Mermaid_ A Twist on the Classic Tale - Carolyn Turgeon [31]
“We did not find any sign of him,” Pieter said. “The place is secure.”
“Then we will leave,” the king said. “And praise God that no harm came to my daughter in this place, even with the son of my enemy inches away from her.”
Margrethe could feel her shoulders relax. Her father would not hurt these women after all.
The abbess stood then, smoothed her habit. “Thank you, my liege,” she said, her voice shaking.
“Thank you, Reverend Mother,” Margrethe said. “For all you’ve done for me.”
The abbess nodded, her face softening as she looked at Margrethe. “I am sorry that events happened as they did. None of us were aware that an enemy so dangerous was in our midst. We would never intentionally expose you to danger, and I give thanks that you are in full health and safety here today. We have grown to love you very much, and will be sorry to lose you.”
“We need provisions,” the king said, almost cutting her off, “and fresh horses.”
“Of course,” she replied. “We will make preparations now. All that we have here is at your disposal.”
Margrethe stepped forward. “Perhaps you will rest a night here, Father?” she asked, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.
Now that the immediate threat was gone, the reality of the situation was hitting her. They were leaving. Now. She was going back to the castle, and her old life.
Far from this sea at the edge of the world.
“There is no time, Daughter,” he said. “We have urgent business at the castle. We will not let the prince’s insolence go unpunished.”
She listened in horror. The image of the sick boy and his family, the war-ravaged village shacks, flashed into her mind.
Something beautiful had happened here—she knew it, down to her bones, the mermaid had brought the enemy prince to her, and she had loved him—and her father would use it as a reason to cause even more suffering and destruction than their kingdom had suffered already.
“Please, Father,” she said. “Please let me just gather my things.”
Pieter rushed in. “The horses are ready, Sire.”
“We do not have time, Daughter. You do not need anything from this place.”
“Please!” she said. “Please, Father! There is something I must do. I …” She racked her brain. “Let me just get Mother’s necklace, which she left for me.”
He paused, and she saw something flash over his face. It still pained him to think of her.
“Go with Margrethe.” He nodded to Pieter, who followed as she rushed through the stone corridor back to her cell, thinking all the while, feeling that same sense of loss and confusion she’d felt when the warrior left, and she knew she had to see the mermaid once more.
“There is something I must do …,” she said over her shoulder to Pieter.
“I cannot leave your sight, my lady,” he said firmly. “It is very dangerous for you here. He could be on his way back, even now.”
He had not yet finished his sentence when she broke away and raced through an open doorway to the cloisters, then through the hall and into the garden, to the stairway that wound down to the sea. As she burst outside, the air assaulted her, as if it were full of knives, cutting through the thin sheath that covered her.
He was right behind her.
“Lenia,” she screamed to the water, her voice dying in the wind. “Lenia!”
“Margrethe!” Pieter called.
She knew she was only making matters worse, but it could not be helped. This was her last chance. She knew that the prince being sent to her, being brought to her by the mermaid—all of it meant more than what her father, or any of them, could ever know.
She ran out to the sea. “Lenia!” she called. “Please come to me!”
The ocean sighed and breathed, churned silver water. Full of mysteries and secrets it would not reveal to her. She stumbled down the stairway that led to the rocky beach, ignoring the cold that sliced through her skin.
“Please!”
The wind whisked around her.
“Margrethe!” Pieter called. “What has come over you?”
Her eyes smarted against the wind so that she could barely see. There were faces all around her, in the trees and the water and the clouds, but