Rapunzel (2 page)

The old woman said nothing for a long, long while. A little trickle of saliva slid from between her pointed teeth and dribbled down her chin. Her eyes gleamed like a wild cat's. The husband wondered whether to try to make a run for it but his sodden feet seemed planted in her garden and he could scarcely move a muscle. He realized he was under a terrible enchantment.

‘Please, I beg you, have mercy!' he gasped. ‘I will do anything, give you anything, if you will let me go back to my wife.'

‘Anything at all?' said the old woman.

‘Anything at all,' the husband repeated desperately. ‘I swear it.'

‘Then your wife shall have all the rampion she
can
eat,' said the old woman, stooping down and gathering great fistfuls of it. She thrust them at the husband, who found he could wrench his feet free again. ‘But, in return …'

He waited, heart thudding.

The old woman raised her head and pointed a shaking finger.

‘In return … If your wife has a daughter you must give the child to me.'

The husband gasped and implored but the old woman turned her back on him and shut herself into her dark house.

He took the rampion back to his ailing wife. She seized it joyously, eating it straight from his
hand
, not even bothering to wash the earth away.

‘Thank the Lord the old witch didn't catch you!' she said.

The husband didn't dare tell her what had happened. He could not stand to worry her so. Besides, they might well have a son.

He consulted all the other old women in the village to see if they had any way of divining the sex of the unborn child. His wife laughed as they dandled rings on ribbons above her swollen stomach.

‘I don't care whether our baby is a boy or a girl,' she said.

‘I care,' said the husband. He shut his eyes as if he were praying. ‘It has to be a boy.'

‘It will be a boy,' cried the old women as the ring swung backwards and forwards.

‘A baby boy,' said the wife, and she sounded pleased.

She looked so much better, a pink flush to her
cheek
. She bloomed throughout the rest of her pregnancy like a sweet round peach. The husband grew thin and pale with dread.

‘It has to be a boy,' he muttered, his hands on the wife's stomach.

He could feel the baby kicking within.

‘My son,' he whispered.

‘Our son,' said the wife.

But it wasn't a son. The wife had an easy labour and gave birth to a beautiful blonde daughter.

‘A girl!' said the husband, and burst into tears.

‘Our daughter,' said the wife.

‘My daughter,' said the old witch-woman, suddenly appearing in the room as if she had leaped through the window. She seized hold of the newborn child, still pink and naked, and held her tight against her sunken chest.

‘No!' screamed the wife, trying to get out of bed, but stuck fast.

‘No!' shouted the husband, reaching out his arms, but able to grasp nothing.

‘Yes,' said the old woman, wrapping the baby in a blanket and cradling her. ‘She is my daughter now and I name her Rapunzel.' She looked over at the anguished wife. ‘Do not worry, I will be a loving mother to the child.'

‘My child,' the wife gasped.

‘Mine now,' said the old woman. ‘But perhaps fate will still be kind to you and grant you another. Eat my rampion whenever you wish. I am going to be far, far away.'

And with that she wrapped her cloak around herself and the child … and vanished.

The old woman set up home in another village the other end of the country. She laid out another elaborate herb garden and sewed it with many seeds – but no rampion. She looked after Rapunzel with loving care, singing to the child at night, telling her magical stories, teaching her the names of all the herbs and how to turn them into potions and remedies. She did not send Rapunzel to the village school when she was five. She taught the child to read and write herself.

The old woman and Rapunzel kept very much to themselves, but as the girl grew older children came calling every day, desperate to see and talk and play with the strange little girl with such old-fashioned sweet manners and such amazing hair. Rapunzel was a bonnie baby and a pretty little girl but by the time she got to eleven it was obvious she was growing into a stunning beauty. She had a lovely face and a lithe form but the most wondrous thing about her was her hair. It
was
thick and blonde with a natural wave. The old woman washed it with special herbal shampoo and brushed it a hundred strokes each night with an ivory-backed bristle brush. Rapunzel's hair grew long and strong and shining. It was down past her shoulders by the time she was two, curling at her waist by five, gently brushing the backs of her knees at eight, and now at eleven Rapunzel's hair swept the floor like a golden train.

Of course this was scarcely practical, so during the day the old woman braided it, her shaking fingers surprisingly nimble as she plaited each heavy silken strand, and then she looped the braids up so that Rapunzel had her own golden halo of hair. It was so heavy on her head that it was always a great relief to untie it all at bedtime. The old woman would sometimes plunge her hands into its warmth or delicately finger one little curl. Once she felt her own
sparse
grey straggles and sighed.

‘I expect you had long golden hair when you were little, Mother,' said Rapunzel. ‘But anyway, I think grey hair is very distinguished.'

‘You are a sweet child, daughter,' said the old woman. ‘You do love me, don't you, Rapunzel?'

‘More than anyone in the world, Mother,' said Rapunzel.

‘And you never feel you'd be happier living anywhere else?'

‘I only ever want to live with you,' said Rapunzel.

There was a knock on the door at that moment. Half a dozen ragged boys from the village had come to call on Rapunzel. The old woman sent them away curtly. A few days later a young nobleman from a nearby castle came to see this girl with the wondrous hair for himself. The old woman sent him away with equal abruptness. The next day three more
young
men came calling.

‘Do we have to send them all away, Mother?' said Rapunzel. ‘It might be pleasant to have company from time to time.'

‘We are company. We don't need anyone else,' said the old woman gruffly.

The callers became such a problem as Rapunzel's hair grew to ever more fabulous golden lengths that the old woman became desperate. She worked her magical powers to the ultimate and then woke Rapunzel very early on her twelfth birthday and told her she had an astonishing present for her. She said it was hidden deep in the forest.

‘Why did you hide it away there, Mother?' asked Rapunzel.

‘So that no one else will see it. It's our very own special secret,' said the old woman, taking Rapunzel by the hand.

They walked far into the dark forest. Rapunzel couldn't help being a little frightened, especially when an animal snarled in the distance or a bird suddenly soared in the air, almost entangling itself in Rapunzel's abundant tresses.

‘Are we nearly there, Mother?'

‘Very nearly, my dear,' said the old woman.

She held Rapunzel's hand very tightly indeed. The trees suddenly thinned and they stepped into a sunlit round clearing edged by tall protective oaks. Skylarks spiralled high in the air above, squirrels scampered in the grass below. At the very centre of the clearing was a shining golden tower.

Rapunzel stood still, dazzled.

‘What is this beautiful tower, Mother?'

‘It's a new home, daughter dearest,' said the old woman.

‘Our new home?' said Rapunzel.

‘Your new home, Rapunzel,' said the old woman.

She pointed to the tower. It shone so strongly in the sunlight that Rapunzel had to hide her eyes. The light seared her very eyelids and she had to crouch down, her arms over her head. She seemed to be whirled around, up and up and up … and then suddenly she found herself curled on the floor. She wasn't lying on the grass in the sunlight. She was crouching on dark red carpet.

Rapunzel lifted her head and stared all around her. She was in a round red chamber, a beautiful room with velvet couches and crimson tapestries and ruby glass lamps. There was a table set with all her favourite dishes, a chest of beautiful dresses all colours of the rainbow, a shelf of all
her
special childhood toys. There was a bed with a deep rose coverlet and a pink satin pillow, a dressing table set with her own ivory-backed hairbrush.

‘My home?' Rapunzel whispered. And then she shouted, ‘Mother? Mother, where are you?
Mother
!'

‘Come to the window, Rapunzel,' the old woman called.

Rapunzel picked herself up and ran to the one high-up window in the room. She peered down … and there was the old woman far below.

‘Mother! Why have you shut me up in the tower alone?' Rapunzel screamed.

‘I have to keep you safe, my darling,' the old
woman
said. ‘Don't be afraid. You will be so happy in your special tower. I will come and visit you every single day. I will bring you fresh food and brush your beautiful hair and tell you stories and sing you to sleep.'

‘But how will you get in? There's no door to the chamber, no way into the tower,' said Rapunzel.

‘It will be simple, my child. I shall call up to you, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your long hair,” and you will let down your wondrous long hair braided into a rope. It will reach nearly to the ground. I will climb up and be with you,' said the old woman. ‘That's how I will get in.'

‘But … how will I get out?' said Rapunzel.

The old woman did not answer. Rapunzel realized she was trapped.

She spent weeks trying to work out a way to escape. If she jumped straight out of the window she would be dashed to death. She stared at the
tiny
squirrels far down below. She couldn't climb down because the golden bricks were smooth as glass. She looked up at the skylarks above and wished she had wings.