The Sea King’s Daughter

by Barbara Michaels

  I had written to Betsy when I first arrived, telling her to forward mail to the hotel in Zoa. So far nothing had come, but that wasn’t surprising. Jim had told me that mail sometimes took weeks to get here from the States. I hadn’t thought about it then, but as I looked foolishly at the brightly colored pictures of Phira perched on the multicolored cliff, I realized that I was truly cut off from my family and home. A wave of homesickness washed over me. How could I find out if anything happened to Dad or Mother? How could they reach me? It was that thought that made me determined to see Jim if I had to wait all day. I wasn’t going to let pride cut me off from the sole source of warmth I had found in this faraway place.

  It was still early. He probably had not left work yet. I sat down on the terrace to wait for him.

  I waited for quite a while. At first I was too preoccupied with my mournful thoughts to notice anything else, but finally I realized that nobody had come to take my order. Eventually Angelos came out; I ordered coffee, and he brought it, but he didn’t linger, as he usually did, and he didn’t smile, either.

  His behavior brought into focus something I had been too distracted to notice earlier-the behavior of the other villagers whom I had encountered while shopping. Now that I thought about it, they had seemed unusually sober and uncommunicative. Usually they were very friendly people; I would try out my new Greek vocabulary, which was always received with cries of admiration, no matter how bad the pronunciation. But today…

  I forgot about it then. Jim was coming across the plaza.

  He came straight toward me, his face serious. I felt the way I had the first time I was in a school play. Butterflies were ricocheting around in my insides.

  Jim sat down. “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi,” I said.

  Then both of us started to talk at once.

  “Jim, I’m sorry about-”

  “ Sandy, I want to apologize for-”

  We both burst out laughing, and Jim took hold of my hand.

  “I acted like a jerk,” he said.

  “Right,” I agreed.

  “How about you? Nancy Drew on a case. Why all the mystery?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got all day,” Jim said, smiling.

  He looked tired and hot and dusty. Dark patches of perspiration stained his crumpled shirt, and chalk dust whitened his brown hair like premature gray streaks.

  “No, you don’t,” I said repentantly. “I bet you want to shower and change.”

  He laughed. “Shower! You know not whereof you speak, spoiled child of civilization. That bowl of lukewarm water can wait. Talk.”

  “My mother left Frederick when I was about two,” I said. “I hadn’t seen him since, until last winter. She married again. I’ve got a sensational stepfather, whom I adore. Neither one of them knows where I am, incidentally. They think I’m touring Europe.”

  “I’m sorry I said that about your mother,” Jim said.

  “You were upset.”

  “Yeah. Well, that’s very enlightening. When you decide to open up, you don’t stall around, do you?”

  “I hate lying,” I said vehemently. “I felt rotten about having had to lie to you.”

  “Then why did you? No, don’t tell me; Frederick insisted.”

  I nodded.

  “For a supposedly brilliant scholar he’s singularly stupid about some things,” Jim said. “Did either of you think you could keep your activities a secret? Small towns are all alike. Everybody in the village knows you’re diving.”

  “Oh, damn,” I said. “Everybody?”

  “Yes, and it’s lucky for you you weren’t around when I found out. I was so mad I almost came calling on you with a club. I may yet. If you broke an arm or a leg, you’d have to stop this nonsense.”

  “It’s not nonsense,” I said defensively. “ Frederick thinks-”

  I stopped just in time-but it wouldn’t have mattered. Jim was laughing.

  “ Frederick thinks there are ruins out in the bay. So do a lot of other people, you little turkey. But nobody else is fool enough to risk his neck looking for them without proper equipment, not to mention official sanction.”

  “I’m not doing anything wrong. Not until I-My God, what’s the matter with me? I keep blurting out all these things.”

  “It’s me,” Jim said proudly. “I bring out your true, honest nature, and you can’t lie to me.” He sobered. “ Sandy, I know all. Your old man was down on the pier the other day talking to one of the men about air tanks and compressors. Platon is an honest crook, he’ll supply you and keep his mouth shut if he’s bribed well enough. But you can’t hope to keep it a secret from the others. Promise me you won’t use that gear. In fact, I want your promise that you’ll stop diving altogether unless I’m around.”

  “You?”

  “ Frederick is no damn good; he’s got a weak heart or something. If you got in trouble he couldn’t possibly rescue you. In fact, if what Chris says about him is true, he might not even try.”

  I should have resented that, but I couldn’t. My expression reflected my memories of the times Frederick had simply walked off and left me alone in the water. Jim, watching my face, swore.

  “I thought so,” he said. “Look, Sandy, I’ll spend as much time diving with you as I can spare. Not only will I not horn in on anything you find, but I won’t even tell Chris what we’re doing. I can’t be any fairer than that, can I?”

  It was not only a fair offer, it was magnificently generous. I knew how uncomfortable his position would be if we did make a major discovery and Sir Christopher learned that Jim had helped, unbeknown to him. I was so tempted I felt dizzy. But I realized what Frederick would say if I proposed the scheme to him. I knew Jim was trustworthy. Frederick wouldn’t trust his own mother.

  “What will you do if I say ‘no thanks’?” I asked.

  Jim’s smile faded. “Report you to the port officer in Phira.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Don’t make me, Sandy. I’d like to see you away from here. Oh, don’t give me that hurt look, you know I’m crazy about you. I want to see you and go on seeing you. Only not here. There’s something peculiar going on around here; your stupid diving is only part of the problem.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Haven’t you noticed the way the villagers are acting? Don’t worry, I’m not going to say ‘the natives are restless.’ They aren’t restless. They’re afraid. It can’t be the quakes or the volcanic activity out in the bay, they’re used to that.”

  “What, then?”

  “It’s that woman-Kore, or whatever she calls herself. I managed to worm a few more confidences out of some of the men after our conversation with her. The picture I’m building up is somewhat disconcerting. Her boyfriend at the villa is a former German officer. Sure, it’s been a long time since that particular war; but the older people still remember the occupation, and German military types are resented. And the Greeks have several words for women like Kore, who went over to the enemy. Her position, and her lover’s, would be difficult here if she didn’t have some hold over the villagers. That hold is fear. She’s playing on their superstitions and doing a hell of a good job of it.”

  “They think she’s a witch? That woman in her Dior slacks?”

  “It’s more complicated than that,” Jim said soberly. “They believe she has magical powers, yes; but they don’t regard her as a witch. She’s something much more dangerous. I don’t know precisely how she convinced them. It can’t only be the way she talks, although that’s disturbing enough. You heard her the other night, rambling on about the bride of Hell.”

  “But why should the raving of a half-crazy old woman worry you?”

  Jim shook his head. “Never mind Kore’s fantasies. There are enough solid facts to worry me. How did she know who you were?”

  “Oh, hell, let’s not beat around the bush,” I said. “We’re both thinking the same thing. It’s unavoidable. She was in Crete when your
uncle and Sir Christopher and Frederick were there. Frederick admitted as much the other night.”

  “He did? What did you do, tie him up and burn his feet?”

  I had to laugh, the question was so in line with my appraisal of my father.

  “No, he talked freely, but that was about all he said. How about your boss?”

  “I haven’t asked him.”

  “It’s possible he didn’t know her. You’re really jumping to conclusions if you think the man in the villa was in Crete during the occupation, and that Kore was his mistress even then. Obviously she knew Frederick in his secret-agent days or she wouldn’t know his alias. That suggests she was a member of the Cretan underground. She might have been in contact with Frederick but not with either of the others.”

  “It’s possible,” Jim said.

  “Well, it’s useless to speculate about it. Weren’t you the one who was telling me we shouldn’t dwell on the dead past?” I glanced toward the bay, where the first star of evening was now visible. “Geez, it’s late. I’ve got to get this fish home before it goes bad.”

  “I’ll walk you home.” Jim rose.

  I stared at him in surprise. “Why, sir, I do believe your intentions are serious! I’d ask you to supper, only Frederick-”

  “I couldn’t. Chris is really cracking down; I’ve got eight hours of work ahead of me tonight. But I’ve got time to see you get home all right.”

  He looked taller than usual, standing so close to me; I had to tilt my head back to look up into his face.

  “You never offered to walk me home before,” I reminded him. “Jim, you’re being silly. I’m a lot safer on that back road than I would be on the streets of an American city.”

  We stared at one another for a moment. Neither of us was smiling. Finally Jim shook himself, like a dog coming out of the water.

  “I’m fey,” he muttered. “Or getting senile, or something. You’re right, of course. See you, Sandy.”

  He took me by the shoulder and kissed me, quickly but thoroughly.

  I was in a pleasant daze as I threaded my way through the steep back streets and onto the road above the village. The view toward the west was sensational, with the black bulk of the mountain outlined against a sunset of garish crimson and copper. Such sunsets are caused by dust in the air; and a faint unease shadowed my mood as I remembered the steaming volcano out in the bay. But nothing could mar my happiness for long. Jim and I were on good terms again, and I had nothing more to hide from him.

  I was almost at the house when I heard the hoofbeats. This time I knew what they were, and except for making sure I was a good safe distance from the cliff I didn’t worry about them. The crescendo of thundering hooves increased and then I saw them, on the upper trail. The man was bent low over the horse’s neck and they were going hell for leather. For an instant I saw the flying forms black against the sunset, and then they were gone, down the hill into the gathering night.

  I walked on, but my euphoric mood was gone. It was a funny time of night to go riding, especially at such a breakneck pace. The man rode as if pursued. I wondered what Furies were on his trail. The ghastly hags who had pursued Orestes after he murdered his mother were symbols of guilt, so psychologists say. Maybe they weren’t symbols to the Greeks, though. The Greeks believed in monsters. My imagination re-created the flying figures of horse and rider, and added shadowy snake-haired forms, flapping black bat wings.

  I broke into a trot. The shadow of the mountain lay dark across the ground.

  II

  When Frederick and I left the house the next morning, we found Jim waiting for us. He was wearing swimming trunks, a guileless smile, and a fine assortment of goose pimples.

  The look he got from Frederick should have made him hot enough. I said hastily, before Frederick could turn the look on me,

  “Why, Jim, what a surprise. What are you doing here?”

  Jim turned the guileless smile on Frederick.

  “I know how busy you are, sir; thought maybe you might like someone to relieve you while Sandy gets her daily exercise. It would be a pleasure. Nothing I enjoy more than a brisk morning dip.”

  He didn’t look as if he were enjoying the brisk-morning part of it.

  “You can’t swim with that cut on your head,” I said.

  “I’ll just dabble my toes,” said Jim.

  “Foolishness,” Frederick muttered. “Very well, since you are here, I may as well… Don’t bemore than an hour, Sandy, I will need you on the dig. And don’t leave this cove.”

  He strode off without waiting for an answer.

  “Lousy actor,” Jim said, lowering his voice. “I can’t imagine how he ever survived as a spy.”

  “Maybe he was more flexible in his younger days. Come on, let’s go before you catch cold.”

  “Not that way.” He caught my arm. “How do you get to the next bay overland?”

  There was no point in being coy; he obviously knew exactly what I was doing.

  “I don’t want to go there today,” I said.

  “Well, I do. I’d like to get a closer look at Kore’s haunts anyhow.”

  The early-morning chill disappeared as the sun rose higher. It was going to be another warm day. Before long we saw the white walls and red-tiled roofs of the villa ahead. I indicated the path that led toward the bay.

  “Let’s go a little closer to the house first,” Jim said.

  “I don’t want-”

  “What can they do, shoot us?”

  I didn’t need much persuasion. I was curious too.

  After all, we didn’t see much. The house was enclosed by high walls. We traced their outline at a respectful distance and saw no signs of life except for a stray goat or two on the slopes above.

  “They sure like their privacy, don’t they?” Jim said. “That looks like ground glass on top of the wall.”

  “Kore’s acting may not be enough to keep the villagers at a respectful distance.”

  “Ground glass is surer,” Jim agreed.

  We retraced our steps and descended the cliff. Then Jim produced a bathing cap from the folds of his towel and solemnly pulled it on. I couldn’t help laughing; it was a gaudy purple-and-pink cap with a clump of plastic orchids on top. He grinned at me.

  “This is the best Antonia’s souvenir shop could come up with,” he said. “I didn’t bring one with me, believe it or not. Fetching, isn’t it?”

  He posed, one hand on his hips, and rolled his eyes at me.

  “No,” I said, between gasps of laughter. “It’s no use, Jim, you couldn’t look anything but one hundred percent male, even in that cap.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. It inhibits me a little, though. I have an overwhelming urge to kiss you when you laugh that way, but I don’t think I can do it while I’m wearing this hat.”

  We swam for about an hour and then I insisted that we quit. Jim couldn’t do much, since he had to keep his head out of the water, and I suspected Sir Christopher would have plenty to say to him if he were late. Before we started back, he took off his bathing cap and his inhibitions and kissed me. His kisses got better all the time; we might have lingered on the sun-warmed rock if I hadn’t been so conscious of the silent white house on the cliff. I told Jim about seeing the man watching me. His face lengthened, but he made no comment.

  When he left me, at the house, he went down the path at a run. So he was late, and worried about it.

  Next morning he was there again. Frederick ’s face was absolutely thunderous. We had had an acrimonious argument the day before, and I had to swear on everything sacred that I had not let Jim in on the secret. I don’t think Frederick believed me. He paid no attention to my statement that the whole village knew what we were doing, and that it was only a matter of time before the port authorities landed on us. He was almost beyond reason on this point. And when he saw Jim the second time, he didn’t even speak to him, he just went back into the house and slammed the door.

  “We can’t go on meeting th
is way,” I said, as we walked along the path.

  “I’m afraid you’re right,” said Jim. “Chris had a few things to say to me this morning.”

  “Go back then.” I stopped. “This is silly.”

  “On one condition. You go back too.”

  “Oh, all right. I can’t have you lose your job on my account.”

  We parted at the house.

  “I may be here tomorrow and I may not,” Jim said. “I won’t ask you to promise-”

  “I can’t promise. I’ll do my best.”

  “Then so will I. You like honesty, Sandy. I’ll be honest. I intend to stop this somehow.”

  “You mean, report Frederick?”

  “I’ll do whatever I have to do.”

  “So will I,” I said.

  He didn’t kiss me good-bye.

  Frederick and I had a little talk that evening. It was a humdinger. My voice must have been audible several hundred yards away. Frederick didn’t shout, he just got colder and meaner with every word. Losing my temper meant that I’d lost control of the argument. It took a direction I had not expected.

  “What do you mean, betrayal?” I demanded at one point. “That’s a rather melodramatic word to use for a-”

  “It is accurate. Your loyalty should have been to me, if for no other reason than because you promised me. The first adolescent male that comes along pawing at you-”

  “Pawing!”

  “I’ve seen him kiss you, put his arms around you. Disgusting, promiscuous-”

  “That’s enough,” I said. I wasn’t angry anymore, I was appalled. “My God, is that the way you think? Is that the way you were with-”

  I stopped just in time. There are some things you can’t say. Of course Frederick knew what I meant. It had an unexpected effect. Instead of getting madder, he calmed down. We were like two people whose furious combat has brought them to the edge of a cliff; we had to agree to a truce to keep from falling over.