Golden Braids and Dragon Blades: Steampunk Rapunzel

Chapter 1: Zoetrope

“Rapunzel, let down your hair,” Mother called in singsong from below. I went to the entrance of the cave, which was situated high on the cliff side, and set my eye on the telescope. The end of the telescope poked just outside a waterfall of vines and roots that covered the entrance to my home in the seawall.

Which I never left.

Ever.

Mother stood on the sandy beach below.

Grabbing my strawberry blond locks, I shoved aside the curtain of ivy and roots and looped my braided tresses around a hook on the cave wall. I waved to Mother then dropped my hair. My long locks tumbled to the beach below.

Mother smiled. In a glimmer of sparkling light, she shifted form to that of a child. Spider-like, she crawled up my braid like it was a ladder.

As I stood waiting, I gazed out at the waters of the English Channel. The dark blue waters pitched and rolled. Light scattered on the water’s surface making it shine. The foamy white caps broke against the beach. It was low tide. When the tide rolled in, there wouldn’t even be any beach there. No one would ever suspect that someone lived in a cave nearby.

I closed my eyes and felt the wind on my face. I imagined, not for the first time, what it would be like to ride in one of the airships that flew overhead. I imagined how thrilling it would be to race through the clouds. I also imagined what it would be like to ride a horse, galloping across a field full of wildflowers. Like the knights in all the old Arthurian tales, I imagined chasing down some dangerous criminal on my fleet-footed charger. The wind caressing my cheek, I imagined racing down the streets of London in a steam-powered auto, my hands gripping the wheel as I took the turns at high speeds. I imagined everything. Because what else could I do but imagine?

I sighed.

The wind chimes made of shells and silver bells just inside my cave tinkled in the sea breeze.

Imagining was all I would ever do. There was no life for me outside this cave.

I felt the tension on my hair ease as Mother reached the cave.

“Good morning,” she called merrily. “And what are you dreaming about, love?” she asked.

I opened my eyes in time to see her shift back into the woman I knew: a tall, dark-haired, regal beauty. Sheltered as I was, I still knew she was striking. Unlike me. I was a lump of unmolded clay covered in hair that never seemed to stop growing. I cast a glance down at my clothes. Dressed in a worn petticoat embroidered on the hem, but still two sizes too short, and an old but comfortable corset, I was anything but regal. Not that it mattered. No one ever saw me anyway. I was entirely frumpy. Well, except for my eyes. Mother always told me my eyes were special. Kaleidoscope eyes. That’s what she called them, the colors in my eyes turning and shifting with my emotions. Mother said that my eyes were so unique that if the wrong person saw me, they might want to harm me. So I stayed in my cave whether I wanted to or not. I stayed in my cave, so my eyes wouldn’t get me killed.

“Nothing,” I answered with a sigh. I cast a glance back at the periwinkle blue sky. One day, maybe, kaleidoscope eyes or no, I would ride an airship. One day, I would find a way.

I unhooked my hair and pulled it back inside. Coiling it into a massive heap at my nape, I removed the hairpins I’d stuck into the top of my bodice and wove them back into my strawberry blonde locks. My hair shimmered almost copper-colored in the sunshine.

“I come bearing gifts,” Mother said as she started unpacking the satchel she wore. “Thought they might cheer you.”

“Thank you,” I said, turning reluctantly away from the view. My mind clung to my imaginary adventures, unwilling to let them go. “But you know what would cheer me most?” For once, I hoped she would say yes. To anything, any adventure outside the cave. But I knew even before the words left my lips that there was no hope.

“I do indeed, but it cannot be helped. You know that, my dear,” Mother said as she set parcels on the table.

“I know, but maybe…maybe I could just go swimming. You know, not far, just at the base of the sea wall. I could use a rope ladder to get up and down. I’d only go at low tide, so it would be safe.”

“But you have a pool of water in the lower portion of the cave.”

“Yes, but it’s not big enough for swimming. And you can’t see the sky there.”

Mother turned and set her hand on my cheek. “Rapunzel,” she said lovingly. “Come see what I brought you.” Taking me by the hand, she led me to a table. I bit my tongue, well aware she was attempting to turn the conversation. It was no use. No matter what I said, the answer was always no. Instead, I turned my attention to Mother’s gifts. On the table, I found three books and a box. A sweet-smelling parcel was sitting on my makeshift kitchen counter.

“What’s this?” I asked, lifting the box.

“Open it,” she said with a smile.

I lifted the lid on the box and from within, pulled out a device that looked a bit like a lantern. The machine was made of paper. Small slits were cut into the sides. On the inside, around the entire circumference, was a row of dragon silhouettes. At the center, there was an unlit candle. “What is it?”

“They call it a zoetrope,” she said. “Watch.” She gave the device a spin.

As the paper spun, it created an illusion. The dragons took flight and began breathing fire. I clasped my hands together and lifted them to my lips. Slowly, the zoetrope stopped spinning, and the dragons rested once more.

“Delightful!”

Mother grinned. “At night, when it’s dark, take it to the back and light the candle at the center. Then give it a spin. Through these slats, the dragons will be reflected on the walls.”

“I love it,” I said, wrapping my arms around Mother’s waist.

“I thought you would,” she said then kissed me on the head. She sighed heavily then hugged me close. When she did so, I felt the tension in her body. Though she’d been all mirth and smiles, something had her on edge. She kissed me on the head once more, then went back to the cave entrance and looked into the telescope. She scanned up and down the beach.

“Mother, what is it?”

“Nothing, dear,” she said. “Where are they?”

I pointed toward the back of the cave. “Sleeping.”

“Have they been out?”

“Not since last night. Mother? Is anything the matter?”

She stepped away from the telescope. “Of course not,” she said with a smile, but I saw the twitch at the corner of her mouth that told me she wasn’t telling the complete truth. “Shall we have a treat? I brought cherry tarts from the baker.” She pointed to a bakery box on the counter.

I eyed her carefully. “All right.” I moved the zoetrope aside to make a space for us to eat then went to the cupboard from which I pulled out two pretty plates, one with pink roses and the other in blue and white with a picture of lovers sitting in a garden. I stroked my finger across the image of the boy and held in the sigh that wanted to escape my lips. Setting the table, I placed the plates, cloth napkins, and a fork and knife out for us.

Mother leaned against the side of the cave entrance. Staring out through the vines, she played with the little metal charm she always wore.

“Tea?” I asked.

“Yes, please,” she said absently.

I set out two cups and saucers then went to the small stove, more a hole in the cave wall than an oven, and grabbed the teapot that had been hanging over the embers.

Eyeing Mother closely, I poured the tea, set the pot aside, then opened the bakery box. I breathed in the rich smells of sugar, butter, dough, and cherries. Gingerly, I set the tarts on the plates.

“Ready,” I called.

Still lost in her thoughts, Mother delayed a moment then turned and came to the table.

“Bon appétit,” she said.

“Merci beaucoup,” I replied.

“Tres bien,” she said with a smile.

“I’ve been studying.”

Mother smiled lightly then spooned sugar—five teaspoons—into her cup. I settled for a single dollop of honey.

We ate in silence. The chime hanging just inside the cave jangled in the soft sea breeze.

From the back, we heard a soft sneeze.

Both Mother and I turned and looked, but they weren’t awake yet. Slugabeds.

“I want you to keep them in for the next few days,” Mother said lightly as if the request was nothing to be alarmed about.

Staring at her, I set down my fork. “Why?”

“Just a precaution.”

I swallowed hard. “Is something wrong?”

Mother sat back in her chair. “No. There are just rumors, that’s all. Probably nothing. We just want to make sure you’re safe. I need to leave again this afternoon. I might not be back for a few days. Just keep them in until I return.”

I stared at her. “All right. What kind of rumors?”

Mother reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Nothing to worry about. I just need to make sure all is well and that rumors are just that. Now, did you see what books I brought you?”

I frowned, knowing full well Mother wasn’t being honest with me.

Smiling at me over her teacup, she motioned to the books.

Tipping my head, I looked at the spines. “The Tale of Culhwch and Olwen. I don’t have that one.” I picked up the book. Another Arthurian tale. Always Arthurian tales. At this point, I had all of them practically memorized.

“That is a very old one. It’s about a knight named Culhwch who wants to win the love of Olwen, whose father was a giant.”

“That must not have gone easily.”

Mother laughed. “Most definitely not.”

“Does he succeed?”

“Read and find out.”

I ran my hand across its bright red leather binding. The title had been embossed with golden letters, around which were roses and vines. I was surprised there was still an Arthurian tale I hadn’t read. Every knight, every lady seemed like old friends.

I studied the other books. “Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. Oh! Is this a romance?” I cracked open the book at once. While Mother insisted I read every old legend ever written, what I most craved were modern romances.

Mother nodded. “The bookseller said lovely things about that one. Very popular. I’m told all the young ladies read Miss Austen’s works.”

I nodded, thinking about all the young ladies. I had seen engravings of those young ladies in the newspapers Mother sometimes brought. The images of those beautiful ladies in fine dresses and carrying parasols gave me a glimpse of a life I’d never have. I’d never go to a ball. Or walk around the gardens on some fine estate. Or go on a picnic. Or have a proper high tea. Or meet some fine man’s mother and sister. I’d never take a trip to Bath or see an opera. I’d never do anything all the young ladies do. Nor would I be like the lady airship captains in their trousers and goggles. Their lives seemed far more adventurous than those of all the young ladies and very exciting. But I’d never be like them either, hanging on to ropes and barking orders to my crew. No. I was destined to live and die in a cave like some hobgoblin.

Mother picked up the last tome. Grinning, she handed it to me. “And Don Juan by Lord Byron,” she said.

“Lord Byron? Wasn’t he that scandalous poet who was the lover of Lily Stargazer, the famous airship racer?”

“Yes, he was. I thought his work might stir your…imagination,” she said with a playful smirk.

I raised my eyebrows and opened the book. Inside was a painting of the poet with his curly dark hair, pouty lips, and pale blue eyes. “Well, Lord Byron, we’ll have to see what you’re on about,” I said, eyeing the poet. He really had been very handsome.

Mother chuckled.

We ate quietly. When we were done, I rose to clear the dishes, but Mother motioned for me to sit.

“Have another tea,” she said, kissing me on the head once more.

She took all the plates and set them in the wash bin. Working quickly, she washed them up and set them aside to dry. She dried off her hands then went to the opening of the cave once more. She looked out through the vines then sighed.

“I need to go,” she said. Turning back to me, she smiled, but I saw that odd little tremor at the corner of her mouth again. And she was fingering her amulet in earnest once more. “Everyone stays until I say, all right?”

“They won’t like it.”

She nodded. “I know, and I’m sorry for it. I’ll make it up to them.”

“Might be hard to convince Wink.”

“Talk to her. She’ll listen to you.”

I chuckled then rolled my eyes at the impossibility of the task.

“Well, try, at least,” Mother said with an understanding grin.

I joined her at the cave entrance. Pulling out the pins that held my hair, I stuffed them into the ripped seam at the top of my corset. I lifted my long braid, getting ready to hook it, but Mother motioned for me to wait. Putting her eye to the telescope, she scanned the beach again.

A sick feeling rocked my stomach. Something wasn’t right. Mother wasn’t saying what, but clearly more than rumors were afoot.

“Mother?” I whispered.

She leaned back and nodded to me. “All clear. Go ahead, if you please,” she said, motioning to my braid.

I wound my hair around the hook, letting the long braid fall to the sandy beach below.

Mother hugged me once more. As she held me, she whispered, “Just stay inside Merlin’s cave, my love. You’re safe here. Everyone stays inside, all right?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Very good. I’ll be back soon,” she said then stepped back. Working her fingers, a sparkle of magic glimmered on her fingertips. She shifted into a child once more. “I love you,” she said, her voice high and sweet.

I giggled. “I love you too.”

She winked at me then swiftly climbed back down my hair. When she reached the bottom, I felt a light tug.

Unhooking my hair, I pulled my braid back inside. The end was wet and covered in sand. I lifted the hair to my nose and inhaled deeply, smelling the salty sea spray and sandy beach, then I turned and headed back into my cave.