Page 21 of The Golden Braid


  “Let’s split up,” Gerek said. “Two men in every direction.”

  Gerek took the best tracker with him, but eventually it was clear that they had completely lost the trail. The tracker held out little hope of finding it again. But they pressed on, hoping and praying to miraculously intercept their trail again or to even find the two women themselves.

  They stopped midafternoon to rest their horses.

  “Shouldn’t we turn back?” the tracker asked. “We’ve been searching for hours and haven’t found them.”

  “Of course we shouldn’t turn back! Turn back? For what?” Gerek took a slow, deep breath and fought to rid the anger from his tone. “Let us keep looking. We could find them at any moment.” But it was less and less likely as time wore on, and he knew it.

  They finally found a road and a man with an ox and cart, carrying a load of thatch. Gerek asked the man if he had seen two women and a donkey cart.

  “No, I haven’t seen anyone like that, no women at all.”

  Gerek was too disappointed to say another word. He could no longer convince his tracker to stay, so the man headed back to Hagenheim.

  Gerek continued searching alone. He soon came to a small village and asked several people if they had seen two women with a donkey and a cart traveling that day. No one had seen them.

  He went back the way he had come and tried to think at which point it was most likely that they had gone off a different way.

  It was impossible. There was no way to know which direction Gothel had taken her. Along the way were fields and roads and woods, but where they had gone was a complete mystery.

  He couldn’t let despair overtake him. He had bought some food at the village and he stopped now to eat it, water his horse, and rest.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about her fighting off her attacker at the castle. Even though she had wanted to make it clear that Balthasar had attacked her, had fallen on her knife, she didn’t collapse in hysterical crying or screaming at realizing the man was dead, as he might have expected a young woman to do. She had no one in her life except a mother who had threatened to do terrible things to her, but she was not overcome by her circumstances, not grasping and desperate to marry the first man she could cling to.

  And yet . . . she was thoroughly feminine and beautiful and sweet.

  He wouldn’t even let himself think he might be in love with her. He was nearly betrothed to Lady Lankouwen, but she had said she would marry him if he was willing. Lady Lankouwen was the best thing for him—sedate, wealthy, and in need of a protector. He would be helping her, and with her money and her estate, which was as grand as the castle where he had been born, she would be helping him show his brother that even though Gerek was the younger son, he was just as worthy.

  But what would happen to Rapunzel? If her mother was able to force her to take a sleeping potion and seize her, bearing her away against her will, what else might she do to her? The woman was obviously mad.

  He stood and put away the food and interrupted Donner’s grazing. They would search until nightfall, sleep in the woods, then search some more tomorrow. For as long as it took.

  Rapunzel’s head felt weighed down. She opened her eyes, but everything was moving and she couldn’t focus. A dry, herbal taste clung to her tongue, and her throat burned. The smell of animal dung assaulted her nose, and she was lying on something that was moving and rocking. By the gentle breeze, she knew she was outdoors. When she opened her eyes again she could see, blurred above her, blue sky and white clouds.

  Gradually she started to remember the last few days, how Lord Claybrook’s men had captured Hagenheim Castle, and all that had followed. Then she suddenly remembered her mother admitting that she had stolen Rapunzel away from her rightful parents. Her mind quickly jumped to Sir Gerek’s muscular arms holding her tight against his chest after helping her up off the floor.

  To think, what a grouch he used to be. She had disliked him and thought him arrogant and unkind. Then Mother—Gothel—had grabbed her and put something down her throat and forced her to swallow it. She had indeed made good on her threat to poison Rapunzel and drag her away from Sir Gerek and Hagenheim.

  Her body seemed too heavy and limp to move. Was she paralyzed? Had Gothel given her something that would keep her from being able to walk again? But no, she moved them slightly, not wanting to draw Gothel’s attention. She had been given a powerful sleeping potion, so powerful her body was still having trouble waking up.

  She had to think of a plan. Gothel undoubtedly intended to take Rapunzel away from Hagenheim forever. Could Gothel truly make her a prisoner?

  Even knowing of Gothel’s cruelty, it was still difficult to stop thinking of her as her mother, this woman who had raised her. She had suspected she was mad, had worried that she was becoming more and more irrational, but she never imagined she was wicked enough to steal someone else’s child.

  Why had she stolen a child?

  She had been all alone after the man she loved had left her pregnant, then her baby had been born too early and died. She was so suspicious and bitter toward people. She must have thought the only thing for her to do was to steal a child for herself, a child to replace the one she had lost, a child who would not question her suspicion and bitterness.

  Rapunzel not only had been wrong about Sir Gerek, but she had been even more wrong about Gothel.

  O Lord God, I don’t ever want to be like her. She may have raised me, but make me like someone else, like Sir Gerek or Lady Rose or Frau Adelheit, but not like this woman.

  Her body still felt weak and unwieldy. She only wished she could have some water. But first she had to think of a plan to escape.

  It was starting to get dark, and waves of sleepiness were washing over her again. Could she even hope to escape when she was barely able to stay awake, barely able to move?

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Gerek awoke to the old familiar anger, the overpowering kind that had plagued him off and on since he was a boy. He had not felt it in a long time. It had inexplicably disappeared when he was traveling with Valten for two years over the Continent, entering jousting tournaments and fighting the best knights in the world. He had thought he had learned to channel the anger, to control it, and to use it to defeat his opponents without any real malice toward them. So why was it back now, that out-of-control feeling? Was it a reminder that he was his father’s son after all? If someone was in front of him right now, would he take his anger out on them? Would he strike Rapunzel’s mother if he found her now, whether it was necessary or not? Was he capable of doing what his father had done?

  No. Whatever he felt for Rapunzel, he could never imagine striking her or even the woman who had harmed her, unless it was absolutely necessary. The thought of striking a woman made him physically sick. It was against everything he had pledged to be as a knight. All of Duke Wilhelm’s knights had to swear an oath to protect and defend women, and Gerek had embraced that oath—as a defiant act against his father, but also because he saw it as his Christian duty. Jesus had given his life for others, and a knight must do the same, and nothing was nobler than saving a young woman. A young woman like his mother.

  But this was about more than being chivalrous and noble. This was about Rapunzel. An overwhelming desire rose inside him to save her. If anything happened to her . . . Pain tore through him, making him gasp at the sharp suddenness of it, as if the pain of his mother’s death were fresh and new instead of nearly twenty years old.

  He got back on his horse and started searching again for Rapunzel’s trail. He traveled on the dusty, rutted road for a while, questioning every person he saw, but no one had seen them. So he went back the way he had come and tried a different direction, going south instead of east from the point where he had lost their trail.

  He felt a renewed sense of hope. Perhaps this was the way they had gone. It made sense because they had come to Hagenheim from the south. Maybe Rapunzel’s mother was taking her back to the last place they had
lived.

  He made his way to the south road and rode hard, stopping to question people he encountered along the way. No one had seen them. But by now, they had a whole day’s head start.

  He would eventually find them if they had come this way. He simply had to keep going, keep looking, and keep asking.

  Rapunzel awoke to darkness and a small fire not far away. Her throat was burning worse than ever and she was desperate for water.

  She tried to sit up and realized she was still lying on the cart, which was loaded with bundles all around her. She managed to roll to her left side, but couldn’t seem to move her left arm. When she tugged at it, metal clanked against metal. Something was holding her fast.

  Her wrist was tied with a piece of rope to the side of the cart, and their metal cooking utensils were tied to the rope.

  Still, she managed to sit up and look around.

  Mother was walking cautiously toward her with a cup in her hand.

  Without speaking, Rapunzel reached for the cup. She was so thirsty that she didn’t pause until she had drunk it all.

  Some bits of something solid slid down her throat. Her stomach sank and her head pounded with an awful foreboding.

  “What was in that water? What did you just give me?” The breath went out of her as fear gripped her. “Do you feel the need to poison me and tie me up? To treat me like an animal? You must hate me.”

  Mother’s face was hard and dark, just as it had been when she’d seen Sir Gerek bringing her home on his horse. “I could not let you tell anyone who you were, could I?”

  Pain streaked through Rapunzel, but she pretended to feel nothing. “I have to visit the privy.” Although she knew there was no privy. They were in the middle of the woods.

  Mother untied the rope, and Rapunzel walked away to find a thick bush to squat behind. But when she finished and stood up, she became so dizzy, she stumbled several steps, then fell on her side on the ground. Her eyelids were too heavy to open.

  Traveling the south road for two days had yielded nothing. No one had seen the two women or their donkey and cart. Gerek asked at every village, asked every traveler. What could he do now except go back and try another direction?

  But perhaps someone had found them and brought them back to Hagenheim. After all, the other men had gone in all directions. It was not too far-fetched to believe that they may have found them.

  With this heartening thought, Gerek turned back toward Hagenheim.

  How many days had passed since Gothel had taken Rapunzel away from Hagenheim? She spent them either asleep or in a daze. Did Sir Gerek realize what had happened to her? Was he worried about her? He would surely search for her when he found out she was missing, even if he didn’t know what had happened to her. Surely he would guess what Gothel had done to her.

  It was nearly nighttime. Rapunzel slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out a book, The Poem of the Cid, and she quietly tore off a piece of a page. Then she dropped it over the side of the cart.

  Would Sir Gerek be angry with her for ruining his book? She hoped, if he was looking for her, he would say it was worth it if it helped him find her. And if he never found her . . . it wouldn’t matter.

  Had Frau Adelheit told Lady Rose that she suspected Rapunzel was Elsebeth? No, she wouldn’t want to upset Lady Rose. She wouldn’t want her to be devastated at losing her again, for Rapunzel was truly lost unless she could escape from Gothel and make her way back to Hagenheim. And that was exactly what she had to do. She had to stay alive so she could get back to Hagenheim, back to her true mother.

  Every night Gothel gave her a cup of water, and every night Rapunzel drank it because she was so thirsty and there was no other way to get water. Gothel kept her tied to the side of the cart, and she’d had no opportunity to untie it, being so weak from whatever was in her water, and Gothel was never far from the cart for long. She had even stopped untying the rope to let Rapunzel relieve herself. She simply did her relieving beside the cart.

  Rapunzel wasn’t sure how many days she’d been away from Hagenheim. She kept ripping off pieces of paper as quietly as possible and dropping them onto the ground, praying Gothel would not notice.

  A few hours later, Gothel gave her a bit of food. She had eaten very little for the last however many days they had been traveling, and she was ravenous. She ate the morsel of bread and cheese, wishing she could throw it in Gothel’s face, but knowing she needed the strength to escape. She could barely swallow it, not having drunk anything all day. Finally came the cup of water. She took a sip. Gothel was looking away, staring at the fire, so Rapunzel poured the water out onto a cloth bag beside her, swirling it in the cup to make sure she got rid of the bits of herbs or crushed root or whatever it was in the bottom of the cup.

  When Gothel turned back to her, Rapunzel made sure the cup was at her lips, as if she were just drinking the last bit. Gothel came toward her and Rapunzel held out the cup. “May I have some more water?”

  Gothel stared hard at her. Finally, she took the cup and poured some water into it.

  Rapunzel drank it, so glad to finally have something to drink that she knew wasn’t poisoned. But a few minutes later, she pretended to be overcome with sleepiness and lay down and closed her eyes.

  Rapunzel kept peeking at Gothel, waiting for her to go to sleep. It seemed forever before she finally kicked some dirt over the fire. But instead of lying down on the ground to sleep, she climbed on the cart beside Rapunzel.

  Now how would she get away? She waited until Gothel’s breathing was loud and steady, and then she started trying to slip the small noose off her wrist. The skin on her wrist was worn off and bleeding, but she eventually worked the rope off her hand.

  She inched her way down the cart on her stomach, wriggling slowly, painfully down the bundles. Gothel didn’t move, but Rapunzel kept her eyes on her, listening for any noise or movement. She kept wriggling, inching, scooting, trying not to rock the rickety cart. Her feet were hanging off the end. Finally, her feet touched the ground. Now it was easier to slip the rest of the way down and stand up.

  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 north
east. 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.