Gasping, the Personal Maid squealed, “He kissed you?”
The mermaid’s eyebrows flew up, for she did not know this word. “Kiss!” explained the maid, and she kissed her own fingertips with gusto, and placed them over the mermaid’s mouth gently. “That’s kiss.”
The little mermaid nearly laughed as she nodded enthusiastically. “Well done,” said the maid proudly, “do you think he’ll marry you?”
She nodded and grinned and threw her arms into the air in pure happiness. After all this time, the loss of her voice, the blood that seeped from the balls of her feet, the God had saw fit to grant her wishes. She was marrying the man she loved. She was getting an Immortal Soul. The sea-witch and all her scepticism was defeated.
“Congratulations,” breathed the Personal Maid. “I’m ever so happy for you.” She smiled and hummed as she took the empty breakfast tray away.
The little mermaid settled herself comfortably on a couch to await the Prince’s summons. The morning passed slowly, but he did not come. After the maid had been and gone with the lunch tray, he still had not come. She contemplated leaving the room to search for him, but thought it might appear too eager. She created excuses for him – urgent meetings and council queries – after all, he was the ruler of a realm. She tried to recall how busy her own father had always been. Finally, her heart lurched as there was a drumming at the door. She hastened to her feet, ran to it and flung it open, beaming.
It was not the Prince. It was his Uncle, dressed in a stately manner, with that dark and hideous animal clawing to his face. She drew back instinctively, overcome with disappointment.
“His Majesty is presently engaged and cannot enjoy the pleasure of your company,” he said stiffly. “He sent me to entertain you instead.”
The little mermaid frowned at him in confusion.
“That is, if you consent. You may have better things to do with your time then spend it with a man you obviously find dull, and dare I say, frightening?” And he smiled at the girl, but she could barely make it out due to the density of the animal.
“I may not be young or dashing, but I’ve seen a few things in my time and am quite an excellent guide. I thought I might show you the kingdom. What do you say?”
His eyes twinkled and he leaned closer to the girl. “I am not going to hurt you. Believe me.”
And suddenly, she did. After all, it would not do to insult the Prince’s only living relative. Besides, perhaps she would learn more about her lover through him, perhaps droplets of knowledge would spill from the conversation. And she certainly was interested in seeing the rest of the human world.
So she bowed to him, as was the custom, and the Uncle took her arm and drew her away. Down flights of stairs they went, down past the portrait corridor of the kings of old, past treasure and armour and vestiges of royalty. The sun momentarily blinded them as they stepped foot outside, and the air was filled with the aroma of pines and salt. The mermaid had the sensation of cobwebs pulled away where they had congealed around her eyes.
Saddled into the sable mare that the Prince had taught her to ride, the Uncle and two servants began to canter. The heavy iron gates segregating the palace from the common world parted and they passed through. The King’s brother led the troupe up and through the limestone cliffs on what had once been a dangerous trek, now fortified through the labours of many a stonemason and his Chinamen. There were many varieties of flying-fish, or birds as the humans liked to call them, that frequented the cliffs, sometimes daring to swoop down on them and bray their melancholy cries.
Upon their descent of the cliffs, the little mermaid beheld the city that lay in the valley behind the castle. It was a collage of colours and sights and sounds, all mismatched and sized differently, every shape and every scent. There were houses, some stately, with marble trimmings and prison-like fences, but mainly they were squat and modest, boasting nothing but a herb garden and a host of squawking chickens. The markets were indescribable, with squabbling people and the chink of heavy purses, fish scales floating in the air and dogs begging for a scrap. The little mermaid noticed with surprise that the citizens did not pay for their purchases with an ear or a finger or a braid of hair – indeed, all of the people seemed completely intact. Instead, they handed (or sometimes flung) heavy golden discs to each other, which they instantly pocketed. She was also amazed to see that some commoners were just as handsome or beautiful as the sires and madams of court. There were peasant girls, their ample bosoms heaving from pulling reluctant sows, who brushed excrement from their exquisite faces. There were young men too that sauntered in the corners, gazing up at the richer men who walked by, whispering temptations with their sensual lips, gazing beguilingly as dark lashes swept their angular cheek bones.
There was music, unrefined music played by boys with only one stocking on large, hollow, six-stringed instruments that sat in their laps. It was lively, and people’s feet tapped unconsciously as they heard it. And there seemed to be a complete absorption of love in the city, all kinds of love. There were young people so locked in embrace they appeared to be wrestling, fathers who swung their daughters in the air, sisters who held hands and pushed their heads together, whispering frothy secrets. But best of all were the elderly folk, so enmeshed in lifetimes of hard work their bodies seemed to be all right angles, who would look at their spouses with the eyes of the young, a whole story told in the brush of a shoulder. These people would all look up as they spied the royal emblem, and smile and wave and shout salutations as the troupe rode by. The little mermaid would try to shout back, her mouth forming silent words. Her arm soon ached from waving.
The Uncle proved to be an outstanding guide, and explained landmarks and behaviours with such simplicity and humour that the mermaid laughed aloud once or twice. Her horse fell into an easy pace beside his, and he often kept his eyes upon her, judging her reactions. She felt less nervous in his presence, and recalled the way he had come to her aid on her very first day, saving her from the wrath of the Lower Housekeeper. He was a difficult man, she decided, who knew how to make things easy.
As it began to grow dark and the group made to ascend the cliffs once more, they passed a small concrete church that was used to being overlooked on account of its size and unimpressive features. But the little mermaid heard the faint chanting from the inside and elated, pulled her mare to a halt and slid out of the saddle. The Uncle and servants followed suit, and soon they were seated in the midst of worshippers, who knelt and fingered wooden necklaces, one bead at a time. They whispered many things and names she did not understand and for once, the Uncle did not explain.
There were a great many oddities in the church. There were statues of people, life-sized, especially of a beautiful lady holding a baby with a golden halo around its head. The queerest and most disturbing of all, thought the mermaid, were the stained glass pictures depicting the journey of a sad man who carried a cross of wood. There were pictures of him tortured and strung to the very cross he carried. In the final picture, he had left behind his grave and was flying up toward heaven. The creature inside the man’s chest was exposed. It was red and thorns surrounded it. She wondered why there were no pictures of the God, the great fiery ball of heaven who bathed all things in its light.
She stole a glance at the Uncle, but he was not looking at her. Instead, he rested an elbow upon his knee and cupped his face in his hand, staring at the altar in a cold anger. The mermaid wondered why the altar did not split open from the potency of his gaze. She shivered, hoping she was never on the other side of that stare. He muttered something soft under his breath, like he was addressing an invisible person, and then snorted. He rearranged his legs and leaned back into the pew, crossing his arms firmly over his chest. The hairs on the mermaid’s arms were standing on end, and they brushed against his sleeve.