Nancy - The Islands of the Blessed

“I’ll look for her.”

“She’ll come when she’s ready,” the Bard said firmly. “Now, Aiden, let’s discuss this monster of yours.”

Jack was torn. He wanted to know about the monster, but he was worried about Thorgil. She had to be very cold and hungry. She couldn’t even start a fire with that paralyzed hand of hers.

“Stop fidgeting, lad. She’s guarded by the rune of protection,” the old man said. “Now, to begin—”

The rune only helps you endure pain. It doesn’t save you from it, Jack thought bitterly, remembering the blows he’d received from Olaf One-Brow.

“—something was awakened by Fair Lamenting that should have remained asleep.”

“I don’t know how it could have heard the bell so far away, or why it chose this moment to emerge,” argued Brother Aiden.

It? thought Jack. What on earth is he talking about?

“The bell of Amergin is heard in all worlds, and remember, it hadn’t been used for a long time,” said the Bard. He set the bell upright and a faint chime sounded. All three listeners flinched. “I’ll have to wrap this in wool.”

“Father Severus has much to answer for,” Brother Aiden said sadly.

“Indeed he does. For one thing, he should have left the bell on Grim’s Island.”

Grim’s Island! Where’s that? thought Jack.

The little monk sighed, running his hand over the bright gold of Fair Lamenting. “The abbot himself insisted on bringing the bell. Remember, it had been owned by blessed St. Columba.”

“And hidden by him,” reminded the Bard.

“Yet Fair Lamenting was one of the few things to survive the destruction of the Holy Isle,” said Brother Aiden. “Surely that means the bell is holy. Who could have guessed it would travel the long miles?”

“They say such beings can swim through rock,” said the Bard.

Jack couldn’t hold it in any longer. “What are you talking about? What’s ‘it’? Where’s Grim’s Island? How can anything swim through rock?” He looked down, his face hot with embarrassment. The Bard had often lectured him about demanding quick answers. Most things worth knowing took time, the old man said. One had to wait, let the answer reveal itself. Forcing an explanation before it was ready was like picking an apple blossom and expecting it to taste like an apple.

“I’m surprised you waited this long,” commented the Bard. “I could see the questions piling up, but for once, I sympathize. This is a secret we’ve kept too long, and we must move swiftly to contain the damage.” The old man sat down on the chest where he stored the silver flute. “You go first, Aiden. You’re the one he trusted with the tale.”

“You must understand that Father Severus is the most unselfish man alive,” began Brother Aiden. “He has done many, many acts of kindness.”

Jack nodded. He remembered the gloomy priest in Olaf One-Brow’s ship lecturing everyone about sin and later giving tongue-lashings to the elves (who thought it great fun). But the man had shown compassion for three imprisoned children. Without him they would have died.

“In other circumstances Father Severus could have been a great king,” the monk said. “He inspires obedience. People follow his orders without question.”

Jack recalled the wicked monks of St. Filian’s cringing before Father Severus like whipped hounds. The citizens of Bebba’s Town accepted his leadership instantly and thus obeyed his order to make Brutus their king. Without the priest’s guidance Brutus would never have accomplished anything except to look adorable.

“Let’s not forget, your hero has a few blind spots,” said the Bard.

Brother Aiden smiled apologetically and continued his tale. “Grim’s Island is a cold, nasty place and so far north that sunlight barely touches it in winter. In summer it’s either shrouded in fog or lashed by arctic storms. But to Father Severus it was a paradise for the soul. He had grown weary of the soft life on the Holy Isle.”

“I thought the monks worked hard,” said Jack.

“Oh, we did. When we weren’t digging rocks out of fields, we were repairing roofs, mending fences, and chasing sheep. We prayed seven times a day and twice in the middle of the night. We slept on the ground and in winter meditated in snowdrifts. But there were pleasures too.” The little monk’s eyes softened at the memory.

“I remember singing in the chapel, and the beautiful stained-glass window. I spent many happy hours mixing inks in the library—such beautiful colors! I rolled out sheets of gold to decorate the manuscripts. And the food! We had chicken on Sundays, and bread and beer every day. We made wonderful syllabubs for saint’s days. As for the flummery…” Brother Aiden closed his eyes in ecstasy.

“The best kind, with nutmeg and cream,” Jack murmured. “Father told me.”

“I can see why Severus wanted to leave,” the Bard remarked dryly.

“Yes, well, he’s a very spiritual man,” Brother Aiden said. “Grim’s Island was made for heroes like him. It’s the most forbidding chunk of rock imaginable, and even Father Severus was taken aback by the sheer bleakness of the place. He arrived in a little coracle with only a sack of seeds and a few tools. He had to hunt all over the island for loose stones to build a hut. The only trees were on a mountain in the middle and beyond his strength to reach.

“At night Father Severus curled up in a sandstone cave hardly big enough for a family of foxes. By day he toiled unceasingly, digging seedbeds. He lived on seaweed and limpets. He drank rainwater caught in the rocks.

“Winter came early. By then all the limpets had been eaten and the crops had withered from the cold. The hut was unfinished, and so Father Severus moved into the cave. He didn’t expect to survive. This would have depressed a lesser man, but he looked upon it as a chance to enter Heaven early.”

“I remember,” said Jack. “He used to say the longer you lived, the more chance you had to sin.”

“I’ll never understand Christians,” the Bard said, shaking his head.

“There was one chore Father Severus never neglected, no matter how ill he felt,” said Brother Aiden. “He always said his prayers—seven times a day, though it was difficult to tell time in such darkness. In between, he chipped away at the sandstone to enlarge the cave. One day his knife lodged in a crack, and when he worked it loose, a rock fell out of the wall. Beyond was a small chamber.

“Father Severus felt something inside, wrapped in layers of wool. He hauled it out and carried it to the beach. It was one of those rare nights when the stars were not hidden by clouds and a full moon shone everywhere. The wool was of very fine quality, white in the moonlight and embroidered with gold. Father Severus unwrapped it and found—”

“Fair Lamenting,” said Jack.

“Exactly. It was enfolded in a robe far too grand to have belonged to a monk.”

“It was Columba’s robe when he still ruled my order,” said the Bard. “He was leaving his magic behind in a place where he thought it would do no harm. Little did he know a bumbling idiot would root it out.”

“I would call it honest ignorance,” Brother Aiden protested mildly, “which we all fall prey to—but to go on, Father Severus rang the bell. The sound rolled out over the sea, and all at once the waves became as smooth as glass. The wind died and a warmth like summer spread over the beach. It was as good as a feast to hear that music, Father Severus told me. All hunger, cold, and fear fled before it. In spite of his weakness he prayed for a long time, full of joy, and that night he slept like an infant. When he awoke, he found a fat salmon lying outside the cave, next to a stack of driftwood.”

“It was his first encounter with the mermaid,” said the Bard.

Jack came alert at once. He’d heard vague rumors of a scandal between Father Severus and a mermaid, but no one would tell him the details. Pega thought there had been a love affair. She guessed there was a family of little half-monks living on a beach somewhere.

“You can put that fevered idea out of your mind at once,” the Bard said, reading his expression. “The truth is more dreary.”

“For several weeks Father Severus woke to find food and kindling by the cave,” said Brother Aiden. “His strength returned and so, gradually, did the sunlight. He went out to work on the hut and discovered, to his amazement, that it had been finished. It wasn’t a beehive shape—more of a long spiral such as a sea snail might construct—but large enough to be comfortable.

“Father Severus assumed that angels were taking care of him. He built an altar of driftwood and thanked God for His mercy. Then he built a frame for the bell. When it rang, he heard a fair voice crying in the distance, but again he assumed it was an angel. This went on until spring, when it was time to plant.

“One afternoon, after hours of backbreaking labor, he turned gratefully to prayers. He rang the bell. It was answered, as usual, from the sea. He rang again, and there, just beyond the line of seaweed where the water grows deep, a creature rose from the waves. The sun was behind it, making it difficult to see, but it had the shape of a human. It raised an arm in greeting.

“It slithered over the seaweed, and when it reached the sand, it squirmed onward like a seal. Father Severus retreated. This was no angel, nor was it a seal, for its skin was as white as a child’s and long, golden hair streamed from its head. Just below its waist the skin gave way to silver scales, and the rest of its body ended in a fish tail. Then Father Severus realized he was looking at a mermaid.

“The mermaid wriggled closer and, quick as thought, peeled off her fish scales. She dropped them as a lady might drop a skirt onto the sand and stood before him on two normal human legs—except her legs were thin and weak, for she’d had little use for walking. ‘I have cared for you these long months,’ she said. ‘I love you. Come with me to my father’s kingdom and we will be wed.’

“‘ Retro Satanas! Begone, Satan!’ cried Father Severus, making the sign of exorcism.

“She came toward him, naked as an eel. ‘I was drawn by Fair Lamenting, for it calls to the heart of all things. But when I saw you lying helpless in the cave, I knew my fate was entwined with yours. Come with me now. Beyond the waves lies a kingdom of surpassing beauty, where all is delight.’

“‘ Retro! Retro!’ shouted Father Severus, trying to fend her off.

“She pursued him as best she could, but her feet were tender and she couldn’t move swiftly. Father Severus climbed into the rocks where she couldn’t reach him.

“‘I shall return,’ she conceded finally. ‘For seven days I shall return, and on the eighth I shall take you, willing or no.’ Then she wriggled back into her scales and swam off as swiftly as an otter.”

The late morning sunlight flooded into the open door of the Roman house and woke Seafarer in his alcove. The bird hopped to the floor, stretching his wings experimentally and making little grunts of pain. “You can’t expect to get better in a day, my friend,” said the Bard. He opened a bag of dried fish and threw some on the floor. Seafarer, with one beady eye fixed on Brother Aiden, edged forward and snatched up the treat.

The monk’s mouth fell open in amazement. “This is true magic to tame such a creature.”

“He’s not tame. Watch your eyes,” warned the Bard. The monk recoiled as the albatross made a vicious stab at him.