A waning moon had cleared eastern heights when Tauno en-tered the forest. It had not taken him long, for he ran the entire way across plowlands; stalks and ears of grain left welts in revenge for his trampling. However, the hour had been late when he could finally win free of the women, cast off his father’s coat at the door, and bolt.
It was not that they cursed him. They had been affectionate in their pleading, their wish that he too take the gift of an immortal soul. It was not even that they were utterly changed, flesh once delightful now housing an alienness greater than that which sun-dered him from the tribe of Adam. It was that-he thought, some-where in his staggering mind-that they were carriers of doom. In them was the future, which held no room for Faerie. When he sprinted, he did not only seek to work out some of the despair wherein his quest had ended. He fled the unseen, while stars looked down and hissed, “There he is, there he goes, that’s his track to follow.”
The breath heaved raw in his throat before he found shelter.
This was below an oak, for it spread darkness and upheld mistletoe. At last he moved on into the wilderness, toward the lake he could sense afar. He would bathe in yon waters, fill his lungs with their cleanliness, maybe catch a fish and devour it raw like a seal or a killer whale. Thus he would regain strength for returning to the castle and whatever was going to happen there.
Trees gloomed, underbrush entangled a heavier murk, on either side of the game trail he took. Moonlight filtered in streaks through the crowns, to glimmer off vapors which streamed or eddied low above the earth. It was a touch warmer here than out in the open, damp, smelling of growth a-drowse. Rustlings went faint, a breeze, an owl ghosting by, the scutter of tiny feet. Once a wildcat squalled, remotely, noise blurred into music by all the leaves around.
A measure of peace lifted within Tauno. Here was a remnanl of his world, the wildworld, which lived wholly within itself. loved, slew, begot, suffered, died, was born, knew delirious mag-ics but never would probe and tame the mysteries behind them nor peer into a stark eternity. Here were spoor of Faerie. . . the spirit bone brought names into his awareness, as if he had always known them. . . Leshy, Kikimora, also flitting restless, shy of him but—
But what else was it he winded? No, he caught this one sen-sation otherwise, in his blood, part fear and part unutterable yearn-ing. His pulse thuttered, he quickened his footsteps.
The trail swung around a canebrake, and they met.
For a time outside of time, both halted. In their sight, where
a human would have been well-nigh blind, each stood forth white I against enclosing many-layered shadows, as if having risen from the fog that smoked about their feet. She was much the paler; it was as though the fugitive moonlight streamed through thinly carved alabaster, save that when she did move it was like a ripple across water. Very fair she was in her nakedness, with the slim, unscarred curves of waist, thighs, breasts which bespoke a maiden, with delicately carven face and enormous, luminous eyes. Her hair made a cloud about her, afloat on the air. She had no color except the faintest flushes of blue and rose, as upon snow beneath a false dawn.
“Oh,” she whispered. Terror snatched her. “Oh, but I mustn’t!
And for his part, recalling what he had heard that day, and
earlier from his father, he shouted, “Rausa/ka!” and whipped out his knife. Hc darcd not turn his back.
She vanished behind the underbrush. He stood tensed and snarl-ing, until he decided she was gone and sheathed the blade. The intimations of her drifted everywhere around, maddeningly gentle, fresh, girlish, but he knew little of such beings; their traces might well linger. . . .
Would they?
Why, he had the talisman to ask. He need but ease himself,
think in Hrvatskan about what he had seen, and let knowledge flow upward. Muscle by muscle, he summoned calm, until he could know and could call: “Vilja. Stay. Please.”
She peered around the brake; he barely glimpsed an eye, the gleam of a cheek, the delicacy of an elbow. “Are you Christian?” she fluted timidly. “I’m forbidden to come near Christians.”
So she was no menace; she was merely beautiful. “I’m nOt even a mortal man,” said Tauno against a rattle of laughter.
She crept forth to stand before him at arm’s length. “I thought I could feel that,” she breathed. “Wo~ld you really like to talk with me?” She kindled, she trilled. “Oh, wonderful! Thank you, thank you.”
“What is your name?” He must needs gather courage before he could lay down: “I hight Tauno. Half merman, half human, but altogether of Faerie.”
“And I-“ She hesitated more than he had. “I think I am, I was Nada. I call me Nada.”
He reached out to her. She tiptoed close. They linked hands. Hers were night-cool and somehow not quite solid. He thought that if he took a real hold upon them, his fingers would part their frailty and meet each other: wherefore he gripped as tenderly as he was able. The clasp shivered.
“What are you?” he asked, that he might hear it from her own lips.
“A vilja. A thing of mist and wind and half-remembered dreams-and how glad of your kindness, Tauno!”
Desire, long unslaked, was thick within him. He sought to draw her close. She flowed, she blew from his embrace, to poise trembling beyond his reach. Fear and grief worked their ways across her countenance, which was young to behold but inwardly had grown old. “No, Tauno, I beg you. For your own sake. I’m no more of the living world. You’d die, yourself, if you tried.”
Recalling how Herr Aage had risen from his grave to comfort Lady Else his beloved-simply to comfort her in her misery-and what came of that, Tauno shuddered backward from Nada.
She saw. Briefly, her aloneness ruled her; then she straightened her shoulders (there was the dearest hollow between them, right below the throat) and said, with a shaken smile, “But you needn’t run away, need you, Tauno? Can we not abide a while together?”
They did until morning.
VII
ANDREI Subitj, captain in the Royal Navy of Magyarorszag and Hrvatska-he who once was Vanimen, king of Liri-turned from the window out which he had been gazing. This was in Shibenik, on an upper floor of the mayoral palace. When such an officer took special leave from the war and came south, in answer to a message from the zhupan, he could have whatever place he asked for. Day had waned while he and Eyjan held converse. Towers stood dark against deep-blue gloaming, above walls and battle-ments within which links bobbed along streets. Bells pealed a call to vespers. Andrei traced the Cross.
“And thus we know each what has happened to the other,” he sighed. “Yet what do we truly know?” Tall in a gold-broidered kaftan, his body moved across the carpet with more fmnness than his voice. “Why would Tauno not bestir himself to come this short way and greet me?”
Eyjan, who was seated, stared at the hem of her gown. “I can’t tell,” she replied. “Not really. He said there was no use in it, that you simply are no more the father he sought. But he says little to anyone these days, nothing that might reveal his mind.”
“Not even to you?” Andrei asked as he took the chair opposite hers.
“No.” Fists clenced in her lap. “I can but guess that he’s poisoned with bitterness against Christians.” Andrei sat straight. His tone crackled. “Has anybody done ill by you twain?”
“Never. Far from it.” The red head shook, the gray eyes lifted to meet his. “Although we admitted early on we’d been lying to him-for we couldn’t well stick to our deception after our kin recognized us-Ivan did not resent it. Rather, he increased his hospitality, and that in the teeth of his chaplain, who’s scandalized at having two creatures like us beneatq yon roof. Ivan’s actually doing his best to keep our secret from leaving the village, that we may fare back to Denmark without hindrance if we choose.”
“Of course, he hopes to convert you.”
“Of course. But he doesn’t pester us about it, nor let Father
Petar do so.” Eyjan smiled a bit.
“I see Father Tomislav more gladly, aye, as often as may be. He’s a darling. Tauno himself can’t slight that man.” Her thought veered. “Something strange is there too. I know not what or why. . . but Tauno is very mild with Tomislav. . . almost the way one might be with somebody who’ll soon die but doesn’t know it. . . .”
“How is his daily life? And yours, for that matter?”
Eyjan shrugged. “As an acknowledged sea-wife, I’m not fast-
bound the way a Croatian woman is. I can swim or range the woods, provided no man sees me. Around mortals, however, I think it best to act the lady. There I pass most of my time learning the language, since Tauno keeps the amulet. Often the maidser-vants and I will sing together; Ivan’s wife joins us now and then, or his son.” She grimaced. “I fear young Luka is getting much too fond of me. Unwillingly would I bring woe on their house.”
“Tauno?”
“How can I tell?” Eyjan said roughly. “He goes off into the
wilderness for days and nights on end. When he returns, he grunts that he’s been hunting, and is barely courteous to folk. I bespoke my idea that he hates the Faith for what it’s done to his people.
Though why he shuns me—“
“Hm.” Andrei cupped chin in palm and gave her a long regard. “Might he have found a sweetheart in some distant hut? I’m sure neither of you can have a lover in Skradin.”
“No,” she clipped forth. “We cannot.”
“And time in a single bed hangs heavy. Ah, I remember. . . .If
he’s not beguiled a mortal girl, well, Faerie beings do haunt these realms-“ In shock, Andrei saw whither his thought was leading him. Again he crossed himself. “Jesus forbid!”
“Why, what harm, if he who is soulless couples with an elf?”
Eyjan gibed.
“I’d not have my son lured beyond halidom. He might die before he’s saved.” Andrei’s look steadied upon her. “You might, my daughter.”
Eyjan was silent.
“What are your plans?” he inquired.
Unhappiness freighted her words: “I know not, the less when
Tauno keeps apart from me. We promised our Danish friends we’ll rejoin them when we’re able. Thereafter-Greenland?”
“No fit place for you, who have seen far better.” Andrei hes-itated. “Luka Subitj would be a forbearing husband.”
Eyjan grew taut. “I’ll never wear the bonds they lay on women here!”
“Aye, you’d be freer in Denmark, and I like what you’ve told me of that Niels Jonsen. Get christened, wed him, be joyous.”
“Christened. Become. . . your sort?”
“Yes, age and die in a handful of years, and meanwhile live
chaste and pious. But you will live in the blessing of God, and afterward in His very presence. Not until you’ve taken this bargain Christ offers, can you know how measurelessly generous it is.”
With eyes as well as tongue, Andrei pursued: “I understand. You dread the loss of your wild liberty, you think you’d liefer cease to be. I give you my oath-not by the Most High: not yet-by the love I bore for your mother and bear for you, Eyjan Ag-netesdatter, I swear that in humanness you will win release. It will be like coming alone out of winter night into a fire lit room where those whom you hold dearest are feasting.”
“And where I see no more stars, feel no more wind,” she protested.
“Faerie has had its splendors,” he replied. “But are you not wisest to give them up while they are in some part as you’ve known them? Dh, Eyjan, child, spare yourself the anguish of , ~eeing the halfworld go d~wn. in. wreck an~ feel.ing ~at same ruin In your o,,:~ breast. For It WIll Indeed pensh, It will. What hap- pened to Lm was but a foretaste of what must happen to all Faene. Magic is dying out of Creation. A sage man showed me that, and I’d fain show you it, though each word scourges me too, if you’ll stay here till I must return to the fleet.
“Do what is kindest, to those who care for you as well as yourself. Lea~e Faerie where you can find no happiness, what-ever you do, wherever you range. Accept the divine love of Christ, the honest love of Niels and of the children you bear him; and one day we will all meet again in Heaven.”
His tone sank, he stared beyond h~r and every wall. “Agnete also,” he ended.
How much like Tauno he is, she thought
In summer, when trees gave shade against the sun, a vilja could move about by day. Nada danced through the forest in a swirl of tossing hair. Among shrubs she dodged, overleaped logs, sprang on high to grab a bough and swing from it for a moment before she sped onward. Her laughter chimed, “Come, come along, slug-gard!” Her slenderness vanished into the green. Tauno stopped to pant and squint around after tracks of her. Suddenly her palms’ clapped over his eyes from behind, she kissed him between the shoulderblades, and was off again. Cooiethough her touch had been, it burned a long while in his awareness. He blundered on. Unseen, she sent breezes to fan him.
At last he could go no more. At a dark-brown, moss-lined pool he halted. Trees crowded around, huge oak, slim beech, murky juniper. They roofed off the sky, they made a verdant dusk be-speckled with sunflecks. Butterflies winged between them. It was warm here, the air heavy with odors of ripeness. A squirrel chat-tered and streaked aloft, then he was gone and the mighty silence of summer brooded anew.
“Hallo-o!” Tauno shouted. “You’ve galloped the breath out of me. “ Leafy arches swallowed up his cry. He wiped off the sweat that stung his eyes and salted his lips, cast himself belly down, and drank. The pool was cold, iron-tinged.
He heard a giggle. “You have a shapely bottom,” Nada called. He rolled over and saw her perched on a limb above him, kicking her legs to and fro. They would catch a beam of light, which made them blaze gold, then return to being white in the shadows.
“Come here if you dare and I’ll paddle yours for that,” he challenged.
“Nyah.” She made a face at him. “You wouldn’t. I know you, you big fraud. I know what you’d really do.”
“What?”
“Why, cuddle me and pet me and kiss me-which is a better
idea anyhow.” Nada floated, more nearly than jumped, to earth.
Blackberries grew beneath the tree, She stopped to gather as many
as her small hands could hold before she came to kneel by Tauno,
who was now sitting,
“Poor love, you are tired,” she said, “Wet allover, and surely
weak in the knees, Here, let me feed some strength back into
you,”
Herself she was dry-skinned, unwinded, ready to soar off at
any instant, She would not sleep when he did, nor did she share
the fruits she placed in his mouth, The dead have no such needs,
“Those were delicious, thank you,” he said when she was
through, “But if I’m to stay out here much longer, I’ll require
food more stout, Fish from the lake; or, if you’ll help me quest,
a deer,”
She winced, “I hate it when you kill,”
“I must,”
“Yes,” She brightened, “Like the great beautiful lynx you are,”
She stroked fingers across him, He touched her in turn, caresses
which wandered everywhere. They could never be strong, those
gestures, She was too insubstantial, He felt rounded softnesses,
which moved in response to him, but they had no heat and always
he got a sense of thistledown delicacy,
What had formed her, he knew not, nor she, The bones of Nada, Tomislav’s daughter, rested in a Shibenik churchyard. Her’ soul dwelt in an image of that body, formed out of , , , moonlight and water, maybe, It was a gentle damnation.
Damnation nonetheless, he reflected: for him as well.
“You hurt yourself,” she exclaimed, “Oh, don’t,”
He wrenched his glance from her, “Forgive me,” he said in
a rusty voice. “I know my bad moods distress y
ou, Maybe you should go for a run till I’ve eased.”
“And leave you alone?” She drew close against him, “No.”
Mter a space: “Besides, I’m selfish. You lift my aloneness off
me,”
“The trouble is just that, I desire you. . and found you too late.”
“And I desire you, Tauno, beloved.”
What did that mean to her? he wondered. She had died a
maiden. Of course, she had known, from seeing beasts if naught,” else, what the way of a man with a woman is; but had she ever truly understOod? Afterward she was not one to ponder, she was a spirit of wood and water, her heart gone airy; and what might be the desires which reigned in her? Did any?
Beyond the wish for his company-was that what had captured
him, her own swift adoration? She was so utterly unlike Eyjan,
perhaps he had unwittingly fled to her. Yet other women lent
refuge likewise, and they could quiet his loins and give him com-
radeship which endured, not this haring about with a ghost. In-
geborg-
Tauno and Nada laid arms around waists. Her head rested on his muscles; he could barely feel the tresses. It restored his calm, the pain-tinctured joy he found with her. Surely this could not go on without end, but let him not fret about the future. Forethought was no part of his Faerie heritage, and he had disowned the human half. In the presence of Nada, beauty, frolic, muteness together in awe below the stars, he lost himself, he almost became at peace with everything that was, this side of Heaven.
“You’re wearied,” she said at length. “Lie down. Have a nap.
I’ll sing you a lullabye.”
He obeyed. The simple melody, which her mother had belike never sung to her, washed over him like a brooklet and bore away care.
He was content. Let flesh and blood wait until some later time.
The vilja would never betray him.
Summer descended toward autumn. At first the fields were crowded with peasants stooped above sickles, or following to rake, bind, shock, cart off, and glean. They labored from before dawn till after sunset, lest a rainstorm rob them, and tumbled into sleep. The work was still less merciful than usual, because all signs portended a winter early and harsh. When at last the garnering was done, everybody celebrated titanically. Meanwhile, each night the stars came forth seeming more remote than ever through air that quickly grew chill.
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