Queen Pavla of Berlania brought her ward Maple Rapunzel to the tall stone tower in the misty Dark Woods when she was just 15. She had largely been raised at a school in Yorkalia before Pavla brought her back to Prague Castle two years before. She was glad to get out of there. Prague Castle was all jagged rocks and musty old tapestries depicting bloody battles. She was horribly bored in that old mausoleum. She was hoping Pavla would take her somewhere fun and beautiful, like one of those airy palaces in Miamidale, or maybe back to Yorkalia, where there were buildings everywhere and always something going on. It annoyed Pavla that she could never quite get the Yorkalia out of her voice. She’d have to work on that with her, she said.
Pavla told Maple that she was named for the plants in her garden, the spicy, crisp rapunzel greens and the shady old maple tree. Maple missed them. She used to read fairy tales and tales from far away kingdoms under that tree. She’d dance, too, to songs the birds sang. Maple had even started writing her own songs, though she didn’t show them to Pavla. Pavla would never have approved. She liked happy songs, songs she could dance to. Her guardian liked dreary dark ballads of love denied.
“You will not be so distracted here,” Pavla purred in her deep, mesmerizing Prague accent. “You will focus more on studies. I will train you to become black sorceress and rule by my side as my princess and heir.”
“I don’t know about this.” Maple frowned, feeling more and more like this was a bad idea. “I don’t wanna hurt anyone. I like singin’ an’ dancin’. I like healin’. My healin’ is gettin’ better. Cook got a really bad burn yesterday. I just put my hair on it, and it cured right up.”
“Yes, and that worries me.” Pavla reached over to stroke her ward’s coppery red curls. Maple had beautiful long, thick hair. It was soft as the purest silk, and strong as the granite in Prague Castle. “You know what I’ve told you about light magic like healing. I don’t want you to learn such frivolous nonsense.”
She tried to protest that she had no desire to hurt anyone. She just wanted to have fun. “But Pavla…”
“No buts. You will do as you are told.” They stopped before the tallest tower Maple ever saw. It was made of thick, dusty gray stone, with a roof of stout pine boards. The base was surrounded by a tangle of bushes covered in sharp black thorns. “This will be your new home. I will visit you every day.”
Maple tried to turn her golden pony Annabelle around. “Nothin’ doin’! I’ll be lonely up there! Not to mention bored. There’s no one around for miles! How am I gonna get down and see my friends in the castle? What about Annie? I’ll miss puttin’ flowers in her mane.”
“You won’t be getting down. You will stay there. I will bring a ladder. You will drop it every day.” She ran her sharp, red lacquered fingernails through Maple’s curls. “Soon as these grow long enough, I will climb them.”
“What?” Her ward gasped, drawing back. “I couldn’t grow my hair that long!”
Her throaty chuckles were more of a growl. “Your mother did, before she abandoned you. You should be grateful to me. I took you in when your weak, silly parents gave you up. I could have left you in that rapunzel patch.” Maple gulped as Pavla leaned close, her fingers now running across her temples. “Shh, my child. You know to obey your guardian. You will stay in the tower and do what you are told.” Those long, sharp nails slowly ran down her soft, white throat, rubbing hard around her voice box. “You’re a sweet, helpless child. Good little girls speak quietly, and only when their guardian speaks to them.”
Maple gulped as Pavla’s dark eyes bored into her wide brown ones. “What…what was I sayin’? Her voice, already deep and throaty even then, came out so softly.
“You were saying that you will climb the ladder into the tower, and we will brush your hair and talk about your future by my side.”
It was like thinkin’ through the heaviest pea-soup fog, She wanted to protest, but couldn’t remember why. “Yes, Pavla.” She was shocked at how quiet her voice was. It was the barest whisper. She could hardly hear it.
Every day for almost a decade, Pavla would arrive promptly at noon. “Maple,” she called, “Maple, my child, let down your hair, so I can climb your copper stair!”
Maple knew that was the signal to drop her flame red curls over the side of the tower, covering the ivy and thick thorny vines. Pavla always came with things from Berlania, frilly gowns in soft shades of pale blue, silver, and mint green, modest silver and onyx jewelry, ivory combs and satin ribbons for her hair. She brought spellbooks filled with ancient incantations and books on the glory of Berlania, its conquest of the Europa Kingdoms and its spreading of strength and control.
Pavla always began by dressing Maple in a new gown, pulling the laces tightly until she could barely breathe, then sitting her down on her little brown stool to brush her hair. She forbid Maple from cutting it, never touched it with scissors. She said the longer it was, the more powerful it would be. By the time she was 21, it was so long, it reached the base of the tower. She had to be careful when she let it down to not get it caught in the thorns.
“Do you really need to braid it?” Maple whispered as Pavla yanked at the curls with ribbons and bands. “Can’t you just leave it? I sorta like it better down.”
Her guardian laughed, a merry, tinkling sound. “Silly child, you have far too much hair to leave unbound. You’d be tripping on it.” She would proceed to tug it into a heavy braid, then loop it or wrap it around her head like a copper crown. “There.” She placed a silver tiara trimmed with sparkling jet stones in her braids. “You will be the perfect Berlania princess, quiet and demure.”
“I wish,” she said, trying to raise her voice, “that I could see myself in it. Why ain’t there any mirrors around here?” Indeed, there wasn’t a reflective surface to be found in the entire tower. No mirrors, no polished glass. The silverware was tarnished, the dishes rough soapstone. The furniture was built from split pine logs. Even the water in her stone washing basin was enchanted to never ripple. Maple hadn’t seen what she looked like since she came to the Dark Woods.
“You don’t need to see yourself.” Pavla stroked the back of her head, running her fingers around the base of her neck. Maple’s breath caught and became shallow, her eyes, with their thick eyelashes, slowly closing. “I know what you look like. You don’t need to. Vanity is unbecoming in a princess of Berlania. Let me handle dressing you. You only need to concern yourself with your studies and your music.”
The fog descended on her mind again, and she wondered why she’d been worrying a minute ago. Pavla would take care of everything. She always did. “Yes, Pavla. I’m just a child. You know better.”
“Now,” Pavla pulled up the finest plush chair in the tower to the upright piano. “We must work on your voice. You will sing my favorite songs for me.”
“Pavla,” she began as she settled at the green brocade-upholstered piano bench, “I wrote some songs I think came out really well. I thought you might like to hear them…”
“Not now.” She reached over, caressing Maple’s throat, rubbing deeply into the larynx. “Now, to massage your voice box. When I’ve finished, you will sing of Berlania’s great deeds, of the many battles we’ve won, of the frivolous countries we taught to be strong and sensible.”
“Yes, Pavla.” Her voice was always so strange after Pavla massaged it. It was scarcely recognizable as her own. The soft, whispery tones sang of bloody battles and mighty armies who conquered their enemies, of lovers who died or sacrificed themselves for their countries. It was as if she had no control over it.
Maple was hopeless at black magic. No amount of fog could convince her to turn people into toads or woodland animals. Though she could heal and her voice could soothe headaches, she was hopeless at making poison or drugs that would dull the mind. Pavla’s angry glares and soft scolds were more terrifying than any screaming, even though she never laid a hand on her.
“That’s it for today.” Pavla finally sighed as Maple spilled yet another sleeping potion on her worktable, the dark green liquid leaving a dark stain on the pine. “You need to work on not being so clumsy with your spells. You are a princess of Berlania, the darkest of the Black Kingdoms. Never forget that.”
She nodded, curtsying before her guardian and nearly tripping over her braid. “Yes, Pavla.”
The fog in her head usually lingered for about an hour after Pavla climbed down her hair and rode off into the wispy gray mists. After that hour passed, she was free to do whatever she pleased. The gowns of pastel ruffles and fragile lace were pushed to the back of her pine wardrobe and replaced with loose-fitting peasant gowns in bright colors, reds and golds and purples and greens, with ruffled aprons embroidered in her shaky hand and flowered skirts. She never even bothered with shoes, shoving the silk heels under the wardrobe.
“Hi, Eugenia!” Eugenia was her first best friend, a plump yellow bird with big bright eyes, grayish wings, and a sweet little white beak. She always showed up just as she made breakfast, twittering merrily as she perched on the top rung of a chair. “I know you’re hungry. I really shouldn’t be feedin’ a wild animal. My books say it makes them too tame. I don’t think some toast crumbs and a little bit of pancake will hurt ya, ‘long as the pancake doesn’t have syrup.”
Maple learned her best songs from Eugenia. She danced along, not the slow, intricate minuets Pavla taught her, but wild, joyful movements of her own design, involving a great deal of kicking up her heels and tapping on the pine planks. The dirges were replaced with her own songs, the ones she wrote herself. In her songs, she could make anything happen that she wanted to. No war, only people enjoying themselves, happy and free, and lovers who always came together in the end.
She most looked forward to the arrival of her closest human friend, who came every few days, whenever Pavla remained in Berlania. “Hi there, Mapes!” Scott Sherwood, a woodsman and guide who worked in the Dark Woods, waved up at her with an apple-cheeked grin. “How’s things today?” He was handsome and merry, with his sparkling amber eyes, long ebony hair peppered with shining silver at the temples, and wide amber eyes under thick silky brows. His broad shoulders and muscular countenance strained at his cheap, rough green and brown tunic and leggings.
“They’re great, Scotty! I just finished breakfast. Pavla ain’t here, and Eugenia just taught me a new song.” She sat on the window, beaming down at him. “Wanna hear it?”
“I always wanna hear your songs, Mapes.” He grinned as she dropped her now-unbound curls. “I have gifts for you, too. I just came from Philly Town. I brought you a stuffed eagle for your bed, a bronzed bell that really rings, and a ball from a base-game at the Shibe Arena. You should have seen that game. The Philadelphians really knocked the stuffing out of the Yorkalia Metropolitains!”
“Again?” Maple made a face. “Wish those guys would get a move on. That’s the sixth time this summer the Philadelphians beat the tar out of them.” She made a face as Scott awkwardly clutched her braid and shimmied up the rough stone walls. “Hey Scotty, would ya watch the hair? I don’t need ya yankin’ it out! What would I tell Pavla?”
“Maybe she’d leave you alone once in a while.” She wondered why he was heavier than usual. He had two furry animals with him along with the boxes. “Foley n’ Walt wanted to say hi, too.”
“Foley!” Maple greeted the twitchy brown bunny with a big hug. His little pink nose with the thick brown whiskers that resembled a mustache bounced and wiggled. She stroked his nut-brown lop ears. “And Walter! My favorite baby boy.” Walter was a bear cub who had lost his parents to hunters. Scott took him in and often brought him up to visit. He was the sweetest little thing, a rolly-polly brown ball of fur with sharp claws and sweet button eyes who regarded Maple as his mama and Scott as his papa. “Mama has a big pot of honey for you.”
“So, Scott,” she began as she settled at the table and gave Walter his honey crock, “tell me all about Philly Town. Do they really have a cracked bell and the oldest brick buildings in the Seven Kingdoms, and did the base-game fans really throw snowballs at Old Man Winter?”
“Oh, you bet, Mapes!” Scott laughed, slapping his knee. “I didn’t see it, but a guy I know who works at the Philadelphians’ arena saw it. Boy, did they get into trouble!” Scott knew the most wonderful stories. He had been all over, seen every single one of the Seven Kingdoms ten times over, and even the worlds beyond them. When he spoke of tall buildings made of warm red brick and arenas overflowing with screaming fans and a beautiful green square where children rode exquisitely painted wooden horses on a carousel, she felt like she was there, too.
Scott always had a hearty appetite. He finished the eggs, bacon, and pancakes, and whatever he didn’t eat, the animals did. “Hey Mapes, you got any new songs for me?” He turned the chair around and sat on it backwards. “I learned a new dance in Philly Town and would love to teach it to you.”
“Sure!” She sat down at the piano and pounded away at her newest tune. “Been workin’ on this one.” Eugenia trilled, Foley squeaked, and even Walter growled along, nuzzling his mama on her bare leg. Scott grabbed her for a dance as Eugenia picked up the song. Scott was a lousy dancer who stepped on her feet and tripped over her hair, but it didn’t matter. They always had a wonderful time with the wild, jerky choreography.
“Whew!” Maple finally flopped down on the piano bench as Scott returned to the turned around chair. “We got our exercise for today, didn’t we?” Walter trotted over, rubbing her leg. She stroked his head. “Hey Scotty, can you tell me about Hope Springs again?”
Scott’s grin fell slightly. “Aw Mapes,” he sighed, “you’ve heard those stories a hundred times.”
“I wanna hear them again.” She balanced Eugenia on her finger. “I wish I could have seen Hope Springs. The way you talk about it, it must have been the most beautiful kingdom of all.”
“It is…or it was.” Scott’s eyes wandered to the window. “It isn’t anymore. Not since…well, not in a long time. It just…vanished.”
Walter settled by Maple’s leg, licking at her bare toes and making her giggle. “Walt, cut that out!” She looked up at Scott with curious brown eyes. “How can a whole kingdom just vanish?”
“No one knows. It was there the day I left, but hours later…it wasn’t there. No one could find it.” His plump-cheeked grin didn’t meet his eyes. “You would have loved it, Maple. It was the most beautiful of all the kingdoms. The houses were fine white clapboard, and every road was paved with good stone. Horses like my Flynn pulled huge white carriages with soft seating in the streets. That’s where all of the best theaters were, where plays and concerts went on all day and night.”
Maple sighed, tapping randomly on the C key. “I wish I could have seen it. I would have loved to make it there as a singer or dancer! But Pavla…”
“She’ll let you out. You’re no more a Berlania princess than I am.” His voice dropped to a whisper as sadness filled his amber eyes. “Or Betty was.”
“Betty.” She gave him a grin and nudged him. “Your true love. The writer. The dame you’re crazy about. The way you talk about her, she must have been one hell of a woman.”
Scott’s eyes lost their focus as he gazed out the one window and into the rustling tree tops. “Yeah, she was.” His voice dropped, became softer and more reverent. “She was the most beautiful, intelligent, and sweet woman I’d ever known. She could turn my tall tales into an epic poem of love and adventure. She was small and slender, with thick, dark hair, the sweetest, gentlest smile, but don’t be fooled. When she was angry, or got annoyed at me, she could be cold as ice…like the day I was banished.”
He finally looked back at her, those amber eyes now haunted with guilt. “Queen Hilary was her guardian, just like Pavla is yours. She didn’t restrict her the way Pavla does with you. Betty was free to go where she wished, and Hilary respected her writing ability. She wrote all of the plays for Hope Springs’ theaters, and many wonderful stories.”
“Hilary didn’t like me much, though.” The merry amber orbs became haunted and sad. “After I…borrowed a few dollars from local businesses…she told me I was never to return to the kingdom. Betty already had a fiancee.” Scott’s eyes dropped to the rough wood floor. “That was the last time I saw either of them. They vanished hours after I left.”
Maple frowned and took his hand. Foley hopped into his lap, and Walter leaned into his papa’s leg. “Gosh Scotty, I’m so sorry. The way you talk about Betty, she must have been quite a dame. And Hilary too, really. Bet it wasn’t her fault. She was just doin’ what she had to.”
“Yeah.” Scott shrugged, regaining his merry grin. “Ehh, it’s in the past. I hope you love the stuff I brought you from Philly Town.”
Maple loaded the dishes into the water basin. “When are you gonna come back? Do you know?”
“In a few days. I have a surprise for you. Some rich prince hired me to find something important.” He nudged her. “Maybe he’ll be the right guy for you.”
Maple grinned back. “I’d love to meet him, ‘long as he doesn’t get the wrong idea. Pavla keeps sayin’ I ain’t ready for…that…yet. I think she’s full of baloney. I’ve felt ready for…that…for years.” She chuckled, leading him and the animals to the window. “Now, you get out of here, before Pavla shows up and we all get into trouble.”
His grin widened. “Three days, Mapes, and Walt and Foley and I will be back with a surprise for the most beautiful woman in the entire Dark Woods!”
She chuckled as she dropped her hair. “Oh, go on, before I cut my hair and keep you here forever.” He shimmied down the tower, taking Walter and Foley with him.
