The Golden Braid (31 page)

The cart shook a bit. She could no longer hear Gothel breathing, but she hadn't moved. Rapunzel took one step backward, then another, then turned and ran. But her legs were weak and it was dark. Tree limbs slapped her face and she stumbled. She pushed her weak knees to hold her up and her feet to keep running. Suddenly, a root caught her toe and she fell on her face.

She pushed herself up with her hands. She was shaking all over, but she managed to get to her knees, then to her feet. Taking a trembling step forward, she heard someone behind her. Pain suddenly crashed through the back of her head as something hit her. Then everything went black.

Gerek reached Hagenheim after a day and a half of hard riding. He found Frau Adelheit, who looked frantic when she turned and saw him there. “Did you find her?”

“No.” The breath went out of him. So she had not made it back to Hagenheim. He rubbed his hand over his short beard. “Is anyone still out looking for her?”

“There are a few guards looking for her, but Duke Wilhelm is becoming suspicious about why so many of his men are searching for a maidservant. But go. Get a bath and a good night's sleep and you can look for her again tomorrow.”

What had she meant, that Duke Wilhelm was becoming suspicious? And why
were
so many men willing to look for a maidservant? Gerek was looking for her because . . . because she . . . she was his
friend and he cared about her. What had Frau Adelheit told the other men to convince them to go after her?

Whatever the reason, he was grateful. He certainly needed a bath and some supplies before going out again, but he would not spend the night at the castle. A man didn't pause to shave and he did not sleep in a bed when he was on a quest. He was a knight, not a prince, and in an hour he was ready to go again, after a brief conversation with another knight who told him where he thought the other men were still looking.

This time Gerek took the north road, veering toward the northeast. He would go all the way to Thornbeck if he had to.

He traveled for only a few hours before it became too dark to see. Sleeping on the ground did not bother him, but lying awake, wondering what was happening to Rapunzel, feeling frustrated and helpless, was becoming the worst part of every day. But tomorrow he might find her, so he should not ruminate on evil imaginings.

The next morning was rainy and misty, and he found very few people along the road to ask if they had seen Rapunzel and her mother. He finally came to a village, but no one had seen anything.

By nightfall, he had been wet all day, cold, and nearly despairing. How would he ever find them? And if Rapunzel had not escaped from her mother by now, what did that mean? Had her mother harmed her? Was she unable to walk? To scream? To get help?

It was maddening, not knowing what was happening to her, and not even knowing where to look for her.

The truth was, the Holy Roman Empire was a vast, open part of the Continent. He had no idea where she was. He could search for months and even years, and it would be a miracle if he ever found her.

But he would never stop searching. And when he found her, he would never let anyone harm her again.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Rapunzel could feel something under her arms, pulling
her. Her feet were being dragged along something hard and uneven, across hard edges, like stone steps. Her head throbbed, her throat burned, her face was hot, but the rest of her body felt cold. Wherever she was, it was dark and smelled of mold. She was too tired to even hold her eyes open.

When she was awake again, she was lying flat on her back. She still wore her maidservant's clothing—blue cotehardie and white underdress—though now it bore rips and streaks of dirt. Above her was a gray stone ceiling, high and arching. A sharp pain at the back of her head reminded her of getting hit when she had tried to run away.

She slowly sat up and propped herself on her elbow. The room was a strange shape—round, but with squared walls connecting at wide angles. There were eight walls in all and two windows. It was rainy and misty outside, and tree limbs crowded the open windows. The walls around her were made of gray stone and mortar that were crumbling and old.

Beside her was a bucket of water. She pushed herself up onto her knees, dipped her hand in, and brought the water to her lips. She didn't know if it was poisoned water or not, but she was too desperately thirsty to care. She splashed a little on her heated face and shivered, then drank some more.

With the cool water hitting her empty stomach, it growled. She looked around but didn't see anything that could be food. There was no furniture in the room, but she did find a stack of her own clothing and some blankets.

She picked up a blanket and wiped her face on a corner of it, then wrapped it around her shoulders. Her feet were bare, so she found some woolen footed hose and put them on. She looked all around the room but . . . where was the door? How had she come to be in this round room without a door?

She walked to the window and leaned out, then quickly drew herself back in, her head spinning. She was in a tower, very high. There must have been at least three levels beneath the one she was on, so there must be stairs leading up. Perhaps there was a secret door.

Feeling for loose stones, she found many of them, as the mortar between many was crumbling, but none of them led to a door. Finally, on the opposite wall from the window, she found a place where the stones didn't match very well, where there were no windows, and where the mortar between them was damp. Had someone put up a wall where the doorway had been?

The thought sent her scrambling for something hard or sharp. But there was nothing metal to be found. She picked up a stick—the largest one she could find was still very small—and started digging away at the damp mortar.

“Rapunzel? Can you hear me?”

She startled at the sound of Gothel's voice. It was coming from outside, below the window.

“Rapunzel? Are you awake? I have some food for you.”

Rapunzel's hands trembled.

She hid the stick underneath the pile of clothing on the floor and walked over to the window, hardening herself against the emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

Looking down, she noticed for the first time that there was a bucket tied to a very long rope, which ran along a pulley wheel attached to the wall next to the window. Gothel was putting something into the bucket. Then she took hold of the rope and began to pull, hand over hand, and the bucket began to rise.

When the bucket reached the window, Rapunzel took it and set it on the window ledge. She took out the cloth bundle and unwrapped it.

It was a warm bun stuffed with something. She bit into it, so ravenous it was as if she had brought it to her mouth by instinct instead of choice. The filling was minced pork and cabbage. Delicious.

If Gothel had bought a stuffed bun and it was still warm, there must be a village nearby. Hope ignited in her chest. Perhaps if she shouted loud enough, someone would hear her.

She went to the bucket of water and drank some water, then ate the rest of the bun. If only there had been more! Her mind wanted more, but her stomach felt full.

She heard the pulley squealing and knew Gothel was using the rope to bring the bucket back down to the ground.

“Rapunzel? I'm going to get in the bucket and I want you to pull me up.”

Rapunzel didn't answer.

“Rapunzel, if you pull me up, I'll give you more food. I have your favorite—fried apple pasties.”

Her mouth watered at the thought. But it wasn't worth it. Besides, she wasn't sure she had the strength, even though Gothel was a very small person. Gothel would stop her from tearing through the moist mortar and getting out of her tower prison. Instead of answering her, Rapunzel found her stick and started scraping at the mortar again.

“Rapunzel?”

She ignored her and continued digging. It took awhile, but she finally dug through one line of mortar, about four inches long, but
instead of being able to poke her stick all the way through, there was something hard at the other side.

She dug through some mortar farther over and found the same problem. Had someone put up two walls of mortar and stone, purposely staggering the rocks and mortar, to keep her from escaping?

Of course she had. Gothel may be lacking in sanity, but she was clever. And now the mortar was beginning to harden. She kept scraping at it anyway, getting as much of the mortar out as she could. Finally, she was able to work her fingertips around the edges of one stone and remove it. The stone was about one foot wide, one foot deep, and six inches high. But just as she suspected, there was another stone wall behind it. Fortunately, the mortar between those stones was also still damp. She started digging at it with her stick. After another long while, she broke through.

She tried to see through the crack she had made, but there was less light on the other side. She saw nothing but darkness.

The mortar was almost set, so she dug faster. Finally, she was able to take out a second stone approximately the same size as the first one. She stuck her arm through and pushed and pulled at the stones beside the hole, but they wouldn't budge. She pulled and pushed at the stones on her side as well, but the mortar was hard. It was too late. Her window of time had closed.

She leaned her back against the wall and put her head in her hands, trying to catch her breath and calm her racing heart. “I'm trapped,” she whispered. But there must be another way out. Perhaps she could climb out the window somehow. She just had to wait until Gothel was gone.

Thinking of Gothel . . . Perhaps she had left. She had not heard her calling her name for a while.

She crept toward the window on her hands and knees. But after being thirsty for so long, she couldn't pass the bucket of water
without stopping for a drink, especially now that she knew it was not laden with sleeping potion. She paused to clean off her hand before dipping it into the water. Her fingertips were bloody from scraping them on the stones of the wall.

No matter. She tipped it up and drank directly from the bucket.

She continued the rest of the way to the window and peeked out. It was beginning to get dark. The bare tree limbs moved slightly in the breeze. Rapunzel got closer and stuck her head over the ledge. Gothel lay on the ground below, curled up with a blanket.

There lay the woman she had believed loved her, the woman who taught her to sew and cook and pick good herbs and nonpoisonous berries. Her heart longed for the mother who had braided her hair and told her how talented she was . . . then the memories of her cruelty overwhelmed her. She sat back and closed her eyes. “I won't think about it. I won't,” she whispered. “I will only think about how to escape. How to get back to Hagenheim and my true friends. People who will not mistreat me. People in Hagenheim who will love me. Where I will be safe. I must escape from here. I will escape. O God in heaven, help me escape.”

She let the tears squeeze free and run down her cheeks. She would allow herself to cry, to hurt and mourn, but only for a few minutes. Then she would be strong, and she would escape.

Rapunzel awoke just as dawn was sending light into the air around her. It hurt to move. She was sore all over, but at least she didn't feel feverish anymore. She sat up on her blanket—her only bedding—and looked around.

This tower must have been abandoned long ago. Acorns and leaves and sticks littered the stone floor. Why was it here? To whom did it belong? If only the owners would come back and free her.

She moved to the window. Gothel was no longer lying on the ground below. Rapunzel realized this was her chance. She called out, “Help me! Someone, please! Can you hear me? Help me! I'm trapped in a tower.” She yelled as loud as she could, and even screamed, hoping that sound would carry farther. Perhaps Sir Gerek was nearby, having followed her trail of pages from his book. She was not sure how many days she had traveled before she started leaving them.