Rapunzel, the One With All the Hair Read Online Free Page B

thing.
    When my hare had hopped away (I’m beginning to doubt that it was mine after all) and I crossed my eyes and waggedmy 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.
    â€œIs 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.
    â€œMy 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.
    â€œThank you, yes,” I said. “That would be very kind.”
    The boy bowed again, awkwardly.
    â€œTruly, 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?”
    â€œMy 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?”
    â€œN … no, sire. Did you not know?”
    â€œI 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.
    â€œUh, 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