by Liz Tyner
‘You should take care.’ She studied the paths. ‘Do you have weapons on your ship?’
He didn’t answer and took his time turning back to her. His voice was soft. ‘Whatever would I need weapons for?’ He stood as still as the fallen columns at the top of the island.
She let the wind ruffle her hair before she answered, ‘Sea serpents.’
‘Ah, yes.’ His lips turned up the barest amount. ‘Sea serpents. I’ve dealt with them.’
‘They have deadly teeth.’
‘Mine are just as sharp.’ His chuckle both warmed and chilled her at the same time.
To men spilling blood hardly seemed to matter. But she hated the quick death. The suddenness where light went to dark.
Her mother’s brother had been celebrating the birth of a child and everyone had been merry. But someone had said something about the child not favouring the father and, before she even realised anyone was truly angry, a knife had slashed through her uncle’s belly. Everything had changed in less time than it took to scream. Her uncle bled to death almost before her aunt could kneel beside him.
She had learned how a world could be wiped away with a moment that happened in the space of a few heartbeats.
Even when Thessa’s sister left, this sea captain did not know how carefully Thessa had chosen her words to Stephanos. She had pretended her sister had said she was visiting their aunt and that it had been days before they realised she’d left the island. She’d even begged Stephanos not to search out the ship, flattering him and hinting that her sister was marred—in case Melina returned. Thessa didn’t think the Greek could have found the ship in the vast seas, but she’d not wanted him to try.
Melina had been trying to provide for them all and Thessa knew her elder sister had wanted to search out their father. Melina couldn’t have survived marriage to the Greek, but she insisted Thessa not go near him. Melina believed in art and beauty. Thessa wished every painting on the earth destroyed. They only caused grief.
If she thought and spoke carefully, she hoped to put off marriage to Stephanos long enough for him to notice someone else.
She became aware of the captain examining her face. Straightening her sash, she said, ‘I wanted to be certain you take care. One bite from a sea serpent and a man can sleep for ever.’
‘I realise life can be deadly.’ He looked at her and had the look of secret humour in his upturned lips, but his eyes had blandness behind them, as if he wouldn’t even let himself look back at his own memories. ‘Creatures of the sea...or land...they are nothing compared to the storms the heavens can send and I don’t fear them either. If I wished for a different life, I would be with my second brother, watching flowers grow while I sipped wine and swirled it on my tongue, wearing unscuffed Hoby boots. I take your words carefully, but they are not necessary.’
‘Don’t try to outlive your welcome.’ Thessa’s voice lowered to a whisper. She needed to be careful of what she said. Voices could carry on the wind, or the sailor with the captain could be a fool who spoke to the wrong person.
The captain moved close. ‘I’ve outlived my welcome before.’ His words were soft, but she didn’t think he tried to hide them from someone, only that he wanted to convince her of the truth of what he said. ‘No fables of mermaids or serpents will change one furling of the sails on my ship or cause me to change one step of my well-travelled boots.’
She glanced at his boots. They were marred with lighter worn spots and darkened places on the leather. ‘Are those bloodstains?’
He didn’t answer and yet he did—with that same blank look.
‘Then I will not be concerned for you,’ she said.
He turned away. ‘Waste of your time.’
*
Benjamin had to put some distance between him and Thessa. She’d had care for him in her gaze. He didn’t like that.
He wished he’d never seen her swimming. Just because she’d been so at home in the water, his thoughts had lodged on her more strongly than they should have.
Thessa didn’t have the flowery scent of the few women he’d danced with at soirées in Warrington’s home, nor did she have the sometimes jarring perfume of the tavern wenches he’d enjoyed. She smelled of warmth and a different kind of soap than he was used to. Something which seemed exotic to him, perhaps a blend from island herbs or plants he didn’t know of.
The first hues of the sunset fell on her face. She wore the new shawl and her hair was pinned, but still, she didn’t look like any woman he remembered. Just like when she swam.
‘We should search out the stone in the morning,’ she said.
‘No. Absolutely not. I may not fear a sea serpent on the island, but I don’t wish to stir up any nests of them.’
‘You would listen to me and wait if you knew what was good for you.’
‘Really, Mermaid? Tell me more.’
Thessa shrugged his words away and moved past him, walking inside the bottom part of the structure and returning with a crude wooden spade. ‘It’s your neck.’ She moved away from them.
Tendrils of hair bobbed freely at the back of her collar, drawing his gaze to her skin.
‘Stay here, near the woods, Gid,’ Ben said, turning to Gidley. ‘Watch the path. If someone is approaching, then catch up with me and let me know.’
‘Right, Capt’n,’ Gidley said, and as Thessa moved away, Gidley mouthed the word smile and pointed to his own uneven teeth.
Ben did the opposite, then travelled along the white-sand pathway edged by stones removed from the trail possibly a thousand years before. Clusters of spindly vegetation dotted among the white stones, like rounded-over bonnets. Only a few scattered bits of green interrupted the burnt red and brown plants dried by salted wind.
The beauty contrasted the island’s harshness. He knew from the last trip that black glass-like shards could be found in places on the island, probably left from a centuries-old volcanic eruption.
His men had told him of the catacombs they’d found and his own eyes had amazed at the sharp white cliffs sticking from the sea, their bold colors contrasting against the blue water. One rock jutted from the sea, its top shaped like the scowl of a raging bear. If he sailed deeper into the islands around, the rocks could be like stone fingers reaching to rip the Ascalon’s hull.
As they walked the paths, the trees filtered what was left of the sunlight. But nothing softened the edges of the rock. Staring at the land around, he almost missed seeing Thessa step forward to move an olive branch aside. When it slapped back, he dodged and it grazed his cheek.
This could never be his home and he marvelled that Thessa seemed so enamoured of it. Except, she did have her sea to swim in—her own endless sea.
In one stride he’d caught up with her and walked at her elbow on the narrow path. He thought of Gid’s advice. Smiling couldn’t help if a woman kept her eyes averted from him.
Ben touched her arm to give her assistance when she stepped around a huge rock at the side of the path.
Her eyes flicked to his hand and then to him. ‘You should not show notice for me. It will not do you well.’
‘I would not be a true man if I did not show concern for a woman.’
She puffed out a grumble. ‘Englishman. Full of pretty speech.’
His hand dropped and he met her eyes. ‘I’ve never seen so much beauty on an island.’
If she wanted out of his grasp, she had only to take a step. She didn’t move.
‘Why have you not already married this Stephanos?’ he asked.
She gave a shrug. ‘I am waiting for the house to be finished.’
‘If we find the stone, then will you take me to Stephanos so I can purchase it tonight and leave straight away?’
She laughed and he instantly tensed.
‘It’s not the kind of thing you can put in a small place. Did you not see the marble Melina took?’
He shook his head. ‘I saw the wrapped parcel. Not inside it. My brother said it was a carved stone. That wa
s enough for me.’
‘It was part of an arm.’ She moved her hand from fingers to elbow. ‘Not much, and yet bigger than my own. The rest is part of a woman’s shape, but I would wager it would take two men to carry each half of her.’ She looked at him, her eyes telling him she questioned his wisdom.
Thessa turned and began moving up the path. ‘The rocks are on the highest part of the island. You can still see walls from long ago which have crumbled to the ground. And I warn you, Stephanos will not let you take them from Melos easily. If someone else wants a thing, it becomes valuable. You will have to pay twice. Stephanos holds the land, and Melos, in his palm.’
He took her arm and stopped her steps. Watching her expression, he asked, ‘You’re sure the statue Melina wants is broken?’
She nodded.
Warrington had sent him on a voyage for some damaged statue? His brother’s nursery maid must have bounced him on his head thrice a day.
But his brother was besotted. Warrington did have a tendency to choose a wife who was a bit cracked. His first wife Cassandra had been full cracked and on the jagged side. Melina was only normal-woman daft.
‘Your sister knew this?’ he asked.
Thessa nodded. ‘Yes. She insisted I view it when she first found it. We helped her dig and we covered it back afterwards. And we all talked about the look of her.’
‘What was it about her appearance?’ He released her arm.
‘She looks like our mother did. And that made us sad because the statue was so destroyed.’
‘Destroyed?’ He heard his voice rise. For the cost it had taken to get his crew to the island a second time, an Italian sculptor could easily have been commissioned to do a statue of Melina and probably both the other sisters.
Thessa sighed. ‘She saw our mother’s face in the woman, so to her, this was a treasure. She is not like me. She thinks with her heart.’ Her lips turned up, but her eyes didn’t smile. ‘She’s insensible that way.’
Benjamin shook his head. ‘I understand...quite well.’ His brother Warrington hardly thought at all when he was around his wife though, unless it was of her. The only thing he’d been firm about was in not letting her take another voyage. But from the look of relief on Melina’s face, she’d not minded. The woman had been fish-belly white on most of the trip to England.
Thessa stopped and stared at him. ‘Did she describe the stones to you?’
‘No. She assured my brother you would know exactly what it was and where to find it.’
‘It is a woman. Both arms are broken. My sister left with one of them. The other we did not find, but parts of it.’
He stopped moving. ‘Are you sure this is the statue Melina wants?’
Thessa nodded. ‘You would have to understand my sister. She thinks leaves and feathers are beautiful.’
He grimaced. ‘I do not think my brother knows what he sent me to retrieve. And I hate to say what he will think when he realises he is trading his share of my ship for a long-buried statue of a woman with no arms...’
Chapter Four
Thessa looked at the captain as he turned to examine their surroundings.
Fading light touched a lengthwise section of column splintered long ago. Mounds of near-barren dirt pressed against the forgotten rock, with only occasional vegetation grasping for life among the harsh environs.
She could forgive him for gazing at her with such intensity, if he would keep his eyes from her for a bit longer so she could examine him. He reminded her of the rocks that jutted from the sea. Majestic. Feet staying in water. Daring the world to try to move them. Commanding. But he wasn’t a rock and he would not treat her as another wave to be brushed aside.
She tapped the tip of her spade against the ground. ‘I don’t remember just where the statue is buried. I helped my sister dig so many places and there were so many bits of chipped rock. It didn’t seem possible we’d need to dig up such rubble again.’
‘What do you think was once here?’ Benjamin asked.
Thessa turned a half circle, examining the area as if she tried to see through his eyes. ‘A site to speak to the heavens?’ Laughter bubbled in her voice. ‘A place to hide from your mother who wishes you to weave when you do not wish to?’
When he saw her humour, he watched her again, eyes speculative. His mouth opened, then he chuckled. ‘I would have thought you would hide at the shore or in the water.’
She frowned and shrugged. ‘It would be the first place she looked... I think she was half spirit herself sometimes, always knowing where to find us.’
‘Just a mother’s way.’
She studied him. ‘Do you not believe in things you cannot touch? On voyages, you do not think some unseen spirit creates the wind?’
He shook his head. ‘I think there are things unexplained, but that doesn’t make them magical. It just makes them not understood. Men used to say a ship could sail off the end of the earth. But I think that was a tale started by seafaring men to make them appear brave. A man gets a little ale in him, a woman sitting on his knee and he’s likely to spout nonsense just to watch her eyes widen or hear her gasp.’
‘And she’s likely to pretend her awe just to see if she can convince him she believes his nonsense.’
‘So, do you believe in mermaids?’
She pressed her lips together before shaking her head. ‘Mermaids all died out because they couldn’t find a mate worthy of their esteem.’
He looked at her and then laughed. ‘We have to be thankful women are not so particular.’
‘True. We aren’t.’
He looked around. ‘So where is the treasure?’
She knelt, using the spade for balance, and picked up a shard of marble. ‘As a child I heard the stories of spirits roaming here.’ She turned the rock in her hands over, examining. ‘My mother must have said that to keep us from roaming too far. When the sun is overhead, I do not believe in the spirits, but in the dark...’ she met his gaze, and smiled—almost laughing at her next words ‘...I would not want to trip over one and discover myself wrong.’
‘Any bones ever found?’ he asked.
She shuddered. ‘No. We would not disturb a final sleep. But this is not a burial ground.’
‘Why do you not think so?’ He walked beside her.
She turned, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. ‘I would know. Burial grounds are remembered.’ She handed him the rock. ‘This wasn’t a place to bury, but perhaps a chance to gather and be merry. Boats float easily in our harbour now. I think it could have been the same years ago.’
She took the stone from his hand, brushing her fingers against his, feeling the roughened skin, his touch jolting her as if he had some magic about him. He examined the rock she gave him, running his fingers along the straight side. One of his ringed fingers, and the one next, didn’t bend with the others. So the man and his boots were marred. She wondered if it happened in the same fray, but she didn’t want to think about death.
She looked around. ‘If I were a spirit, I would be at the shore, my toes in warm water and the sun on my face. Not rumbling around sharp-edged stones.’
‘Swimming?’ he asked, his eyes intense.
She nodded. ‘The water cleanses my mind.’ She looked off in the distance. ‘If there was another life before this one, I lived it in the sea.’
When she turned to him, he stood immobile. Immersed in something in his mind. ‘Captain?’ she asked.
He breathed in, dragging air inside himself, and then he barely smiled, tilting his head to one side. ‘My pardon. I think one of your imaginary spirits is standing too close to me.’ He put a hand to the back of his neck. ‘Breathing against my skin.’ He turned. ‘I have to get the stone and leave.’
He walked to her and took the spade from her hand and tapped the ground with the tip of the tool. ‘Where should I begin?’ He gave a testing thrust of the tool into the dirt, jammed his foot on to it and a twinge of pain flashed across his face. ‘Blasted knee,’ he mumbled.
He was just as ravaged as the men on her island, only it was covered better.
‘How did you hurt your knee?’
‘Just fell into a spar on the last voyage. It’s still healing.’ He stopped digging. ‘But I don’t want to start sounding like I should be sitting at a hearth, wearing a cap on my head and a nightshirt.’
‘I imagine you’d not mind that if you had someone sitting on your knee who you could tell stories of bravery.’
A lock of hair fell over his forehead when he looked down, but he hadn’t moved fast enough to cover the smile in his eyes. ‘I’d only tell the truth.’
‘And I’m a mermaid.’
He raised his gaze and she saw the tiniest crinkles at his eyes, but he wasn’t smiling. ‘You’re better than a sea goddess. They evaporate in the early morning light when a man wakes.’
Thessa shook away the thoughts his words conjured and pointed to an area at the centre of the clearing.
‘There. That is the first place to dig.’
He moved and began scraping the earth from the stones—the rasps quickly disturbing the straggly vegetation, but hardly marring the surface. When he finally pushed aside a bit of the earth, a breeze passed over her, the scent of mouldering dust hitting her nostrils and she tasted the dirt.
She brushed at the shawl, not wanting the fabric soiled. ‘My sister was so excited when she found the statue. She pretended to nudge us with the arm when she brought it home. And then she brought us to help her dig again, but we refused to help for long. A person cannot eat rocks.’
She gave a small shake of her head and clenched her fists at her side. ‘I did not yet ask. Did Melina find our father?’
He nodded. He again took the shovel and ground it against the earth.
‘Is he dead?’ she asked. That would be the only reason she could forgive him for not returning.
‘No.’
‘Married?’
The captain watched the ground. ‘He has a wife.’