The Sea King’s Daughter

by Barbara Michaels

  “All right,” I said. “Let’s try to stick to the subject, shall we? Jim is worried about my swimming alone, and he has every right to worry. All I want from you is your word that you won’t leave me alone. You aren’t a lot of help, but you’re better than nothing.”

  “Very well,” said Frederick. “I will agree to be present while you are in the water. Is that what you want?”

  “That’s all. I want to be reasonable-”

  “Then I must agree. I have no choice.” Frederick rose. “Have you any other demands?”

  “I’m not making demands. I just-”

  “Then we are agreed. Good night.”

  It wasn’t a good night. I slept badly. There was no reason why I should have felt guilty. His attitude was completely unreasonable. But I did feel guilty-and upset. Mother had said she left Frederick because he cared only for his work. I had been pretty naïve to accept that. Had he hurled words like that at her every time she flirted a little or let a friend hold her hand longer than was strictly necessary?

  When I finally fell asleep I dreamed, and a Freudian would have found the subject matter of the dream perfectly predictable. I was back in the foul den where the Minotaur waited, and Theseus stood ready to face him. Only Theseus wasn’t an anonymous Greek hero. He was Jim. I saw the sweaty pallor of his face and the way his eyebrows were drawn together, in a capital M. I was myself, and I was Ariadne, the Most Holy, sick with a complex of terrors no modern woman could wholly comprehend. Not only had I betrayed my father for the love of a stranger, an enemy; I had betrayed the goddess, whose priestess I was. The stranger would end the old worship. His barbaric people preferred male gods, and he was the son of Poseidon himself. The Earthshaker would do battle for his son; but which of his sons would he support? The Minotaur was born of the sacred bull, which was Poseidon’s incarnation… Then the stinkingdarkness in the heart of the maze moved, and the bull roar shattered the silence and shook the ground.

  I woke with a shriek, to find Frederick shaking my shoulder. I shrank away from him, because he was the sea king, whom I had betrayed.

  “What is the matter with you?” he asked irritably.

  I swallowed.

  “Bad dream,” I mumbled.

  “Oh. Hurry and get up.”

  We made our way along the path in a silence that was passive, if not amicable. I could tell by Frederick ’s expression and his occasional side-long glances that he had gotten over his anger and would have apologized, if he had been that sort of man. I let my eyes travel along the slope of the hill, with its multicolored strata of rock and gray-green veils of vegetation. The sky was a deep, cloudless blue and the sea below a pale emerald, deepening to sapphire farther out. It was a beautiful morning. I realized, with surprise, that I was going to miss some of this when I got home.

  For the first time in days my buddy Alice wasn’t waiting for me. I looked around, and finally I saw the familiar blue-and-white shape. We went on together. I was almost in the exact center of the bay when I found the second amphora.

  I was investigating a pile of fallen rock-lava fragments, by the look of them-when I saw the rounded curve of the side and a flash of brilliant color. The orange-red band was like the decoration on the first pot I had found. I brushed away drifted sand and the ornament of the lower part appeared-an octopus, sprawling brown-black tentacles around the flank.

  The pot was wedged in by stones. It was a marvel it hadn’t broken, but so far as I could see, it appeared to be intact. The strain in my chest reminded me I was getting short of breath. I had been so excited by the discovery I had stayed down a little too long. I came up and blew the water out of my snorkel. When I looked for Frederick, he was gone.

  I didn’t swear because I didn’t want to waste my breath. But I thought of a lot of bad words. I looked up toward the house and saw what I expected to see-the flash of light on a pair of binoculars. There was no doubt in my mind that Frederick knew the identity of the man in the villa and was reluctant to be seen by him.

  Watcher or no watcher, Frederick or no Frederick, I had to dive once more. I had no intention of trying to remove the amphora, but I had to mark the site; you’d be surprised how easy it is to misplace an object the size of a jar in all that water. I had my nylon line and an inflatable buoy, which is rather like a balloon, only heavier, so I took a deep breath and went down. I should have attached the line and left; but I couldn’t go without seeing what else was down here. The amphora might be another isolated find, or it might be the most visible of a cache of treasures.

  Alice hung around, peering myopically at me, while I pulled the stones away. I was in a hurry, I admit it. I wanted to see what was what, and get out of there. Careless haste causes accidents. But I know now that this accident would have happened sooner or later anyhow.

  I had lifted one of the larger stones when it happened. I saw the flash and felt the sting at the same moment. That was what it felt like, just a sharp tingling sensation; it wasn’t very painful. Then the water started to cloud up.

  I couldn’t believe it. I stared stupidly at the dark stain in the water. It was small at first, spreading out slow tentacles like a little octopus. But it wasn’t an animal, it was liquid, darker and heavier than the water. It was blood.

  It wasn’t the first time I had cut myself. In my own coastal waters coral is omnipresent, and sometimes the damned stuff almost seems to reach out for you. I knew what to do and I did it, moving by pure instinct-a sharp kick that brought me straight up to the surface. I spit out my mouthpiece and headed for shore with my fastest crawl, and I didn’t worry about being seen. I had to get out of the water before the blood attracted some predator. I hadn’t gone ten yards before I knew there was a more pressing danger. Already I felt myself weakening. The cut must have been deeper than I realized. I was losing blood too fast, and shock was having its effect. The water no longer felt warm.

  I was still some distance out when I knew I wasn’t going to make it.

  Everything had slowed down, like a broken movie film. One picture after another flashed through my mind. Not my whole life, in chronological order, just disconnected pictures. The piece of metal, coiled like a spring, that had flashed out and slashed my arm. The empty rock where Frederick should have been. Jim’s smiling face, under that absurd cap with its topknot of plastic flowers. The side of the amphora and the painted octopus, like the spreading shape of blood in the water.

  Then another face, thin and lined, with brown eyes and black hair streaked with white. The face of a man I had never seen before. I recognized him, though. His face and hair were streaming with water, so he had to be Poseidon, come to finish me off. I had invaded his domain and threatened his sovereignty, and now, because I was taking too long to die, he had come to finish the job. A long, sinewy arm reached for my throat. I made a last convulsive effort, trying to avoid that grip, and water closed over my head and invaded my lungs.

  Chapter 10

  I

  WHEN I WOKE UP I THOUGHT AT FIRST I WAS STILL UNDERWATER. Space swam in a clear, cool, green light. Then I saw that there were sea-green curtains at the windows. The shades were drawn against the sunlight. I was lying in a bed; the softness, the smoothness of the sheets added to the illusion. I hadn’t slept in a decent bed for weeks.

  I felt pretty good, except for the ache in my arm. I turned my head. My right arm was bandaged from wrist to elbow. I remembered quite clearly what had happened; I could even reinterpret the facts that had been clouded, toward the end, by my growing weakness.

  The rustle of linen as I turned my head caught the attention of the woman standing by the window. She came toward me. I had already recognized her; the shape was unmistakable. She was wearing a long embroidered robe, slit at the sides.

  “Madame,” I said, with difficulty. My tongue felt as drugged and lazy as the rest of my body.

  “But surely you must call me Kore.” Smiling, she sat down on the edge of the bed. “You are better; that is good. Jürgen has said
you would take no harm. He is an amateur doctor. More amateur than doctor, I tell him.”

  Her smile was no longer aimed at me. I rolled my eyes toward the other side of the bed.

  I had a moment of panic, then; between the two of them I felt imprisoned. But the face of the man who stood looking down at me, though severe and unsmiling, was not frightening. It was, of course, familiar.

  “You brought me in,” I said. “Thank you…”

  “Should I allow you to drown?” He didn’t exactly smile, but the corners of his long, rigid lips relaxed a trifle. At one time he must have been a strikingly handsome man, if you like the military type. He was still lean and broad-shouldered; the streaks of white in his hair only made him appear more interesting. Yet the face was forbidding. His dark eyes fled from mine. He looked at my hands, at the wall, anywhere except directly at me.

  “I was trespassing,” I said weakly. “My fault…”

  “Don’t talk. You are still weak, you have lost much blood. There is no way of giving a transfusion here, but I think there is no need to carry you to a hospital. You are young and strong. Rest is all you require.”

  “But…”

  “What worries you?”

  He took my wrist. His touch was professionally cool; the long fingers, resting lightly on the beating pulse, barely touched me.

  “My…employer. He will worry about me.”

  “Minos,” said Kore. She emitted a tinkle of laughter. “I will inform him. And the other, the young hero, him too I will see. I think he will be the one to worry. Do not fret, child, all will be in order.”

  My eyelids were so heavy; I had to close them, but I didn’t sleep for a while.

  So this man was the mysterious occupant of the villa-the Colonel. Kore had called him Jürgen. A good German name, that one. He was rather intimidating, but his withdrawn manner seemed to be caused by reserve rather than ill will. Certainly I couldn’t complain. He had undoubtedly saved my life.

  He must have had some trouble doing it, too. I had a vague recollection of hitting out, the way I had been trained never, ever, to do when someone was trying to rescue you. I wondered what had brought him to the shore in time to see my floundering progress. Had he been on his way down the cliff?

  Or had he known that an accident might happen?

  I had to dismiss that idea. I couldn’t be sure that the coiled metal spring had been planted. It was an extremely inefficient method of attack; I might have been quick enough to avoid the cutting edge or received a glancing blow. It seemed much more likely that the accident had been just that. Certainly no villain would rush out to rescue his intended victim. If there was a villain, it couldn’t be the Colonel.

  Sleep began to overcome me. My last waking thought could not have invaded a wholly conscious mind; I would have fought to keep it from surfacing.

  If someone wanted to stop my diving, a minor accident would do the job. It was just bad luck that the cut had been so deep and that Frederick had chosen that time to absent himself. And Jim had said, only a few days ago, that he would do whatever he had to do to stop me.

  When I awoke the second time it was evening. Lamplight cast a yellow glow, and the windows were dark squares behind the draperies. As soon as I stirred, Kore came into view.

  “Ah, you are awake. And hungry, perhaps?”

  I was ravenous, and I said as much. Kore beamed.

  “Good, that is good.” She clapped her hands.

  The woman who entered, carrying a tray, wore a neat maid’s uniform. She was middle-aged, with iron-gray hair. Her nationality was questionable, but I thought she was Greek. Obeying Kore’s imperious gesture she placed the tray on a small table, moved it close to the bed, and left.

  Kore pulled up a chair. She had changed clothes again. This outfit was the most gorgeous I had seen yet, a kind of caftan of gold brocade that twinkled with rainbow-colored jewels.

  “Now I feed you,” she said, smiling. “I am a good nurse, I tell you. I do it neatly.”

  “I think I can feed myself,” I said. “In fact, there’s no reason why I should stay in bed.”

  “No, no, you must rest. But you may sit up, if it does not make you faint.”

  She hadn’t been kidding about her talents as a nurse. Deftly she arranged the pillows behind me and helped me raise myself up. Then she spread a linen towel across my lap and lifted the tray into position.

  I don’t remember what the food was, except that there was some kind of soup, thick with barley and lentils, the inevitable fish-and wine. It tasted good, but I had to eat left-handed, which was awkward.

  “He has taken twelve stitches,” said Kore, patting my bandaged arm. “Twelve! It is terrible! No wonder it is hurting. How could you be so clumsy? Always you seem like a…what is the word? A mermaiden, yes; at home in the world of water.”

  “Things happen,” I said vaguely, and put down my fork. The effort had tired me more than I would have believed possible. Kore whisked the tray away and then settled down in a chair by the bed.

  “Did you see Frederick?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes.” Kore giggled. The sound was quite unlike her normal laugh, and for an instant I could almost see her as the young girl she had once been.

  “He has not changed,” she went on. “He said you are to come home. Home! That terrible place, with him to be your nurse! I have told him no, you stay here till you are well.”

  “That’s very kind of you, but I don’t want to impose.”

  “You do not impose.” She leaned forward and put her hand over mine. Like the rest of her, her hands were a little too plump, but I was suddenly conscious of the hard bones in her fingers. “You do not impose,” she repeated, holding my eyes with hers. “It is for me to enjoy you.”

  I knew she didn’t speak English too well, but that phrase struck me unpleasantly. She must have been aware of my distaste; she released my hand and leaned back, the picture of relaxed sophistication.

  “Also I have spoken to Jim,” she went on. “I have been busy today! It was as I said, he was the one who was angry for you. I tell him he may come tomorrow. Not tonight, because you do not look yet so pretty. Tomorrow I make you beautiful for him.”

  “I feel very beautiful,” I said, glancing down at the folds of fabric that-barely-concealed my torso. It was the sort of nightgown I would have expected Kore to wear, pale chiffon, like drifts of cloud.

  “Ah, that-it is old, I throw it away. Tomorrow you will have a better.”

  “You are kind,” I said again. “You make me feel guilty, madame. I had no right to swim in your private bay. And I didn’t thank-the Colonel-for saving me. How did he happen to come when he did?”

  She accepted my name for him without comment.

  “But he watches you often. He is a man; he likes to see a pretty girl, there is no harm in that.” She made a comical face. “I do not look so in a swimming costume, not now. Once… But thatwas long ago. So Jürgen watches you; he says, that is a pretty girl; she swims well. Let her enjoy our water, I will not go for my swim till she finishes, I would not make her think I am bad old man. But today he sees you are hurt. He sees you swim slowly. He rushes down…” Her eyesflashed; she waved her hands excitedly. “It is romantic, is it not? But poor Jürgen is not romantic, he is too old. You do not have to be afraid of him, not when you have a handsome young lover.”

  She had a lot of charm. The story was told with such verve and humor I couldn’t help smiling.

  It was a little unbelievable, though. Her Jürgen must have been on his way down the cliff when he saw I was in trouble; he couldn’t have reached me in time otherwise. And strain my imagination as I might, I couldn’t hear him saying the words she had so gaily attributed to him, or drooling through his binoculars over a girl’s figure.

  But I didn’t really care. I didn’t care about anything; I felt drowsy and warm, and so comfortable… I had forgotten how pleasant it was toenjoy the commonplace comforts of civilization. There was even a plump, smiling m
other type sitting by me, patting my hand.

  The thought of Kore as a motherly type made me want to laugh. And yet there was something maternal about her, under the glittering clothes and expert maquillage.

  “You are sleepy, yes?” She put her hand on my forehead. “Good,” she murmured. “It is good; there is no fever.”

  But her hand did not leave my brow. The fingers moved slowly; I thought of little snakes, squirming. But there was nothing repellent about the idea. I’m not afraid of snakes. I used to have a garter snake whose name was Herman. Snakes aren’t slimy, they are cool and hard and a little rough. Bundles of living muscle, moving…but quickly, not like those white fingers with their gentle, rhythmic caress…

  The pillow under my head was lowered. I lay flat, staring up at a shadowy ceiling. Somewhere a voice was whispering.

  “You are drowsy…you will sleep. And when you sleep, she will awaken, she who has slept so long and found a vessel of rebirth. O Most Holy, guardian of the dancing floor, daughter and maiden, awaken to your ancient heritage and live again!”

  I heard the words. I understood what they meant and knew them for the half-pathetic, half-menacing nonsense that they were. But I was sinking down, down into green watery depths, sinking as if a stone had been tied to my feet; and as the darkness of the deep wrapped around me it was as if I, sinking, passed Another who was rising up out of the sea floor into sunlight.

  II

  Drugged.

  I woke with that word floating on the surface of my mind. Sunlight was bright at the windows. The room was no longer like subaqueous space, it glowed like the green of a forest in broad daylight. My mouth felt dry, but otherwise I was in good shape. I flexed my arm experimentally and got a stab of pain for reward, but it wasn’t as bad as I had expected.

  There had been some drug in the food or the wine. I had no doubts about that; my physical sensations just before I fell asleep had been typical. No worry, no concern, only an illusion of clarity and comfort and understanding. That’s what grass does for some people, at least so they tell me. It didn’t do anything for me except make my mouth taste foul. But I could get addicted to this stuff, whatever it was.