The Golden Braid (7 page)

Gerek bit back a groan for the fiftieth time. His leg had
grown enormous while he was sitting on his horse. Now that he was able to stretch it out on the cart, the swelling had gone down a bit. Even though he had experienced some pain and embarrassment at the older woman forcing him to strip his clothes off, at least he was wearing dry clothes again and no longer felt like an icicle.

The young maiden, Rapunzel, walked along beside him, talking to him every so often. She had a mistrustful air about her that was irritating, given the fact that he had saved her life. But it was to her credit that she longed for a chance to learn languages and to read. Lady Rose would love to teach her, no doubt, but she did not have time, as she was busy enjoying her children and grandchildren.

Twilight was descending and they were still far from Hagenheim. It was too dangerous to travel after dark when he was injured and unable to fight off robbers. “Rapunzel,” he called to the maiden.

She appeared at the side of the cart.

“There is a monastery off this road. The lane is just ahead. We can spend the night there.”

“I shall tell Mother.” And she disappeared again.

A short time later, they turned down the lane that would take them off the main road to the monastery buildings.

As eager as the woman was to get rid of him, he would not be
surprised if they left him there with the monks and went on in the dark without him.

The monks brought them in and offered their hospitality, but immediately separated Sir Gerek from the women. He was helped onto a litter by a large lay worker and dragged away to a smaller building next to the monks' dormitory. He caught one small glimpse of Rapunzel looking back at him, and then she was gone.

Gerek awoke the next morning and tried to roll over—until he realized he couldn't move his leg or his arm. The monastery's healer was quite eager to set Gerek's leg and arm and splint them. Now he was weighted down with enormous blocks of wood on two sides of his leg and two sides of his arm, wrapped with strips of cloth and tied together. His whole body ached, and he wasn't sure he didn't have a broken rib or two, due to a sharp pain in his side.

The room where he had slept was bare except for Gerek's saddlebag on the floor and the tiny, low cot that was built for a shorter man. The pale light of the sun was just beginning to peek in the high window.

The door creaked open.
Let it be food.
Gerek was starved for a decent meal.

“Andrew! My old friend.”

“Sir Gerek. They told me you were here.” Andrew looked different with his tonsured head and brown robe, but Gerek knew his face better than his own.

“It is good to see you.”

Andrew came near and clasped his arm. “It is good to see you, too, my friend, but not so broken up. What happened?”

Gerek repeated the tale of his injuries. He also told of his prisoner escaping after nearly slashing Gerek to death with his own dagger.

“You are never to repeat this,” Gerek told him, “but I was actually saved by the young maiden I'd rescued the day before. She threw her knife and it struck him in the arm, and he ran off.”

Andrew hung his head, shaking it slowly back and forth. They had been squires together, had trained together as knights, and then Andrew had suddenly decided to enter the monastic life.

Andrew raised his brows at Gerek. “Sounds like you owe this maiden a knife, as well as your life.”

“You always did have a way of getting right to the point.” Gerek smiled, but it was a rueful one. Andrew was right. He should have planned to at least replace the peasant girl's knife. It might have been the only one she had. “You don't happen to know where she is?”

“She and her mother left before dawn.”

Gerek moved to get out of bed, then was stopped by the weight of his splinted leg. He couldn't even walk.

“Don't worry.” Andrew must have read his thoughts. “God will repay her for saving your life.”

But Gerek did not like owing anything to anyone, especially someone much poorer than he was. When he was well, he would go to the Hagenheim market, buy a good knife, and find her and give it to her. After all, how hard would it be to find someone with a name like Rapunzel?

“The abbot says you may stay here until you have recovered. Our healer, Brother John, is quite good.”

Gerek examined the splints on his arm and his leg. They were well done. “What a thing to have happen—a broken leg and a broken arm. I'll be as useless as a candle in a rainstorm.”

“You can improve your mind and your spirit by reading inspired writings.” Brother Andrew smiled. “And we'll move you to a more comfortable room. It won't be so bad.”

They spoke for a while longer, and Gerek gave Andrew the news
of the other knights that he asked about. Then a servant brought Gerek his breakfast, and Andrew promised to come back later.

While he ate, Gerek contemplated the next six weeks. He would have few people to talk to, nowhere to go, and nothing to do, as the healer had ordered him not to stand on his leg for at least three weeks, and for the next three weeks after that to only have limited movement. He would have no choice but to do what Andrew suggested and find some things to read.

Even so, it was going to be a very long six weeks.

Rapunzel stared openmouthed at the place where Mother had announced they would live. It was the tiny house that her mother had shared with her grandmother. Rapunzel could clearly see why no one was living there—no humans, that is. The thatch on the roof was falling in and had obviously been leaking. Filth of various descriptions littered the floor, including animal droppings, and spiderwebs decorated every corner.

Mother grabbed the short little broom she had brought with her and sent Rapunzel out to gather broom straw to make a second broom. Soon they were both sweeping out the leaves and dirt that had accumulated over the past sixteen or seventeen years, since, after her grandmother died, Mother had taken Rapunzel and moved to the first village.

They worked steadily all day, with Mother reminding her in a determined tone of every little find or victory.

“Now that we have cleaned the floors, we'll do the walls.”

“Now that we have cleaned out the hearth, we'll build a fire.”

“Now that we have a fire, we'll cook some pottage.”

“Oh, look at this blanket. It used to be yours when you were little.”

Rapunzel drew near and examined the piece of cloth. “Yes, I remember it. It is dirty, but you can see the embroidery here. It's a lamb, but when I was little, I thought it was a dog.”

Mother gave Rapunzel a strange look, her eyes becoming round. It was almost a look of fear. “How do you remember that? You haven't seen this blanket since you were three years old.”

Rapunzel shrugged. “I remember holding it to my cheek every night while I cried.”

“Yes.” Mother's voice sounded distant. “But that was because you didn't like the dark or nighttime and used to cry yourself to sleep. But it was only for a while. After a few months, you stopped.”

“Isn't that when I started making up songs?” Rapunzel hoped to distract her mother. When she got that far away look in her eye and that sound in her voice, she became agitated and would yell or say strange things.

“Yes, you did start making up songs when you were about four.” The smile returned to Mother's face. “You always had such a talent for singing and songs and painting pretty pictures. There was never any child as wonderful as my Rapunzel.” She squeezed Rapunzel's shoulder and went to the next task—brushing down the cobwebs from the walls, corners, and ceiling.

Rapunzel sighed, glad she could take her mother's mind off whatever had made her get that look.

When they had gotten the house in livable condition, they decided to open the bundles that had been on the cart belonging to the thieves.

Untying the cloth bags, they found mostly food—containers full of lard and salted pork, bags of flour, kegs of oil, with rags and old clothes covering everything as though to disguise it. But underneath everything else, wrapped in rags, lay bundles of old swords.

Mother exclaimed over the food supplies, overjoyed to have
gotten them for nothing, but Rapunzel couldn't help wondering. “What do you suppose those two men were doing with so many swords? And with so much food? There's enough here to feed an army.”

Mother shrugged. “They were probably taking it to sell at Hagenheim's
Marktplatz
. It is ours now.”

“But aren't you afraid those men will come for all this?” Rapunzel lifted a sword, turning it over in her hand. She glanced at Mother. Her lips were parted, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the weapons.

Mother suddenly took the sword from Rapunzel's hand and wrapped it back up with the other ones, then picked up the bundle.

“What are you doing?”

Mother walked to the back door. “I'm burying these. Get the shovel.”

Rapunzel helped her mother dig a long, shallow trench in the dirt behind their little house and bury the weapons. Was Mother afraid of the men coming to find them? Or did she have other plans for the swords?

That night they lay awake on their straw beds with a stool pushed in front of the door to hold it shut since they hadn't had a chance to repair it yet. Rapunzel sang one of her songs. When she finished, Mother was still awake, still stroking Rapunzel's long braid.

Instead of singing another song, Rapunzel thought about the knight who had protected them, Sir Gerek. She liked remembering his face. What would it be like to have a man like him fall in love with her? Of course, as a noble knight, having been born into a noble family, he was much too proud to ever marry anyone lower than the daughter of a baron. That was how men like him made their fortunes. When there was no war in which they could pillage and plunder or endear themselves to the king, they married someone wealthy.

But she still wanted to remember his face. And his voice and manner. And the way he was dressed and the way he sat on his horse. Although now he wouldn't be sitting on a horse for quite a while.

“Mother?”

“Yes,
liebling
?”

“Who do you expect that I shall marry?” She tried to make her tone as light as possible. “You haven't liked any of the young men who have shown an interest in me. Who would be my ideal husband?”

Mother's hand ceased stroking Rapunzel's hair. A heavy silence descended between them. Since Mother was behind her, Rapunzel imagined that hard look that sometimes came over her face.

“My darling,” her mother finally said, her hand heavy on Rapunzel's head, “men only want to take advantage of someone as innocent and sweet as you are. I have not met a one of them that I would trust with my darling Rapunzel. Besides, aren't you content? Just the two of us, taking care of each other? What do we need with a . . .
husband
?” She said the word as if it were
snake
or
monster
.

A shiver went down Rapunzel's back. She had always believed that someday she would marry, that her mother couldn't mean to keep her from getting married. If a good man, especially a free man with a bit of land or a job in town, asked to marry Rapunzel, her mother would give her approval. It was the way of the world. Everyone got married.

But her mother had never married. Encouraging her to be cautious around men seemed sensible. But could Mother intend to prevent her from marrying?

“Darling, men will only hurt you, pretend to love you, and then leave you when they feel they've made a conquest of you. I don't want that to happen to you, Rapunzel.”

“Did that happen to you?”

For a moment she didn't answer, but then she said, “I was just as innocent and trusting as you are, when I was your age or a little younger . . . Yes, that is what happened to me. But I am strong now, and I will not allow it. That is a pain you need never feel. I shall protect you . . . always.” Mother started stroking her hair again.