The Sea King’s Daughter

by Barbara Michaels

  Looking back now on that episode, it seems incredible to me that I could have accepted it with such blind complacency. For it was a sign of what was to come, and not until the very end was I able to break free and reject what was happening to me. But it’s easy to be wise after the event. Each separate incident could be explained, and I was only too eager to explain them. The personal weaknesses that made me vulnerable also made me blind.

  And surely that first incident was easy to understand. People get all uptight about the word “drugs,” but drugs have medicinal purposes too. No doubt I had been given a sedative or painkiller. Any kind of drug can affect the mind. I couldn’t even be sure I had really heard the eerie whispering. It fit only too well with previous outpourings of my subconscious.

  Besides, the villa was such a pretty, comfortable place. If there had been gothic arches and moldering castle walls, or a few bats… Who couldimagine demons in a room furnished with French antiques and linen sheets?

  I felt so good I decided I would get up. That was a mistake. The bed was a lot higher than I had expected. My feet didn’t quite reach the floor, and as soon as I sat up my head started to spin. Then the whole room began to heave slowly up and down, just like an earthquake. I slid off the bed and hit the floor with a thud. Luckily I fell on my left side, but the impact jarred my arm, and it hurt so badly I must have fainted. I wasn’t out very long. The crash alerted Kore and the maid; they came running in and put me back to bed. Kore was clucking like a mother hen.

  “See, how foolish! You have hurt yourself. You are bad! I must call Jürgen to look at you.”

  Jürgen duly appeared. In the unflattering light of day he appeared much older than he had the night before, but he had the strong, elegant bone structure that triumphs over wrinkles and sagging flesh. His eyes continued to avoid me, while he checked my pulse and temperature and unwound the bandages to look at the wound.

  “Already it heals,” he said with satisfaction. “That is what it is to be strong and young! But no more foolishness about leaving the bed. Rest and sleep and eat, that is what you need.”

  He smiled in my general direction and started backing away.

  “How soon can I leave?” I asked, and then felt my face grow warm as the ungraciousness of the question struck me. “I didn’t mean that; I just meant-”

  “Of course you meant it. You are young, and already you are bored. I can offer you only books. My selection of English volumes is not great, I fear. Shall I bring you what I have?”

  “Yes, please,” I said resignedly. He hadn’t answered me, which indicated that I had a couple of days of boredom ahead of me. He might not be a doctor, but he had a physician’s reticence.

  “Bah,” said Kore. “Bring your dull books. There is nothing else. No television, no theater, no music. Such a place! How do I endure it?” She waved her hand. The jewels on her fingers flashed, and one sleeve slid back, showing the coils of the golden serpent.

  The Colonel had taken advantage of her speech to retire noiselessly, and the maid appeared with my breakfast. It was an English- or American-type meal, not the European petit dé jeuner I had expected. The bacon was thicker and fatter than the kind I was used to, and rather too salty, but the eggs were fresh and well cooked. Kore sat watching me, nodding with satisfaction at every bite.

  “I cannot eat so,” she announced blithely. “It makes too fat, you see. But you are needing the food, Jürgen says. He is clever, Jürgen.”

  “He is a very good man,” I said. “I’m grateful.”

  “Yes,” she said soberly. “He is a good man.”

  After the tray had been removed, Kore went into action. She hadn’t been kidding when she announced her intention of making me beautiful. I didn’t like it. I felt like a life-sized doll, or one of those cult statues, the Virgin or a female saint, being re-robed by devout peasant women. But I hated to complain when she was being so kind, and enjoying herself so much. She twisted my hair up and tied it with ribbons, and the fresh nightgown she produced had obviously been altered to fit my measurements. It was a stunning gown, layer on layer of chiffon that ran the gamut of greens and blues and blended into a heavenly aquamarine. When she came at me waving brushes and lipsticks, I protested. She looked so hurt I gave in, but I hated it. I don’t know how movie and TV stars stand being made up; I felt like a thing.

  Finally Kore stepped back, clapping her hands, and exclaimed with joy. I started to smile, but stopped; my face felt as if something were going to crack. I asked for a mirror. While Kore was flapping around looking for one, the maid came in and said something. Kore answered her and then turned to me, her eyes glowing.

  “It is Jim,” she announced-she pronounced it “Jeem.” “We are just in time. Now sit up-let me make the pillow straight… Ah, he will bedrunken with love, you are so beautiful!”

  I heard him coming from a long way off. Even the sound of his footsteps was unique. My heart was beating faster, and not only with pleasant anticipation. Jim would have a few things to say about my carelessness.

  He must have come straight from the dig, without stopping to change clothes. They were his usual garb, un-pressed cotton work clothes, but he looked marvelous in them, and I thought, with unaccustomed sentimentality, of the couriers who had reported to the king in their travel-stained garments, in token of their zeal.

  Jim took one look at me and stopped short. “My God,” he said.

  “Well, that’s really sweet,” I said. “That’s a nice way to greet someone in my condition.”

  “What condition are you referring to?” Jim inquired politely.

  Kore giggled. “Ah, the lovers’ quarrel,” she exclaimed, beaming. “I go. I leave you alone, to make it up. See, Jim, she is beautiful for you. Only for you.”

  She slipped away, closing the door with exaggerated care and giving me a wink before she went. Jim sat down on the chair by the bed and stared at me.

  “How do you like it?” I asked self-consciously.

  “I like you better the way you were.”

  “Men,” I said.

  “Did Kore dress you up that way?”

  “She was just trying to be nice.”

  “Have you seen yourself?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want to know what you look like?”

  “No.”

  “Then I won’t tell you… Oh, you look beautiful. But you look beautiful to me with your wet hair all over your face and your nose peeling. And,” he added, while I was still gulping over that tender declaration, “if you weren’t in a delicate condition I’d take you by the throat and squeeze till your face turned blue. How could you have been so stupid? What happened?”

  I sighed with relief. That took care of the lecture. At least he wasn’t the sort of man who said “I told you so.”

  “Didn’t Kore tell you?” I asked.

  “She gave me some wild story. I can’t believe half of what she says. What did you cut yourself on?”

  “I didn’t get a good look at it. Metal of some kind. It sort of jumped out at me when I lifted a rock.”

  “You ought to know better than to stick your hands into some place you can’t see clearly. What were you looking for?”

  I told him about the amphora. At first he wasn’t visibly impressed, but as I went on to describe it in detail he listened with increasing interest and asked several questions. The answers didn’t seem to please him; he fell into a frowning silence.

  “Well?” I said. “It was a Minoan amphora, don’t you think?”

  “What? Oh-oh, yes, it sounds like it. Late Minoan IB. But I don’t understand why… Youcouldn’t describe the location, I suppose?”

  “Not accurately. I was about to mark it with a buoy when I got hurt. Maybe I can find it again.”

  “Oh, no. That’s the silver lining to the cloud, my girl. No more diving for you. I’d feel better if a doctor looked at that arm. Suppose I borrow a car and drive you to Phira tomorrow.”

  “I don’t think that’s
necessary, Jim. Jürgen seems to know what he’s doing.”

  “So it’s Jürgen, is it?”

  “That’s what Kore calls him.”

  “What’s he like?” Jim pulled his chair closer.

  “Oh-sixty-ish; tall; military bearing and all that. He’s nice. Withdrawn but nice. He must be pretty good in the water. I was in bad shape when he reached me, and I struggled some.”

  “Are you sure he hasn’t got a horrible scar? Or that he doesn’t bear an uncanny resemblance to the late Adolf Hitler?”

  “Of course I’m sure. What are you talking about?”

  “Trying to find an explanation for his retiring habits.”

  “Maybe he’s just shy.”

  Jim snorted.

  “Never mind Jürgen,” I said impatiently.

  “What about Frederick? I suppose he’s mad at me.”

  “I’m not sure who he’s mad at,” Jim said. “I saw him last night, and I will frankly admit I went up there looking for trouble. We had-er-words.”

  “Why waste your time? He’ll never admit he’s made a mistake. I’ve failed him. You’re right, I can’t do any more diving, not for a while. He’ll blame me, not himself.”

  “That’s about the gist of it.”

  I smoothed the sheet that lay over my lap and avoided looking at Jim.

  “I don’t suppose he said anything about coming to see me.”

  “Well…” Jim’s voice was very gentle.

  “It’s okay,” I said.

  “Chris sent you his regards,” Jim went on. “He was concerned when I told him what had happened; he didn’t even object when I took time off to come and see you. In fact, he reiterated his offer of a job next summer. He likes you, Sandy.”

  “Big deal,” I muttered. I regretted my rudeness immediately. Jim was trying to make me feel better, and it was nice of Sir Christopher to offer me a job. I said so, and Jim brightened.

  There was a tap on the door. I assumed it was Kore, coming back to see how the lovers’ quarrel was progressing, and I said, “Come in.” Instead of Kore, I saw Jürgen with a pile of books. He hesitated in the doorway.

  “I am sorry I intrude,” he said. “I have brought the books. I did not know you had-”

  “This is Jim Sanchez,” I said, as Jim turned. “I’m afraid I don’t know-”

  My next words were lost in the sound of the heavy books hitting the floor. Jürgen’s face looked like a faded papier-mâché mask, except for his eyes, which had widened until the whites showed all around the pupils. He said something in a strangled voice and then he disappeared. The footsteps that echoed back along the hallway were the steps of a man in mindless, headlong flight.

  Chapter 11

  I TURNED MY OPENMOUTHED STARE ON JIM. HE WAS standing, one hand on the back of the chair. His face wore its thoughtful expression-lips tight, eyebrows emphatic.

  “What was that all about?” I asked.

  Jim took his time about answering. He walked to the window and stood looking out, his hands clasped behind his back.

  “Didn’t you hear what he said?”

  “I don’t understand German, if that’s what it was. It sounded pretty incoherent.”

  “It was. I only caught a couple of words. Something about returning from the dead.”

  “He and Kore must be members of the same weird religion,” I said.

  “Kore’s obsession is with the ancient past,” Jim said slowly. “This guy has a more recent incident in mind.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Jim came back to the bed and stood there looking down at me. “I’m told I bear quite a resemblance to my late uncle.”

  I suppose I had been expecting something of the sort. The evidence had been there all along; I just had not wanted to recognize it.

  “So we were right after all,” I said.

  “I don’t know about that. As I recall, we avoided coming to a conclusion. But it can’t be avoided any longer. Your Jürgen is the man who was in Crete during the war. The man who killed my uncle.”

  “It was duty!”

  The voice echoed in the high-ceilinged chamber. I started. I hadn’t heard them approach, but there they stood, both of them. Kore had both hands clasped tightly around the man’s arm. He was still pale, but it was not he who had spoken.

  Kore went on passionately.

  “He did what he must do. It was war, it was his duty-”

  “I remember reading about the case,” Jim interrupted. His eyes were fixed on the older man’s face. “My mother corresponded with various people after the war-she kept the letters. There was some talk of a trial. But the military authorities decided-”

  “It was his duty,” Kore said again.

  “More or less,” Jim said quietly. “My uncle was out of uniform. You”-he nodded at Jürgen-“you were a captain at the time. You made colonel before the war ended. A real hot-shot officer, weren’t you? I’ve forgotten your name…”

  “Keller.” The word was clipped.

  “That’s right, I remember now,” Jim said.

  “You told me you never thought about it,” I said. “You told me-”

  Keller stepped forward, shaking Kore’s hands from his arm.

  “You look just as he did, over thirty years ago,” he said, staring at Jim. “He was then twenty-eight years of age. Can you wonder that when I saw your face… I know it well. I have seen it everynight for over thirty years.”

  “Why?” Jim asked. His voice was cool, his body relaxed; only his hands, gripping the back of the chair in a hold that whitened his knuckles, betrayed the underlying strain. “Why should he haunt your sleep if you were only doing your duty?”

  “Because I knew him,” Keller said. He was moving slowly forward, one step at a time, like a horrible parody of a wedding march. “I knew his work. We had met at Oxford before the war. He was a fine scholar. He had a splendid career ahead of him.”

  “And you killed him,” Jim said.

  “And I killed him.” Keller continued to move forward until he stood face to face with Jim. They were almost the same height-tall men, both of them. “And now,” Keller went on, “he has come back. No, no, don’t look at me as if I were mad; I am not mad, I know who you are. But I believe in Nemesis-retribution. There is still a debt to be paid. It is fitting that you should be the one to collect it. When I saw you, I knew the time had come.”

  His voice got louder and more excited as he spoke. When he raised his clenched fists, I thought he was going to attack Jim. The movement broke the paralysis that had held the rest of us motionless. Jim jumped back; Kore, who had been standing stock-still, her hands pressed to her mouth, cried out and ran toward Keller. She flung her arms around him.

  “No, Jürgen, no. It is time for your medicine. Come with me.”

  Keller stood quietly. “Time for medicine,” he repeated like a child.

  “Yes. Come, come now with Kore.” She tugged at him. He went docilely. Neither of them looked at us as they went out, her arms around him.

  Jim came out from behind the bedpost. “Wow,” he said.

  “Sit down,” I gasped, reaching for him. “No, here on the bed. Don’t go away.”

  “I won’t. Quite a scene, wasn’t it?”

  “Oh, don’t pretend to be so cool. You’re sweating. I thought he was going to go for your throat.”

  “No,” Jim said thoughtfully. “He wasn’t going to do that.”

  “What was he doing, then?”

  “Something worse.” Jim mopped his wet forehead with his sleeve. “I had the feeling he was going to kneel. Bare his neck to the knife, if you know what I mean.”

  “God.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I feel kind of sorry for him,” I said.

  “My God, do you think I’m inhuman? So do I. The man is off his rocker. There must have been some mental instability to begin with, or this wouldn’t have hit him so hard. There are people who have worse crimes on their consciences and who sleep quite well at
night.”

  “Jim, you told me you didn’t know anything about the case.”

  “No, I did not. I told you I wanted to forget about it. I do. My mother…well, you could say she never got over it. He was her big brother; she idolized him. She’s okay now, I mean she doesn’t go around trailing black veils or anything; but she still has the file of the correspondence about his death. I read it when I was-oh, in my teens. I was looking for a hero about that time, and he was pretty impressive. I suppose that’s what got me interested in archaeology to begin with, but honestly, Sandy, I’m not-I mean, I haven’t thought about the man for years. I used his name, sure, when I applied to Chris for this job. Maybe that wasn’t strictly kosher, but it’s a rough field, there’s a lot of competition…”

  “I don’t see why you should feel bad about it,” I said.

  “I don’t. I mean, I’m doing a good job. Chris wouldn’t have hired me if I hadn’t been qualified, no matter who my uncle was.”

  I decided a change of subject was in order. His finicky conscience was obviously bothering him, no matter how ever he might deny it. And it seemed to me we had more important things to talk about.

  “Does Sir Christopher know that Keller is here, I wonder?”

  “I hadn’t thought about that. I wonder too.”

  “Not to mention Frederick,” I said. “Jim, this is too much, all of them converging on this place.”

  “There’s something behind it,” Jim agreed. “I’m pretty sure your father does know about Keller. Chris is another matter. He might not.”

  “Well, I sure as hell would ask him if I were you.”

  Jim nodded thoughtfully. Then a look of impatience crossed his face and the nod turned into a shake of negation.

  “No, damn it. I’m not going to get all involved in some long-dead tragedy. I’m here to do a job, and that’s all that concerns me.”