long-lost daughter, whom they had mourned for many years, might still be alive, if there was any possibility they might never find her. Frau Adelheit wouldn’t want them to go through unnecessary pain.
Perhaps she had not told anyone. Perhaps no one was looking for her.
But Sir Gerek would look for her. He might not want to marry her, but he was still her friend. He would certainly try to find her and save her. He would surely realize that Gothel had done something to her. He knew of her threats.
She had been through all these thoughts many times before. They ran through her mind like a pack of dogs chasing their tails. At night, when she couldn’t sleep, she wondered if there was anyone anywhere in the world who thought of her, cared about her, loved her.
No. She would not think like that. “ ‘Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer,’ ” she said aloud.
Tears stung her eyes. It was painful to hope, but it was better than despair. She could not, would not despair.
But the eyes of the LORD are on those who fear him, on those whose hope is in his unfailing love.
The words seemed to leap into her mind. She sat staring up at the sky. Thank you, God. Thank you. My hope is in your unfailing love.
Instantly, a song rose inside her and she began to sing. She sang new words, a new song to God, in praise of his hope and his unfailing love. When she had sung for several minutes, she stopped and whispered, “I will never sing for Mother again, but I will sing to you, God, as long as I have hope.”
Gerek followed the north road toward Thornbeck. When he had been traveling for three days, he saw a small piece of paper on the ground about five or six feet off the road.
He dismounted, walked over, and picked it up. The paper had obviously gotten wet and then dried, as the writing on one side was faded from the sun and rain. The other side also had writing. It had been torn and only had a few words on each side, but the words were familiar. Suddenly, he realized it was from The Poem of the Cid.
Rapunzel had his book. Could she have had it with her, in her pocket, when Gothel snatched her?
He quickly grabbed Donner’s reins and pulled the horse off the road, searching the ground. There, up ahead, was another piece of paper.
He ran and seized it and read the words. The first letter on the page had a familiar style, flowery and decorated with purple and gold paint. Yes, it was his book. He was sure of it. Praise to God in heaven, now he would find her!
He hurried forward, finding a faint trail, which paralleled the road. As he went, he found another piece of paper, then another. Then, away from the road, he found evidence of a fire, as if someone had spent the night there. He searched around the abandoned fire but he saw no more pieces of paper.
God, what now? Where should I go? He closed his eyes, forcing back the panic and frustration and concentrating on listening.
Keep going. He was supposed to keep going, of course, but where? In the same direction.
Gerek went back to the road, which was nearby, and kept going in the same general direction Rapunzel’s trail had gone. Within half an hour, he arrived at a village. It was around midday and he paused to look around.
Several men were sitting outside the bakery, so he headed that direction.
“That’s a beauty of a horse,” one man said, moving the straw in his mouth so he could spit.
“He’s strong, but he’s skittish of loud noises.” Gerek and the man talked for a few minutes about horses and other animals. Finally, Gerek asked, “Have you seen two women around here, strangers, one very young and fair, and the other about middle age with a mole just here on her cheek?” He pointed to his own face. “They were probably traveling with one or two donkeys and a cart.”
The man twisted his mouth to the side, as if trying to remember. “No, not two women. But there has been a woman with a mole as you describe. She’s small and slight?”
“Yes, that’s her.”
“She’s been buying food from my wife every day. She won’t say who she is or what she’s doing here. She only just came about . . .”
“Six or seven weeks ago?”
He cocked his head to one side. “Ja, about.”
Gerek’s heart thumped against his chest.
“She comes to my house in the forest, not too far from here, every morning and every evening. She pays money. I told my wife not to keep selling her our food. What do we need of money? It’s food we need, not coin.”
He would have to lie in wait outside the man’s house and follow Gothel back to wherever she went, or force her to tell him where she was hiding Rapunzel. He refused to believe she was not still alive.
“I heard a woman ghost.” A boy skipped toward them. He looked about ten or eleven years old.
“A woman ghost?” Gerek asked him.
“I heard her singing, in the tower of the old castle. All I could see was long blond hair in the window, and everybody knows that the tower is abandoned. That’s how I knew it was a ghost.”
His heart went from pounding fast to stopping and stuttering. “Did you call out to her? Did she know you were there?”
He shook his head. “My Oma taught me to run away from spirits, should I ever see one.”
“Will you take me to the tower? I’ll give you anything you want.”
“Will you give me my own knife?”
Gerek opened his saddlebag and pulled out his extra knife. “Do you like this one?”
His eyebrows shot up and he nodded.
“Let’s go.”
Gerek led Donner by his reins and followed the boy through the village and into the woods. He wished the boy would go faster. They were following a trail through the woods, with bushes and brambl
es and beech trees on either side.
Finally, the boy said, “It’s just ahead. But I don’t want to get too close. I don’t want the ghost to get me.”
“As soon as we see the tower, I’ll give you the knife and you can go.”
The boy nodded and kept walking. In another minute, he pointed. “It’s there.”
A gray stone tower was just visible through the trees in a clearing ahead.
Gerek gave him the knife, and the little boy smiled and ran back the way they had come. Gerek strode forward, his eyes on the tower window, his heart pounding. When he was almost to the clearing, he tied Donner to a tree. As he did, he heard Rapunzel singing.
The breath rushed out of him. The song was different from the one he had heard Rapunzel singing before, but the voice was the same.
Gerek’s heart leapt. He left Donner and ran toward the tower, unsheathing his sword as he went, in case Gothel was nearby.
Just as he entered the clearing, he saw long blond hair flowing out of the highest window of the tower.
“Rapunzel.”
Her face appeared in the window. “Gerek!” She covered her mouth with her hand.
He stopped at the foot of the tower, looking all around for a way up to her. “Is there a door?”
“The only way up or down is with the rope.” She pointed to the rope and pulley wheel. “I prayed and prayed to escape. But I knew you would come and find me. I knew you would.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she bit her lip, as though to hold back tears.
He sheathed his sword, took hold of the rope, and quickly raised the bucket up to her window. “Rapunzel, come down. I will catch you if you fall.”
She disappeared from the window. Was her mother up there? Was she trying to hurt her?
“Where are you?”
“I’m here.” She was smiling, her face radiant as she held a bundle under one arm.
He held tight to the rope—and held his breath—while she stepped out of the window, putting one foot in the bucket and holding on to the rope, then she put her other foot in. She kept her eyes on him the whole time as he slowly lowered her with the rope.
The Medieval Fairy Tale Collection Page 75
