The Golden Braid Page 11

  They began their Latin lesson, and later, when Rapunzel was staring hard at the page in front of them, sitting quite close by Sir Gerek’s side, Cristobel’s voice rang out.

  “There you are! Are you done with your reading lesson yet?”

  Rapunzel looked up at the girl. “Almost.”

  “There are some wildflowers in the next meadow I want to pick. I shall return in a little while.”

  “Who is that?” Sir Gerek asked as soon as she had walked away.

  “A girl I met today. She came to visit her brother who lives here.”

  “She isn’t wearing anything on her head.” Sir Gerek was looking askance at her.

  “Mother says it’s not decent for a woman to go around bareheaded. And she doesn’t wish for me to show my hair.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “What did you say?” She already knew, but she wanted him to elaborate. Perhaps she could use his argument with Mother.

  “Your mother . . .,” he said with a thoughtful squint. He paused. “Is your mother unkind to you? Does she beat you?”

  Rapunzel drew back. “Whatever made you think that?”

  “I am only asking. She doesn’t seem to realize that you are a grown woman, it seems to me, and not a child of ten. She doesn’t want you to talk to men, doesn’t want you to learn to read, and has you frightened to even show your hair. Does that not seem a bit strange to you?”

  Was he right? Was Rapunzel addled to allow her mother to control her so much? But she had no choice. She and Mother had been taking care of each other all of Rapunzel’s life. What would she do without Mother? What would Mother do without her?

  “Does she beat you?” he asked again.

  “No, she doesn’t beat me.”

  “Then why do you not uncover your hair?”

  “It feels . . . immodest.”

  “Do you think Cristobel looks immodest?”

  “No.” So if it was acceptable for others, why not for her? But still, she was not about to take off her wimple.

  “A man might marry you if he could see a bit of your hair.”

  “And of course, all I could possibly want is to marry.” Mother would have thought of something much more biting to say.

  “Well, do you not want to marry? What else would you do?”

  “Why would I want to marry a man who would probably tell me reading was foolishness? How would I ever read the rest of the Bible if I were married? Besides, I could work in a shop, or even work at Hagenheim Castle, instead of getting married.”

  “Would you prefer working for money to being married and having children?”

  “Perhaps I would. Yes, I certainly would.” She stared defiantly at him, daring him to argue with her.

  He shrugged. “If you wish to work in Hagenheim Castle, you would have to wear a certain type of dress and wear your hair partially uncovered. All the maids must dress the same.”

  She did not know that. But . . . “I could do that. It would not be a problem.” She smiled at him and lifted her chin.

  “Perhaps we shall see each other there, then.”

  “You are in and out of the castle very often?”

  “Yes. The knights often eat in the Great Hall with the family.” His familiar arrogance showed in the tilt of his head and the informal tone of his voice.

  Cristobel was walking toward them.

  “I should go. Thank you for the lesson today.”

  He nodded.

  Once the girls reconvened, Cristobel linked her arm through Rapunzel’s. “Who is that man?”

  “Sir Gerek. He’s teaching me Latin.”

  “Are you and he . . .”

  Rapunzel’s cheeks heated. “No, no. He is one of Duke Wilhelm’s knights and very virtuous.” Or so she hoped. “He is only teaching me to read because the monks are forcing him to while he waits for his broken leg and broken arm to heal.”

  Cristobel tilted her head and scrunched her brows. Then she shook her head and smiled. “Whatever the reason, I envy you. He is very handsome.”

  “How can you tell with all that hair covering his face?”

  “He is a knight, isn’t he? Besides, I can see he is well-looking. If I were being tutored by a handsome young knight, I would uncover my hair and wear a more revealing dress.” She looked pointedly at Rapunzel’s chest, which was covered nearly to her chin in her modest kirtle and underdress.

  “It is too cold to wear something revealing.”

  “Pfft.” Cristobel expelled air through her teeth and rolled her eyes.

  “Besides, he doesn’t want to marry me. He means to marry a wealthy heiress, a lady of noble birth.”

  Cristobel laughed. “He doesn’t have to marry you. If you have his baby and he claims it, you could get money out of him, or a nice house, or a position in the church for your child, if it turns out to be a son.”

  Rapunzel’s face was burning. “I don’t wish to . . . have children.” Not in that way, at least. “I was thinking I want to work, like you.”

  “Ach, but yes, it is much better to work for coin than to have babies. My sister has two babies and is married to a farmer, and every time I go to visit her, she is crying. But I told her she should not marry a farmer who has so little land.” Cristobel shook her head. “I plan to save my coin and marry a burgher—a butcher or blacksmith or tailor. Then I can live in Hagenheim and buy my bread every day instead of making it, and be rich enough to hire a nurse and a cook and other servants.”

  That did sound like a good plan.

  “Perhaps I can help you get a position at the castle. And with Sir Gerek to put in a good word for you, I’m sure you will get hired.”

  “Truly?” But Mother would be so furious . . . and hurt.

  Rapunzel parted from her new friend at the door of her house, with a promise from Cristobel to come for a visit.

  As she quickly got out her paints and a brush, she pondered all that her new friend had told her. Could she defy Mother, leave her, and get a job at the castle? It was hard to imagine. But was she foolish, as Sir Gerek seemed to think she was, for allowing Mother to make her believe she should always cover her hair?

  Rapunzel sighed. Her simple life suddenly seemed complicated.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The next day, Mother set out for Hagenheim to check up on her pregnant women.

  Rapunzel also set out, in the opposite direction, after watching her mother disappear into the forest.

  The smell of spring infused the tiny breeze that brushed her face, and spring was in the songs of the twittering birds around her. It was good to hear birds again after the long winter.

  She pictured the words Sir Gerek had taught her the day before, the new Latin words. She was saying them to herself when she thought she heard something behind her. She glanced over her shoulder but didn’t see anything. A few minutes later, she was sure she heard someone walking, with the crackling of twigs and leaves not far away. She stopped and listened, but all she heard was the birds.

  She kept walking, her heart beating faster, but when she heard the sound again, she called, “Cristobel, is that you?” Her heart was beating in her throat as she tried to hold her breath to listen.

  Then she saw a tiny movement, a flash of gray cloth. “Who is there?”

  A figure emerged from the bushes, but it was not Cristobel. It was the man who had attacked her and her mother on the road.

  His smile sent a bolt of lightning through her stomach. She turned and ran toward the monastery.

  He crashed through the undergrowth behind her, running after her.

  O God, help me. Jesus. A sob caught in her throat as she ran as fast as her legs would go. Would she make it to the monastery before he reached her?

  She could see the clearing ahead, but it seemed so far. If she could reach the open pasture and get someone’s attention, she might be saved.

  Her lungs burned as she forced herself to run faster. He was getting closer. She heard him laugh—he was so close
! Suddenly, her wimple was wrenched off her head. She kept running as her hair was loosed down her back.

  The clearing was just ahead. She could see the monastery dormitory. “Gerek!” she screamed. The man grabbed her hair and jerked so hard, her feet left the ground and she landed on her back.

  She screamed until he clamped his hand over her mouth. Then he sat on her stomach.

  He leaned over her, still smiling. “Now you will be sorry for throwing that knife at me.” He struggled to get something off his hip, then held up a knife—her knife. “Remember this?”

  Rapunzel could barely breathe with him sitting on her stomach and his hand over her mouth. She clawed and slapped at his hand. He removed it, but when she took a breath to scream, he placed the knife to her throat.

  “If you scream, I’ll slit your throat from one side to the other.”

  With every breath, the cold blade of the knife pressed against her throat. She gulped the air anyway, until her vision became less fuzzy. He was still talking.

  “I shall cut you and watch you bleed. Now tell me how sorry you are.”

  She must be dreaming. It looked as if Sir Gerek was standing just behind him with his sword. Was it the angel of the Lord?

  “You rancid piece of dog meat,” he said.

  The smiling man pulled the knife away from Rapunzel’s throat and started to turn his head to see who was behind him.

  Sir Gerek slammed the butt of his sword into the man’s temple and he fell over. The knife fell from his loosened grip and Rapunzel grabbed it. She scrambled to pull her legs out from under the dead weight of her attacker and stood to her feet, still clutching the knife.

  Sir Gerek’s face was a dark mask as he stared down at the man. But when he turned and looked at her, the mask disappeared and his entire face went slack.

  “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head. Then her arms and legs began to tremble. She took another step away from her attacker, whose eyes were still closed. Glancing at Sir Gerek, she mumbled, “You shouldn’t be walking. You will injure your leg.”

  He stood up straight in spite of the splint. He held his sword in his right hand, his splinted arm by his side. “Can you go get someone to tie him up? I’ll guard him while you’re gone.”

  Her knees threatened to collapse behind her, but she nodded and hurried away, stumbling but righting herself.

  She came upon a group of three monks hoeing in the garden. “Can you come? Sir Gerek has caught a criminal at the edge of the forest and needs someone to help tie him up.”

  All three men hurried back with her, no doubt curious to see the sight.

  By the time they reached them, her attacker was waking up and groaning. While Sir Gerek held his sword to the smiling man’s chest, the monks tied his ankles and his hands behind his back. Sir Gerek gave instructions for someone to go to Hagenheim Castle and summon a group of guards to take possession of the prisoner. Meanwhile, they dragged the man, who was rather small, by his feet and locked him inside one of the guest rooms in a small shed.

  It was all over. She was safe. The smiley man couldn’t get out, and Duke Wilhelm’s men would come soon and take him to the dungeon. So why was she still shaking? And blinking back tears?

  Sir Gerek was standing at the edge of the clearing, still looking at her.

  “You must get off your leg,” she told him.

  He slapped a hand on the bulky splint. “Doesn’t even hurt anymore. I think it’s healed. Come.” He held out his hand to her. “You need to sit down.”

  But instead of taking his hand or walking toward the dormitory, she started sobbing.

  She must look a fool, but she couldn’t stop. She covered her face with her hands.

  Remembering her terror, and how the man had held the knife to her throat, she sobbed harder, her shoulders shaking. She had run as hard as she could. She had cried out to Jesus. But the man had caught up to her anyway. He had pinned her and threatened to slit her throat. And he might have, if Sir Gerek had not come with his sword.

  She cried so hard she thought her heart would burst—until Sir Gerek put his arms around her.

  Gerek watched in horror as she started to cry, her whole body shaking as she sobbed into her hands. Was she injured? Was she in pain? He should have killed that evil beast for attacking her again. He might yet go and beat his face in.

  His heart knotted inside him at the sound of her sobbing. He’d not been around a lot of women in his lifetime, except for Lady Rose and the duke’s daughters, and only from a distance. The few times he had seen one of the duke’s daughters upset, Lady Rose had put her arms around them.

  So Gerek stepped toward her, laid his sword on the ground, put his arms around her, and patted her shoulder with one hand.

  It seemed to work because Rapunzel’s sobbing lessened and soon stopped altogether. She stiffened in his arms and stood unmoving. Her arms were pressed against his chest, and he wished she would put her head against him, so much his chest ached.

  She stood sniffing and wiping her eyes with her hands, and he continued patting her shoulder, putting his hands in contact with her thick hair. The golden-blond color was as beautiful as it was unusual, and it felt like silk against his fingers.

  She pulled away from him and he let her go, the ache intensifying in his chest. She turned away from him, still wiping at her face.

  “Are you sure you aren’t hurt?”

  “I am sorry for crying. I am well.” Her voice was still shaky as she continued to wipe her face with her hands. “You must get back to the dormitory before your bones grow back crooked.”

  Before he knew what she was doing, she bent and picked up his sword and handed it to him.

  “Can you walk?” she asked.

  “Of course I can walk. I ran—or an approximation of running with this heavy splint—all the way to the edge of the forest when I heard you scream.”

  She crossed her arms and stared up at him, opening her mouth to say something. But then she closed it and gave her head a slight shake. “Thank you.”

  They walked slowly, side by side, back to the dormitory. At least he had been able to get to her before that madman hurt her.

  Had it been wrong to hold her? No, he did not believe so, but why had she stiffened? Why had she turned away from him? His stomach sank, but he clenched his teeth and shook his head. She still did not trust him.

  Once they were back in the dormitory and sitting down, Rapunzel couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened, about the man grabbing her, throwing her down on the ground, and holding the knife to her throat. Tears kept coming into her eyes. She did her best to hide them from Sir Gerek. Thankfully, he seemed oblivious. He opened a book and started talking about Latin. She tried to pay attention, but her thoughts kept wandering.

  He held the book out to her, asking her to read. When she reached for it, her hand was shaking.

  Instead of giving her the book, he laid it down and grasped her hand. “You are not well.” He held her hand firmly in his much bigger, calloused one, then reached and took her other hand.

  Her back instantly straightened. She wanted to pull her hands away, but he could prevent her. After all, he was much stronger than she was. Her heart trembled at the truth: He was only being kind. He did not want to take advantage of her. So why was fear welling up inside her?

  She could not look him in the eye. The tears streamed down her face. The warmth of his gentle grip was unbearably sweet, and it made her heart swell. She kept her head bowed so he couldn’t see her tears. How shameful she was. She had no right to ask for his kindness. He was a knight.

  “I shall get you some wine.” He let go of her hands and stood up, shuffling to the other side of the room.

  Meanwhile, she struggled to get her tears under control, wiping her face with her sleeves. She pressed her hands to her cheeks. Their warmth—warmed by his touch—made her stomach flip.

  He came back and touched the back of her hand with a small cloth, and she us
ed it to finish drying her eyes and her nose. When she dared to peek up at him, he was holding a cup out to her. “This will make you feel better.”

  She took it, and the sharp scent of the red wine filled her nose. She took a sip. She and her mother never drank wine, as it was too expensive. The taste lingered on her tongue and wasn’t as pleasant as she thought it would be—it was rather like drinking vinegar. She took another sip to be polite and then handed it back to him.

  He pushed the cup back toward her. “It isn’t enough to make you drunk, if that’s what you’re worried about. Drink it. You’ll feel better.”

  “No. I don’t like it.” If he thought he could push her around, just because he had saved her life again, and just because she had shown weakness by crying, he was mistaken. He was being too kind to her, paying her too much attention. She kept an eye on the door. She could run away. With his splint, he could not catch her.

  He took it and frowned. “Hardheaded, you are.” He drank it himself in one gulp.

  “Better to be hardheaded than always grumpy.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes.” He was back to his grumpy self. Good.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Gerek sat back on the bed and propped his leg up again. He rather liked it when she stood up to him.

  At least she wasn’t crying anymore. He couldn’t bear to see her cry, and hearing her sob had made his stomach hurt. And now that she was no longer crying, and her hair was completely uncovered, he let himself look at her.

  He had always thought her beautiful—for a peasant girl. But with that golden hair falling around her, it made her face and eyes glow like some kind of enchantment.

  He was thinking like an addle-headed knave.

  “Will you help me get a position at Hagenheim Castle?”

  Her question startled him out of his thoughts. “What sort of position?”

  “As a maidservant. I can cook or do any sort of cleaning.”

  Lady Rose would like her very much. “Is that what you wish?”