Rapunzel, Page 2

  ‘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.

  She examined every inch of her deep red room, pulling up the carpet, wrenching the heavy cupboard from the wall, but she could not find a crack or a chink anywhere. There was no sign of a way out. She was trapped, trapped, trapped.

  Every day the old woman would come and call, ‘Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your long hair.’

  Rapunzel would throw down her massive braid and the old woman would haul herself up and up and up, through the window and into Rapunzel’s chamber. She brought Rapunzel a new present every day – another beautiful gown, a phial of perfume, a story book, a singing bird in a cage. Sometimes Rapunzel was grateful and hugged the old woman and they had happy times together. Sometimes Rapunzel was restless and resentful.

  ‘I don’t want your presents. I don’t want you. Just let me out!’ she screamed, and she tore her gown and spilt the perfume and threw the book out of the window and let the bird out of its cage to fly free.

  But after a while Rapunzel stopped rebelling. She went about her daily tasks in a dream. She behaved in a kindly way to the old woman, but with no feeling. Every evening by herself she watched the sun set and sang a sad sweet lament as the blue sky became as red as her own room.

  One evening a prince lost his way as he rode through the forest. His horse stumbled into the clearing. The prince was surprised by the golden tower – and when he heard the sweet song the hair stood up on the back of his neck. He got down from his horse and went round and round the tower, looking for the way in. The song went on and on up above, and he felt desperate to see the singer. But there was no way in and he eventually gave up and rode away.

  He came back to the clearing every evening, utterly enchanted by the sweetness and sadness of the song, nearly driven demented by his desire. He came earlier and earlier. One day he came so early he saw the old woman stumbling along towards the tower. He hid behind one of the oaks and watched her crane her neck and call up, ‘Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your long hair.’

  He held his breath as a great golden rope of hair tumbled down from the high window. He watched as the old woman clambered upwards, up and up and up – and in the window. The hair was withdrawn. He waited and watched a long time. Eventually the golden rope was thrown out and the old woman wobbled her way down and down its fabulous length until her old pointed boots touched the grass. He let her hobble off out of sight.

  He waited, his heart racing, his fists clenched. Then he approached the foot of the tower, craned his neck, and called up in a cracked, old-woman voice, ‘Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your long hair.’

  The amazingly long strong braid of hair swung down out of the window. The prince seized it eagerly, marvelling at its warm silkiness, and started climbing up and up and up … and in at the window.

  Rapunzel screamed as he jumped into the midst of her chamber. She tried to run, but she’d wound her hair round a hook at the window to relieve the strain on her scalp and she was caught fast.

  ‘Allow me,’ said the Prince, and he deftly unhooked her and helped her haul her hair back up into the room.

  Rapunzel wrapped her plait around herself in her anxiety.

  ‘I thought you were Mother returning. Where is she? You haven’t harmed her?’

  ‘Of course not, Madam.’

  ‘Who are you? You’re not one of the boys from the village?’

  The Prince stood up straight, displaying his courtly clothes.

  ‘I am a Prince,’ he informed her. ‘And you must be an enchanted Princess, shut up in this golden tower.’

  ‘I’m not a Princess. I’m only Rapunzel,’ she said, giggling.

  ‘You’re a Princess to me,’ said the Prince, and he took her hand and kissed it.

  He stayed very late that night. He came the next day, after the old woman had paid her visit. He stayed even later. He came every evening at sunset, courting his beautiful Rapunzel – and now he did not leave until sunrise. He loved Rapunzel with all his heart and soul and she loved him too, deeply and passionately.

  ‘How can I carry you away, my darling Rapunzel? I want to take you to my Palace and make you my real Princess,’ said the Prince, stroking the long shimmering waterfall of her hair. ‘You’re so beautiful. Your hair is so strong and yet it’s so silky too.’

  Rapunzel started. ‘Skeins of silk!’ she said. ‘That’s it. Bring me a skein of silk every time you visit me, dearest Prince. I will braid them tight and strong so that they make a ladder. When the ladder is long enough I will tie it to the window hook and climb down from the tower into your arms.’

  It seemed a splendid plan. The Prince did as she suggested and brought a skein of silk every day. Rapunzel spent hours every day constructing the silken ladder. It was good to have something to do with her time. Since the Prince started visiting her she had grown bored with all her old childish games. She could not even amuse herself dressing up in all her rainbow gowns because many of them did not fit her any more. Even the loosest purple gown was growing tighter and tighter at the waist.

  The old woman seemed to be growing smaller and frailer as Rapunzel grew bigger and more bonnie. She had difficulty clambering up the rope of Rapunzel’s hair. Rapunzel had to reach out when she got to the window to haul her in.

  One morning the effort was so great that the taut seams on her purple gown couldn’t take the strain any more. As she pulled the old woman into her chamber Rapunzel’s dress tore almost in two and slithered about her thickening waist. The old woman stared at her soft new curves and gave a great howl of realization.

  ‘You are going to have a child!’ she gasped.

  Rapunzel was very frightened – and yet in the midst of her fear and anxiety a deep happiness made her blush.

  ‘I am going to have the Prince’s baby!’ she said. ‘Oh, how wonderful!’

  ‘You wicked deceitful ungrateful girl! You are no longer my daughter,’ screamed the old woman.

  She seized a pair of sharp scissors and cut her way straight through Rapunzel’s wonderful plait, sawing it right off at the nape of her neck. Then she took the girl and shook her hard until the red chamber whirled all around her and Rapunzel’s eyes rolled up and she fell down down down into darkness …

  When she awoke she was alone in a barren desert. She put her poor shorn head on her knees and wept.

  The old woman stayed hidden in Rapunzel’s tower. Towards sunset the Prince came eagerly to meet up with his love.

  ‘Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your long hair,’ he called.

  The witch took Rapunzel’s cut-off braid, secured one end to the window hook and let the golden plait slither down to the ground. The Prince climbed up and up and up, and put one leg over the window ledge – and then stopped dead, staring at the old woman in front of him, her face contorted with rage.

  ‘Where is Rapunzel?’ he gasped.

  ‘She
is gone – and you will never see her again,’ the old woman screamed.

  She pushed the Prince hard so that he fell back out of the window, down and down and down. Thorn bushes suddenly sprouted out of the green grass. The Prince landed in these thorns and was almost torn to pieces. Two big thorns pierced his eyes so that he could no longer see.

  He stumbled off in this new dark world, calling for Rapunzel.

  He felt his way right through the forest and journeyed to and fro across the land, blindly searching for his lost love. A year went by, and then another. Time had no meaning for the Prince. He knew he had to search for Rapunzel to the end of his days.

  But then, one evening when there was a beautiful blood-red sunset (though of course he couldn’t see it) the Prince heard the sweetest saddest singing. It was very soft and far away – but unmistakable.

  ‘Rapunzel!’ he said, and he started running, stumbling and tapping his stick before him frantically.

  Rapunzel stopped singing for an instant, hearing his dear voice calling her name.

  ‘My Prince?’ she said, and she ran out of the makeshift hovel that was now her home.

  She saw a blind man in rags staggering towards her – but knew at once who he was.

  ‘My Prince!’ she cried, tears of joy rolling down her cheeks.

  ‘Rapunzel!’ cried the Prince. He threw away his stick and held out his arms.

  Rapunzel ran right into his embrace. Her tears fell on his wounded eyes, washing out the deeply embedded thorns. The Prince could see again. He saw his own beloved Rapunzel, her hair now growing way past her shoulders. He also saw the rosy-cheeked fair twins tumbling outdoors to meet their father for the first time.

  The Prince took his family back to his Kingdom where they lived happily ever after.

  The distraught old witch-woman wandered the world but ended up back in her original old cottage with dragons on the door and the griffin weathervane on the roof. Rapunzel’s parents had moved away, but the villagers said the wife had given birth to a fine son a year after she lost her daughter.

  A new husband and wife lived in their cottage. They had no children. One night the old woman heard noises coming from the garden and found the husband in her rampion patch …

  About the Author

  JACQUELINE WILSON is one of the world’s most popular authors for younger readers. She served as Children’s Laureate from 2005–7. The Illustrated Mum was chosen as the British Children’s Book of the Year in 1999 and was winner of the Guardian Children’s Fiction Prize in 2000. She has won the Smarties Prize and the Children’s Book Award for Double Act, which was also highly commended for the Carnegie Medal. In 2002 she was given an OBE for services to literacy in schools, and in 2008 was appointed a Dame.

  RAPUNZEL: A MAGIC BEANS STORY

  AN RHCB DIGITAL EBOOK 978 1 448 11977 6

  Published in Great Britain by RHCB Digital,

  an imprint of Random House Children’s Books

  A Random House Group Company

  This ebook edition published 2011

  Text copyright © Jacqueline Wilson, 1998

  Illustrations copyright © Nick Sharratt, 1998

  Rapunzel first published by Scholastic in 1998. Published as part of the Magic Beans anthology by David Fickling Books in 2011.

  The right of Jacqueline Wilson and Nick Sharratt to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

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