Chapter Fourteen

Arceneau had spoken the truth.

Rapunzel had been sketching at the table after cleaning up after lunch when Vladimir had stopped by the next day. She listened to the murmur of men's voices by the front door before Hook appeared, their guest right behind him. They both looked overwhelmingly pleased, and she could not help but grin back.

"What's the news?"

"We're in, Blondie," Hook answered, clapping Vlad on the back. "Smith called the Doc this afternoon. Looks like they could use some extra hands in the dining hall for the party. And you're looking at 'em."

Rapunzel brought her hands together with delight. "That's great," she told them. "But what happens after that?"

She remembered the boxes of dynamite; those had disappeared from the kitchen, and she did not know where they could have gone.

Hook set his good hand down on the table in an assertive slap. "A piece of cake. We go to the party, make some noise, and while the chickens are running out of the coop…" He made a fist. "We grab the Diamond. It'll be simple."

"Make noise?"

He nodded. "With those little friends of mine you saw."

Rapunzel's eyes widened in horror. "You're going to blow it up?"

Both fellows were quick to reassure her. "What? No, Blondie, you've got us all wrong!" Vlad objected.

"It'll take a lot more than what we've got to knock down the Metropolitan," Hook added. "It'll just be a distraction, doll."

"Oh," the girl said, settling back down onto her seat. She fingered the pages of that morning's paper, spread across the table like a typewritten map. "You're not going to hurt anyone are you?"

Hook and Vladimir exchanged glances. "We'll try not to, Goldie."

She had not been entirely reassured, but did not think she could say anything to discourage them. The Tagnoski were determined people, and she wanted the Diamond as badly as they did, though for very different reasons. What could she do but go along? Her brows came together as she looked down to the only article of interest, carefully plucked from the Times with all the meticulous care of a surgeon:

Across the vast deserts of Arabia, the Emperor Hamid II built Railways to connect the great cities of the Old World. From the ancient Constantinople to Yenice to Baghdad, this Baghdad Railway was perhaps one of the Last Emperor's greatest undertakings, though he did not do it without help. European investors and advisors all had a hand in the great Railway that was built to unite Arabia, though it was a venture that would be cut short by the Great War and another, solemn tragedy.

None of the Emperor's assistants were closer to him than the Coronas of the Corona German Transport Company. A happily married couple, the Coronas oversaw the construction of the Railway up until two months before the anniversary of the Emperor's ascension to the Throne. It was on this day that the Misses Corona fell gravely ill, a situation made most dire by the fact that she was about to have a child.

Out of gratitude and generosity unmatched, the Emperor pledged the legendary Diamond to the people who had done so much for him. He promised them that it would aid the sick wife, as it had shaped the destinies of many throughout millenia. However, the fate of the Coronas was not one that anyone would expect…

She'd nearly crumpled the paper and hurled it across the room when she'd finished reading. It was not like the many novels she'd read and re-read at home. There were always pages to turn, chapters to continue until everything was neatly resolved and she was satisfied by the story. No; here, she was left hanging, anticipating the next turn, and she did not like it one bit.

Tuesday morning did not bring any further satisfaction.

The Times only provided a short paragraph where the Diamond's story had normally been published:

The sad tale of the Crown Diamond is far from over, but to read the story in its entirety, and to finally reach the ending, visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art, located on the Eastern side of Central Park. Though the Diamond itself is hidden away in anticipation of its debut, more works from the that have recently been added to the Metropolitan's collection are on display to the General Public until the First of December.

Rapunzel would not be thwarted. She had invested so much of her time and curiosity that she would not give up on the end of the story. Though the Museum had a hold of the Diamond now, it had once been in the hands of these Coronas; had it helped the wife, as the Emperor had said it would? If it did, where were they now? Perhaps they would be able to help her somehow, since their fates and hers were entwined, strung together by a strange and legendary stone.

It had taken little convincing to get Eugene to take her to the Museum, though he did not seem thrilled by the prospect. She was going with or without him; Tambor and Hook had been startled by the stubbornness she had displayed when she'd told him so.

Rapunzel had been busy Monday afternoon; she felt guilty for running off with a strange woman's clothes, and berated herself for not returning Mrs. Ward's niece's outfits sooner. A shop in Brooklyn had supplied her with better-fitting replacements that were much more suited to her tastes. Not that she had paid much mind to the varying degrees of Alice blue that the unknown niece had favored, but it felt good to be back in the floral shades of pink and purple, and even a set of greens, that she had in her closet at the Ansonia.

She tried not to think to much about where home had been and what it had become, or that the days were counting down to when she would see her mother again. Gothel would be performing at the Gala that the Tagnoski were planning to rob, and she did not want to worry if her mother, among others, would be hurt in the escapade, or if she would ever be forgiven for what she was going to do.

Her mother did not have the answers she needed, and she was finally able to reach out and take them for herself. It was that mantra that she repeated to herself as she and Eugene rode the subway into Manhattan, and she said it under her breath as they stood outside of the Museum's entrance, the traffic of Fifth Avenue racing along behind them. Beyond the Museum and surrounding it on three sides would be the quieter sanctum of Central Park. Its architecture reminded her distinctly of the Ansonia, and ruefully she noted that each building was similarly dedicated to artists, though the grand hotel was a haven for musicians, and this was a museum for art that was seen, not heard.

Eugene gave Rapunzel's shoulders a squeeze as he heard her sigh; she looked taxed and tired, but he could not understand what had been wearing her out over the last few days; it certainly hadn't been anything he'd been doing. She looked up at him and gave him a wide smile that made the November chill disappear. As fatigued as she was, she was still the same insatiably inquisitive Rapunzel, and as much as he disliked Museums, he would go in as many as it took to find her answers.

It was all Rapunzel could do to keep from bolting up the steps and run through the halls until she stumbled upon the Diamond itself. Something was drawing her in, like a leash, or a song half-heard in the night.

The silence that greeted them beyond the Museum's front doors was nearly deafening, and the wide foyer was more impressive even than the Library's. There were not many visitors during the afternoon hours of a work day, though a troupe of uniformed schoolchildren did pass by, whispering and giggling at the sight of a girl with such a long braid of hair.

Admission did away with the last of Rapunzel's borrowed money, and the lizard pin sank heavily in her coat pocket. A kindly curator pointed them in the right direction on a folded paper map, and Eugene had to march in order to keep up with his girl's quick and purposeful steps.

"Where are we going, Blondie?" He asked as she lead him up the grand stairs that were just beyond the foyer.

"European Paintings," was Rapunzel's breathless answer. The corridor that was their destination was right before them when they reached the second floor, and she wasted no time in striding right in. The few people that they passed were silent or whispering, wrapped up in the Cezannes and Monets that adorned the walls. Eugene didn't know who painted what, of course, but Rapunzel had read books about the Old Masters in the long days she had spent in her tower. She was tempted to stop and study Vermeer's A Girl Asleep, and could hardly tear her eyes from Cot's The Storm; the same urgency with which the pair in the painting fled was what propelled her through the halls. She no longer followed the small map in her hand or the curator's advice, and not even Eugene's quiet calls could make her slow.

She moved through the halls of paintings, turning left and right before sliding into the corridor of European Sculpture, but she paid little mind to those. Her goal was at the end of the rectangular arrangement of rooms, and she was not disappointed by the banner that was hung across a wide and well-lit doorway: The Alsace Collection.

Beyond was a rectangular room, illuminated so that it felt much brighter and larger than any of the others they had passed through. Paintings were haphazardly arranged, varying in style and substance, dispersed between pedestals topped by statues and crockery that seemed to have nothing in common but where they had come from. Accepting another pamphlet from another curator, Rapunzel scanned the front page and learned that along with the Diamond, the precious works now in the Museum's possession had been delivered as part of reparations, paying off the debt of the Weimar Republic in the wake of the Great War.

Rapunzel thought this a curious concept as she heard Eugene finally catch up with her, resting his hands on his knees. She hadn't thought she was going that fast-perhaps he was just exaggerating.

"Are we stopping?" He asked, glancing at the uniformed security that eyed them from across the room. Rapunzel did not answer. She was buried nose-deep in her pamphlet, green eyes flying across the trifold pages as she found the end of her story at last.

The first handful of paragraphs repeated what she had already read in the Times. A legendary stone and the rise of an Emperor, followed by the construction of the Baghdad Railway, an undertaking of historic proportions. At last, she found mention of the Corona family, and how the Diamond had come into their possession in the summer of 1908. The Emperor had promised them a miracle…

And a miracle they had received. According to the pamphlet, the Coronas had returned to Germany, and the wife had returned to the peak of health in order to give birth to a daughter. Whether or not the Diamond was to be credited was anyone's guess, but everyone loved a mystery.

Philanthropy and business called the happy couple away from home, and they were forced to leave their child behind. It would be a cruel twist of fate that an earthquake would tear through the port city of Messina, where the Coronas were to depart for the Ottoman Empire once more. It had been a tragic December morning for many, and their bodies were never found, buried beneath rubble or swept out to sea.

Rapunzel's breath caught, and she felt as if something had pulled the floor from beneath her feet. She had reached a dead end. The Coronas, whoever they had been, champions of railways and a transportation company, had been dead for eighteen years. Even if they had answers, she would never be able to ask them her questions.

"Are you okay, Blondie?"

Eugene brought her back to Earth, to the bright room in the Metropolitan. She hadn't realized how still she had been standing until she felt her shoulders loosen and sag.

"I'm fine," She began to say, but stopped. Even if they could not help her now, Rapunzel would read the end of the Corona's story. It didn't seem right to forget about them.

She turned to the back of the pamphlet, and read on.

There had been an international outcry of dismay at the deaths of the Coronas. Naturally their daughter, though only four months old, would inherit their grand estate in Germany, and all of their investments abroad. However, while family friends and lawyers were still reeling from the death of the Coronas, their daughter had disappeared.

A hunt had been called as they feared the worst; a kidnapper, set to take advantage of the estate's vulnerability, demanding wealth in exchange for the Corona girl's life. But no ransom notes came, and not a trace of her was to be found. It was as if she had never been.

Suspicion and war had ensnared the Corona estate not long after that. Fearing alliances between the German banks that had built the railroads and the Ottoman ruler who had let them, international powers had seized assets and frozen funds. The Diamond itself, locked safely away and nearly forgotten in a deposit box in Berlin, would eventually be returned to the Ottoman Empire, though the last Emperor had passed a year after his dearly departed friends. His will was that the lost child of the Coronas be found, and the Diamond remain with her as a blessing in an otherwise tragic life, but his successors and advisors did not feel the same.

Taking a moment to think, Rapunzel was not sure if she would be able to continue reading. Disappearances, death, and politics; it was far outside her realm of novels. Eugene watched her as she rubbed her eyes and continued reading, determined as ever to find out how the Diamond had found its way to the very Museum she was standing in.

The Ottoman Empire had finally come to an end, but this she had learned while in the Library the week before. With its collapse, the pamphlet read, the Diamond had been returned to Germany and to the Corona estate. War, however, had made the country weak, and the Treaty of Versailles demanded much of the people. Priceless as it was, with no one present to inherit, the government of Germany was forced to auction the Crown Diamond of the East off to the highest bidder, in the hopes of freeing themselves from a debt that would be impossible to repay.

The paragraph dwindled into useless questions regarding the ultimate fates of the Coronas and their missing daughter, but Rapunzel did not care. Her whole frame felt numb, as if all of her studying and speculation had been for nothing.

"Rapunzel?"

She looked up into Eugene's face; she hadn't realized he'd pulled her into his arms, holding her up as she tried to figure out what to do next.

"It's no use," Rapunzel said into the top unbuttoned hole of his shirt. "Anyone who could have helped me are long gone."

Eugene gave her a reassuring squeeze, ignoring stares as he told her, "Maybe…" But she could tell he was even more uncertain than she was. He did not have as much at stake. "Maybe there's still somebody who knows, who you can talk to…"

Rapunzel shook her head weakly. "I'll just have to wait until the Gala. Maybe when we get it…"

The Gala. When she would finally have to face what she had done to her mother. She would have to see the hurt and betrayal in the eyes of someone who loved her and did not deserve it. She would not let Eugene or the Tagnoski try to fetch the Diamond without her, but at the same time, Rapunzel did not think she would be able to stand the consequences of her actions.

"Or maybe we don't have to wait," she said suddenly, slipping out of Eugene's grasp.

"What?" He asked, puzzled by the nearly alien expression that passed over Rapunzel's face.

Tucking the pamphlet into her coat pocket, Rapunzel was glancing around the room, as if looking for another door beside the one they had entered through, but there were none. To his immense alarm, she strode right up to the curator that was tending to the lone exhibit, and asked, "Excuse me, do you know where you keep items that aren't on display?"

The curator, a red-haired and freckle-faced man nearing his forties, looked taken aback by her bluntness. "The basement," he stammered, then looked sheepish. "Of course, we keep plenty of things in the basement, but there are still more articles that are kept by private donors off of the premises."

"I see," Rapunzel said absently. "Thank you."

Concerned, Eugene followed Rapunzel as she began to walk through the halls that had brought them to the Alsace room. "What are you doing?" He demanded in a hushed tone.

"Following my instincts," Rapunzel replied just as quietly, and picked up the pace, returning to the stairs that would take them down to the foyer.

Rapunzel had hardly even known she possessed instincts before this moment. But the same feeling that had drawn her into the Museum, that tugged at her limbs and made her feel sleepy and sluggish, had returned to the forefront of her mind, urging her descent and rushed strides through the hall of Medieval Art and into the American Wing. She slowed whenever they passed security, or large groups of guests, but she again ignored Eugene's fervent questioning.

The tugging at her feet did not stop until she stood before an airy, fantastical landscape. Water spilled over from the rim of an enormous goblet, raining on lush hills and a city far below. Beneath the frame, a small plaque read, The Titan's Goblet, Cole, 1833. While she gasped at the wideness of the world that the relatively small canvas depicted, she knew it was not what she was after. Peeking over her shoulder to see that no one but Eugene was watching, she edged around the wall that bore The Titan's Goblet, and found a slender door waiting.

It was tucked into the corner in such a way that no one would notice it from the room's entrance. It was a door of convenience, but had the distinct air of something off limits. As Rapunzel took a step near it, Eugene paused her with a hiss.

"Rapunzel," he said. "You do realize we're not exactly equipped to rob a Museum in broad daylight."

She grinned at him. "What's wrong? Worried?"

He looked affronted. "No, I just… Just…" He looked back, imitating her, then motioned for her to try the door. "Do we have a choice?"

Rapunzel did not want to bring dynamite to the Museum and endanger people, no matter how great the need. If they could slip into the basement, and she could follow whatever force was guiding her down to the Diamond, she would have her answers, and no one would be harmed in the process. Of course, the likelihood of the doors that lead to the bowels of the Metropolitan being unlocked were a hundred to one…

Lo, it seemed that the Diamond could work miracles.

Or a Museum employee had been devastatingly careless. After the slightest of squeaks, the door gave beneath her palm, revealing a yawning, narrow corridor. With Eugene grimacing behind her, Rapunzel took a careful step inside, and listened.

No one came after them, and no one seemed headed their way down this particular path. Rapunzel needed to find a way down, and frowning, she nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Eugene closing the door softly behind them.

He chuckled at her reaction. "Do you want to go back? There's still time."

Rapunzel inhaled, then shook her head. "No. There is never enough time, and I can't really go back."

She wasn't sure where those words came from, but did not have time to ponder them as Eugene snatched her into a strong, one-armed hug. She was surprised and pleased by the fierce kiss he planted on her lips, but as quickly as it had come, it was over. He smirked. "Lead the way."

Eugene didn't know whether to be proud or ashamed to himself, knowing that it was likely his fault that Rapunzel had turned into a reckless, rule-breaking bearcat. Not that he could complain, either, watching as she moved forward with sure steps. She had changed much from the jumpy, nervous girl that had tied him up in her mother's penthouse apartment, and was now someone braver, tougher, and far from anything than he had ever expected.

Voices creeping up the halls urged them into a small alcove, half cast in shadow by burnt-out lights. Rapunzel squeaked; it was only Eugene's reflexes that caught her outstretched arm and kept her from tumbling down the curved stairs that had appeared before them.

Rapunzel hadn't expected it to be this dark, but with Eugene's steadying presence, she carefully made her way down the steps and to the Museum's basement level. The halls here were not as well lit as those above, but they were lined with offices and alcoves that looked right at home beneath the Metropolitan.

Rapunzel could feel the pull stronger now, as though it pushed a hand right through her ribcage and tugged at her own heart. She gripped Eugene's hand, pulling him through passages and past dead ends until they halted before one nondescript door.

The numbness that had taken Rapunzel earlier now returned, though it was fueled by excitement, not disappointment.

"Through here?"

Eugene didn't know just what it was that had guided Rapunzel on this haywire scramble below the ground, but she had seemed very aware of where she was going, and now they were here. Eagerly, she reached out and took the handle, and turned.

It wouldn't budge.

It was like the harsh sound of glass shattering. Rapunzel knew it would have been ridiculous to assume their good luck would continue. Doors down here were the only barriers between them and magnificent pieces of treasure; of course they would be more cautiously treated than those above.

The dismay ran over her like a cold, sticky tide. Eugene watched her lean forward, and flinched at the soft thump of her forehead against the door's thick wood. Her heavy sigh seemed to reach him in his bones.

It had been too easy. Unless.

"Blondie, do you have any hair pins?"

Rapunzel peeled one eye open and looked at him balefully. "What?"

"Hair pins. Do you have any? I only need two."

Rapunzel straightened and reached into the long braid that fell down her back. A girl did not live with ten feet of hair without learning a few tricks about how to make it behave, and in a flash, she pinched two such pins between her fingers.

Eugene grinned and took them, crouching beside the door and proceeding to make a show of scratching and fiddling. Rapunzel tried to peer and see what he was doing, but whenever she did, he muttered that she was in his light.

She did not know how much time passed; the sound of Eugene's lock picking faded, and instead her ears strained for the sound of anyone approaching. To be caught would certainly land them in jail, and that would kill her. Not when they were so close.

With a small sound of triumph, Eugene stood, and motioned to the doorknob. Hesitantly, Rapunzel gave it a twist, and gasped with delight as the door slid away.

"You're going to show me how to do that, right?"

He only chuckled, tucking her pins into his pants pocket. Rapunzel eased the door open, revealing a room that seemed to be darker than the staircase. Boxy, stiff shapes lined the walls, and the bare outline of a ceiling lamp proved to be the only source of illumination. It was easy to find the switch beside the door, and in the wake of a white-hot brilliance, the pair discovered they were in a room filled to ceiling with safes.

Eugene groaned. Doors he could manage, but he'd never had to crack a safe before.

"Blondie, I think we should give it up for now. We've been here long enough…"

Rapunzel wasn't listening. Her shoes barely made a sound against the carpet as she stepped around the clean table that took up the center of the room, running her fingers over the fronts of the safes she strode past. She did not hear Eugene's voice as he urged her to leave, to respond, to do anything; her ears were filled with a somber song. The tugging was at once overwhelming and relieved as she slowed, and finally stopped, her hand pressed against a small vault about shoulder height.

The song intensified, and with it, a light that seemed to be fighting to escape the edges of the safe's door. Something pulled her in, made the blood rush through her ears, and had her transfixed to the floors. She was deaf to Eugene's shouts of panic and horror, and did not feel his hands as he tried to pull her free.

Eugene knew that whatever had beckoned Rapunzel here was inside that safe. A crackling pressed at his ear drums, as obnoxious as a cloud of gnats in summer, but he paid it no attention. Only when did Rapunzel stop her pacing did he realize that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

She was pale, as if she'd been frightened, or hurt.

"Goldie," Eugene began, taking a step farther into the room. "I think it's time to go."

The hue of her outfit seemed to be fading, but he dismissed it as a trick of the light. But then the room seemed to become dimmer.

"Rapunzel. I think we should just wait. We need to go."

Still, no response. The lamp above fizzled and cracked, until the only light was hot wire. Shadows seemed to press in on all sides, threatening to swallow Rapunzel whole. They creeped up her legs and arms and over her head, draining her of color, until even the gold of her hair was gone.

"Rapunzel!"

A soft cry escaped her lips as the spellbound girl was released. Her hand became unstuck and her legs turned to jelly. As the world dove into black, she could only be relieved that Eugene was there to catch her as she fell.

While writing this chapter, I tried to look up what paintings were actually located in the Museum during this time, and of the ones I could find, The Storm by Pierre-Auguste Cot has to be one of my favorites for a number of reasons; alongside with Cot's piece Spring featuring the same couple on a swing, it is a set of paintings that makes my heart wrench with delight. The Titan's Goblet by Thomas Cole is another, rife with symbolism and poetic allegory.

Not only are there many magnificent things to see in Jazz Age New York, there are also so many ideas and social constructions that I am sorry to leave out. The zeitgeist of the era is fascinating and multi-faceted, especially when you take in the global scale: the rearranging of maps after the Great War, the chaos of the October Revolution that brought the Bolsheviks to power and gave birth to the Soviet Union, and not to mention the resentment stirring in the Weimar Republic that would eventually stoke the fires of the second World War. It was a decade of extremism and revolution abroad and at home: women could now vote and exercise more freedom than ever before, Prohibition and laws restricting immigration were a source of contention throughout the United States, and a mass exodus of such prestigious authors as Fitzgerald and Steinbeck would earn them the nickname the Lost Generation.

I have learned the dangers of overcomplicating and overstuffing for the sake of immersion, and I think I have struck a balance here. On the one hand, I have referenced real events and real people, though I do not have the time or skill to do history justice, as fascinating as I find it. And on the other, this is not a tale about any of those things, not really. That is one of the spectacular qualities of these old Marchen: they can be adapted to different settings and still retain their integrity and be recognized for what they are. This is not a story about Communism or mobsters or war or social innovation. This is the story of a girl named Rapunzel.

My author's notes are long winded and not entirely required to be read, but over the course of this project I have learned a lot and I like to share what I find: I plucked the name Alsace from a region in France that had historical significance during the Great War; it had been a source of contention between Germany and France since the nineteenth century, and was given to France as a part of the Treaty of Versailles (though Germany regained control in 1940, it was once again under a French flag by the end of World War II.) Currently, it is a unique territory of France, a historic melding of French and German culture.

While the construction of Corona in Tangled is based on several different kinds of architecture from different centuries and places around Europe, pictures I found of places around Alsace (namely Colmar) reminded me of that island-bound city. Rapunzel as it is popularized by the Grimm Brothers, is a story of German origin. However, in my head, I can't shake loose the idea that Corona would be where the French monastery of Mont St. Michel is. So, in conclusion, the name Alsace is a symbol under which I can hang many ideas and notions, though the significance is not really all that important to anyone else but me.