by Cheri Lasota
“I knew in my heart that Marquês Cheia was paying Branco to make such promises—he’s come into his father’s wealth now, and no one but a marquês would have the power to manipulate such a high-ranking Freemason like Branco—but I couldn’t admit it to myself.”
“No, I don’t believe it. Diogo may be unprincipled, but—”
“He knows something about me, Tristan. Something I’ve long kept hidden. He used that knowledge to his advantage, to force me to give Arethusa to him.”
Then it was true, Arethusa thought. True all along that Pai had not really wanted her to marry Diogo.
“Meu Deus,” Tristan said in a quiet voice. Then he asked the question that was also in Arethusa’s mind. “What was this secret?”
“It is enough to say that I almost fell into the trap that Cheia had set for all of us. And still, I don’t know if he truly is who he says he is or if he has merely deceived us. But he certainly knew my weakness and used it to get close to her. The marquês covered every contingency, save one.”
“Yes?”
“Arethusa. He does not know the love I feel for that girl. And I don’t think I knew it either, until I saw her face in the carriage on the way to the bullfight and learned of Diogo from her own hand. When I saw her fear, I knew this could not be the right path.”
“How can it be? Pai, if the myths are connected, should I not also be Alpheus?”
The moment Tristan said the words, she remembered her vision aboard the Sea Nymph. Mãe might have seen Diogo’s eyes, but she had seen Tristan’s. She was sure of it. But only one vision seemed to reflect the truth. Which one?
“I had always believed you to be Alpheus, Tristan, just as I was. But Cheia—he knew far too much, things he should not have been privy to. I am unsure what to make of it.”
“No matter who he is, we can’t let him near her again, Pai.”
“No, we cannot.”
A long silence descended, and Arethusa leaned her head against the wall. Though their words were a comfort, she didn’t know if she’d ever feel safe from Diogo. And if he was Alpheus, could she ever truly be rid of him? The myths seemed to be controlling them all. She wondered if any of the emotions she felt were her own, for was she not Isolde and the nymph as well? And Tristan—did he love her for herself alone, or for the myths inside her?
She heard Pai’s hoarse voice again. “Your stories—those of Tristan and Arethusa—were once mine, but I gave them to you, so that you could fulfill the destiny I had lost. I wonder now if I was wrong to do so.
“But three years ago, when I saw you dancing the São Macaio together, I saw how it was between you. And when I heard your names, I saw in an instant what I could do. I wanted to save this young girl from more suffering and knew that if I raised you both in my home, you would always be near her, and I could guide you and give you time to let your love grow. Such things I never had and wished to give to you.”
“But Pai, the church forbids—”
“Marriage by affinity, forbidding marriage between unrelated siblings. Yes, I know.” Pai’s voice grew tense. “Do you think I did not consider the difficulty that as my children your union would be frowned upon?”
“But how—?”
“I have made provisions and a way for you. It is a path that has been waiting for you since the day you came to live here.”
“What provisions?”
“The answers are coming, but give me time. With these questions, you are asking me to let go of many secrets that I have long kept hidden. But have no fear of loving Arethusa. I tell you now, no one can forbid it.”
Another long silence descended.
“Who was this lady you lost?” Tristan finally asked.
Arethusa heard another hacking cough come over Pai, and she wondered if she should send again for the doctor.
“Isolde,” he said at last. “Her name was Isolde the Fair.”
“Are you all right?” Tristan said.
“Fine—fine.”
“Pai, after all that’s happened, I—I am anxious to ask—”
“Ask.”
“May I have your blessing, then, as it concerns Arethusa?”
At Tristan’s words, Arethusa leaned back against the wall and raised her eyes. Goddess, you have answered my prayer.
“You love her?”
“I think I’ve loved Arethusa since the moment she opened her eyes to me on that beach all those years ago.”
Arethusa bit her lip, feeling her heartbeat shifting its speed.
“And thinking I could not have her, I almost married Isabel in the hope that I could forget her.”
“As I tried and failed to do with my own Isolde.” Pai’s laugh was tinged with bitterness. “Don’t reproach yourself. Your fate was not meant to be easy. But you have come to see Arethusa now with new eyes and that is good.”
“I have felt the bond between us since I met her, but I didn’t understand it. I’ve hurt her so many times... I don’t deserve her, but always—always—I have loved her.”
Arethusa’s hand slipped over the secret smile that leapt to her mouth. She closed her eyes but still the tears came.
“Yet everything has changed,” Tristan said.
“Yes?”
“I feel the call of the myth. I sense it is time to fulfill it.”
“Then we must not delay. But Arethusa—there are things she must know before you ask for her. There are things I must say to you as well. And when all is done...” His voice faded.
“What is it?”
“Soon. I will tell you soon.”
*
The next day, when Arethusa awoke, a letter lay propped on her bedside table. She recognized her name written in Pai’s handwriting.
Peculiar... why did he not send for me?
She tore open the envelope and saw that it contained a pair of keys and a sealed letter. She recognized Pai’s hand in the lettering.
Dearest Arethusa,
I write to you now because some things must not be said but written when the hand is steady and the heart is sure. My illness has afforded me a great deal of time to reflect on my life. I have kept a truth from you, and, in the keeping, I have torn myself apart and almost destroyed you. My God, how I’ve failed you out of fear.
I would have you and Tristan ride out today as soon as may be. I beg you not to question this or ask a reason. Ride to the village of Agualva and go to my father’s old house on the hill at the outskirts of the village. I told you I had no family on the islands save my brother, but that was not always so. The house has been abandoned since my mother’s death, but I have left you the key.
From there, seek out my favorite childhood haunt. It is deep in the woods, about a kilometer north of the house. Look for a small river and follow it until you come to a large flat rock overhanging a deep pool on the west side of the bank. Near that rock you will find a tree with Per Ardua Ad Astra carved into it.
If you dig one meter from the foot of the tree in front of the carving you will find a box. The second key will open its lock. What you find in the box is yours to do with as you please, but say nothing to Inês.
Always know that I love you both. God has given you to me as a test and a mercy: I am grateful.
Com Afeição,
Pai
Arethusa read the letter again in earnest, trying to understand Pai’s instructions. What had he been hiding all these years? And why was it veiled in such secrecy? Arethusa lingered so long that Teresa knocked on her door to hurry her to breakfast. Remembering her father’s admonishment to make haste, Arethusa finished dressing and made her way to the breakfast table.
“Bom-dia, little nymph.” Tristan’s smile was stunning.
Arethusa smiled back, her remembrance of yesterday’s revelations clinging to her like sunlight.
Teresa entered from the kitchen bearing a large bowl of sweet-smelling fruits. Arethusa passed her a quick note saying that the two of them wished to eat breakfast in the sitting room with as much p
rivacy as possible. Her talk with Tristan would be difficult enough without prying ears nearby.
Teresa’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Sim, Senhorita,” she said with a quick glance at Tristan, and then she bustled back into the kitchen without another word.
Arethusa motioned for Tristan to follow her to the small breakfast table usually reserved for Pai and the condessa. She looked out to sea, which still reflected the lingering glory of the sunrise. The slow roll of the waves was a familiar comfort.
Tristan sat beside her. She handed him the letter, motioning for him to read. Teresa carried over a tray laden with fresh bread, goat’s cheese, milk, and tea. To Arethusa’s relief, she said nothing and exited with haste.
Arethusa kept her eyes to the sea. She wanted to see his reaction to the letter, but she didn’t wish to unnerve him. When he looked up, it wasn’t confusion or intrigue she saw there but a genuine tenderness. “I will take you to Agualva as soon as you wish.”
When she could make no answer, he took her into a soft embrace. “Pai loves you. He always has,” he whispered, pulling back to look in her eyes. “No matter what you find in Agualva, I think he would always want you to remember that.”
Arethusa wanted his arms around her, wanted his mouth on hers, but she only nodded. Even now, he seemed forbidden to her. Diogo came into her mind then, and she wondered why he had not come to claim her. Does he wait for me in the shadows as he has always done?
Arethusa felt she must finally tell Tristan her story, the myth of Alpheus and Arethusa. She no longer wanted to keep anything from him. He might love her but until he knew what her vow to the Goddess meant—the sacrifice of her virtue, the promise to Alpheus—he could not truly know her.
She wrote Tristan a note. We should go, but will you come to the cave with me first? I must show you something.
“Yes, I will come, though I may have a little difficulty on the ladder,” he said, pointing to his bandaged waist.
Arethusa bit her lip. She had forgotten about his injury. She shook her head, but he sliced his hand through the air.
“No, I’m going. This is the first time you’ve asked me to come with you. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
Arethusa smiled.
As they made their way down the rope ladder at the cliffs, the sea breeze broke fresh off the relentless waves, causing the ropes to sway and creak. Arethusa worried that Tristan would reinjure himself, but, when they reached the bottom, Tristan flashed her a crooked smile and laughed. “See? Made it down without a scratch.”
She gave him a mock scowl.
“I’ll be fine. I have some of my strength back.”
“Do I get to snoop about in your mysterious hideaway at last?” Tristan said conspiratorially.
Arethusa playfully hit him on the arm.
“Don’t worry,” he said, winking at her. “Your secrets are safe with me.”
His words reminded Arethusa of the night Diogo had come to spy on her. His brazenness had filled her with fear and doubt that night, but, here was Tristan, offering his hand to her as she climbed into the darkness. She held out her hand to stop him from entering as she turned to find the key for the trunk.
While she searched for the lantern and flint, Tristan peered in, squinting. “I forgot how cramped it is in there. Are you sure there’s room for us both?”
She made a face and motioned him inside just as the lantern light chased away the gloom of the cave.
Arethusa sat on her little stone seat as Tristan crouched low. She rummaged in her trunk for the right journal.
“My old trunk from the orphanage! I didn’t recognize it the last time we...” his voice trailed off.
Arethusa knew he remembered their last conversation in the cave. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks at the memory of the stolen kiss, how she had pushed him away.
There were so many unspoken thoughts behind Tristan’s smile. “I forgot I had given you my trunk.” He frowned. “I’ve been wondering...” He pulled the moonstone out from under his shirt and held it up to the lantern light. “How did you come by the pendant again?”
Arethusa dreaded the question, though she knew it would come. It was time to tell Tristan the truth. She pulled out the journal in which she had written down the story of Alpheus and Arethusa.
Flipping to a new page, she wrote as Tristan followed her pencil with his eyes. Diogo stole the moonstone all those years ago. And I saw him again the night before you did, when I returned from the cave with my feet hurt. After I escaped—
Tristan stayed her pencil with his hand. “Escaped? Did he hurt you?”
I outran him that night. She self-consciously ran her fingers over her throat. But he has hurt me before, Tristan. On the Sea Nymph. You remember the finger marks on my neck?
Incredulity lit a fire in his eyes. “Why? Why would he do such a thing? I thought he loved you.”
How can I speak for him? A powerful evil drives him, and I fear it like nothing else.
He shook his head in frustration. “Why did you not come to me sooner? You’ve been in danger, Arethusa. All this time. If I had known...”
Arethusa winced, feeling herself a fool for having kept this secret so long.
“He will never come near you again.” Anger swept through Tristan’s body like a tremor, and the muscles in his jaw clenched. “I swear it.”
“Thank you,” she mouthed. At his questioning frown, she wrote, For loving me that much.
“I do love you.” He grasped her arm. “You’re my Isolde now, remember?”
Arethusa’s insides felt a jolt, and, for a moment, Tristan simply gazed at her. She forced herself not to turn away. The warmth of those eyes for once seeming hers and hers alone. He leaned closer. It reminded her of Diogo in the marketplace during the festa. In the fruit stand. Leaning close.
No, she thought. I will renounce my name if I have to, but I have not done so yet.
Arethusa put a finger to his lips. He looked at her in surprise.
Hear my story first, she wrote.
“No, I won’t be denied this time. I’ve waited—”
She shook her head, mouthing, “Please?”
Her rejection was dimming the light in his eyes. “What is it?”
She sighed, feeling sorry for his frustration, but set her pen to tale.
I want you to re-read the story of your namesake. There is something you must know about it. Something I have never told you. She opened the journal to the right page and handed it to Tristan.
He gave her a wary look but began to read. When he finally looked up from her journal, his eyes searched her face. “Arethusa,” he said simply. “That isn’t your real name, is it?”
She shook her head slowly and took a deep breath, the words she needed to say imprisoned once again in her mouth. I had been waiting for this name for many years, she wrote in response. Mãe, herself, was Arethusa before me. She has found her Alpheus, but now she will have me live out the myth, too, with or without my consent.
“You still have a choice,” Tristan said.
I made a vow to the Goddess that night. A promise that I am unsure can ever be undone.
“Promise? What did you promise her?”
That I would give myself to Alpheus for eternity.
“What?” Bitterness rose up suddenly in his voice.
It was a torture to write of it now, knowing that she couldn’t go back in time, couldn’t change the decision she had made. You must understand the full truth of it, Tristan. The Goddess chose Diogo Cheia.
“What do you mean?”
Why did he make her write it again? My mother had a vision of Diogo. She saw that he would become Alpheus.
“No. No, I don’t believe that.”
I didn’t believe it at first, but all the signs tell me that it is true.
He leaned back as though she had struck him, crushing the note in his fist. “Meu Deus, Arethusa... How could you do it?”
She shook her head, moved to grasp his arm. H
e yanked away.
I made that promise before I even met you—
Tristan pulled the pencil from her hand and shook his head. “Nothing matters now. If he is Alpheus, then—” He didn’t finish but threw the note down into the sand outside and blew out a ragged breath. Then his hands clenched at his sides and his face twisted into a sneer. “Damn Diogo! And damn Isabel!” He spit out their names as if to rid them from his body.
“I see it all now—Diogo used Isabel’s wiles to hurt you and beguile me.” He gave her a harsh smile. “I was just a pawn in his game to take you.”
Exquisite sorrow moved through his eyes, the same eyes she had seen in her vision. She wanted to write to him of what she had seen, but he still had her pencil in his hand. It seemed he wanted to reach out to her, but he shook his head again and raked his hands through his hair.
“We must go. We’ve wasted too much time here.” He moved out of the cave and when he came out into the light again, the wind whipped his blond hair about his forehead.
Arethusa emerged from the cave but stood unmoving on the sand, watching him stride away, his long lean form becoming an apparition as he disappeared beyond the next bend in the shore.
ARETHUSA AND TRISTAN ARRIVED IN THE SMALL village of Agualva in the late afternoon, as the sun’s rays slanted sideways on the houses, casting a rosy island hue on the cobblestone streets, the dappled trees, the people’s faces. The black-stoned house was situated in a valley on the outskirts of Agualva. It sat atop a sloping hill with a view of the bustling village to the south while to the north Arethusa caught a glimpse of the cobalt ocean. From this direction and distance, the sea had the look of a great scrying bowl. She wondered if the answers were out there somewhere in those waters, answers she was afraid to learn.