The Mammoth Book of Irish Romance

Kathleen Givens Daughter of the Sea

Western Shore, Ancient Ireland — 375 AD

When they were children, Muirin and Conlan, they played together, chasing through the forest, swimming in the crystal waters of the sea that formed the western edge of her father’s lands, climbing over the rocks that jutted out into the water and protected the hidden beach beneath her home. They roamed the nearby hills, explored every cave, and climbed every tree. Together. And never tired of each other’s company.

Her hair was dark. «Ebony» he called it. His was fair, the colour of oats at harvest time. «Golden,» she said, letting the silken strands slide through her fingers. His eyes were green, the colour of the leaves of the sacred oak tree. Hers were the blue of the deep sea and as full of mystery. He was of the earth, she told him. She was of the water, he would say.

She was a princess, the beloved only daughter of the King of the western shore. He was the son of a woodcutter who served her father. As the years passed they became aware of the differences in their lives, but disregarded them.

When they were grown, they pledged their troth by moonlight. On a summer night, beneath the spreading limbs of the ancient oak tree that crowned the cliff above the sea, with only wild creatures as witness, they agreed to marry. And kissed, a deep, sweet kiss that held the promise of passion to come. Then again, and again, parting to look into each other’s eyes and talk of the future. They swore to be together forever. And perhaps they would have been. Had her father not remarried.

The new Queen was much younger than her husband and wanted to change almost everything about his life. She changed his home, telling the King it was for the better when she removed everything that had ever belonged to Muirin’s mother. She sent most of those who had faithfully served the King for decades away, some without the coin they had earned, and replaced them with her own people. She pushed him to negotiate for more lands with nearby kings, suggesting that he threaten war, which he had never waged. She sent him to talk to the High King, instructing him to demand more territory, more power. When he travelled, she turned her attention to his daughter.

Her stepmother was horrified when she learned of the freedom Muirin had been given. Even more horrified when she discovered Muirin’s friendship with Conlan. «Daughter of the sea» her stepmother would call her derisively, for Muirin loved to spend her time near the water. As her stepmother exerted more and more influence over her life, Muirin sought refuge there more often.

She was no longer allowed to roam as she pleased. She could not leap atop her horse and ride headlong along the strand. She was to walk her horse sedately on the roads, riding palfrey instead of astride. She had always been a good student, read several languages, and wrote a fine hand, but now her schooling was increased, another language to learn, another passage to copy for the Queen.

Her hours were filled, but she did nothing with them. When her father travelled, Muirin was asked to attend her stepmother each day, to sit at the side of the room while the Queen spoke to the King’s people, dispensing harsh rulings and unfair verdicts, telling the people that Muirin was in agreement with her decisions, and that there would be no recourse. Muirin would shake her head to let them know she did not agree at all, but she could not change the Queen’s edicts.

Her only escape was in the early evening, when the Queen would receive her friends and dismiss Muirin with a wave of her hand. Muirin would rush to the sea then, to sit and pray for her father’s quick return.

Most evenings Conlan would find her there, perched on a rock high above the waves, her knees pulled up against her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs, staring over the water with a forlorn expression. He would tease her, make funny faces, or tell her absurd stories until he got her to smile again.

Until one day.

That evening, when he saw her wiping away the tears on her cheeks, he watched her for a moment, his heart full of love for her, and sorrow for her sorrow. He knew what she would tell him. He’d heard it in the village. Her father was not visiting the High King. He was searching for a husband for Muirin.

It was Muirin’s stepmother who was behind it, of course. Few doubted that it was the older woman’s jealously that had prompted the suggestion, for Muirin had blossomed into a rare beauty. The King had left some time ago without revealing his purpose, off to visit all the other kingdoms in the west of Ireland. He would travel from Donegal to Dingle, from Sligo to Kinsale, searching for a man who would be the perfect match for his daughter.

Her husband must be tall, Conlan had heard. And strong. A warrior, a hero the likes of which no one had seen since the days of Cuchulainn. And handsome — a man who would give Muirin daughters as beautiful as she. He must come from a royal family, and have great wealth, for the King wanted his daughter to be protected and have the finest of things.

Conlan feared he would lose Muirin to another, and his heart was sore. He was not a prince. He had no riches to share. He thought of all he might do to win her, the things he might say to convince her father to let them marry as they had planned. He could not change his heritage, could not change his father from a woodcutter to a king, but Conlan was already tall. And strong. And a fine warrior, for had he not defeated every challenger at the King’s last gathering? He could work hard to acquire coin. He was most willing to do so every day of his life if it meant that Muirin would share those years with him.

She turned to see him then, holding out her arms, and he ran to pull her into his embrace.

«Oh, Conlan!» she cried. «They mean to tear us apart!»

«I know, I know,» he said, wrapping his arms tighter around her. «I could not bear to see you with another. I would rather lie under the ground than lose you.»

«Do not say such a thing!» she said, looking up into his eyes. «Never say such a thing, my love. I could not bear it if anything happened to you. There is only one thing we can do.»

«Anything, Muirin! I will do anything you ask.»

«Marry me. This night. Here, under the very oak where we pledged our troth. Then make love to me, again and again. If I am already wed, I cannot marry another.»

He smoothed back the hair from her face. «I am not a prince. I have no wealth, only my own hands to earn our way. I cannot give you what your father wants you to have.»

«My father wants me to be happy, I know he does. It is only her doing that has him off looking for a husband for me. The man I want is here, before me. Please, Conlan! We are promised to each other. Do not tell me now that you regret that!»

«Never.» He kissed her forehead. Then her cheek, then her mouth, showing her with his kisses how full of love for her his heart was.

She pulled back from him with a brilliant smile. «Then go now, love. Meet me this night, when the moon will be full. And we will become one.»

«And face the future together.»

She nodded, her face radiant. «And face the future together.»

They parted then, throwing looks at each other over their shoulders as they walked away, he to his father’s small whitewashed cottage, she to her father’s shining castle on the hill.

She told only one person: her nurse. Who told only one person: the cook. Who told only one person: the groom. Who told the Queen.

The hours until moonrise passed slowly for Muirin, but pass they did. She attended her stepmother at the evening meal, careful not to say anything that would arouse the older woman’s suspicions. When, soon after the meal, Muirin claimed to be weary and said she would find her bed, her stepmother gave her a smile and wished her a good night. Muirin hid her surprise at her stepmother’s warm tone and willingness to let her go, but was pleased to make her escape so easily.

She was at the door when her stepmother called to her. «Your father has written to me,» she said. «He has met with the King of the north, who has agreed to marry you to his only son. The contract is being signed as we speak.»

Muirin nodded, hiding her horror at this news, but ever more determined to wed Conlan that very night. She brushed her hair until it shone, then bundled its length into a fine net caught at the nape of her neck. She had chosen her clothing carefully, a gown of sea blue silk, a froth of white lace, like the crest of a wave. She wore the golden necklace her mother had given her, a dolphin hanging from the golden links. She took one last look at herself in her mirror, pinched her cheeks to make them rosy, then threw her finest mantle — a cape made of swan feathers — over her shoulders, and hurried from her room.

She left the castle easily, finding the postern gate left open and no guard there to question her. She reached the cliff above the sea just as the moon was reaching its zenith. Conlan was already there under the mighty oak, his tall form in shadow.

He was not alone. The Queen stood nearby, draped in a long dark cloak, her face pale. In her hand was a switch, which she tapped against her leg as Muirin slowed her steps, then joined them.

«Muirin,» her stepmother said, her voice smooth and emotionless, «what mean you by stealing from the castle in the dark of the night?»

«It is not dark, madam. The moon has lit my way.»

«Have you come to swim?»

«No, madam. I have come but to enjoy the moonlight on the sea.»

«Liar! You have come to steal away with the woodcutter’s son!»

«No, madam, we do not plan to leave!»

«You would stay here then, with him? Your father is even now finding you a husband, you ungrateful girl!»

«I want no husband but Conlan.»

«You mean to defy me? You?» She raised her switch as though to strike Muirin.

«No!» Conlan shouted, rushing forwards from the dark, his arm outstretched.

Before he could reach her, the stepmother whirled to face him. «You would strike me, son of the earth?»

«Do not harm her!» he roared.

«She must be punished!»

«You will not harm her!» Conlan raised his arm.

«Then let it be you who suffers.» Muirin’s stepmother raised the switch and pointed it at him, her voice rising into the air. «I call upon thee, forces of darkness, to give me strength. Strike him down, he who would harm your priestess, he who would defy me!»

There was a strike of lightning from a sky that had been clear a moment before, a great swirl of wind that brought the sudden smell of sulphur.

«Strike him down, oh forces of darkness!» the stepmother called again, raising her arms high, her cloak spreading behind her like wings. «Make him pay for daring to defy me! Root him to the ground!»

Lightning split the sky again, and a roar of wind blew leaves and branches and dirt into the air. Muirin put her hands over her eyes. There was a clap of thunder so loud that it deafened her. And then silence.

She looked up, but saw only darkness. The moonlight was gone, the sky a black dome above her. Nothing seemed to move, nothing to even breathe. And then, dimly, the sound of the sea came to her, a soft murmur.

«Conlan?» she whispered, reaching for him.

Her hands found only air and she stepped forwards in the dark, then again, reaching for him. «Conlan?» Again there was only silence, and she grew fearful. «Are you hurt? Conlan, speak to me!»

Her hands found the trunk of the giant oak, and she stretched her arms around its width, laying her head on its bark.

«Conlan?» There was only silence.

Muirin spent the remainder of the night under the tree, waking at dawn, surprised that she had slept at all. Night was receding and while the light was still dim, it was enough for her to see that it was not the ancient oak under which she had slept, but a much younger tree, a slender oak tree with leaves the colour of Conlan’s eyes. And there, a handful of paces away, the ancient oak.

She stared at both trees. Two. For all the years of her life, there had only been one tree here on this cliff. She jumped to her feet, staring at the two trees.

«Muirin.» The voice was soft, feminine.

Muirin whirled around to find the owner of the voice. The cliff was empty but for her and the two trees. Far below her, in the cobalt water of the western sea, three dolphins swam in spirals, and above her, perched in the highest branches of the ancient oak, three ravens watched.

«No,» said the voice. «It is not they who speak to you, child.»

«Who are you?» Muirin asked in a small voice.

«I am here, child, in the wind, in the air. You cannot see me, but I am with you.»

«Mother?»

There was the sound of soft laughter. «No, although I knew her as well. A fine woman who did not deserve to die so young. Nor did you deserve to lose her, or your father to fall under the spell of the enchantress you call your stepmother.»

Muirin turned to look all around her. «It is true. But I cannot see you.»

«Do you wish to?»

«Oh, yes, please!»

More soft laughter followed, then a small glowing ball appeared in the air before Muirin, slowly enlarging until it was the size of a dainty person. Within the glow was the most beautiful woman Muirin had ever seen. Her hair was golden, her skin soft and supple, her gown of gossamer. She smiled, her eyes lighting with humour. «Is this better, child?»

Muirin stared in awe at the lovely woman. «You are one of the fair folk, come from the Otherworld!»

The creature smiled again. «It is true. I am of the aes sídhe, come from Tír na nóg.»

«I have nothing to offer you!»

«I have not come to ask for an offering, Muirin, but to aid you in your plight. We are the People of Peace, and this night your stepmother has disrupted our peace. It is she who has done this, who has cast a spell over Conlan and transformed him. She has rooted him in the ground.»

Muirin whirled to look at the slender oak tree. «It is true, then? I had hoped it was but a terrible dream.»

«It is true. Conlan is no more.»

Muirin clasped her hand over her mouth with a moan, then threw her arms around the tree. «Conlan! Oh my love! I should never have defied her! Conlan!» She whirled back to the woman of the fair folk. «Is it forever? Can it be undone?»

«There is one way by which he can be returned to human form, Muirin. But it is very dangerous.»

«I don’t care about danger! I will do anything that would bring Conlan back to me!»

«It will require great courage, child.»

«I will find courage enough to do whatever is required.»

«And great physical strength.»

«I will find the strength I need!»

«And you must outwit a terrible foe.»

«I will find a way to do that! Please tell me what I must do!»

«You must go to the land of the merrow and the mermen. To Tir fo Thoinn, the Land Beneath the Waves.»

Muirin thought of all she had heard of the Land Beneath the Waves, the home of the beautiful merrows — the mermaids who sometimes took human form and lived among men. And of the mermen, said to be hideously ugly creatures covered with scales, having the features of pigs and long, pointed teeth.

«The merrow are sometimes hostile, Muirin. You could be in danger.»

«How can I go there? How will I breathe?»

The woman looked up at the ravens. «They will aid you.»

«What must I do there?» Muirin asked.

«In the Land Beneath the Waves there are mermen who hold the souls of drowned sailors in cages, called soul cages. You must free three of them.»

Muirin nodded. «I will do it. Anything to free Conlan from the enchantment.»

«There is more you must do.»

«Please tell me!»

«In the Land Beneath the Waves there is a castle in which a lovely princess lives. An enchantment has removed all colour from her life, and only a clever human can restore it.»

«I will do it! But how?»

«You will have to discover that.»

«I will! Anything to free Conlan.»

«There is still more, Muirin.»

Muirin began to grow afraid. «Tell me, please.»

«There is an ogre who has terrorized three merrow sisters. You must kill him.»

«But how?»

«You will have to discover that. Are you willing?»

Muirin swallowed, but nodded. «Anything to save the man I love.»

«If you are successful, you will return home to find Conlan restored, your stepmother banished beneath the waves and your father freed from her spell.»

«Yes! But how.?» Muirin clasped her hands before her as the sídhe’s glow began to fade. «Oh, do not leave me yet! I don’t know enough! Where should I go?»

The woman, already transparent, looked down at the dolphins again. She continued to fade. «The dolphins will aid you. Safe journey, child. Courage!»

And then Muirin was alone again. She stared around her, seeing the lonely cliff, empty but for her and the two oak trees. She looked at the slender oak and lifted her chin.

«I will free you, Conlan!» she cried.

For a long moment, Muirin could not move. She stood where she was, her hands clasped before her, looking out over the sea. She was afraid. Then she walked to the slender oak and threw her arms around its trunk.

«I cannot live without you, my love. I will not live without you.» She placed her lips against its bark. «Conlan, if I do not return, I will find you in the afterlife. I will always love you. Always. Stay strong, my love.»

And then she left, walking slowly down the path that led from the cliff to the sea. In the water below her, the three dolphins still swam in spirals. She looked up at a harsh cry above her, to see the three ravens spinning overhead. They swooped past her, circling something at the far end of the beach. One lifted it, and with the others flanking it, flew towards her as she reached the shingle, then lay it before her on the rocks.

It was a small red cap made of feathers. A cohuleen druith, she realized, recognizing it as the magical cap that enabled the merrows to swim through the ocean. Muirin had heard that if a mermaid lost this cap, she also lost her ability to return beneath the waves. Muirin looked around her now, half-expecting to see the merrow here, but there was no beautiful woman walking on the beach.

«I will but borrow this,» she said aloud, in case the merrow might be able to hear her. «I will return it to you, I swear it. Or die in the trying.»

She shivered at the echo of her own words, but lifted the red cap and examined it. It weighed almost nothing, was craftily constructed of fine red feathers and what looked like silver thread. She turned it in her hands, looking out to sea.

Could she do it? Plunge into the waves and trust this delicate garment cap to keep her alive? Conlan, she thought, and put the cap on her head. The ravens circled her, their cries sounding like encouragement now. She smiled then walked towards the water.

But there she hesitated, looking at the waves crashing on the beach. How many times had she swum through these crystal waters with Conlan, laughing at the waves as they broke over her? She had no choice. If she did not go, Conlan would never return to her, and how could she live without him? If she perished in the trying, at least she could die without shame.

Daughter of the sea, her stepmother had called her. She was about to be just that, a daughter of Lir, the king of the ocean. She stepped forward, watching the water lick at her shoes. Another step and her skirts were wet. Another and she was in to her waist.

She plunged into the froth when the wave came, expecting to be tumbled, then come out the other side and gasp for air. Instead, she sank under the surface, no longer feeling the damp, her body strangely lightweight. She opened her eyes, expecting them to sting from the salt water, but instead she could see clearly the three dolphins that now swam before her, their heads bobbing at her at though inviting her to join them.

She moved her arms and glided through the water with little effort, realizing that she could breathe as well here as on land. She almost laughed. It was real, the merrow magic was real! But hard on the heels of her amusement came a wave of fear. Somehow she had to find the Land Beneath the Waves, then learn how to do the tasks that would eventually save Conlan. She took a deep breath, and followed the dolphins.

She had no idea of how long she swam, or how far. There were times when she swam alone, others when the dolphins would offer her a fin to hold, and glide her through the water at a speed she could never have matched on her own. Times when she could see the sunlight on the surface, others when all around her was darkness.

Creatures passed her and the dolphins: small fish that darted out of the way; large fish, with fins that looked like sails, that paused to watch them go by; sharks that circled as if wondering if she could be snatched away from her guides; whales that filled the water with their strange songs.

And then Muirin could see it, the Land Beneath the Waves, stretching far into the distance, a walled kingdom of spires and towers, large structures covered with oyster shells. An entire city, with streets and bridges plainly visible. And full of merrows and mermen.

As they neared the undersea kingdom, her fear returned. How would she be able to gain entrance through those enormous gates? And once in, what would she do? How would she know where to find the soul cages, the princess whose castle was without colour, or the three mermaids terrified by an ogre?

How foolish she had been to think for a moment that she could do this! She was trembling by the time they reached the massive gates, sure she would be discovered as an imposter. But she need not have worried, for the gates opened of their own accord, and she and the dolphins glided through with none to stop them.

They paused in a large square surrounded by tall buildings, unnoticed by the beautiful mermaids who swam by. Muirin watched as the gates closed silently behind her, then turned back to discover that two of the dolphins had disappeared. The third seemed to be waiting for her. She pulled her feather cape close, gathered her courage, and followed it.

The dolphin led her across the square and into a wide street lined with what appeared to be shops and houses, and filled with every sort of transport: sea horses pulling magnificent coaches; mighty water horses, which would have terrified her at home; sea serpents pulling huge barges on which mermaids lay, reclining on fanciful couches, combing their long tresses with combs made of seashells.

Muirin was so fascinated by all she saw that she soon lost track of their path, and hardly noticed when they turned into a narrower street, then a still narrower lane. And stopped before a door made of seaweed. The dolphin rapped on the door with its nose, and glided back, leaving Muirin to face the repulsive creature that opened the door.

She drew back in horror from the pig-faced merman. He did not have skin, but was covered in scales. He looked her up and down, then smiled, revealing long pointed teeth.

«Daughter of Lir,» he said in a pleasant tone, opening the door wide. «Welcome. I have been expecting you!»

She stepped inside his home, not knowing what she would encounter. The room was large, furnished as one might expect a human home would be. But there, in the corner, stacked high, were a dozen wicker cages like those used for catching lobsters. Most were empty, but four were not. An octopus stared at her mournfully from a cage in the centre row, and above it, in the top three cages, well above her reach, tiny shimmering male faces looked down at her. The soul cages.

She had heard the tales of mermen who caused storms, then captured the souls of the drowned sailors, but had considered them too fanciful to be real. But here they were, imprisoned souls, and she must somehow discover how to free them.

«Well,» the merman said, offering her a driftwood bench to sit upon while he leaned against the hearth. «How was your journey, daughter of Lir? Not too arduous, I’m hoping?»

She shook her head cautiously. «Not at all,» she answered, looking at him out of the side of her eyes. He truly was the ugliest creature she’d ever seen.

«Good, good,» he said, offering her a shell full of brandy. «For your troubles in bringing it to me.»

She took the shell and sipped at the brandy, trying to think of what she had that he might desire. She could not part with the red cap, for she had promised to return it to the merrow who had left it on the strand. With what else, then, could she bargain?

She had the golden necklace with the dolphin pendant that her mother had given her all those years ago, but one look at his neck let her know it would never fit him. Perhaps he would like to give it to one of the mermaids? She had her clothing, the net around her hair, but what would her want with those? And her cape, made of the finest swan feathers.

That was it! Daughter of Lir, he had called her. Lir, the king of the sea. Whose children had been turned into swans by their jealous stepmother.

She slid the cape off her shoulders and casually laid it beside her on the driftwood bench. He watched her movements with a smile. Would he eat her? she wondered. Those long teeth were terrifying. How strange that the female of the species was so lovely and the male so hideous. Small wonder, then, that mermaids sought human mates.

He bent to slide a hand with webbed fingers across the feathers. «As soft as I have heard! Is it true, then, that the cape will allow me to walk as a man in your world?»

«I cannot tell you,» she said, keeping her words truthful.

He gave her a merry smile. «Ah, a bargainer, are you? Very well then, how many do you think this is worth?»

«All of them,» she said, hoping that he spoke of the imprisoned souls.

«What, all three? Never!»

«And the octopus as well,» she said quietly, as a sudden thought occurred to her.

«Why? It is only a play toy for me,» he said sullenly. «I like to watch it change colour.»

«And the octopus as well,» she said again.

He gave a harrumph. They were silent then, sipping their brandy. Muirin checked the distance to the door. She would trade her cape for the souls, but not her life. Still, was this not the very reason she’d come, to do these tasks and free Conlan?

«Two?» he asked, leaning to stroke the feathers again.

She shook her head and moved as though she were about to stand.

«It’s all three you’re wanting, then, is it?» he asked, his tone resigned.

She nodded slowly. «And the octopus.»

He stared into the distance. They did not speak. The only sound was the music that floated in from the lane, a mournful tune that threatened to make her mood sink. His gaze shifted to the cape of swan feathers.

He nodded to himself as though he’d come to a decision, then turned those small eyes upon her. «Very well,» he said, crossing the room to the cages. «All three it is. And the octopus as well. I can get another in a moment. You drive a hard bargain, daughter of Lir.»

She stood, leaving the cape on the bench, and moved towards the door. He held the cages out to her. She took them, surprised to find that they were quite heavy.

«Careful not to free the souls before you reach the surface, or they’ll sink back to the bottom and I’ll capture them again,» he said, his tone merry once more. He threw the cape a glance. «I shall try it at once!»

«I should like to be home before you do,» she said.

He nodded as he threw the door open wide. «Then I will wait a day, shall I? Your day, not ours, for ours are quite different.»

She nodded and passed through the doorway. «Thank you,» she said.

«No, thank you, daughter of Lir. This is a day I will long remember.»

«I should think it will be,» she said, stepping into the lane.

«Regards to your father,» he called as he shut the door.

Muirin had hoped that the dolphin would still be there, but the lane was very empty.

«One task accomplished,» she said.

She blew her breath out in a long sigh, hefted the cages, and hurried back towards the wide street. She had no idea where she should go next and she stood at the side of the street as she decided what to do, watching the colourful travellers pass before her, each more astonishing than the last.

Except for one. The Princess, pale and with colourless hair, dressed in a misty gown, rode in an grey open coach pulled by sea horses so pale that Muirin could almost see through them.

And there, on the other side of the street, two dolphins swam forwards to follow the coach. They nodded to her and made room between them for her and the cages.

Muirin smiled. This then was the Princess the woman of the fair folk had told her of, the one to whose life she must restore colour. She bent low over the cage that held the octopus, keeping her voice very low.

«I would like to free you, Sir octopus, but I have a favour to ask in return.»

«Ask away,» the octopus growled. «I am going nowhere but where you take me.»

«That will no longer be the case if you grant me my favour.»

«Tell me what it is and I will determine if it is possible.»

He listened silently while Muirin told him what she needed. At the end of her explanation, he nodded. «A simple matter, daughter of man. I make my own colour.»

«But can you share it?» she asked.

«Why else have I so many arms? Take me there.»

And so Muirin and the dolphins, and the octopus, and the souls in the soul cages, all followed the Princess back to her castle, which seemed to be made of glass, for it had no colour at all. Nor did anything within the castle. The plantings in the garden were not green. The apples on the trees were not red, nor the roses on their bushes. The birds in the trees were neither blue nor brown. The coal in her fire was transparent.

«You see my dreadful state,» the Princess said, wringing her hands. «I would so love to live in a colourful world again, but only a human can break my enchantment. Can you help me, daughter of man?»

«I will try,» Muirin said, «with the help of my brother octopus.»

The Princess looked at the octopus and frowned. «Your brother?»

«All creatures are brothers and sisters in this world, Princess. No, he is not human, but he will produce the colour and I will apply it, and together we will endeavour to break the enchantment placed on you and your home.»

The Princess nodded, watching at first with a sceptical expression, which changed to joy as Muirin and the octopus coated everything with the colour it required. Coal was returned to black, the roses to red and the trees to a fine green that made Muirin sigh with longing for her Conlan.

The Princess’ thanks were effusive, and she offered many gifts to Muirin to show her gratitude. Muirin would take nothing until the Princess held out a magic sword.

«It will only harm evil creatures,» she told Muirin. «Never one with a good heart.»

Muirin took the sword and let the now three dolphins lead her back to the large square, the Princess’ praises still ringing in her ears.

At the side of the square, Muirin opened the cage door wide and told the octopus he was free to go. The octopus, with that strange sidewards motion he used, slithered from the cage. He paused for a moment to thank her, then changed colour and blended in with the building behind him so well that after a moment Muirin could not tell where the octopus left off and the building began.

«Two tasks accomplished,» she said.

Muirin blew her breath out in a long sigh, hefted the three remaining cages, and hurried away. She had no idea where she should go next, but she had an idea where she might be needed.

She slowed her pace as she neared the lane where the merman lived, careful to look around her in case he had not waited to try the cape of swan feathers, for she was quite sure the only thing it would do would be to keep him warm.

She hurried past his lane, following the sound of the mournful music she had heard at his house. The music grew louder with every step she took, and it was not difficult to discover the house from which it came.

It was the saddest music she had ever heard, played on more than one instrument, the notes floating with sorrow then plunging to the depths of despair, taking her mood with it. How anyone could play such sadness and still live was beyond her.

She soon found out, for the door was flung wide and in the lovely room revealed were three beautiful merrows, the mermaid sisters of whom the sidhe had told her. There was no sign of the ogre. But, Muirin realized, he must have opened the door, might even now be hiding behind it, waiting for her to enter, for the three merrows were chained to the wall and to their instruments — a lute, a lyre and a trilling whistle. One of the mermaids nodded her head at the door and Muirin knew she had guessed correctly.

She threw a glance over her shoulder to see the three dolphins waiting far down the street, and the three souls in their soul cages watching her with mournful expressions. She put her foot on the threshold, scuffing it as though she had entered, then watched as the ogre leaped out.

He grabbed at the air, his visage so horrible that she stepped back in fright at first, then lifted the magical sword the Princess had given her and, with one mighty blow, severed his head from his body. A fish swam from his body and into his head. She stared at it in surprise, then with horror as the ogre calmly picked up his head, reattached it to his body and glared at her.

«You must capture his soul, then destroy it,» one of the merrows said.

«How am I to do that?» Muirin asked, raising her sword to strike him again.

«It will take the form of a fish,» the second merrow told her.

«You must catch it and release it in the air, before he will be truly dead,» the third merrow said.

The ogre rushed at her and, with another mighty swing, Muirin again severed his head from his body. This time, when the fish swam from his body, she whipped the net that held her hair from her head and tossed it over the fish.

At once the music stopped, then turned lively. The room was suddenly full of merrows and merman — ugly as they were, they were still less ugly than the ogre — who quickly removed the chains from the merrows and set them free. Muirin stepped back from their thanks and out into the street once more.

«Three tasks accomplished,» she said. «Almost.»

She looked at the fish still writhing in her net, blew her breath out in a long sigh, hefted the cages, and hurried back towards the large square.

«We are going home,» she told the souls. «When I reach the surface, I will set you free so you may join your bodies. Your imprisonment will seem but a dream.»

But how was she to get there? The dolphins were nowhere in sight and she had no idea of how to reach Ireland from this distant land. She thought of Conlan, of all she had accomplished. To now find herself at a loss was too much to bear, and she wept bitter tears for several moments.

Feeling quite bereft, she grasped the necklace her mother had given her. At once the three dolphins appeared before her.

«You had only to beckon us,» one told her.

«We will take you home now,» a second said.

Still carrying the cages and the net holding the fish, she followed the third dolphin to the massive gates of the Land Beneath the Waves, which, as they had done before, opened of their own accord. She swam through, turning to watch the gates close silently behind her.

It was a simple matter then.

She had no idea of how long she swam, or how far. There were times when she swam alone, others when the dolphins would offer her a fin to hold, and glide her through the water at a speed she could never have matched on her own. Times when she could see the sunlight on the surface, others when all around her was darkness.

Creatures passed her and the dolphins: small fish that darted out of the way; large fish, with fins that looked like sails, that paused to watch them go by; sharks that circled as if wondering if she could be snatched away from her guides; whales that filled the water with their strange songs. But this time she was not afraid. This time all she could think of was her Conlan and whether she had done all she must to free him from the spell.

And then Muirin could see it, the shore of her own beloved Ireland, her own beach. She thanked the dolphins profusely, but they waved her thanks aside with a whip of a flipper, and disappeared back into the depths. She held the net with the fish high in the air above her head. The fish gasped, gulped, then crumbled into nothing. The net, empty now, sagged against her arm.

She struggled out of the water, her skirts sodden and heavy, and finally heaved herself and the three soul cages on to the sand, opening the cage doors with a sigh.

«You are free to go,» Muirin told the souls.

Instead of disappearing as she thought they might, they hovered in the air for a moment, their tiny faces wreathed with smiles.

«Your stepmother is no more,» they told her. «The enchantment she placed on your beloved died with her.» And then they were gone.

Overhead three ravens circled. Muirin jumped to her feet, tore the red cap from her head and placed it on the rocks before her. One raven lifted it and, with the others on either side, flew away from her, then lay the cap reverently at the far end of the beach.

«I thank you,» she called, in case the capless merrow was nearby, then hurried up the hill.

There, standing next to the ancient oak tree under which they had pledged themselves, was Conlan, whole, and looking so handsome that she stopped where she was, taking in the very sight of such a fine man.

«Conlan!» she cried.

«At last!» He leaped across the space between them and gathered her into his arms. «You are my very own Muirin, my daughter of the sea,» he cried. «The most magnificent woman who has ever lived, more beautiful than any other woman above or below the waves. Say you will be mine for all time.»

«Yes,» she said. «Yes and yes and yes.»

«Then I will tell you my news. When I was an oak tree, my father, the woodcutter, came to visit me. He told me the secret he has kept hidden all these many years. He was not my father. Instead, I was his foster-son. My father is a king in the north, the very king who agreed to marry his only son to your father’s only daughter. It was meant to be, this between us. You need not have faced all that you faced to be mine, my dearest love.»

«Ah, but I did, Conlan, for by facing all that I faced, I learned much about myself, and that I would risk anything to be with you. It was meant to be, this between us, my dearest love.»

Muirin raised her mouth to be claimed by his.

They were married that very evening, by moonlight, under the spreading limbs of the ancient oak tree. Her father beamed at her when she took her vows, and told her later, with a wide smile, that her stepmother had disappeared at the very moment that Muirin had released the souls.

Muirin and Conlan danced until dawn, and every year, on the anniversary of the day they were wed, they came to the ancient oak and danced under its limbs, remembering the days of their youth and all that had happened.