Before I mounted my horse, I took one last glance at my love. She sat completely engrossed in a book, her beauteous face almost obscured by the bright ripples of her hair.

Since I had seen her a fortnight ago, on my way back from matins, I knew that this was my princess. The one I’d been waiting for. She was high spirited, which I saw as a boon. When my father passed on from this world and left me the throne, I would need a strong queen by my side. I tried to imagine what she would look like with a crown on her glorious hair, this mythological hair that the townspeople swore stretched more than a hundred feet.

Riding away, I wondered for perhaps the thousandth time what kind of a mother would do this to her own child. Who would lock up her daughter in a tower without a door, and leave her to languish there? She couldn’t really be happy to stay locked up there, with her harp, bird and books. Could she…?

I was leaving now, but I would be back again tomorrow. She was sure to change her mind eventually.