The Price of Longing Page 3

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  The months passed. In the mornings, Rapunzel’s mother came to eat with her and then teach her. She would bring up samples of plants from the garden and the surrounding woods and continue Rapunzel’s studies. Rapunzel spent the afternoons braiding wool for rugs that her mother took to market to sell. She bought the wool from shepherds, and dyed them with vegetable and plant dyes. Rapunzel began to detest braiding so much that she neglected her own hair; it grew still longer, and wild. Her mother urged her to run a brush through it in the morning, but Rapunzel saw no reason. There were no boys to attract. No one saw her face. No one could see her up there, except her mother. She had not left the tower, even to go to the garden or the cottage, since her mother put her there.

  So she studied, or she braided, or stared out the window. The world was wide and enormous; she could see it from that far up. The trees spread out like a dark green carpet to the mountains. At times Rapunzel fancied she could step out and walk upon the treetops, to freedom.

  She could watch her mother, and so she did. The witch had yanked up the picket fence. It was ridiculous, really, and the witch cursed herself for a fool, that she had tricked herself into believing in this plain little life. A picket fence with a garden and a little cottage. How quaint, she thought to herself with a sneer curling her lip. The pickets lay on the ground like broken teeth. In their place was twisted iron with spikes at the top, so any deer that thought to jump the fence to nibble the herbs would be impaled.

  Rapunzel noticed that there seemed to be new plants, aside from the ordinary herbs and vegetables she had planted with her mother. Thick, choking vines climbed the iron fence, hanging with fruit that was swollen and poisonous-looking.

  A pair of rabbits twitched their noses near the fence. Rapunzel imagined they were twitching their noses, anyway, for at this distance they were merely two bits of fuzz with long ears. She imagined she saw a tendril from a nearby vine uncurl, but perhaps it was just a trick of the breeze.

  The rabbits disappeared into the garden. Rapunzel watched, waiting for them to emerge, her fingers braiding wool on their own. There was a rustling, not audible but visible, within the garden. Then a short, agonized cry. Rapunzel jumped. She watched for half an hour, but the rabbits did not emerge. She shuddered.

   

  “I have a nice dinner for us here,” her mother said that night, as she stepped from the air into the window, holding a large tray. The witch had let her beauty fade, not completely away, but enough that she looked more hard, more worn. She looked like a woman who had endured much, and found joy scarce. She lifted the cover from the tray after setting it on the little table. “Rabbit stew, fresh bread, and a salad of rampion.” How foolish she was, the crone trying to be the mother. That chance passed long ago. Still she tried to salvage it, because if she didn’t try, it would fall to being the old story of the witch imprisoning a beautiful girl for no reason but jealousy.

  Rapunzel’s lip trembled. “I’m not hungry,” she refused.

  The witch’s eyes flashed. A vision tore through her mind, of her dashing the food to the floor and slapping the girl across the face. Anger surged and passed. She drew her lips thin. “I am. So if you don’t mind,” she said quietly, and reached for her own spoon. “If you change your mind, it is here.” She began to eat, savoring the rich stew, the fresh vegetables. Rapunzel watched her, stomach growling.

  The witch tore a bite of bread with her sharp teeth. “I am going to town on the morrow, early, to sell these rugs.” She gestured to the pile of completed rugs that lay next to the window. “I will be gone all day. I’ll bring you food for the day, before I go. And I’ll bring back more wool for you.” Rapunzel nodded. “I have made some beautiful colors lately. You will enjoy working with them, I think,” the witch continued.

  “Can’t I go with you?” Rapunzel pleaded. “Please, Mother. I haven’t been out of this tower in months. I miss people.” She stared down at her hands, feeling her voice start to tremble. “I feel so trapped here, in this tiny room.”

  The witch shook her head. “No. I don’t think so. I would have to stay at the booth. You could get into too much trouble.”

  Rapunzel looked up, trying to catch her mother’s eye, pleading with her. “I’ll stay at the booth with you!”

  The witch smiled coldly. “You’d be just as trapped there as here then,” she said.

  Rapunzel slumped, and reached out for her spoon. The stew was lukewarm now. The meat was tender and delicious, but her stomach turned at the thought of that scream. “Very well,” she whispered.

  The witch smiled, her icy façade melting. “Cheer up, my dear. I will bring you a present, hm? Maybe a nice ribbon for your hair.” She reached out and smoothed a lock of Rapunzel’s hair. “You have such beautiful hair. Here, let me braid it up for you,” she insisted. Rapunzel let her brush out the tangles and plait it into a long rope. It was soothing, actually. She began to relax and feel sleepy.

  “There,” the witch said. “Much better, don’t you think?” She held up the hand mirror. Rapunzel nodded, but she did not smile. She had an oval face, with rosy cheeks, and clear blue eyes. Her nose was pert, her lips full and pink. All that beauty was wasted up here, in the tower, where only the birds could see it.

  After the witch left, Rapunzel dug under her mattress for the one braid she had left unwound when she was stitching the others into rugs. It would have made a big rug, large enough to cover the floor of a small cottage. She tied one end around the leg of the heavy bed, using the most secure knot that her mother ever taught her. Then she let the coil drop out the window. It sailed down into the darkness. Rapunzel heard a thump as several feet of it hit the ground below. She smiled. It was plenty long enough.

  She pulled it back up, untied it, coiled it, and stuck it back under her mattress. She would have all day tomorrow to escape. By the time her mother came back from market with her wool and ribbons, Rapunzel would be long gone.

  Satisfied, she got ready for bed. Laying in the dark, she began to worry, her stomach twisting in knots. Where would she go? What would she do once she got there? She knew enough of plants and the wild to survive, she thought. And she had enough skill with herbs to set herself up at least as an apprentice to an herbalist. Besides, she needn’t worry; she thought of her reflection in the mirror and smiled. She would find a husband in no time at all. Then she could forget all of this and start a new life.

  What would her mother do, she wondered, when she found her gone? Would she come after her? The thought chilled Rapunzel. After all, she had magic at her disposal that she had not even taught her daughter.

  Still, it was a chance she had to take. It was either that or die alone in this tower. Her mind made up, at least for the moment, Rapunzel closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep.