Mermaid_ A Twist on the Classic Tale - Carolyn Turgeon [87]
Lenia nodded. She took Agnes’s hand, pressed it on her belly, and then gestured down, to indicate the child leaving her body. Agnes’s hand was hard and cold and small in her own.
If my child is not born before the dawn breaks on the morning after the prince’s wedding night, it will turn to foam. Lenia shut her eyes, visualized it. Her own body dissolving, her baby dissolving with her, both of them becoming foam and drifting out to sea.
Help me. My child must live.
Agnes crossed herself then, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You want to get rid of it? My dear, it is much too late for that, and this is the prince’s child.”
Lenia shook her head.
She moved then, pushing Agnes aside, stood from the bed and went to the great jewel box on the table by the window. She opened it, and it gleamed with diamonds, rubies, and emeralds. All the prince’s gifts to her, ancient family heirlooms mixed with pieces he’d had jewelers make especially for her, sapphires to match her eyes and rubies to match her lips.
Lenia scooped out a handful of them, then turned back to Agnes, opened her palms.
Agnes looked from Lenia’s hands to her face, then back again. “I do not understand what you need. You are healthy.”
Lenia dropped the jewels into Agnes’s hands, closing her fingers over them and nodding. And then she pointed to her belly and made gestures with her hands and arms, showing her child being born and growing up to become strong and healthy, human.
Help me.
“Do you want … you want me to help you birth your child?”
Lenia nodded and pointed to the sun, holding up four fingers to indicate the number of days.
“You want to give birth to your child early?”
Lenia nodded again, tears flowing down her face now.
Please.
Agnes shook her head. “You want to give birth to your child before he marries the princess. That is it, isn’t it? I hope you are not planning to do anything foolish, like harm yourself. I know that you love him, that it feels like the end of the world now, but I am an old woman, and I promise you: no man is worth taking your own life.”
Lenia nodded. Yes. She focused every bit of feeling and power inside of her. Please. Something strange happened as she stared into Agnes’s eyes. For a moment she was back again in Sybil’s cave, holding up her face as Sybil floated next to her, bringing the knife down to her tongue.
Agnes looked at her strangely. “What is it?” she asked. “Do you see something?”
Lenia shook her head. Agnes stood in front of her, with her pale eyes and wise face. But for a moment, Lenia could have sworn she’d seen Sybil in her. The gleam of melted pearl, the shimmering pink of her hair. That same heavy sadness.
Was Agnes—had she been—one of them?
Lenia shook the thought away.
The moment passed, and Agnes let out a great sigh. “I don’t understand why you think you must do this,” she said, “and I don’t recommend it. But somehow, you are far enough along. I don’t know how, but you are. I think … I think you will be safe, and I trust you have your reasons.” She opened her hands and placed the jewels back into the box by the window. “I will take one ring for this,” she said, plucking up a ruby ring and placing it in her pocket. “Otherwise they will accuse me of robbing you.”
Lenia smiled gratefully, as relief flooded through her, as intensely as any human emotion had since her arrival.
“Now,” Agnes said, clasping her hands together, “I have herbs that you can take, to bring on labor.”
She turned back to her bags and began collecting an assortment of herbs, which she then slowly ground together with a mortar and pestle as Lenia watched, fascinated.
When she finally approached Lenia, her face was dark. “I am giving you a powder,” she said, “and you must take it every night for three nights, with your food. On the fourth night, your baby should come from your belly. It is not a guarantee. Your body knows when it is ready. To try to trick it