Mermaid_ A Twist on the Classic Tale - Carolyn Turgeon [38]
All Margrethe could do was sit back in horror and watch it unfold. The anger of the people. The villages that had been devastated by years of war, where houses and shops still lay in ruins and the suffering was so obvious she could nearly taste and smell it. News of the prince’s stay at the convent had only strengthened her father’s hatred for the Southern kingdom and increased the blood-lust of his men, and now she herself was the wound around which they all rallied. She did not know where it came from, this hatred, this conviction that the land belonged to them and their bloodline. Her bloodline. That the Southern king and his predecessors were pretenders to a false throne. All this hatred and rage, extending so far back—it was like a great ocean wave she was powerless against.
She was riding sidesaddle, Edele was on a horse behind. They were both still in their novices’ habits, though Margrethe could easily have changed back into the dress she’d worn those few months before, the day she was first brought to the convent. But her father had wanted the country to see her and her lady wearing the holy garb, to know that all the rumors were true, and she had not dared to defy him. She needed to pick her battles now.
Pieter sat behind her with the reins in his hands, his arms around her, holding her in place. She knew that her father had chosen Pieter as her rider because he was the strongest of the group, and the most adept horseman, but she also knew that he was one of the main champions of the war effort, the one arguing it was time to deal the crushing blow. Not long ago she had thought she could marry someone like him. Now it felt strange and wrong, being pressed up against him, when she could still feel the prince’s lips on her hand.
The prince, the one they were all shouting against … For the first time, despite everything, she felt an opening. There had been a new beauty in that convent garden, standing over the mysterious, unfathomable sea, the possibility for a new kind of world. Where was he now? she wondered. Did he remember? Did he know who she was? And now, as they flew through the countryside, the horse under her, the cold against her face, the sacred garments protecting her, the memory of the mermaid so vivid in her mind, she was beginning to feel reborn, ready to fulfill a great destiny.
THEY ARRIVED AT the Northern castle after a full night and day of riding, just as the sun was beginning to set.
The gates opened, and they entered to cheers and waving banners. Hundreds of people had gathered to celebrate the princess’s safe return.
The riders slowed, and the people rushed up to Margrethe, bowing in front of her as she passed, reaching up to touch her habit, and then bowing to the king, who had so selflessly put his duties aside to rescue his daughter.
Margrethe had never been so exhausted. Her body ached from sitting in one position for so long. Finally one of the guards helped her down, and her feet touched ground again. The stablemen ran out to take the horses, and she rushed up the steps, through the front door, and into the haven of the castle.
Her father remained outside, and the others stayed with him as he began to address the people. Behind her, Margrethe heard shouting and cheers, her father calling for blood and retribution. She paused in dismay to listen. Lens appeared at her side and gently took her arm. “To war!” the people shouted as her father railed against the young prince and reminded them all that Margrethe would one day, according to prophecy, bring forth a great ruler for the land.
She leaned against the wall, catching her breath.
Lens stood back, watching her carefully. “You have had a long journey, Your Highness,” he said. “Perhaps you would like to rest?”
She nodded, grateful.
As they made their way into the great hall, it seemed the whole court was there, waiting to greet her. All the highest nobles, all the members of the royal council, the ladies who’d once been friends with