There were two story tellers left; Verna the herbalist and their hostess Florence but as their hostess was obliged to go last, everyone looked in Verna’s direction.

“Are you feeling up to joining in?” aaked Florence.

The woman sitting next to her, who looked far younger than her 68 years, drained her tankard and held it out for a refill.

“I’m more than ready to tell my tale but are all of you  ready to hear it?”

The slight slur in Verna’s voice caused Beatrice and Margret to glance surreptitiosly at each other but Ginger who was flush from telling her own tale joked, “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

This was followed by Florence giving Ginger’s foot a swift kick as the hostess flicked her guest a warning look. Both actions surprised Ginger who started to complain but was cut short as Florence grabved her by the arm and pulled her into the kitchen.

Verna, despite being a bit tipsy, shouted in their direction, “It’s alright Ginger. You’ve been too busy to listen to the local gossip.”

Something in that last statement amused Verna and she chuckled more to herself than anyone else.

“Care to share?” aaked Margret and this made Verna snort.

“I think she’s lost the plot,” said Margret picking up her knitting.

“No, it’s you two,” replied Verna chuckling. “Always going on about the origin of words. Tell me, do you know where the word gossip comes from?” She waited for their response but as none was forthcoming, she continued. “godsibb.” Another pause. “It’s Old English for godparent and the word gossip evolved from close friends gathering for a child birth. They would spend their time talking about this and that. Childbirth and gossip.”

Beatrice and Margret showed no signs of getting the joke.

“Ginger’s a midwife and I said she was too busy for gossip. Now, do you understand?”

The two older women remained silent so Verna downed her drink and called out, “How soon will you be back with that cider?”

“Coming now,” said Florence.

“Oh, I get it,” said Margret putting down her knitting. “Ginger’s a midwife. Midwives are at the centre of gossip.”

“Did we miss something?”

“Just idle talk,” replied Verna, holding up her tankard for a refill. “Now everyone top up and make yourselves comfortable for this is a fairy tale we all know but have never acknowledged the truth of.”

While Margret returned to her knitting and the others settled back in their chairs, Verna took a long, deep drink. In that moment there was only the clicking of needles, the crackling of the fire and the howling of the wind. Then Verna set her tankard down on the slate floor. There was a certain finality to that clink and Beatrice shivered and pulled her wrap tighter as Verna’s voice, soft and gentle, lulled them with its false sense of security.

“What little girl doesn't dream of becoming a princess? For that I blame the fairy tales we women tell our children. But I suppose it's only natural for a little girl to want to live in a beautiful castle with a handsome prince who adores her and gives her everything her heart desires. And for what? Because she is beautiful and innocent? How long does that last? We hesitate to tell them about the dangers, instead filling their heads with notions of romance and ever lasting love. It’s no surprise then when that little girl outgrows the pink tulle and fake tiaras, she continues to long for that happy ever after life. She longs to walk down the aisle, all eyes upon her, dressed as a princess in virginal white. But that’s where the fairy tale ends. The Prince, it turns out, isn’t always charming and the 3 bedroom castle with its fireplace and tidy cottage garden is actually owned by some landlord or banker and the only fairy godmothers are the gossips who come to welcome the next unwanted baby. And so the happy ever after turns into a monotony of days that follow each other in shocking similarity until at last the children are grown and gone and the fairy tale princess has time to herself. She looks in the mirror and what does she see? The princess sees, not herself, but in her place an aging queen whose bow envious and frightened of all the women who are younger and more beautiful.”

Verna paused to look around the group.

“And if an older woman seeks to save a younger one from making the same mistakes, she’s labelled a hag or worse, a witch.”

Verna turned to stare into the fire. Shadows flickered across her face as she began her tale.

*

To live your entire life in a tower gives you a different perspective from those who live at ground level. Down there, you’re surrounded by the hubbub of all that noise and clutter while, up here, there's little to distract the mind from contemplation. I used to think that's why my guardian, Frau Gothel placed me here. After all, she often said that I was above the common riff-raff. That she'd seen something special in me, even as a baby. What that special something was, she never said. And although I was raised in isolation, Frau Gothel made sure I received an education. She taught me to read and brought me books but what I only learned recently is that books, like people, vary in quality. Some, while well written and richly bound have no substance while others, although poorly expressed and of moderate print quality, are rich in thought. And then there are those that purport to speak truth but actually subvert it. They are the dangerous ones. And, it turns out, they are also the most seductive.

But I’m jumping ahead of myself. I should explain my relationship to Frau Gothel. As far back as I can remember, she was the one that cared and looked after me. I can’t remember how I came to understand that she was not my mother. Perhaps I called her that and she corrected me but somehow I came to the realisation that I had missing parents and I became obsessed with knowing what had happened to them.

At first, Frau Gothel said that I was too young to understand but that didn’t stop my questions. I was persistent. Over and over I begged her to tell me about them until one day she lost her temper and grabbing me firmly by the shoulders, knelt in front of me. Her eyes flashed with an intensity I’d never seen before. Her voice, harsh and full of vitriol frightened me more than the words she spat in my direction. The gist of it was that my mother was a foolish woman and if I wasn’t careful then I too would grow up to be weak and foolish. It was my mother’s foolish requests, she said, and my father’s even more foolish acquiescence to her demands that landed them on the wrong side of the law. Although she never said as much, it was obvious that my parents had done something unforgiveable and that it was only because of her, Frau Gothel, that I was spared the same fate as them. Then, loosening her grip on me, she swept out of the room, taking my dinner with her.

The next day, she took me from her house to this tower. It was only here, she said, that I would be able to avoid the evils and temptations of the world. And for my part, I promised that I would be an obediant child if only she would not abandon me. That’s when she took me by the hand and pulled me over to the window. I thought she was going to push me out but instead she pointed at the ground and said, “Look at all those common folk below. See how small and insignificant they are. This tower is not your punishment. Far from it. I’ve brought you here to protect you because the world is cruel, especially for a young innocent girl, such as you. You’re too young now to understand but in time, boys will begin to notice you. They will tell you pretty lies and covet what is yours. And once they take what you have to offer, they will leave you. I know this because once I was young and vulnerable. You may feel sad or even angry because your parents traded you for their own foolish desires but there are worse things that could have happened ro you.

The world, she explained was a frightening place, especially for young women.

“It’s better to be protected by this tower at least until you are old enough to protect yourself.”

“And then will I be freed?”

“Women can never be truly free as long as men see us as objects.” Then she sighed. “But we can learn how to keep ourselves safe.”

In those early days in the tower, I thought Frau Gothel might teach me how to defend myself but instead she brought me books and told me stories that reinforced how dangerous the world was. In that way, I came to understand that the tower waa my sanctuary. There, I was both safe and comfortable. Still, I suffered from loneliness so one day Frau Gothel brought me a bird. It was bright blue and it came in a lovely cage with a swing and Frau Gothel made me promise to give it fresh food and water daily. She also warned me to keep the cage door shut. From morning to night, while I stared down at the world below, my little bird sat on its swing and sang. In my innocence I thought the caged bird’s song was meant for me but then one day another bird appeared. It sang the same tune and hopped close to the cage. How wonderful, I thought, imagining the wild bird wanted to join mine so I opened the cage door. To my horror, instead of the wild bird hopping in, my tame bird hopped out. Then, before I realised what was happening, they both disappeared out the window.

When I told Frau Gothel, I expected her to scold me but instead she said that my little bird had taught me an important lesson.

“Your bird had everything provided to it but it didn’t appreciate how good it had it.”

“So you think it will come back if I leave the cage door open?”

“I doubt that very much,” she said.

“But why not?” I asked. “It was always happy, sitting on its perch and singing. Surely once night comes, my bird will get cold and hungry and think to come home.”

“Silly child. By now a cat has probably caught it or perhaps a hawk. The world outside is dangerous, it’s a lesson that too many learn the hard way.”

At first I thought there must be some truth in Frau Gothel’s words, that my bird had made a mistake leaving its comfortable home. Then, several months later, I spotted two blue dots flitting through the trees. At first I thought it couldn’t be them but then I heard them sing. I always thought my caged bird sang because it was happy but seeing it in the wild, I understood why my caged bird really sang and that’s why I threw the cage out the window.

Life went on. Frau Gothel brought me more books to read. She taught me to play the flute. Even gave me a telescope so I could observe the stars. My knowledge and understanding of the outside world was growing but it wasn’t only my mind that was expanding. I was used to my body getting bigger. Frau Gothel measured my height on the wall. She weighed me on the scale. But these chabges were different. My body wasn’t just getting bigger, it was changing, morphing into something I didn’t understand. With no mirrors in which to see myself, I turned my telescope from the heavens to the village. There I observed what Frau Gothel called the riff-raff. Children chasing each other. Not in anger but with a kind of joy. I saw the older boys and girls pairing up and I thought of my bird and its counterpart. I observed how the older boys would grab one of the older girl’s hands and they would slip into the woods only to return smiling some time later. I noticed how once they were in public view, they parted ways, pretending not to notice each other. I did not understand this behaviour but I dare not ask Frau Gothel either. Instead I searched the books she gave me but they only talked of equations and theories. They couldn’t explain why people acted one way in public and another in private. Nor could they explain why my chest began to swell and hair appeared in places it had never grown before. I found myself staring at this new body wondering what evil was at work and then one day Frau Gother arrived to find me cowering under the covers. My night clothes were covered in blood and I had come to the conclusion that because I used my telescope to spy on others instead of turning it towards the heavens, I was being punished. I thought I was dying.

Frau Gothel cursed but I think it was more to herself than me.

“I should have warned you,” she said as shw cleaned me up and showed me what to do when my monthly, as she called it, arrived. “Remember how the caterpillar hides inside its chrysalis and emerges as a butterfly.”

I nodded, wondering if I was about to sprout wings.

“Well, humans also change. You are changing from a girl into a woman.”

As she explained about the changes, she combed my hair. It had become quite long so she’d taken to braiding it.

“Womanhood is like this braid. It is both beautiful and cumbersome because you must learn to care for it. You must keep it clean and orderly. And yes, with each passing year, it becomes more and more of a burden but at the same time, you will learn to live with it.”

After that, she brought me new items of clothing to restrict those parts of me that were changing but there was nothing she could do to constrain my mind. I continued to watch the people in the village but more and more I found myself concentrating on the young men. I imagined the best looking ones smiling at me the way they smiled at the young women and more and more I wondered what went on the wood that made them both happy and shy.

It was about this time that Frau Gothel measured the length of my braid. It was quite long and she no longer combed its entirety. Instead she only braided the ends as they got long enough. It had grown faster than my body. In fact by the rime I was fifteen, it lay coiled up like a golden snake in the centre of the room. On the day Frau Gothel came to meaaure my braid, she said that there was a rumour in the village about a beautiful girl who lived in a tower. She asked if I spent much time in the window. I thought she had discovered my secret spying on the village but it was actually the reverse that concerned her.

“This is a most dangerous time for you because men want most what they think they can’t have. For that reason, I’m sealing up the entrance.”

“But Frau Gothel how will I live?”

“Don’t worry child. I will still visit every day but instead of using the stairs, I will call up to you and you will drop your braid so I can climb up.”

What makes homo sapiens so successful is their ability to adapt. I read that in one of my books and I found it to be true. Frau Gothel and I adapted to the new arrangement. I would see her heading towards the tower, checking to make sure she wasn’t being followed and then she would call out, “Rapunzel, let down your hair,” and I would drop my long gold braid and feel the weight of her as she climbed its long length. Otherwise, little changed. By day I trained my telescope on the village and by night I turned it back towards the night sky.

Similarly, Frau Gorthel always came to visit when the sun was in the sky so you can imagine my surprise when I heard her call out late one night. I had been staring up at the stars so hadn’t noticed her coming and of course, it was too dark to see her from my perch at the top of the tower. It certainly hadn’t occurred to me that someone else knew our secret. My first hint that all was not as it should be was when I felt that first tug on my braid.

It didn’t feel like Frau Gothel but by the time I realised something was amiss, it was too late. I backed up as the stranger clambered over the window sill. I was standing in my usual spot with the kitchen table behind me and my fingers sought out the knife I kept there as the stranger revealed himself. He was tall and lean with dark hair that was pulled back from his face and held in place by a ribbon. I recognised him as one of the villagers. A particularly popular one with the girls, as I’d seen him slipping into the woid with several of the pretrieat girls. Seeing him clse up I began to see why. Even in the moonlight, dull as it was, I could see the sparkle in his blue eyes. Nor did the lack of light from my candle lit room diminish the smile he turned on me.

“I haven’t come to hurt you.”

There was that look about him, the one I’d seen boys and girls in the village exchange and his voice was gentle as if speaking to a scared animal, which indeed I was.

“Forgive me, I was drawn here by your beauty.”

I liked the sound of his words but he had entered my tower without my permission so I kept my hand on the knife.

He took a step in my direction.

“All you have to do is say the word and I will leave.”

In my head I heard Frau Gothel’s voice telling me to say “go” but there was another voice, a more insistent one that said “Tell me your name.”

He blushed. Despite keeping his head bebt ever so slightly downward, like a submissive dog, I could see the blood rush up his neck and flood his cheeks. It made him look less threatening.

“My parents named me after a singer they liked.”

“And who was this singer?”

“They named me Prince.”

He took anither step forward and I whipped out the knife.

“I swear it’s my name.”

“And what do you want, Prince?”

I said his name with the same sarcasm that I imagined Frau Gothel might use.

“I only wanted to see you in person and perhaps to talk to you.”

Frau Gothel had warned me that talk could be as dangerous as actions but I was curious. Even more than curious, I was attracted to this person so unlike myself. I told him to sit and he obliged, taking my chair by the window while I continued to stand, my knife at the ready. I asked him about his family and his life in the village. He replied that his family were well-off. They owned a large piece of land and their house was second only to the castle. The more he talked, the more relaxed I became. The knife remained in my hand but it no longer interested me. I told him about my books and my telescope. He said that I was the first girl he’d met that was interested in science and math. For some reason that pleased me. Then the sky began to lighten and I said that he needed to go before my guardian found him here.

“Perhaps I can come back,” he said as he climbed over the window sill. “I could bring you some other books, ones that aren’t so serious. More about human nature than science,” he said. Then added, “That’s if you’re interested.”

And that was how it started. He became a regular visitor and as promised he brought books and as he said, they weren’t like the ones Frau Gothel brought me. The books he brought talked of love but not in the same way as the philosophers in Frau Gorhel’s books. Similarly, Prince’s books described sex, not as a mechanism of reproduction but as desire. His books aroused more than my curiosity and I asked Prince to explain this thing called lust.

Frau Gothel used language to explain things to me but Prince was more about show than tell. He came quite close and placed his hand on my chin and brought his lips close to my ear. I thought he was going to tell me a secret so I stood quite still. But it wasn’t my ear his lips touched. It was my neck. That touch as light and gentle as a summer breeze sent a tingle through my body. My stomach dropped the way it did when I looked at the ground from my great height. Then his arm moved around my waist and drew my body next to his. I felt like chocolate left in the sun. His lips moved from my neck to my cheek but found a home on my own. As he pulled away, I thought I might collapse. In that moment, everything fell into place. This is what went on between young couples in the wood and I understood why they looked both happy and shy. I allowed my fingers to explore first the muscles of his back, then up his neck until they lost themselves in the hairs on his head as I pulled his lips back towards mine.  The ribbon holding his hair dropped to the floor and I remember thinking how lucky he was to not be weighed down by a long thick braid such as mine.

I have no idea how long or how many ways we explored each other’s body but I remember waking to the song of birds and the delicious warmth of sunlight. At first I stretched luxuriously as if waking from a beautiful dream but then I felt his body in bed next to me. In terror, I shook him awake. He opened his eyes and quickly jumped up. Grabbing his clothes, he threw them on, not bothering to button his shirt and without so much as a word of good-bye disappeared out the window. In fact my braid was still hanging down when I felt Frau Gothel pulling herself up. She was half way up and asking why I had let down my braid before waiting for her call when I noticed the ribbon on the floor. There was no time to pick it up so as she clambered through the window, I stepped back to hide it with my feet, even as I explained, “Frau Gothel, I was at the window when I saw you coming so I thought I’d have your ladder ready for you.”

She set down her basket and looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time.

“There’s something different this morning. The room smells different.”

“Oh, I think it’s those flowers you brought me the other day. I forgot to change the water and they started to smell musty. I threw them out but I think the odour lingers still.”

“And you Rapunzel. You look different this morning. Are you well? You look feverish.”

“You may be right,” I replied. “but I’m sure its nothing that a little more sleep won’t cure.”

“In that case, I won’t stay long. I’ve brought you some fresh fruit and biscuits.”

Turning away to unpack her basket, I reached down and picked up the ribbon, wadding it up in my fist. She turned back

“Are you sure I shouldn’t stay and look after you?”

I assured her that it was nothing more than a summer cokd or perhaps the coming of my monthly curse which sometimes forced me to stay in bed.

“Give me your hand.”

Reluctantly I held out my empty hand and she held onto my wrist. I thought at any minute tgat she was going to ask what I was hiding in my other hand but instead shexsaid, “Your pulse is a little fast which can be caused by fever.” Again she suggested she stay and I suggested she go but after much back and forth she at last agreed to leave. Once she was gone, I wound my braid back into its coil in the middle of the room and fell into my bed vowing to never again let Prince into my room. It was a promise I had every intention of keeping even as I tucked the ribbon under my pillow.

Promises are never made with the intention of breaking them and yet that is what happens. Frau Gothel often said that the road to perdition was paved with the best of intentions. For all my studying of the great writings, I confess that I’m not sure that my intentions were ever good, never mind the best. The reality was that as soon as I heard Prince whisper my name, I dropped my braid and we were soon engaged in the sort of activity that Frau Gothel had warned me against. My days were spent discussing grand thoughts with Frau Gothel and nightly indulging in lascivious acts with Prince. It was no wonder Frau Gothel remarked one day that I looked worn out.

“Are you sleeping well?”

I replied that my monthly curse was unusually painful so Frau Gothel said that some girls suffered more than others and promised to bring me something. The truth, however, was the exact opposite. It had been several months since I’d had any bleeding but I was not schooled in the ways of women so I was not alarmed.

“At least you’re not losing weight,” she said the next day when she brought me some peppermint to ease my pains. “In fact, I think we may have to let out that bodice and perhaps even this skirt.”

As her hands ran over my abdomen, they stopped. Her face took on a serious demeanor as if she was listening to a noise that was barely audible. I’d seen dogs do that. Perk up their ears to some noise beyond what the human ear caj detect. A dark shadow crept across her face and I felt suddenly exposed. I prepared myself for Frau Gothel’s verbal assault but this time she took me by surprise. The slap, so quick so violent, knocked me to the floor but even that didn’t assuage her anger. Like a hound pouncing on a rabbit she was on me, pulling me to my feet.

“Who is he? Who has done this to you?”

I tried to protest but it was useless. I told Frau Gothel that it was Prince and that we were in love.

“Love? What do you know of love?”

She paced around the room. “Do you know why you’re called Rapunzel?”

I shook my head.

“Your mother told your father she craved rapunzel, a kind of weed that only grew in my garden. Instead of asking me if he coukd have some he crept into my garden at night and took what was mine. I caught him but instead of punishing him for trespassing I allowed him t9 have all the rapubzel he desired but in return I wanted the child his wife was carrying.”

My face must have betrayed my confusion so Frau Gothel spelled it out.

“Your father traded you to fulfill his wife’s desire. The baby belonged to the mother just as thex rapunzel belonged to me. He had no right to either but men believe they are entitled to take what they like from a woman because they thibk they have all the power.”

“No, it’s not like that between Prince and I.”

“Isn’t it? If you’re so sure, let me put him to the test. When he comes I want you to behave as if everything is normal. Drop your braid and let him come up here and face me.”

I should have known. They call that hindsight bias  but in this case I think I really did know. It’s that consciously, I chose not to see it so when I heard him call my name, instead of saying “run”, I said, “come”. I felt his weight pull on my braid and the knife was tbere on the table. At any time, I could have cut him loose but no, I let him climb. You might think I envisioned him telling Frau Gothel that he loved me and that he was planning to take me away from my tower. That he would make me his wife and look after me and our child but even then I think I knew what he would say. In the books he brought me, they spoke of happy ever afters but planted in my brain was Frau Gothel’s words about my foolish parents and how they’d abandoned me. Whether Prince foolishly stood by me or selfishly abandoned me, the end was always going to be the same.

He clambered over the window, a look of eager desire that rapidly changed to horror as Frau Gothel stepped out from behind me. At the same moment, a cloud must have passed in front of the moon for the room darkened. Something unspoken passed between Frau Gothel and Prince.

“I know you,” she said. “I know you and your family.”

“And I know you. My father told me all about you. He said there were women who begged to be used by men so to deny them that right was its own kibd of sin.”

“Your father didn’t ask. He took just as you’ve taken.”

I could see how the muscles in Prince’s body tightened while Frau Gothel’s body, in contrast, became more fluid.

“You’re no different from your father. You defiled my innocent girl.”

“I never made her do anything against her will.”

“That’s what you said about the miller’s daughter.”

“The miller’s daughter? She had every boy in the village before she had me.“

“And the girl sent to clean the cinders from your parent’s mansion.”

“She enjoyed it.”

“And the girl you found sleeping in the wood. Did she enjoy it?”

“It was her own fault, making herself vulnerable like that.”

“And Rapunzel? Did she make herself vulnerable.”

He glanced in my direction then returned to Frau Gothel who was edging closer and closer.

“I only meant to teach her which is more than I can say for you.”

“And then what?”

“What do you mean, then what?”

“She’s with child so bow I want ro know what you plan to do?”

“I don’t plan to do anything. I never said we’d live happily ever after. I’m a Prince and she’s—”

“I’m a what?”

Up until now I’d remained silent while these two talked about me as if I was some object. Frau Gothel talking as if I belinged to her and could be locked away like some preciius ornament and Prince talking about mwme as if I were some insignificant plaything and alk the while the baby in my belly was calling out for my attention.

“I told you,” said Prince. “You’re a beautiful woman and I’ve never been able to walk away from beauty. It’s not manly.”

Before I could respond, Frau Gothel replied in her own way. The air around her crackled as if charged with static electricity. An aura blacker than ink swirled around her. I’d seen her anger and rage before but this time it was off the scale. Prince wasting no time, threw himself over the window sill and I stumvled forward with the unexpected tugging on my braid as he scrambled down and then I saw the flash. It was too quick for me to register. The knife fell, slicing my braid as if it was butter. Prince’s scream lasted longer and then Frau Gothel was leaning out the window and laughing. I exploded and before either of us knew what was happening, she was tumbling herself.

I don’t know if I sat for an hour or a day or maybe even a week. I know that I cried nonstop and that my tears watered the thorns that grew near the base of the tower. They grew up the wall and reached my perch in the sky and it’s on the top most thorn that a little blue bird came and sat. It sang and somewhere deep inside the girl in my womb replied with her own song. It was her song that roused me. It was her furure that gave me the strength to climb through the thorns and brambles until at last I reached the ground.

They say the tower still stands although now its almost hidden. They say the word hag means witch but I’ve read the books Frau Gothel gave me and I know that the word hag is actually a reference to the word hedge. It wasn’t sorcery or witchcraft that Frau Gothel practiced. She thought the tower would protect me but I’ve since learned that until the world becines a safer place for females, all girls need to learn how to protect themselves both emotionally and physically. I thibk Frau Gothel woukd agree when I say every girl needs to have a bit of hag in her.

*

Verna finished speaking. The rain had stopped. The fire had almost gone out and Margret’s needles sat idle in her lap. No one wanted to be the first to break the silence and so they sat as the first rays of dawn lengthened the shadows and somewhere, far away, a cock crowed.