The Sea King’s Daughter

I

WHEN I WOKE UP I THOUGHT AT FIRST I WAS STILL UNDERWATER. Space swam in a clear, cool, green light. Then I saw that there were sea-green curtains at the windows. The shades were drawn against the sunlight. I was lying in a bed; the softness, the smoothness of the sheets added to the illusion. I hadn’t slept in a decent bed for weeks.

I felt pretty good, except for the ache in my arm. I turned my head. My right arm was bandaged from wrist to elbow. I remembered quite clearly what had happened; I could even reinterpret the facts that had been clouded, toward the end, by my growing weakness.

The rustle of linen as I turned my head caught the attention of the woman standing by the window. She came toward me. I had already recognized her; the shape was unmistakable. She was wearing a long embroidered robe, slit at the sides.

“Madame,” I said, with difficulty. My tongue felt as drugged and lazy as the rest of my body.

“But surely you must call me Kore.” Smiling, she sat down on the edge of the bed. “You are better; that is good. Jürgen has said you would take no harm. He is an amateur doctor. More amateur than doctor, I tell him.”

Her smile was no longer aimed at me. I rolled my eyes toward the other side of the bed.

I had a moment of panic, then; between the two of them I felt imprisoned. But the face of the man who stood looking down at me, though severe and unsmiling, was not frightening. It was, of course, familiar.

“You brought me in,” I said. “Thank you…”

“Should I allow you to drown?” He didn’t exactly smile, but the corners of his long, rigid lips relaxed a trifle. At one time he must have been a strikingly handsome man, if you like the military type. He was still lean and broad-shouldered; the streaks of white in his hair only made him appear more interesting. Yet the face was forbidding. His dark eyes fled from mine. He looked at my hands, at the wall, anywhere except directly at me.

“I was trespassing,” I said weakly. “My fault…”

“Don’t talk. You are still weak, you have lost much blood. There is no way of giving a transfusion here, but I think there is no need to carry you to a hospital. You are young and strong. Rest is all you require.”

“But…”

“What worries you?”

He took my wrist. His touch was professionally cool; the long fingers, resting lightly on the beating pulse, barely touched me.

“My…employer. He will worry about me.”

“Minos,” said Kore. She emitted a tinkle of laughter. “I will inform him. And the other, the young hero, him too I will see. I think he will be the one to worry. Do not fret, child, all will be in order.”

My eyelids were so heavy; I had to close them, but I didn’t sleep for a while.

So this man was the mysterious occupant of the villa-the Colonel. Kore had called him Jürgen. A good German name, that one. He was rather intimidating, but his withdrawn manner seemed to be caused by reserve rather than ill will. Certainly I couldn’t complain. He had undoubtedly saved my life.

He must have had some trouble doing it, too. I had a vague recollection of hitting out, the way I had been trained never, ever, to do when someone was trying to rescue you. I wondered what had brought him to the shore in time to see my floundering progress. Had he been on his way down the cliff?

Or had he known that an accident might happen?

I had to dismiss that idea. I couldn’t be sure that the coiled metal spring had been planted. It was an extremely inefficient method of attack; I might have been quick enough to avoid the cutting edge or received a glancing blow. It seemed much more likely that the accident had been just that. Certainly no villain would rush out to rescue his intended victim. If there was a villain, it couldn’t be the Colonel.

Sleep began to overcome me. My last waking thought could not have invaded a wholly conscious mind; I would have fought to keep it from surfacing.

If someone wanted to stop my diving, a minor accident would do the job. It was just bad luck that the cut had been so deep and that Frederick had chosen that time to absent himself. And Jim had said, only a few days ago, that he would do whatever he had to do to stop me.

When I awoke the second time it was evening. Lamplight cast a yellow glow, and the windows were dark squares behind the draperies. As soon as I stirred, Kore came into view.

“Ah, you are awake. And hungry, perhaps?”

I was ravenous, and I said as much. Kore beamed.

“Good, that is good.” She clapped her hands.

The woman who entered, carrying a tray, wore a neat maid’s uniform. She was middle-aged, with iron-gray hair. Her nationality was questionable, but I thought she was Greek. Obeying Kore’s imperious gesture she placed the tray on a small table, moved it close to the bed, and left.

Kore pulled up a chair. She had changed clothes again. This outfit was the most gorgeous I had seen yet, a kind of caftan of gold brocade that twinkled with rainbow-colored jewels.

“Now I feed you,” she said, smiling. “I am a good nurse, I tell you. I do it neatly.”

“I think I can feed myself,” I said. “In fact, there’s no reason why I should stay in bed.”

“No, no, you must rest. But you may sit up, if it does not make you faint.”

She hadn’t been kidding about her talents as a nurse. Deftly she arranged the pillows behind me and helped me raise myself up. Then she spread a linen towel across my lap and lifted the tray into position.

I don’t remember what the food was, except that there was some kind of soup, thick with barley and lentils, the inevitable fish-and wine. It tasted good, but I had to eat left-handed, which was awkward.

“He has taken twelve stitches,” said Kore, patting my bandaged arm. “Twelve! It is terrible! No wonder it is hurting. How could you be so clumsy? Always you seem like a…what is the word? A mermaiden, yes; at home in the world of water.”

“Things happen,” I said vaguely, and put down my fork. The effort had tired me more than I would have believed possible. Kore whisked the tray away and then settled down in a chair by the bed.

“Did you see Frederick?” I asked.

“Oh, yes.” Kore giggled. The sound was quite unlike her normal laugh, and for an instant I could almost see her as the young girl she had once been.

“He has not changed,” she went on. “He said you are to come home. Home! That terrible place, with him to be your nurse! I have told him no, you stay here till you are well.”

“That’s very kind of you, but I don’t want to impose.”

“You do not impose.” She leaned forward and put her hand over mine. Like the rest of her, her hands were a little too plump, but I was suddenly conscious of the hard bones in her fingers. “You do not impose,” she repeated, holding my eyes with hers. “It is for me to enjoy you.”

I knew she didn’t speak English too well, but that phrase struck me unpleasantly. She must have been aware of my distaste; she released my hand and leaned back, the picture of relaxed sophistication.

“Also I have spoken to Jim,” she went on. “I have been busy today! It was as I said, he was the one who was angry for you. I tell him he may come tomorrow. Not tonight, because you do not look yet so pretty. Tomorrow I make you beautiful for him.”

“I feel very beautiful,” I said, glancing down at the folds of fabric that-barely-concealed my torso. It was the sort of nightgown I would have expected Kore to wear, pale chiffon, like drifts of cloud.

“Ah, that-it is old, I throw it away. Tomorrow you will have a better.”

“You are kind,” I said again. “You make me feel guilty, madame. I had no right to swim in your private bay. And I didn’t thank-the Colonel-for saving me. How did he happen to come when he did?”

She accepted my name for him without comment.

“But he watches you often. He is a man; he likes to see a pretty girl, there is no harm in that.” She made a comical face. “I do not look so in a swimming costume, not now. Once… But thatwas long ago. So Jürgen watches you; he says, that is a pretty girl; she swims well. Let her enjoy our water, I will not go for my swim till she finishes, I would not make her think I am bad old man. But today he sees you are hurt. He sees you swim slowly. He rushes down…” Her eyesflashed; she waved her hands excitedly. “It is romantic, is it not? But poor Jürgen is not romantic, he is too old. You do not have to be afraid of him, not when you have a handsome young lover.”

She had a lot of charm. The story was told with such verve and humor I couldn’t help smiling.

It was a little unbelievable, though. Her Jürgen must have been on his way down the cliff when he saw I was in trouble; he couldn’t have reached me in time otherwise. And strain my imagination as I might, I couldn’t hear him saying the words she had so gaily attributed to him, or drooling through his binoculars over a girl’s figure.

But I didn’t really care. I didn’t care about anything; I felt drowsy and warm, and so comfortable… I had forgotten how pleasant it was toenjoy the commonplace comforts of civilization. There was even a plump, smiling mother type sitting by me, patting my hand.

The thought of Kore as a motherly type made me want to laugh. And yet there was something maternal about her, under the glittering clothes and expert maquillage.

“You are sleepy, yes?” She put her hand on my forehead. “Good,” she murmured. “It is good; there is no fever.”

But her hand did not leave my brow. The fingers moved slowly; I thought of little snakes, squirming. But there was nothing repellent about the idea. I’m not afraid of snakes. I used to have a garter snake whose name was Herman. Snakes aren’t slimy, they are cool and hard and a little rough. Bundles of living muscle, moving…but quickly, not like those white fingers with their gentle, rhythmic caress…

The pillow under my head was lowered. I lay flat, staring up at a shadowy ceiling. Somewhere a voice was whispering.

“You are drowsy…you will sleep. And when you sleep, she will awaken, she who has slept so long and found a vessel of rebirth. O Most Holy, guardian of the dancing floor, daughter and maiden, awaken to your ancient heritage and live again!”

I heard the words. I understood what they meant and knew them for the half-pathetic, half-menacing nonsense that they were. But I was sinking down, down into green watery depths, sinking as if a stone had been tied to my feet; and as the darkness of the deep wrapped around me it was as if I, sinking, passed Another who was rising up out of the sea floor into sunlight.

II

Drugged.

I woke with that word floating on the surface of my mind. Sunlight was bright at the windows. The room was no longer like subaqueous space, it glowed like the green of a forest in broad daylight. My mouth felt dry, but otherwise I was in good shape. I flexed my arm experimentally and got a stab of pain for reward, but it wasn’t as bad as I had expected.

There had been some drug in the food or the wine. I had no doubts about that; my physical sensations just before I fell asleep had been typical. No worry, no concern, only an illusion of clarity and comfort and understanding. That’s what grass does for some people, at least so they tell me. It didn’t do anything for me except make my mouth taste foul. But I could get addicted to this stuff, whatever it was.

Looking back now on that episode, it seems incredible to me that I could have accepted it with such blind complacency. For it was a sign of what was to come, and not until the very end was I able to break free and reject what was happening to me. But it’s easy to be wise after the event. Each separate incident could be explained, and I was only too eager to explain them. The personal weaknesses that made me vulnerable also made me blind.

And surely that first incident was easy to understand. People get all uptight about the word “drugs,” but drugs have medicinal purposes too. No doubt I had been given a sedative or painkiller. Any kind of drug can affect the mind. I couldn’t even be sure I had really heard the eerie whispering. It fit only too well with previous outpourings of my subconscious.

Besides, the villa was such a pretty, comfortable place. If there had been gothic arches and moldering castle walls, or a few bats… Who couldimagine demons in a room furnished with French antiques and linen sheets?

I felt so good I decided I would get up. That was a mistake. The bed was a lot higher than I had expected. My feet didn’t quite reach the floor, and as soon as I sat up my head started to spin. Then the whole room began to heave slowly up and down, just like an earthquake. I slid off the bed and hit the floor with a thud. Luckily I fell on my left side, but the impact jarred my arm, and it hurt so badly I must have fainted. I wasn’t out very long. The crash alerted Kore and the maid; they came running in and put me back to bed. Kore was clucking like a mother hen.

“See, how foolish! You have hurt yourself. You are bad! I must call Jürgen to look at you.”

Jürgen duly appeared. In the unflattering light of day he appeared much older than he had the night before, but he had the strong, elegant bone structure that triumphs over wrinkles and sagging flesh. His eyes continued to avoid me, while he checked my pulse and temperature and unwound the bandages to look at the wound.

“Already it heals,” he said with satisfaction. “That is what it is to be strong and young! But no more foolishness about leaving the bed. Rest and sleep and eat, that is what you need.”

He smiled in my general direction and started backing away.

“How soon can I leave?” I asked, and then felt my face grow warm as the ungraciousness of the question struck me. “I didn’t mean that; I just meant-”

“Of course you meant it. You are young, and already you are bored. I can offer you only books. My selection of English volumes is not great, I fear. Shall I bring you what I have?”

“Yes, please,” I said resignedly. He hadn’t answered me, which indicated that I had a couple of days of boredom ahead of me. He might not be a doctor, but he had a physician’s reticence.

“Bah,” said Kore. “Bring your dull books. There is nothing else. No television, no theater, no music. Such a place! How do I endure it?” She waved her hand. The jewels on her fingers flashed, and one sleeve slid back, showing the coils of the golden serpent.

The Colonel had taken advantage of her speech to retire noiselessly, and the maid appeared with my breakfast. It was an English- or American-type meal, not the European petit dé jeuner I had expected. The bacon was thicker and fatter than the kind I was used to, and rather too salty, but the eggs were fresh and well cooked. Kore sat watching me, nodding with satisfaction at every bite.

“I cannot eat so,” she announced blithely. “It makes too fat, you see. But you are needing the food, Jürgen says. He is clever, Jürgen.”

“He is a very good man,” I said. “I’m grateful.”

“Yes,” she said soberly. “He is a good man.”

After the tray had been removed, Kore went into action. She hadn’t been kidding when she announced her intention of making me beautiful. I didn’t like it. I felt like a life-sized doll, or one of those cult statues, the Virgin or a female saint, being re-robed by devout peasant women. But I hated to complain when she was being so kind, and enjoying herself so much. She twisted my hair up and tied it with ribbons, and the fresh nightgown she produced had obviously been altered to fit my measurements. It was a stunning gown, layer on layer of chiffon that ran the gamut of greens and blues and blended into a heavenly aquamarine. When she came at me waving brushes and lipsticks, I protested. She looked so hurt I gave in, but I hated it. I don’t know how movie and TV stars stand being made up; I felt like a thing.

Finally Kore stepped back, clapping her hands, and exclaimed with joy. I started to smile, but stopped; my face felt as if something were going to crack. I asked for a mirror. While Kore was flapping around looking for one, the maid came in and said something. Kore answered her and then turned to me, her eyes glowing.

“It is Jim,” she announced-she pronounced it “Jeem.” “We are just in time. Now sit up-let me make the pillow straight… Ah, he will bedrunken with love, you are so beautiful!”

I heard him coming from a long way off. Even the sound of his footsteps was unique. My heart was beating faster, and not only with pleasant anticipation. Jim would have a few things to say about my carelessness.

He must have come straight from the dig, without stopping to change clothes. They were his usual garb, un-pressed cotton work clothes, but he looked marvelous in them, and I thought, with unaccustomed sentimentality, of the couriers who had reported to the king in their travel-stained garments, in token of their zeal.

Jim took one look at me and stopped short. “My God,” he said.

“Well, that’s really sweet,” I said. “That’s a nice way to greet someone in my condition.”

“What condition are you referring to?” Jim inquired politely.

Kore giggled. “Ah, the lovers’ quarrel,” she exclaimed, beaming. “I go. I leave you alone, to make it up. See, Jim, she is beautiful for you. Only for you.”

She slipped away, closing the door with exaggerated care and giving me a wink before she went. Jim sat down on the chair by the bed and stared at me.

“How do you like it?” I asked self-consciously.

“I like you better the way you were.”

“Men,” I said.

“Did Kore dress you up that way?”

“She was just trying to be nice.”

“Have you seen yourself?”

“No.”

“Do you want to know what you look like?”

“No.”

“Then I won’t tell you… Oh, you look beautiful. But you look beautiful to me with your wet hair all over your face and your nose peeling. And,” he added, while I was still gulping over that tender declaration, “if you weren’t in a delicate condition I’d take you by the throat and squeeze till your face turned blue. How could you have been so stupid? What happened?”

I sighed with relief. That took care of the lecture. At least he wasn’t the sort of man who said “I told you so.”

“Didn’t Kore tell you?” I asked.

“She gave me some wild story. I can’t believe half of what she says. What did you cut yourself on?”

“I didn’t get a good look at it. Metal of some kind. It sort of jumped out at me when I lifted a rock.”

“You ought to know better than to stick your hands into some place you can’t see clearly. What were you looking for?”

I told him about the amphora. At first he wasn’t visibly impressed, but as I went on to describe it in detail he listened with increasing interest and asked several questions. The answers didn’t seem to please him; he fell into a frowning silence.

“Well?” I said. “It was a Minoan amphora, don’t you think?”

“What? Oh-oh, yes, it sounds like it. Late Minoan IB. But I don’t understand why… Youcouldn’t describe the location, I suppose?”

“Not accurately. I was about to mark it with a buoy when I got hurt. Maybe I can find it again.”

“Oh, no. That’s the silver lining to the cloud, my girl. No more diving for you. I’d feel better if a doctor looked at that arm. Suppose I borrow a car and drive you to Phira tomorrow.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Jim. Jürgen seems to know what he’s doing.”

“So it’s Jürgen, is it?”

“That’s what Kore calls him.”

“What’s he like?” Jim pulled his chair closer.

“Oh-sixty-ish; tall; military bearing and all that. He’s nice. Withdrawn but nice. He must be pretty good in the water. I was in bad shape when he reached me, and I struggled some.”

“Are you sure he hasn’t got a horrible scar? Or that he doesn’t bear an uncanny resemblance to the late Adolf Hitler?”

“Of course I’m sure. What are you talking about?”

“Trying to find an explanation for his retiring habits.”

“Maybe he’s just shy.”

Jim snorted.

“Never mind Jürgen,” I said impatiently.

“What about Frederick? I suppose he’s mad at me.”

“I’m not sure who he’s mad at,” Jim said. “I saw him last night, and I will frankly admit I went up there looking for trouble. We had-er-words.”

“Why waste your time? He’ll never admit he’s made a mistake. I’ve failed him. You’re right, I can’t do any more diving, not for a while. He’ll blame me, not himself.”

“That’s about the gist of it.”

I smoothed the sheet that lay over my lap and avoided looking at Jim.

“I don’t suppose he said anything about coming to see me.”

“Well…” Jim’s voice was very gentle.

“It’s okay,” I said.

“Chris sent you his regards,” Jim went on. “He was concerned when I told him what had happened; he didn’t even object when I took time off to come and see you. In fact, he reiterated his offer of a job next summer. He likes you, Sandy.”

“Big deal,” I muttered. I regretted my rudeness immediately. Jim was trying to make me feel better, and it was nice of Sir Christopher to offer me a job. I said so, and Jim brightened.

There was a tap on the door. I assumed it was Kore, coming back to see how the lovers’ quarrel was progressing, and I said, “Come in.” Instead of Kore, I saw Jürgen with a pile of books. He hesitated in the doorway.

“I am sorry I intrude,” he said. “I have brought the books. I did not know you had-”

“This is Jim Sanchez,” I said, as Jim turned. “I’m afraid I don’t know-”

My next words were lost in the sound of the heavy books hitting the floor. Jürgen’s face looked like a faded papier-mâché mask, except for his eyes, which had widened until the whites showed all around the pupils. He said something in a strangled voice and then he disappeared. The footsteps that echoed back along the hallway were the steps of a man in mindless, headlong flight.