Her route took her to a rocky promontory that looked encouragingly like mermaid territory and indeed resembled the shadowy shape of the rocks on which the first singing mermaid of the cruise had been sighted. She offered up a silent prayer and an on-account thank you to anyone who might have influence over such things that just this once luck might go in her favor. It was entirely possible that the lifeboat had borne its landlubbing occupants in a southerly direction, so that their journey had converged with the course of the Arabella some days earlier. Gretel looked about her. There were rocks, with tenacious grasses and flowers clinging to crevices, and then there were more rocks, nearer the cliff edge, before a now dizzying drop to the sea below. The path ahead twisted around a high upward reach of gray stone, so that to proceed she had to walk horribly close to the edge, but she had no choice other than to continue. Flattening herself against the rock face as best her shapely physique would permit, she crept on. Looking down was definitely a bad idea, but there was nothing out at sea on which to fix her gaze. In the end she found turning her head in the direction she was going and squinting into the sunshine the pick of her options. In this way she was able to round the point and step onto the mercifully wider stretch of path on the other side. To her delight, the first thing she saw was the entrance to a cave, the arch of which was prettily decorated with seashells and white pebbles. Seaweed in a variety of subtle shades and hues was draped around the opening, and sprightly shrubs and flowers had been trained along the path that led to it. Gretel had never seen a mermaid’s home before, but this could surely be nothing else. Cautiously, she ventured in. The interior was dark as night after the brightness of the day outside, and her eyes struggled to function.
“Hello?” she called, her voice echoing eerily in the cavernous space. “Hello, anyone home?”
There was no reply. She took a few more tentative steps. As her eyesight adjusted, the half-light within revealed the full beauty of the magical dwelling. While the outer rock was dark, sea-weathered, and rugged, the interior was altogether different. The cave appeared to have been formed inside a layer of pale blue crystal, so that even in the low light provided by the entrance and several high holes, all the walls glittered and twinkled. The effect was bewitching. Ledges had been fashioned here and there at various heights, some thatched with seaweed and reeds, others lined with moss, providing comfortable places to sit or lie. Shells of oysters, razor clams, mussels, and other exotic sea life were arranged in careful displays. This was clearly the home of someone who appreciated beautiful things.
Gretel saw that the far side of the cave contained a pool, and the manner in which the level of it undulated suggested it was affected by the tide. She decided this must be a point of ingress and egress, leading to the sea itself.
“Hello?” she called once more. “Is there anyone here?” All the answer she received was the echo of her own voice. Her initial euphoria at finding what could only be a mermaid’s home quickly evaporated when she accepted that the place was empty. How long did such creatures spend out at sea? When might she return? It could be many hours. Days, even. Gretel knew she could not expect Hans to endure famine upon the island for a second longer than was absolutely necessary. They must light their bonfire, and would likely be rescued the same night. Her only hope was, on being collected, to ascertain exactly where they were, and arrange to be brought back to the island by an experienced sailor. Surely there would be plenty in the region willing to undertake the task so long as they were paid sufficiently. And so long as they were not superstitious about mermaids.
With a sinking heart, Gretel picked her way back across the shiny floor of the cave, and was just about to leave when she heard the sound of splashing behind her. Turning, she saw that the water in the pool was disturbed. She hurried back, clambering as close to the edge of it as she dared. There were bubbles, almost as if the water was boiling. This activity was accompanied by a curious smell that put Gretel in mind of lilies. With a sudden whooshing, the surface erupted into a great fountain, causing her to stagger backward and ultimately fall heavily onto her rear. Out of the water emerged the most exquisite being she had ever set eyes on. The mermaid—for mermaid it most certainly was—had fine features, a broad brow, and green eyes that were wide-set. Her hair was long, rippling waves of dark gold, gleaming even though heavy with water. Her sodden locks clung to her slender body, affording her a little modesty. Her upper half was indisputably human and female and gorgeous. From the waist down she was pure fish, albeit one whose scales glistened prettily, iridescent green and blue, and her tail was sinuous and graceful as she moved out of the water. She did so in one surprisingly fluid movement, an upward lift propelled by her powerful tail, so that she came effortlessly to sit decoratively on one of the moss-filled ledges.
“A visitor! How simply lovely,” the mermaid exclaimed, her voice mellifluous, each word carrying with it a sweet smile.
“Forgive me for entering your home uninvited,” said Gretel.
“You are so very welcome. I seldom receive callers.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Gretel told her, and meant it. The creature before her had a mesmerizing quality, so that any who looked upon her could only desire to go on doing so. It seemed to Gretel that if anyone knew of the mermaid’s existence and the location of her grotto, they would become frequent visitors.
“Sadly, many people are afraid of me,” the mermaid said. “Imagine that. Afraid of little old me.” She tilted her head, peering up through long lashes, her expression one of innocent bewilderment.
“There are superstitions regarding . . . your kind.”
“Such a shame. It would be so much better if people made up their own minds about things, instead of doing what is expected of them. Don’t you think so, Frau . . . ?
“Fraulein Gretel, of Gesternstadt. Do you have a name?”
The mermaid smiled broadly at this. “We have many names, my sisters and me, but all of them make us out to be dangerous in some way. Really”—she shook her head, causing her flowing hair to move in a very attractive way, and tiny specks of crystal to fall from it, catching the beams of sunlight that fell from the glassless windows high above—“such silly nonsense. How could I be dangerous?” she asked, giving a tiny, tinkling laugh.
Gretel knew a thing or two about what was dangerous and what was not, and quickly decided that, however appealing she might appear—or indeed precisely because she was so bewitchingly glorious—the mermaid had the potential to be extremely dangerous. She had seen for herself what such allure could do to a man. Seen what strong, apparently moral men of integrity could be reduced to doing for the sake of such loveliness. And if that loveliness was possessed by one with, perhaps, a grievance, or too few scruples, or too much time on their hands . . . the outcome was often disastrous.
“But of course, I do have a name,” the mermaid went on. “The thing is, I’m not allowed to tell it to you.”
“Oh?”
“No, I can only give my name to someone who pledges me their heart. So you see, it wouldn’t really be appropriate.”
“Quite, quite, no, I understand. Good thing my brother is not with me. He would undoubtedly have pledged you his heart, lungs, liver, even his stomach, in a trice.”
The mermaid laughed again. “You are funny! I like people who can make me laugh.”
“You say you receive few visitors . . . fraulein . . . but I would hazard a guess that there is one regular caller of late. One who is not in the least bit afraid of you. One who sought you out, in fact.”
“Well! Fancy you knowing that. Have you been spying on me?”
“I have not. But I confess I have been looking for you.”
“Oh, really? It is quite unusual, a woman wanting to find me.”
“I have my reasons, and they are specific, material, and important.”
The mermaid picked up a carved clamshell and began languorously combing her hair with it. “How very mysterious,” she purred. “I think I qu
ite like the sound of being important.”
“Tell me, your recent guest, did he approach you with a special request regarding your rather marvelous singing?” Gretel asked, attempting a little flattery, but aware it was not her forte.
The mermaid continued to appear relaxed and unconcerned by Gretel’s line of questioning, and yet there was a minute alteration in her expression. Her eyes seemed to harden just the tiniest bit.
“It is a harmless enough request,” she said. “We are quite famous for the beauty of our song; that is no secret.”
“Indeed. Nor is it a secret that many find that same singing unbearably sad. Some are driven to run from it, others to throw themselves into the sea as if irresistibly drawn to it.”
“Poor things!” The mermaid’s eyes now filled with salty tears. “I have no wish to cause anyone pain, Fraulein Gretel. Surely you believe me?”
“I have no reason to suppose that you deliberately set out to frighten men out of their wits. I do, however, suspect that you would not be persuaded to sing against your own will or inclination. Forgive me, fraulein, but you do not strike me as a person given to doing anything not of your own desire.”
The mermaid smiled sweetly again, the tears vanished. “But I love to sing! Why ever would I not want to? It brings me joy to sit on the rocks overlooking the sea and send my music out across the dark, dark water.”
“Let me put it this way: even if we accept that it is not your intention to cause trouble or dismay, the person who came here to ask you to sing knew exactly what he was doing. He knew that many sailors cannot abide the sound of a mermaid’s voice; that they fear it portends death or shipwreck or madness. Some will refuse to sail on a ship once they have heard your music while aboard it. I come from the Arabella, which is suffering from a depleted crew, several members of which have either left or disappeared as, we believe, a result of what they have heard.” Gretel knew herself to be stating facts rather baldly, and that some of these facts were speculation at best. This mattered less, she decided, than prodding the mermaid’s conscience, if she had one, into revealing what needed to be revealed. “What was it that your visitor promised you in return for this service?”
“Service!” The mermaid bridled. “I am not some washerwoman or laborer!” Her eyes flashed dark and deadly. “I am not some lowly peasant to be hired by the day!” As her temper slipped, so did her mask of sweetness, revealing a frightening glimpse of the true nature of the creature beneath.
“Be that as it may, you reached some bargain, did you not?”
“Why should I tell you my business? What right have you to come poking your red shiny nose into my affairs?”
Gretel took a breath. It was not, at that moment, anything like an even match. Had she been at her best, elegantly turned out, properly coiffed and fashionably dressed, things might have been different. As it was, she had no hope. In front of her, glowing with anger but still radiantly beautiful, sat the mermaid, slender, sparkling, and lovely. She herself was salt-scrubbed, sunburnt, mad-haired, and even more madly clothed. If the mermaid was going to start bandying about insults, Gretel was bound to lose that contest. She rose above the slur.
“I was called to the Arabella by her captain, who fears for his men and his livelihood. I am a detective, and the task I have undertaken is to help him. You, fraulein, wittingly or not, are the cause of much of his woe. That said, there is another who wishes disaster and ruin upon him, and that man is the very same who pays you to sing. What has he given you, and what is his name? Or would you like me to tell you precisely what a man looks like when he has been dead three days with his throat slit? I warn you, I shall spare no detail,” she insisted. She well knew that she had implied that the mermaid’s singing had been somehow responsible for a person meeting such an unpleasant end. She also knew that this was unlikely to be the case. She further knew that the notion of such culpability, coupled with the threat of a graphic description of the gruesomeness of such a death, might be sufficient to shock the mermaid into cooperation. In this, as in so many things, Gretel’s instinct proved to be correct.
“I don’t know his name!” she insisted, her expression now a mixture of sulkiness and alarm. “He never gave it to me.”
“What did he look like?”
“He came only at night and wore his hat low. He never plainly revealed his face to me.”
“And what bargain did you strike with this shadowy figure?”
“He asked me to sing, out on the promontory, on certain nights.”
“He gave you dates and times?”
“He did.”
“And were you always to sing here, on this island?”
“Not always. Sometimes I was to sit on another. I can swim quite a way with no difficulty at all, you know,” she said, running a hand down her powerful tail.
“And did he tell you why he wanted you to sing?”
“He was reluctant, at first. But I persuaded him, eventually. I have my little ways,” she explained with a coy smile.
“I can well believe that. So, what was his purpose?”
“He wanted rid of the cruise ships.”
“You mean Captain Ziegler’s cruise ship?”
The mermaid shrugged.
“He did not specify the Arabella, you are certain of that?”
“He just said cruise ships. He gave me no names. He said he wanted me to sing to frighten the sailors and scare them away. I asked him why, but he was very stubborn on that point. He simply would not tell me more.”
“And what did you gain from this arrangement?”
“Oh, he paid me handsomely.”
“Did he indeed?”
“I am not a silly creature. People often think that of us, too. Dangerous and silly. It is horrid to be considered so, and really not true at all. I wouldn’t do what he wanted for pennies. I’ll show you,” she said, and in one startlingly swift movement she flung herself back into the pool and disappeared into its depths.
Gretel could do nothing but wait. She stared at the point where the creature had vanished for what felt like an unreasonably long time.
At last the mermaid broke through the surface, sending a shower of water over Gretel as she leapt out to sit once more on the crystal rocks, this time closer to her interlocutor.
“Here, see?” She held up a leather pouch, which she untied, tipping the contents out onto the cave floor beside her. Gold coins gleamed in the eerie light. Many of them.
“That’s a fair amount of money, fraulein. You certainly know how to obtain your due. But tell me, what will you do with it?” She gestured at their surroundings. “You surely have everything here you could want or need.”
“Oh, this place.” The mermaid shook her head. “It is all very well now, in the summer months. It is pleasant enough now. But come winter . . . I cannot properly tell you how cold this cave becomes. Nor how bitter the winds that chase across this island. Nor how frigid and dark the sea.” This time the tears that filled the mermaid’s eyes betrayed a genuine suffering.
“I think I can imagine,” Gretel told her, thinking of the bleakness of Amrum, the ferocity of the changeable weather in the vicinity, and the vast emptiness of the sea.
“Well, I’ve had enough of it,” the mermaid told her. “I want to go somewhere warm. Somewhere where the sky is blue more often than it is gray. Where the winter nights are not so very long. I want to live in a place where I can dry my hair in the sunshine and feel the sun warm my body. And when I get a little too hot I can slip into the warm sea. A sea that is filled with light and color. Even I cannot swim such a distance but would require a vessel to take me where I wish to go. That is what I want, Fraulein Gretel. That is why I agreed to sing.”
“You are saving for your passage, I see. It would take a fair amount to travel to such a place, but I deduce, judging by your current wealth, and given that you surely intend singing some more, you will soon have sufficient for your ticket. What may be harder to find is a captain willing to let
you aboard his ship.”
The mermaid looked perplexed. “But my money is as good as anyone else’s.”
“That is as may be, but you must understand that the talent that has earned you your riches may also be the thing that prevents you from getting what you desire.”
“I don’t see how. I can promise not to sing.”
“But how are you to be trusted? Word is spreading fast in these parts that there is a mermaid, a singing one at that. The more people hear of disappearing sailors and mysterious deaths, the less likely any one of them is to let you on their vessel. How could they take the risk? In truth, you need not sing so much as a single note; your presence alone could be enough to send half the crew overboard.”
“But that is ridiculous,” the mermaid replied, her face showing the extent of her growing consternation. “I am a harmless creature. They surely would not give way to such superstitious fears.”
Gretel sighed, the sound floating mournfully around and around the interior of the cave. However much the mermaid denied accusations of being dangerous and silly, it was hard to defend her against either charge. Her plan had been quickly formed and poorly thought through. When the mysterious visitor had offered her money to sing, she had seen a way of obtaining her greatest wish, but she had not applied logic and sound thinking to her plan. She would most likely end up with a pile of gold that was useless to her and be forced to remain forever precisely where she was. The mermaid’s plight struck Gretel as quite pitiful. It was also quite open to manipulation.
“How would it be, fraulein,” Gretel asked her gently, “if I were to find you a captain who would be willing to take your gold and convey you swiftly and safely to the more tropical climes you seek?”
“How do I know you won’t trick me? How do I know you know such a person?” The mermaid stuck out her bottom lip. She was struggling to be brave, for it trembled noticeably.
“I will bring him here to meet you. You may talk with him yourself. I will bear witness to any agreement forged between you.”
The Case of the Fickle Mermaid Page 14