Poul Anderson - The Merman's Children

He did not heed, but went on: “No more singing in human earshot; it rouses dreams best left asleep. Vanish from our ken. Be to the children of Adam-born or adopted-as though you had never been.

“Else I myself will hunt you down. I will carry the wormwood you cannot bear the scent of, and scourge you with it, once and twice. Upon the third time you offend, I will come bearing a priestly blessing on me, and holy water for sending you into Hell.

“In Hell you will burn, you thing of leaves and mists and streams. Fire will consume you without ending, and never a dewdrop, never a snowflake will reach you in your torment.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she screamed, and fled.

He hung where he was until he had lost all sight and sound of her, until it was indeed as if she had faded into nothingness.

Earlier in spring than skippers liked to fare-before the very equinox—a ship left Copenhagen for Bornholm. After a rough crossing through the Baltic Sea, she docked at Sandvig on the north end of the island, where it rises in cliffs to the stronghold called Hammer House. Her crew got shore leave. Those who had engaged her hired horses and rode to a certain unpeopled cove.

Gray whitecaps blew in, beneath a pale, whistling sky. When they withdrew, the rattle of pebbles sounded like a huge quem. Gulls flew about, mewing. On the sands were strewn brown tangles of kelp, that smelt of the deeps and had small bladders which popped when trodden on. Beyond those dunes and harsh grass was a moor, with wide heathery reaches and a bauta stone raised by folk long forgotten.

The merman’s children waded ashore to greet their guests. They were unclad save for their weapons, talisman, and what remained of their aureate arm rings. Tauno’s wet hair hung greenish-gold, Eyjan’s bronze-red with the same faint seaweed undertint.

Ingeborg and Niels sped into their embrace. “Mercy of God, it’s been long,” the young man quavered, while the woman could merely cling tight and cry.

When a measure of calm had returned, Tauno stepped off a pace, holding Ingeborg by the upper arms, and looked her over with care. “I see you’ve done well,” he said. “Not just good clothing and the marks of hardship gone. You have a kind of peace within you, am I right?”

“Now that you are here,” she answered unevenly. He shook his head. “No, I mean that hugging you, I feel you no more being always ready for the world to smite you. Have you prospered, then?”

She nodded. “Thanks to Niels.”

“Hm,” Tauno said. “I’ve an idea Niels has much to thank you for.”

Ingeborg had been studying him more closely still than he her. “It’s been worse for you, hasn’t it?” she murmured. “You’re haggard. . . and I felt you shiver. Have you failed in your quest?”

“We have not finished it. But here is a resting place.” Again he gathered her in. “I’ve missed you, I have.”

She gripped him so the blood went out of her nails.

Meanwhile they had not quite ignored what passed between Eyjan and Niels. The merman’s daughter had kissed fondly enough, but thereafter asked: “How fares it with Yria?”

“Margrete,” Niels replied, wincing. “She is none but Margrete any more.” He searched for words. “We got her share safely to her. Not easy; the hangman’s shadow layover us after the Junkers sniffed gold, until we found us a haven. We did, though, and this day she dwells in a house that’ll see to her well-being. But she is not ungrateful to you. . . but more pious than most. Do you understand? She’s happy, but best you not seek her yourselves.”

Eyjan sighed. “We expected naught else. That pain is leached out of us. We’ve done what we can for Yria; henceforward let her in truth be Margrete.” She considered him, where he stood in the bleak air with his locks fluttering, before she inquired further: “What’s your place in the woorld these days? What plans for the morrow do you nourish?”

“I’m doing well,” he told her. “If your own search is not ended—if I can help you in that, or aught else-you need but tell me.” His voice cracked: “Even if it means bidding you farewell forever.”

She smiled and kissed him afresh. “Let’s not speak thus as yet,” she said. “While we waited for you, with scant else to do—”

Ingeborg saw what happened on Tauno’s face. She kissed him in her turn; he seized her to him; her hand wandered, and suddenly he laughed.

“—we built a hut on the far side of yonder headland, for your coming,” Eyjan said. “It can soon be warm and firelit. Wherever we may go afterward, glad memories make light freight.”

She and her brother walked behind as the four left the strand, that their bodies might shield the humans from the wind that streaked in off the sea.

Althrough much remained for him to learn, Niels was fast be- coming worldly-wise. He was in partnership with an older man who supplied experience to match the money Niels could put into the shipping trade. When that merchant wew sufficiently aged to wish retirement, several years hence, and the younger took over entirely, their company should be as well off as any outside the Hansa, and able to hold its own in rivalry with the League. Mean- while the business gave them connections to many kinds of people, as did also its curious alliance with the bishop of Roskilde. More- over, Niels had found positions for his brothers and sisters, places chosen so that each might win contentment, prosperity, and the favor of powerful men. (His mother he simply gave a life of ease, which she was soon devoting to gardening and good works.

Thus, what Niels did not know, he could find out; what he could not do himself, he could get done for him.

Of course, this was not always possible overnight, especially when the strange reason for an endeavor must be kept secret. His plan was that Tauno and Eyjan take ship for Dalmatia, with letters from Church and Crown to ease their way after they arrived. That required creating identities which would make plausible their hiring of a vessel. He must feel his way forward with utmost care, lest suspicion rouse in someone. This required weeks, and his presence in Copenhagen-theirs too, for consultation at need and for practice at behaving like proper mortals.

Besides, neither he nor Ingeborg could have borne their absence, now when they were again in Denmark.

“Ah, ah, ah,” the woman breathed. “That was wonderful. You are always wonderful.”

Warm, wet, musky, tousled, she brought herself as tightly she was able against the merman’s son, He embraced her with one arm, laid a thigh across hers, and toyed with what he could reach of her, A taper cast soft glow and monster shadows around the bedchamber,

“Love me more, as soon as you can,” she whispered,

“Will you not grow sore?” Tauno replied, for he had the strength of his father in his loins,

Ingeborg’s chuckle held more wistfulness than mirth, “That’s not the kind of soreness which hurts me,” Abruptly she caught her breath and he felt her jerk in his grasp,

“What’s the matter?” he exclaimed,

She buried her contenance between his neck and shoulder, Her fingers dug into his flesh, “Your being gone, that hurts,” The tone shivered, “It’s never less than an ache throughout me; often it’s like a knife twisting around, Give me everything of you, beloved, while yet you may, Help me forget, this night, that soon you’ll leave, Afterward there’ll be time for remembering,”

Tauno frowned, “I thought you and Niels were happy together,”

Ingeborg raised her eyes, Candlelight trembled on the tears in them, “Oh, we’re fond of each other, He’s kind, mild, generous , . ,and, yes, he has a gift for making love”, but nothing like you, nothing! Nor is he you, in your beauty and brilliance. The difference is like-like the difference between lying in a summer meadow watching clouds pass by overhead—and being a-wing in the wind that drives them, the sun that makes them shine, I cannot understand how your mother could forsake your father,”