Golden by Cameron Dokey

by morning, the children had been born.
    A boy and a girl, whom the farmer and his wife named William and Eleanor. They were small, for they had been born early, but they grew strong quickly. And they grew to be great squabblers, though they loved each other well, a fact of life that always made their father smile. It was the reason theyhad been born too soon, he said. They’d shared their mother’s womb no more peaceably than they did their father’s farmhouse.
    The young boy, William, had a fondness for our apples. I often spied him in the orchard when the fruit was ripe. That time had not come yet, but I was hoping to catch a glimpse of William anyway, for I knew he liked to climb trees as much as I did. I found him in the second tallest tree in the orchard. My tree was the tallest, and that tree he never climbed.
    â€œCome down, William,” I said. “I want you to do an errand for me, if you will. Please go and fetch your father. I need to speak with him.”
    â€œWhat will you give me if I do?” the boy asked. In addition to squabbling, he also drove a hard bargain.
    â€œI will give you this orchard for your very own,” I replied. “Would you like that?”
    â€œYou can’t,” he said at once, but he did slide down out of the tree to stand beside me. “It doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to the sorceress.”
    â€œWhat makes you think I would make such an offer without her permission?” I inquired, though in fact, I had not yet spoken to Melisande. The boy stood for a moment, staring at me with wide eyes. “Go fetch your father, William,” I said again. “It’s important.”
    Without another word, he turned and ran for home.
    Before too many minutes had passed, I saw the farmer climbing swiftly up the hill. He was alone.
    â€œGood day to you, Rapunzel,” he said.
    â€œGood day to you, Farmer Harris,” I replied.
    â€œMy son has been telling me wild tales,” the farmer said.
    â€œSooner or later, Melisande and I must leave this place,” I said, seeing no reason not to come straight to the point. “You know what they have been saying in the town.”
    â€œI do,” he nodded. He hesitated for a moment, as if uncertain whether to say any more. “I had thought, perhaps, to see you and the sorceress go before now.”
    I shook my head. “We will go when Melisande decides the time is right and not before. But I would not...” To my dismay, my voice faltered. Now that I had come to speak of it, the truth of what I was about to say struck hard. Very soon now, we would have to leave the only home that I had ever known.
    â€œThere’s the livestock,” I said. “And what’s left of the crops. If the mob comes ...”
    â€œI know,” the farmer said at once, and his face grew sober. “I know, Rapunzel.”
    â€œWould it not be a fine thing,” I asked, “if both these farms were yours? One could be Williams when he grows up. The other could be a dowry for your daughter.”
    â€œIt might be a very fine thing,” Farmer Harris said slowly. “It would be hard work until my son is grown, though.”
    â€œI cannot help with that,” I said. “But perhaps, if the livestock were already in your own barn? They couldbe more easily cared for that way, I think. Except for the horse. We might need her for the journey.”
    â€œMy wife’s brother is young and strong,” the farmer said, as if thinking it over. “He might come.”
    â€œThat would be a great help,” I said, at which he gave a quick smile.
    â€œYou have it all worked out, then?” he asked.
    â€œNo,” I said. “Of course not. It’s just—they’ll drive us away,” I burst out suddenly. “You know they will. I don’t want everything we’ve cared for so well and for so long to belong to those who wish us ill. Not if I can help