Rapunzel: The One With All the Hair Read online

  My father is a generous king, and no one goes hungry in his kingdom. Still, the home that I visited did not have much by way of comforts. No thick velvet couches. No serving staff of twenty. The pigs and chickens wandered in and out of the house as though it were the most natural thing.

  When my hare had hopped away (I’m beginning to doubt that it was mine after all) and I crossed my eyes and wagged my tongue, I was perhaps a bit overzealous, because as I danced about, my glasses fell to the ground. They were not the ones attached to the horsehair chain, because those have gone missing. (It was only a matter of time until they did. Truly, I lose my glasses with remarkable swiftness. This is my last pair and the merchant who sells them will not be at the castle till next winter.) When I dropped to my knees to feel around for them, I discovered they had broken right down the middle section that normally sits on the bridge of my nose. The only way I could see even a little was to hold one lens up to each eye. I was quite far away from the castle at this point. Farther than I had ever been on my own.

  I stumbled along in this fashion, past the farmers watering the fields where summer crops such as oats and barley are ripe for the picking. Somebody was approaching me, but I could not tell who it was. I hoped it wasn’t one of the castle guards that Mum sent out to find me. I was relieved when the person turned out to be a peasant boy of eleven or twelve. He was wearing a thin brown tunic and sandals. A satchel of freshly picked grapes hung across his chest, and a light film of perspiration shone on his forehead.

  “Is everything all right, sire?” the boy asked in a soft voice. He then bent over in an awkward bow. “I have never seen you this far from the castle gates.”

  I was startled at first, and didn’t answer right away. One of the strange things about being in my position is that everyone knows me, but I do not know them.

  He pointed at my hands. “Are those your specs? Are they broken, then?”

  I nodded, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. I knew I didn’t look very princely with my broken glasses and dusty clothes.

  “My papa can fix them, if you wish, sire,” the boy said. “He can fix anything.” He looked like he wanted to say more about his father, but then simply asked, “Do you want to come to my house, then? It is just down the path in the village.”

  I hesitated. The boy sounded so sincere, and I admit I was curious to see his home. Plus, I might otherwise stumble around until nighttime — or until Mum realized I was missing and sent out the castle guards.

  “Thank you, yes,” I said. “That would be very kind.”

  The boy bowed again, awkwardly.

  “Truly, that is not necessary,” I told him as we started walking down the dirt road alongside the forest. With light pressure on my arm, he gently guided me along. As we headed into the village, I asked, “What do they call you?”

  “My name is Benjamin, sire.”

  I grinned at him. “Just like mine!”

  He looked confused. “Um, yes, sire, I am named after you. Every boy in the kingdom born the three years following your birth is named Benjamin.”

  I stopped dead in my tracks. “Surely you jest?”

  “N … no, sire. Did you not know?”

  “I did not. No one ever told me.” Father and I would be having some words upon my return to the castle. “Dare I ask how many Benjamins there are?” I held my breath.

  The other Benjamin said, “I would wager, oh, about fifty or so in this village alone.”

  I nearly fainted! Fifty boys named after me? The responsibility! If my place in history is a poor one, they will be shamed, too.

  “Uh, are you all right, Prince Benjamin? You have gone white.”

  A few deep breaths later, I nodded. We kept walking. Children ran everywhere, laughing and dodging their mothers. I tried to ignore the odors wafting out of the fishmonger’s shop. The butchery was not much better. The other Benjamin didn’t seem to notice. Two men were arguing in front of the blacksmith shop but immediately stopped when we passed by. “G’day, Prince,” one of the men said hesitantly. He probably bowed, but in my current state of blindness, he was too far away for me to tell for sure. I can only imagine what he thought was going on, me being led by the arm through the streets of the village.

  We turned a corner and Other Benjamin (that is what I have decided to call him) led me into a very small, round house that seemed to be made only of earth and straw and rock. A hole in the middle of the thatched roof let out the smoke from the fire his mother was tending. I lifted a lens to my eye and saw that his father and younger brother were eating a small meal at the table. They scrambled to their feet when they noticed us. His father brushed off his shirt and bowed. He was round-faced and kind-looking. The young boy just stared at me, mouth hanging open.

  “Father, I told Prince Benjamin that you would be able to help him. He has broken his specs.”

  Unable to think of anything else to do to end the awkwardness, I held the two pieces up so he could see them.

  “I will try,” he said with what I thought was a wink. While we waited, Other Benjamin’s mother fed me tea and some sort of raisin-nut cake that was delicious. The house was tiny, but it was cozy.

  Ten minutes later, my glasses had been miraculously put back together with thin thread and a putty of some kind that came out of a small jar. I could not even tell where they had been broken.

  I slipped them onto my face. They fit better than ever before. “You are a master at what you do,” I said sincerely.

  “A master?” the younger brother squeaked. “At cleaning dung heaps?”

  Everyone’s face reddened, including mine. Other Benjamin’s mother said, “Hush, child!”

  Other Benjamin’s father cleared his throat, stood a little straighter, and said, “Being a spectacle maker is an uncertain line of work. You never know how many folks will need specs, but everyone needs their dung heap cleaned. It’s steady business.”

  I did not know what to say. I never had to think about what profession would be best for raising a family. I had never thought of so many things. I held out my hand and, in my most princely voice, managed to thank him again for a job well done. He had a firm and hearty shake. Then I turned to my namesake. “Thank you, too, Other Benjamin. You were very kind to help me in this way.”

  Other Benjamin blushed and gave me another clumsy bow.

  As I walked back through the village, I took note of all the hardworking folk. The blacksmith steadily banging his iron ore, the coopers bending rims of metal to make their barrels, the farmers lugging buckets of wheat to be ground by the miller. I wondered how many other Other Benjamins I was passing.

  I have a newfound respect for the villagers who will clean dung heaps instead of following their dream because it is best for their family. They deserve a strong leader to look up to. I better start acting like one. I will enlist Andrew to tell me how. His training for knighthood includes learning all about how nobility is supposed to behave. He’ll steer me rightly, I am sure.

  It occurs to me that I have not had to, shall we say, rid my body of excess food or drink since my arrival. I suspect the witch has somehow bewitched my meals so I will not have to relieve myself. This is a good thing, because there is no chamber pot in my room, and I am certainly NOT relieving myself out the window!

  Andrew and I munch on late-night plum cakes while the night cook sleeps off his six mugs of ale on a stool in the corner of the kitchen. It always amazes me that he doesn’t fall off. Even the creaking of our old wooden chairs does not stir him. It took me many years to realize that once the furniture in the castle gets too worn or broken, it is moved into the servants’ quarters. These old chairs are so well worn that our rear ends fit perfectly into the indentations created by decades of rear ends. The ones in the Great Hall offer little comfort but can always be relied on to provide a new splinter. I do not see how that is preferable.

  “Fifty?” Andrew says, shaking his head in amazement. “Fifty little Benjamins running around the village? T