by Liz Tyner
‘Melina will care for me.’ Ben spoke with command. ‘I like the touch of a lovely woman—even if she is not a mermaid.’
‘You tell Gid to quit giving you so much of the poison,’ Warrington said.
‘I missed you also, old man.’ Ben laughed, then winced and moved his shoulders. ‘If I wish to see you, all I have to do is call the goddess.’
‘Her name is Melina.’
‘A beautiful name for a goddess. Did she not rise from the sea inside the shell of a giant oyster?’
Warrington walked closer and looked at his brother’s eyes. ‘Melina.’ His voice was low. ‘Let me know each time Gid gets near him with a medicinal and how much is taken. And the brandy.’ He glared at Ben, challenging. ‘I am telling Gid to ease up on the laudanum. If the sea couldn’t have you, then I’m not letting you slink into some addled state. You’re daft enough without help.’
Warrington looked at his brother and opened the small cupboard, pulling out another brandy bottle. Then he reached and jerked the one from his brother’s hand. ‘I’m finding Gid now and giving him strict instructions on Ben’s care. And if the captain annoys you, Melina, let me know and I will twist his good leg to match the other.’ Bottles in hand, he marched from the room. He slammed the door so hard she wondered the boat didn’t roll to its side.
The captain opened his eyes and had no smile behind them.
‘I’ve told Warrington, Melina.’ The captain’s vision didn’t rest on any one thing in the room. ‘I’ve warned him. If he wishes for happiness, he must throw you back to the sea. An appealing woman is no better than a serpent, wishing to put her fangs in you and suck the life from your body. That is why I like mermaids. They are not true women.’
Captain Ben gave her a smile. ‘Warrington is right. Probably should keep the medicinals from me. I’m beginning to see fins on you.’ He frowned. ‘It is the laudanum making me dream of women. The evil ones.’ He shook his head, shuddering.
‘One,’ he continued, ‘looked like Cassandra and she had a grappling hook in War’s throat.’ He nodded. ‘I keep thinking of the beautiful Cassandra, and then—then I wonder what memories my brother has of her. No woman I’ve seen deserved her fate more. War finally had to keep a companion for her. A big beast of a woman, who stayed near, and would let him know if his wife strayed, or acted out of hand. A gaoler, at Cass’s side every minute, and she deserved it. Early on, at War’s house, I woke up with Cass in my room, on my bed and her hand stroking my cheek. Not a pleasant moment—waking up with a demon in front of you.’
He looked at Melina. ‘It is not that I don’t find you pleasant, Melina. I do. But you sold your body so easily. Cassandra held out for a higher price—and she received it. I’m sure she’s making deals with the devil now.’ He laughed.
Melina kept her voice sweet. ‘Did she ever wish to put a pillow over your face?’
‘I would imagine.’ He spoke the words lightly. ‘When I told her War would believe me over her and to never come near me again.’ He looked around the room. ‘I wish War would not have left with the brandy. It’s not as if he’s still married and needs it.’ He raked his eyes over Melina. ‘Cassandra wouldn’t like knowing you’re in War’s bed.’ He grinned, and then took a breath. ‘Thank you for that. I never expected I’d pity Lucifer, but if he is with Cassandra, he should be wary.’ His eyes were unfocused and he nodded, the slow movements of a man unaware of his surroundings. ‘She might take over Hades.’
Chapter Nine
When Melina returned to Warrington’s cabin, she shut the door behind her in a rush. She had to be thankful Warrington had met her first instead of the easygoing captain—who was not so pleasant when foxed. Cassandra had been called whore in Greek, French, English and some languages Melina didn’t know.
She saw the empty berth, and underneath, empty. Her pulse stuttered and she fell to her knees beside the bed. She stared at the space. Her body couldn’t move, locked in place. The stone was gone.
Warrington. He could not do this to her. The thudding of her heartbeats brought her movements alive again. Warrington could not hide the rock from her. True, she had not kept her bargain well, but the marble was hers. She must have it.
She knelt lower, looking all the way under the berth. She stood, tore at the bedcovers and then opened each cabinet. Nothing. Turning, she ran from the room and rushed to the helm. Warrington stood by Gidley, who steered the ship.
‘My treasure,’ she gasped.
She ignored the startled look in Warrington’s face and grabbed his arm. ‘My treasure. Where have you put it?’ Her hair blew across her lips, but she didn’t brush it aside. ‘Tell me. Now.’ The words came out too slow. She wanted to speak faster. She wanted to have the answer now and he only looked at her, his mouth half-opened and silent.
‘Tell me,’ she insisted, her grip tightening on his arm.
‘Melina. What are you speaking of?’ He took her hands from his arms, stepping back, and pulling her so they faced each other. ‘I’ve not touched the blasted thing. It’s a rock.’
‘It’s gone.’
‘It’s under the berth—resting better than either of us.’
‘No.’ She moved backwards. ‘It’s not. It’s not in the room.’
‘I’m sure it is.’ He nodded to Gidley. ‘I’ll be back as soon as we get this sorted.’
She rushed ahead, not waiting to see if he followed. Maybe she had imagined the loss. Maybe she had become addled from listening to the captain and perhaps the arm still lay wrapped safely.
But when she ran inside the room, leaving the door open behind her—she hadn’t dreamed anything. Her treasure was gone.
Warrington trudged in behind her. She stood silent as he touched the bunk, then repeated her earlier movements, looking through the small space.
After he finished searching, he grasped her shoulder. ‘You are sure you didn’t move it?’
She grabbed on to his waistcoat with both hands. ‘My treasure…’
His mouth pinched. ‘It’s a rock, Melina. Rock. Not treasure.’
She put both palms flat on his chest. ‘It’s a treasure. The French museum curator visited Melos two years ago. He told everyone on the island we might have artefacts buried in the ground. Most of the others ignored him. But I remembered the rocks and seeing the white shards mixed with the dirt, left from a structure long before my grandmother’s time. Every time I could, I went to dig. And then I found the arm, and more. I knew I had discovered what the Frenchman wanted for his collection. Now someone has taken the arm.’
‘Melina. No one on this ship believes the marble is anything but a carved stone. And we’ve all seen carved stones before. And it’s broken. Cracked and chipped both. Any sailor here would prefer a drop of ale to your treasure.’
‘Open your eyes.’ She clenched her fists and wanted to thump at his chest. She would have if it would have done any good.
He touched her chin. ‘Don’t get overly worked up. How is a man going to take the arm from the ship? It’s too big to hide in his shirt or his trousers—and he knows we can search everything he has before he leaves.’
‘You truly believe the marble is worthless?’
He nodded. ‘Why would you think it valuable?’
‘I know more of art than you’d expect.’ She spoke the words softly. ‘My father told me of art constantly. He spoke of nothing else. He’s not dead—at least I don’t think he is.’ Pulling back, she watched his eyes. ‘He’s a painter. Robert Cherroll. Have you heard of him?
Warrington shook his head. ‘I haven’t. But Ben has. At least, he mentioned seeing a painting of you. In London. It showed the birthmark.’
She nodded. ‘I had to sit, for hours and hours, and couldn’t move while he painted. At first, my sister Thessa stood behind him and made faces, but then she grew tired of it and left. I ached from not moving, but I did it. I wanted to see my face on the canvas. My mother wanted to keep it, but he refused. He said some day he’d paint another o
ne, but I knew he wouldn’t. He took it, along with all the artwork he completed on the island. Taking them to England, always, to sell. He had to have funds to support us, he said. The work had to be sold, he would tell us, and leave.’
She backed away but held her shoulders firm. ‘My father once told me of the British Museum.’
She tilted her head. ‘If the stone is seen as a treasure, then both the English and French may want it. Think of it—how much more valuable something is the more it is wanted. I already know the Frenchman will make an offer if he can see part of it. I think the English will, too.’
‘I’ll get it back for you,’ he promised. ‘I’ll spread the word through Gidley and the rest. Your rock is gone. We’re hours from sighting land—but the ship will not dock until the stone is found. You’ll have all the men hunting and one person who will be discovered. But, Melina, it’s only a broken arm.’
She reached a hand out, steadying herself against the wall. ‘But I have the rest of her hidden. I found her under the earth and then I covered her back up. I had lived always with shards of rock around me. The Frenchman made me want to look closer. I found the statue, which has a look of my mother’s face, and behind the eyes I see the thoughts she is trying to tell me. She is polytimos, priceless. When I return for it… If I could get her before Stephanos realised I didn’t intend to stay… And I could take my sisters…’ She shook her head. ‘But now it’s stolen.’
‘The men on Ascalon are good men. Not perfect, but they are loyal. Most have sailed with my brother for years. Ascalon was in those waters to meet with leaders and discuss the possibility of an uprising against the Turks. So, though these men are rough, they’ve been entrusted to an important voyage. They wouldn’t steal a rock that means nothing to them.’
She took the lantern from its hook. ‘I’ll search everywhere myself. I have to find it. I have no choice.’
Warrington followed her while she hunted, moving to each corner of the ship and looking in any space large enough to conceal even half the stone.
She examined the hold where the food stores were kept. Barrels pressed against her back.
‘Melina,’ Warrington said, ‘you’ll set the ship afire again if you aren’t more careful with the lantern. You must stop rummaging about.’
‘I’ll find it. It must be reunited with the statue.’
‘Think, Melina. The stone did not walk out alone. You’ve been throughout the whole ship. Nothing was kept from you. The only place you’ve not examined is Ben’s quarters.’
‘I was there when it disappeared, and besides, he can’t walk. He couldn’t have taken it.’ She put her hand to her head, pushing at a dampened tendril. ‘But that is where it must be. It must have been stored there when I left to look for the piece.’
Warrington took the lantern she held. ‘Not unless Ben was asleep. He would never let someone do that to you, Melina. He might send you about for an imagined stick, but he wouldn’t take your property.’ He guided her along the narrow opening and towards the stairway, to the light and fresher air. She took in a deep breath when she stepped on deck.
The men worked the sails, tugging ropes to tighten them. No one looked her way. No one paused. But their backs turned just a hair more from her. Their faces tensed. They knew quite well where she stood. The ship had little privacy, yet her stone had disappeared.
Warrington moved her into the cabin, hanging the lantern back in place and snuffing it. ‘Forget about the rock and think about how you will proceed without it.’
She stood on the sleeping pallet. Sliding the covers aside with her heels, she put her shoulder to the wall so she’d not stumble with the ship’s movements. Something had addled her. Because she wanted him to hold her like a child and tell her everything would be well. And he was speaking the words, but they would have meant so much more if he held her close.
‘I have no place to go forward without the stone,’ she said. ‘Only backwards.’ She touched over her heart. ‘I feel something for the stone woman. She is still hidden, buried. But I saw her eyes and knew she wanted to be in a place of honour again. And without the arm… I do not know. She was going to save us…’
‘I’ll discover what happened to your treasure, Melina.’ He brushed his knuckles against her cheek, leaving streaks of fire where his fingers trailed, and then he did take her into his arms. ‘Someone on this ship knows and I’ll get the men together and scare it out of them if I have to.’ His steps thumped as he left.
She touched her cheek. He would find it, for her. She knew.
*
When Gidley stood at the cabin door, summoning her, he looked at the wall over her shoulders. ‘Warrin’ton be wantin’ to speak with yer.’
Her stomach churned, even though the ship sailed smooth. ‘My stone?’ she asked, searching his face.
‘He’s thinkin’ he’s found out who took it.’ He raised a hand to silence her. ‘But he be wantin’ to tell yer hisself.’
Gidley turned and walked away, head down. Executioners had more joy in their steps. She followed, a feeling of death grating in the hollows of her heart.
On deck, Warrington stood by Stubby, who’d perched himself at the edge of the ship, his hands sliding along the polished railing and his eyes inspecting the dark flecks inside the wood. He appeared entranced in some imaginary task. Warrington stared at the boy.
‘Where is it?’ she asked, standing an arm’s length from Warrington.
He turned his head to the cabin boy. ‘Come here.’
Stubby moved, taking two dragging steps to stop in front of Melina. He took a deep breath, but didn’t raise his eyes from staring at the deck. ‘I heard it were a treasure, so I went to see it. Like pirate’s gold and silver. But it were evil. I saw it and I knew. Just like the wave.’ He lifted his right hand, making a claw of his fingers, and his mouth moved into a snarl as if he had fangs about to pounce.
‘Evil?’ Melina asked. ‘The arm?’
‘Yes.’ He lowered his hand and raised his eyes. ‘White like a drowned body. The spirit who lost its arm is sendin’ storms and waves to pull us to the deep and drown us dead so it can have its hand back. Nearly took me and Capt’n Ben.’ His gaze, along with his upturned eyes and quaking chest, reminded her of the way her youngest sister had looked when their mother died. ‘You wouldn’t want us drowned, or sunk. I know you wouldn’t want to see me all guts loose and swolled up in my face…’ He puffed his cheeks and held out his arms to show how he would look. ‘I had to throw the rock back to the spirits.’
Melina turned and rushed to the cabin. She imagined the arm sinking, landing with a silent thud into the mud. The filth from below sweeping around it, locking it into a silted grave. Gone for ever. A new death. And it didn’t matter if the arm was exactly as it had been—a world of water prevented her from ever seeing it again. It existed, but was as lost as if it had been crushed into sand.
The arm could never be reunited with the marble woman who stood larger than a true female, with a covering draped low on her hips. The English museum would not want a statue of an armless goddess, even this majestic one.
She still wanted the statue and she’d return to it, if only to see her mother’s face. But her hopes of wresting it from the island were now at the bottom of the sea.
She could have stayed with Stephanos—given him marriage in exchange for the carving. But her mother would not have wanted that. She wouldn’t have wanted Melina to have been trapped by the rock.
Now Melina wished she could run her fingers over the statue’s countenance again. To feel her mother’s presence and the life behind the stone eyes.
The statue appeared so serene. Her hair pulled up into a bun. One shoulder raised slightly more than the other. Breasts free. The covering around her hips sliding low, about to fall. Unconcerned she no longer had arms to hold the draped cloth for modesty.
Melina concentrated on the statue’s face, trying to ease her own trembling limbs.
Freedom from Stepha
nos might have been more costly than she expected. At least the women on Melos who sold their bodies were able to return to normal when the ships left. Her life couldn’t return to the way it was. If she returned home now, penniless, her value would be nothing. A failure, and not just for herself. For her mother. And her sisters.
Melina had sold her body—something she swore she’d never do. She’d left her sisters, after promising her dying mother she’d care for them. And the dowry she’d hoped to gain for them was gone because now she’d have no proof of finding anything but dirt. The statue might as well be resting in the muck.
She didn’t have enough time to try again, even if she could lift the entire statue. Her sisters were too beautiful to be ignored.
She struggled to breathe, feeling the same silt and water choke her that now clasped the marble.
*
Warrington leaned against the door in Ben’s cabin and his brother sat in the berth. In hours they’d be docked. From a quick perusal of his brother, Warrington saw clear eyes. Now Ben yelped when he moved. A good sign.
But Warrington was more concerned about Melina than he was of Ben. Melina had not been the same since the arm was lost.
‘The quartermaster will bring the physician…’ Ben said. ‘Besides, I’m on the mend. Gid will see to the rest. Go meet with the Foreign Office. They’ll need to know of your negotiations. And don’t worry about me. Gidley knows how to take over my duties and he’ll watch me as close as he would his own son.’
Ben’s words brought Jacob into Warrington’s mind. He’d still not be seeing him for a few days. He didn’t relish the chore that would meet him when he arrived home. The voyage hadn’t vanquished Cassandra from his memory. It had only raised more questions in his mind.
And he would help Melina find her father. But her body could put his obsession of Cassandra to rest. He’d made sure never to be in Ben’s cabin again while Melina was there. Ben would have been able to take one look at his older brother’s face and know lust crashed into Warrington every time he looked at Melina. But he would control it.
