Mermaid

by Carolyn Turgeon

  Even on her wedding day, as the seamstresses frantically made last-minute adjustments to her gown, and as Edele rushed about helping with final details, Margrethe’s heart was numb. All she could think of was Lenia and her child, trying to imagine what kind of world she would have come from, filled with mermaids, in the sea.

  Margrethe’s mind kept going back and back to those moments on the beach. To that image of Lenia bent over Christopher that first day, the look on her face as she kissed him. It had been that, hadn’t it? That feeling that had made her leave her own world and come to him? Even a mermaid could want that, leave an unimaginably beautiful world behind, for a feeling like that.

  She thought of the agony on Lenia’s face as she lay contorted on the bed, unable to scream. It was unthinkable to Margrethe that a mermaid would suffer. That she herself could be so central to that suffering.

  “Why are you crying?” Edele asked, motioning for the seamstresses to stop. “Do you need to rest?”

  “No,” Margrethe said, shaking her head. “I am just emotional, on such an important day. My wedding day.” She paused and then asked, “Where is Astrid?”

  Edele gave her a look. “My friend. This is your wedding day. You should not think of her now.”

  Margrethe nodded. She was numb with grief, and there was nothing she could do to lessen it. She could not forsake her kingdom for one girl, and yet. In her deepest heart, she felt there was nothing more important in the world than a mermaid who had come to earth.

  “Why are you so upset? You are getting married!”

  “This is not how I would have liked to be married.”

  “Forget her,” Edele said. “I know it is hard, but he is a prince, it is his way. He loves life, and he was with her before you came, and it was you he chose, in the end.”

  “But he did not have a choice,” Margrethe said. And then she turned to her friend. “Edele, I have something to tell you.”

  THE WEDDING WAS a splendid affair. Every man laid down his arms before entering the church. The two kings stood on either side of the altar. The priest, dressed in the finest sacramental vestments, spoke beautifully about the union of South and North, of husband and wife.

  Margrethe and Christopher walked down the aisle together. Margrethe trailed a long silver lace veil behind her. When they reached the altar and turned to each other, Christopher lifted the veil from Margrethe’s face.

  She did not know what to feel as she looked at him, as he took her hand in his and slipped the ring on her finger. Her heart was in pieces. She loved him, and there was the chance, now, finally, for a new world. But the cost! One creature, and the possibility of everything beautiful crushed along with her.

  “You are now man and wife,” the priest said. “You share the same soul, the same blood.”

  The same soul, the same blood.

  Christopher leaned over and kissed her. She closed her eyes and felt his lips press against hers, his warm mouth. Despite everything, the feel of his mouth on hers thrilled her. She imagined, for a moment, that they were back in the garden with snow falling all around, that he had been able to stay, to kiss her, that there had been no kings and kingdoms, but her heart was broken now and she could not pretend otherwise.

  After the wedding and feasting, Prince Christopher and Princess Margrethe were escorted to the bridal chamber by a formal procession led by both kings and, in front of them, the priest.

  And then, finally, they were alone.

  She turned to face him. Her face was radiant with love, the way the mermaid’s had been when she leaned over him. But she felt she was watching as if from a distance, as if she were an angel hovering in the corner of the room.

  His voice was soft. “I am sorry for what you have had to endure here,” he said. “But we will be happy. We will create a new world.”

  She turned around so he would not see the grief in her face, and he unlaced her dress, let it slip. “I love you,” he said, whispering into her neck.

  She closed her eyes, imagined she was underwater. Felt his hands move over her.

  And she imagined it was her, swimming through the water, her skin as thick and beautiful as a gem, with his body in her arms.

  AFTER, SHE WATCHED him as he slept. Even through her sadness and guilt, she loved him. But she could not stop thinking of Lenia and Christina. She moved, gently lifting his arm from her shoulder and unwrapping it.

  “I will be back,” she whispered, kissing his cheek.

  She pulled on a nightdress and took a small torch from the side of the bed, then slipped past the guards stationed outside the door.

  “Princess Margrethe,” one of them said, bowing. “It is not safe for you to go out right now. May I escort you somewhere?”

  “Remain where you are,” she said, pushing past them before they could protest.

  She moved swiftly through the castle, to Lenia’s room. The sound of Christina crying filled the corridor. She knocked on the door and pushed her way in.

  The wet nurse sat with the baby at her breast. Trying, without success, to comfort her. Lenia was not there.

  “Where is she?” Margrethe asked.

  The woman looked up, terrified, and awkwardly went to stand, cradling the child. “Your Highness,” she said.

  “No, please,” Margrethe said, stretching out her hand, gesturing for her to sit down. “Do not get up. Tell me where your mistress is.”

  The woman sat down. She was flustered to have the baby in her arms and Margrethe standing over her. The room smelled of milk.

  “I do not know, Your Highness. She was acting strange. She left the child with me. She seemed upset. She seemed to want me to take care of the child.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She left. She seemed in a hurry to leave. I don’t know when she is coming back.”

  Panic swept through Margrethe. “And you did not tell anyone?” Her voice was shrill and too loud.

  “This baby has been crying, she will not stop crying. I did not …” The woman was struggling, the child squirming in her arms. She was nearly in tears.

  “Do not worry,” Margrethe said, making her voice soft. “Take care of the child. I will find her. Everything will be fine.”

  Margrethe left, wracking her brain. What if Lenia had hurt herself?

  She ran down the stone steps, past the great hall, searching frantically through the hush of the castle at night. The castle was so wide and empty, the cavernous corridors of marble and stone. It was like running through a graveyard. The busts of ancestors all around. The people who had lived once and were no more.

  The queen’s chapel was empty.

  She turned and raced to the great doors that led to the sea. Two soldiers stood at the doors, immediately bowed to her.

  “Have you seen Astrid?” she asked.

  “She was here earlier. She is often out here at night—”

  Margrethe took off running before the guard could finish, out the gate and down the pathway. The sea spread in front of her, shining like oil.

  She arrived at the docks. The ocean was like a living thing, breathing in and out. Lenia was nowhere in sight.

  Away from the docks, farther from the castle, there was the clutch of trees where she’d found the glimmering stone. Just past it, she saw a faint figure sitting, farther down the beach. Her blond hair was bright under the moon. The relief was so intense Margrethe almost passed out.

  Silently, she made her way down to Lenia, careful to remain out of view, to let the trees shield her. As Margrethe approached, she saw that her friend was in a light shift, her hair blowing in the soft breeze. By the water like this, she looked almost as she had that morning, all those months ago, holding the prince. She was gazing out over the water, gesturing as if someone were there with her.

  And then, as she moved closer, Margrethe gasped.

  There, in the water, were mermaids. Five mermaids, all together, near the shoreline. Their bald heads glittering, as if coated in diamonds. They had ga
thered around Lenia, looking up to her, speaking to her, and Lenia was kneeling before them.

  Margrethe had never seen anything so beautiful.

  Tears came to Margrethe’s eyes and ran down her cheeks. She could feel herself trembling. For a moment, she forgot everything else. Only this: the mermaids glittering in the sea, under the starry sky.

  Her feet were bare on the rocks. She crept closer. They were speaking. Even the faint sounds of their voices—she could not yet hear them—sounded like music. She remembered the poem she’d recently reread, telling of Odysseus lashed to the mast so that he would not die from listening to the Sirens’ song.

  As she moved closer, she could hear their voices, and they sounded like angels. She could see, then, that Lenia was crying.

  “Lenia, you must do it. We are here to save you, Sister. Please let us save you.”

  Lenia shook her head, tears running down her face.

  Margrethe watched, mesmerized. The mermaids’ voices shivered through her whole body.

  “We have been watching you. He is married now, Sister, and at dawn you are to turn to foam. That was the deal you made. Sybil told us everything. It is only a few hours now. We begged her to save you. She said there was one way to save you, and for payment she took our hair.”

  One of the mermaids pulled a knife from the water. A shining silver sliver, like the moon. “If you spill his blood, Sister, cut through his skin and let his blood spill on your legs, your legs will become a tail again, the spell will reverse, and you can return to us. That is the only way. You must spill his blood.”

  Lenia was frantically shaking her head, gesturing, struggling to speak.

  “But, Lenia, you will die otherwise.”

  “Please, Sister!”

  They were all talking at once now, crying, pleading, and Lenia was on the shore wracked with sobs. Margrethe could barely even think of Christopher now, though she knew somewhere inside her that he was in mortal danger. There was a part of her that would sacrifice him, herself, everything for this right now.

  One of the sisters approached, the knife gleaming in her hands. She pushed up to the water’s edge. As she moved, her tail slowly came into view, flashing in the moonlight.

  Margrethe lost her breath then, remembering how she’d felt when she saw Lenia on the shore that first time. Nothing had been the same since that moment. The pure love and hope she had felt then. The unbearable beauty of it.

  Lenia took the knife and turned. She reached back and tossed it in the air, past the trees. It landed in the sand, near Margrethe. Winking and glinting.

  “No!” one of the sisters cried. “Lenia! He is only a man! He will die soon anyway. Think of all the years you have left to live.”

  “He did not love you, Sister. He is not our kind. Come back to us!”

  As quietly as she could, Margrethe slipped across the sand and picked up the knife. It was heavy, so heavy she almost dropped it, and it burned to the touch.

  Then she sank back down in the sand, to watch.

  The sisters all floated in the water now, reaching for the shore, their arms long and shining. “Lenia, you cannot die for him,” one of them said. “Please, it is nearly dawn.”

  Margrethe watched Lenia as she reached for her sisters’ hands. She could tell by their faces—sad and beautiful in the starlight—that they all knew Lenia would never do what they were asking.

  Suddenly, Margrethe snapped out of the trancelike state she was in, herself almost hypnotized by the sirens’ voices. Dawn, the mermaid sister had said. The sun would come up soon, and the sisters were waiting now, all of them, for Lenia to turn to foam.

  She had refused to kill Christopher to save her own life. Christina would stay behind, motherless, in the castle, bastard child of the prince.

  It came to Margrethe, right then, what she had to do, and she turned back toward the castle and started to run.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The Mermaid

  THE SKY WAS A DEEP, BRILLIANT BLUE, MELTING INTO THE dark ocean, which was calm now, nearly still. The stars pulsed and shimmered, an orchestra of light. In the distance, the barest hint of color played on the horizon. The promise of a new day.

  Now, sitting on the beach, Lenia remembered the first sunrise she saw, swimming toward land with the prince in her arms. The miracle of all of it—his warm skin, his beating heart, and the sky opening, splitting into colors she’d never before seen or imagined. How new and wonderful it had all been. By now, she had watched many sunrises in the upper world. All those mornings, just before dawn, when she’d wrapped herself in a robe and left the prince’s bed as he was sleeping next to her, when she’d walked slowly through the sleeping castle to the gallery windows overlooking the sea. Standing there, still feeling his mouth and hands on her skin, smelling the perfume of the flowers, feeling the salt breeze that swept up from the sea.

  She smiled, remembering.

  Now there was nothing left to do but wait. Grief sparked in every bit of her body, every cell, but she savored it, that love and pain, the ache in her body to hold her daughter, because in moments it would vanish from the earth forever, and she with it. But right now, for this minute, she was alive.

  In front of her, in the water, her sisters were quiet, too, waiting for the sun to rise. She knew they had sacrificed much in order to save her, but it had been her decision to come to this world, and she could not punish the prince for it.

  Behind Lenia, the castle rose into the sky, and inside, she knew her baby was safe. She understood now that it was Christina she had felt when the prince kissed her and moved his body inside of hers. It was not the prince’s soul that had entered her but this new one. This was her immortal life.

  Thilla came toward her then, and the others followed. Lenia stood and walked slowly into the sea, and one by one her sisters said good-bye. Thilla, Bolette, Regitta, Nadine, and Vela. Her beautiful sisters, who would have done anything to save her but could not convince her to shed her beloved’s blood.

  A peacefulness came over her. Soon she would become nothing at all. This was the thing she had been most afraid of. She had given up everything she’d ever known for the possibility of love and eternal life, a soul. She stared up at the stars. The mystery of them, as mysterious as the ocean was, here in the upper world. None of these people could ever know what she knew, the world that lay deep within the sea. And she would never know, not now, the mystery that awaited them after death.

  She would return to the sea, where she had always belonged, like all who had come before her.

  BUT SUDDENLY THERE were sounds behind her on the beach, footsteps and voices and crying. She turned to warn her sisters, but they had already cloaked themselves in mist.

  It was Margrethe, with Edele just behind her. And in Margrethe’s arms, Christina.

  Lenia felt her whole body lurch with horror. No! Lenia gestured to them. Go back!

  Even as she tried to stop their approach, Christina saw her, her blue eyes resting on her mother, and she reached out her tiny, shimmering arms.

  No!

  The sky was shifting, illuminating the mist that surrounded her.

  “Lenia!” Margrethe cried. “I know what is happening. I know you are waiting to die here.”

  Lenia looked at Margrethe, confused, as Margrethe pulled something from her pocket.

  “You do not have to die!”

  The knife shone, like a sliver of the moon fallen to earth.

  Lenia tried to scream, opening her mouth. No! All she could see was Margrethe, the knife, and her own daughter so helpless in Margrethe’s arms. Panic rose in Lenia, sweeping through every vein.

  “Lenia. I am a married woman now. His soul is my soul. His blood is my blood.”

  Just as Lenia launched her body forward, reaching for Christina, even as her own body began to shift and change with the first rays of the sun … Margrethe carefully handed Christina to Edele, then dropped to the ground, took the blade, and pressed it against her thigh.<
br />
  His soul is my soul. His blood is my blood.

  Edele screamed as blood flowed down Margrethe’s legs.

  “I will take care of Christina,” Margrethe gasped. “I will raise her as my own child, and she will know her father, and she will grow up to be great and strong. I promise you this.”

  Lenia ran forward and dropped next to the princess, taking Margrethe’s head in her hands.

  “Why have you done this?” Lenia cried. And her voice, the words, rang out clear and bright in the air. Her voice. She clutched her own throat, nearly choking on the sound. She looked down. Saw Margrethe’s blood falling on her own legs. A wound glistened from Margrethe’s thigh, and her blood, bright and shining, spilled over her, soaking her dress, dripping at Lenia’s feet.

  Christina was crying, Edele screaming for help.

  The sun rose in the sky.

  And then it came. The searing pain of her body dissolving. The sky was orange and pink and blue, a million colors melting together. She stared up at her crying daughter, and everything broke all at once: her heart, her skin, the sky, the whole world, shattering, and her daughter’s cries above all of it.

  She prayed then, for the first time, for nothingness. To turn to foam, become absorbed by the great ocean, and forget.

  And then everything went black and, finally, her body was free from pain.

  SHE OPENED HER eyes onto the sky. Blinking at the sky. The sun on the horizon, glowing. She felt the earth beneath her. The sky an array of orange and yellow and blue. Long streaks across it, the stars hidden now.

  She closed her eyes. She felt she was in a dream, wondered if these were the in-between moments as she left one realm and entered another, as her body melted to foam.

  But nothing happened. The earth remained hard under her back.

  She opened her eyes. Thilla was leaning over her.

  “You’ve come back to us,” she said. Her face was so beautiful, her huge eyes as close to human tears as they could ever be, brimming with relief and love. Her hair gone only made her face more striking, her shimmering skin …