The Sea King’s Daughter

Chapter 11

I TURNED MY OPENMOUTHED STARE ON JIM. HE WAS standing, one hand on the back of the chair. His face wore its thoughtful expression-lips tight, eyebrows emphatic.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

Jim took his time about answering. He walked to the window and stood looking out, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Didn’t you hear what he said?”

“I don’t understand German, if that’s what it was. It sounded pretty incoherent.”

“It was. I only caught a couple of words. Something about returning from the dead.”

“He and Kore must be members of the same weird religion,” I said.

“Kore’s obsession is with the ancient past,” Jim said slowly. “This guy has a more recent incident in mind.”

“What do you mean?”

Jim came back to the bed and stood there looking down at me. “I’m told I bear quite a resemblance to my late uncle.”

I suppose I had been expecting something of the sort. The evidence had been there all along; I just had not wanted to recognize it.

“So we were right after all,” I said.

“I don’t know about that. As I recall, we avoided coming to a conclusion. But it can’t be avoided any longer. Your Jürgen is the man who was in Crete during the war. The man who killed my uncle.”

“It was duty!”

The voice echoed in the high-ceilinged chamber. I started. I hadn’t heard them approach, but there they stood, both of them. Kore had both hands clasped tightly around the man’s arm. He was still pale, but it was not he who had spoken.

Kore went on passionately.

“He did what he must do. It was war, it was his duty-”

“I remember reading about the case,” Jim interrupted. His eyes were fixed on the older man’s face. “My mother corresponded with various people after the war-she kept the letters. There was some talk of a trial. But the military authorities decided-”

“It was his duty,” Kore said again.

“More or less,” Jim said quietly. “My uncle was out of uniform. You”-he nodded at Jürgen-“you were a captain at the time. You made colonel before the war ended. A real hot-shot officer, weren’t you? I’ve forgotten your name…”

“Keller.” The word was clipped.

“That’s right, I remember now,” Jim said.

“You told me you never thought about it,” I said. “You told me-”

Keller stepped forward, shaking Kore’s hands from his arm.

“You look just as he did, over thirty years ago,” he said, staring at Jim. “He was then twenty-eight years of age. Can you wonder that when I saw your face… I know it well. I have seen it everynight for over thirty years.”

“Why?” Jim asked. His voice was cool, his body relaxed; only his hands, gripping the back of the chair in a hold that whitened his knuckles, betrayed the underlying strain. “Why should he haunt your sleep if you were only doing your duty?”

“Because I knew him,” Keller said. He was moving slowly forward, one step at a time, like a horrible parody of a wedding march. “I knew his work. We had met at Oxford before the war. He was a fine scholar. He had a splendid career ahead of him.”

“And you killed him,” Jim said.

“And I killed him.” Keller continued to move forward until he stood face to face with Jim. They were almost the same height-tall men, both of them. “And now,” Keller went on, “he has come back. No, no, don’t look at me as if I were mad; I am not mad, I know who you are. But I believe in Nemesis-retribution. There is still a debt to be paid. It is fitting that you should be the one to collect it. When I saw you, I knew the time had come.”

His voice got louder and more excited as he spoke. When he raised his clenched fists, I thought he was going to attack Jim. The movement broke the paralysis that had held the rest of us motionless. Jim jumped back; Kore, who had been standing stock-still, her hands pressed to her mouth, cried out and ran toward Keller. She flung her arms around him.

“No, Jürgen, no. It is time for your medicine. Come with me.”

Keller stood quietly. “Time for medicine,” he repeated like a child.

“Yes. Come, come now with Kore.” She tugged at him. He went docilely. Neither of them looked at us as they went out, her arms around him.

Jim came out from behind the bedpost. “Wow,” he said.

“Sit down,” I gasped, reaching for him. “No, here on the bed. Don’t go away.”

“I won’t. Quite a scene, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, don’t pretend to be so cool. You’re sweating. I thought he was going to go for your throat.”

“No,” Jim said thoughtfully. “He wasn’t going to do that.”

“What was he doing, then?”

“Something worse.” Jim mopped his wet forehead with his sleeve. “I had the feeling he was going to kneel. Bare his neck to the knife, if you know what I mean.”

“God.”

“Yeah.”

“I feel kind of sorry for him,” I said.

“My God, do you think I’m inhuman? So do I. The man is off his rocker. There must have been some mental instability to begin with, or this wouldn’t have hit him so hard. There are people who have worse crimes on their consciences and who sleep quite well at night.”

“Jim, you told me you didn’t know anything about the case.”

“No, I did not. I told you I wanted to forget about it. I do. My mother…well, you could say she never got over it. He was her big brother; she idolized him. She’s okay now, I mean she doesn’t go around trailing black veils or anything; but she still has the file of the correspondence about his death. I read it when I was-oh, in my teens. I was looking for a hero about that time, and he was pretty impressive. I suppose that’s what got me interested in archaeology to begin with, but honestly, Sandy, I’m not-I mean, I haven’t thought about the man for years. I used his name, sure, when I applied to Chris for this job. Maybe that wasn’t strictly kosher, but it’s a rough field, there’s a lot of competition…”

“I don’t see why you should feel bad about it,” I said.

“I don’t. I mean, I’m doing a good job. Chris wouldn’t have hired me if I hadn’t been qualified, no matter who my uncle was.”

I decided a change of subject was in order. His finicky conscience was obviously bothering him, no matter how ever he might deny it. And it seemed to me we had more important things to talk about.

“Does Sir Christopher know that Keller is here, I wonder?”

“I hadn’t thought about that. I wonder too.”

“Not to mention Frederick,” I said. “Jim, this is too much, all of them converging on this place.”

“There’s something behind it,” Jim agreed. “I’m pretty sure your father does know about Keller. Chris is another matter. He might not.”

“Well, I sure as hell would ask him if I were you.”

Jim nodded thoughtfully. Then a look of impatience crossed his face and the nod turned into a shake of negation.

“No, damn it. I’m not going to get all involved in some long-dead tragedy. I’m here to do a job, and that’s all that concerns me.”

“You don’t think the tragedy concerns us? Jim, I tell you, these people aren’t here by accident. Something is going on, and I want to know what it is.”

“You’re hopelessly inquisitive,” Jim said remotely.

“It’s all very well to forget the past,” I argued. “But if the past is still affecting people’s lives-our lives-”

“How can it, if we don’t let it?”

“You don’t want to question your precious boss,” I said. “Afraid you’ll lose your job?”

Jim flushed angrily. “I refuse to poke my nose into other people’s business.”

We’d have had a nice, air-clearing fight, right then, if Kore had not returned. She marched up to Jim.

“You have upset him,” she said belligerently. “He has not been so upset for years.”

“I upset him? Oh, well, hell. All right. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t see any need for you to apologize,” I said. It was all right for me to yell at Jim, but when someone else attacked him I was on his side.

“No,” Kore said. Her shoulders sagged. “I am angry, I speak unfair words. I had hoped he would not see you. You are so like your uncle. The first time I see you I am struck dumb.”

“The night of the festival?” I asked. “So that’s why you stood there in the plaza so long.”

“Yes. I am dumb,” said Kore softly. “I try to understand why this has happened. So many years… Then She makes it clear to me. WhenShe comes, at evening, with the women singing her praises.”

She bowed her head. All her movements had a touch of the theatrical, but the gesture, and her words, made me ashamed. She was a religious woman after all. The prejudices of the villagers had prevented her from attending church on the saint’s day, but she had cared enough to come to the plaza to pay her devotions.

I glanced at Jim. He was trying to look blasé, and was not succeeding very well.

“Look,” he said awkwardly. “As far as I’m concerned, we can forget the whole thing. It happened a long time ago. I’m not judging anybody. In fact, I’m sorry your-your friend has had such a bad time. He seems to have punished himself for what he did. I’m certainly not going to do anything, if you know what I mean.”

Kore completed his discomfort by snatching his hand and kissing it.

“Hey,” he mumbled. “Please don’t… That’snot necessary.”

“You are a good man,” said Kore emotionally. “He is good, too. That is why I stay with him all these years. He is so good. Only a good man would suffer as he has.”

“I guess that’s true,” Jim muttered. “Why did he come here? Why didn’t he change his name and go to South America or someplace?”

“He is not criminal. He does not have to hide.”

“I know, but- Greece, of all places! It’s not the same island, but I would think it would bring back unpleasant memories all the same. Why not-”

Kore released his hand. She dabbed at her eyes with a dainty handkerchief. I couldn’t see any traces of tears, though. They would have showed, with that heavy mascara.

“I thank you,” she said. “And now I think the patient should rest.”

“About that,” Jim said. “I was thinking-I mean, Sandy shouldn’t be imposing on you.”

“She cannot go back to that house,” Kore said sharply. “I have seen; it is terrible, dirty, no comfort-”

“I agree. I thought I would get her a room at the hotel. I’m sure she’d feel better not imposing-”

“Impose, impose!” Kore’s eyes flashed. She drew herself up. “In that filthy hotel she will get infection just from touching. No; you do not think impose, you think we are evil here. You fear my poor Jürgen.”

“Oh, damn,” Jim said uncomfortably. “That isn’t the point.”

“You do not think he would harm her? He has saved her life!”

“I know, I know. I just thought-”

“I wish you would both stop fighting about me,” I interrupted. “I feel like a bone between two dogs. Don’t I have anything to say about what becomes of me?”

They both looked at me as if I’d said something rude. Then Kore smiled.

“You see, she is better. But not well yet; she cannot go anywhere today. Will you carry her to the village on your back? We talk tomorrow, yes? We must think before we act. And now it is time for her to sleep. I will wait outside while you say good-bye.”

She closed the door after her, but I was sure she would hang around till Jim left. I lowered my voice.

“I do feel pretty groggy, Jim. And I’ve got to think about what I plan to do. You’re not worried about that poor old man, are you?”

“I don’t think he’s homicidal, no. And I must admit the hotel doesn’t have much to offer. I just don’t like the situation here.”

“What bugs you? She’s been charming to me.”

“Too charming.”

“Oh, stop it. You sound like an old village witch croaking. Jim, I need a few days to think about what I’m going to do. I ought to talk to Frederick.”

“Why? It seems to me he’s forfeited his rights-if he ever had any to begin with.”

“It isn’t that simple.”

“It sure isn’t. Your feelings about him are the most ambivalent-”

“When I want a psychiatrist, I’ll hire a pro,” I said sharply. “All I meant was that I don’t have any money. Frederick owes me a plane ticket.”

“If you want to go home, I’ll see you have a ticket,” Jim said.

“I don’t know what I want to do. I need time to think.”

“Okay. I guess I’d better go, before Kore comes in here and throws me out.”

“Good-bye,” I said.

“See you later.” He leaned over me.

Kore chose that moment to open the door. Jim glanced at her over his shoulder and then went on with what he had been doing. If Kore’s soft laughter bothered him, his technique was not noticeably affected.

“Mmmm,” I said dreamily. “That was the best yet.”

“The best is yet to come.” Jim straightened. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Still laughing, Kore took his arm. They might have been two old friends, or mother and son, as they went out together.

I was supposed to take a nap after lunch. I didn’t plan to sleep, but I looked forward to being alone and uninterrupted. I had a lot of thinking to do.

I should have been thinking about my future plans, but there really wasn’t much to think about. I knew what I ought to do. I ought to go home. I didn’t want to. It was as simple as that, and there didn’t seem to be any compromise.

The main reason I was reluctant to leave was Jim. Sure, he seemed to be interested, but… It’sa long way from California to Florida. Maybe I could get a job in California.

I knew that was impossible. I had already signed a contract for fall. I also knew that my concern about Jim was probably a pretense. The way we felt about each other was too strong to be stretched by distance. I was as sure of that as I was sure of my own name…

I decided to abandon that analogy. There were times when I wasn’t sure of my own name.

But Jim was wrong about the past. It cannot be ignored. It sends out runners, like crabgrass. The roots grow underground, unseen, until suddenly a new shoot springs up. What was happening here and now was the result of that thirty-year-old tragedy. Something had drawn the protagonists of the drama together here on Thera-the German officer and his mistress, two of the three who had fought him-and Jim.

Thinking is tiring, and thinking when you are curled up in a nice comfortable bed is even more difficult. I had gotten that far in my meditations when I fell asleep. I woke up to find Keller sitting by the bed.

I must have recoiled. His face changed; he put out his hand and then pulled it back.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said quickly. “I did not-I was waiting for you to wake.”

“You startled me,” I said.

“I am sorry. I have brought the books…”

He held them out, like a peace offering. I couldn’t be afraid of him.

“Thank you,” I said.

“I would like to talk. Are you strong enough?”

“I’m fine. I could run down the hill right now.”

“No, you must not do that,” he said seriously. “That is what I wish to talk about. First, to say we hope you will stay here until you are ready to leave Thera. It is a favor to us, you must think of it so.”

“That is very kind,” I said noncommittally.

“I say this first, so you will understand that your presence is no trouble, but a pleasure. Because otherwise you may interpret what I am about to say wrongly.”

He hesitated, staring at me with wide eyes. His pupils were dilated, more so than the fading light would explain.

“Yes?” I said.

“You must leave Thera. As soon as you are able to travel, you must go. It is not-”

He stopped speaking and turned his head, as if he had heard some sound at the door.

“It isn’t what?” I asked urgently. “Go on…please!”

“Safe.” The word was whispered. “You are not safe in this place. You are like a fly in a web, caught by forces you cannot control. For your own safety-”

The door opened.

“So she wakes,” said Kore gaily. “Ha-do I interrupt a tête-à-tête? Shall I return later?”

Keller leaned back in the chair. “I am telling her she must not leave us until she is ready to go back to her family,” he said calmly. “You have interrupted, Liebchen; I was about to offer, if she should need money-”

“Oh, no,” I said.

“But certainly.” Kore sauntered across the room. The woman had an incredible wardrobe; every time I saw her she was wearing a new outfit. This was a pant suit of mustard-colored raw silk. Not many women could have worn such a shrieking shade, but Kore carried it off superbly.

“As a loan,” she continued. “That is understood. But we hope you will not go soon. It is pleasure for me to have you. Another woman of my own kind, you understand. I am often lonely.”

It was a pretty picture; but I was unconvinced. No one could have looked less pathetic than Kore, with her jewels-she wore them with everything-and her Paris clothes and her arrogant, experienced face.

“So now you see,” she went on, when I didn’t answer. “You understand. Jürgen, you have examined the patient? You are ready to dress for dinner?”

The hand she placed on Keller’s arm suggested the grip of a warder rather than that of a lover. I couldn’t figure out whose side she was on. I couldn’t even figure out what the different sides were. He urged me to leave, she begged me to stay. I couldn’t accept his concern as meaningful. What danger could there be for me here?

However, I decided that I had better start getting myself back into shape. Kore’s motives for keeping me in bed might be entirely charitable, but inactivity would weaken me as much as loss of blood. I wasn’t worried or afraid. I just didn’t like the idea of being helpless.

As soon as they had left, I got out of bed. I was dizzy at first, but after I had walked a little, holding on to the edge of the bed, my wobbly legs felt stronger. I got back into the bed with a feeling of childish triumph, and when Kore came back I was innocently reading one of Keller’s books. It was a volume of Shakespeare.

Kore stayed with me most of the evening. She could be very entertaining, when she tried; her stories about people she had known, their weaknesses and foibles, were quite funny. I didn’t like it so well when she started fussing with me again, arranging my hair and polishing my nails. I was getting used to it, though. It didn’t bother me as much as it had the first time. In fact, there was something luxurious about being waited on.

“It seems a shame to waste all this,” I said lightly, after she had tied my hair up with pale-green ribbons. “I’m just going to bed, you know. Or are we going to a party?”

“No, no,” said Kore, tucking in a stray curl. “You must sleep. It is late; I have stayed too long. Here. Take your pill and sleep soundly.”

She couldn’t have anticipated my reaction. I hate pills. I won’t even take aspirin unless someone makes me. The little white ball looked harmless enough, on a plate with a glass of water beside it. But I had no intention of taking that pill-or of arguing with Kore about it.

I had had a lot of practice in handling unwanted medicine. I tongued the pill back into my cheek, holding Kore’s eyes with mine so she wouldn’t look at my mouth, and swallowed half a glass of water without even wetting the pill. I lay back and made sleepy noises. I said goodnight. I closed my eyes. And Kore sat there.

I could have killed her. I felt the damned pill beginning to dissolve. It wasn’t a capsule, just a plain pill like an aspirin tablet. Finally, after what seemed like a year, she tiptoed out, and I spat the fragments of the pill into my hand. But I knew I had swallowed some of the stuff, whatever it was.

The medicine was supposed to knock me out completely; I’m sure of that. Instead it knocked out everything except consciousness. My muscles felt as if they had been cut. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to move. I lay in a state of utter relaxation, watching the shadows on the walls through half-closed eyes. Kore had left a lamp burning, and its yellow glow made a bright spot on the outer rim of my vision.

Things got hazy for a while-how long I never could determine. Maybe I slept, but I don’t think so. My eyes were almost closed; they must have looked completely closed, but I could see a little through the slitted opening. Then a woman’s face came into view.

It wasn’t Kore. It wasn’t the maid. It wasn’t anyone I had ever seen.

Some deep-down rational streak in my mind assured me that I must be dreaming. It was a peculiar dream, unlike any I had ever had, but what I was seeing could not be real. The woman’s face was the first of a series of faces, each gliding across my limited field of vision and vanishing, to be replaced by another. In the dim light they looked like the same face-olive-skinned, crowned by black hair, with aquiline features. I could hear a faint far-off sound, like the distant murmur of the sea-or like voices.

Another indeterminate period of drowsiness followed. Then something brought me wide awake. It might have been the sound of my door closing.

When I say I was wide awake, I mean only by comparison to my previous state. I was still awfully sleepy, but somehow I knew I had to move. Dad always said I was as stubborn as a mule. Maybe it was that rocklike stubbornness that got me moving.

I crawled back and forth across the bed for a while. I kept collapsing, flat on my face; it took an enormous effort of will to push myself up off the cradling softness. I slapped myself on the face. At first my slaps felt like the kinds of pats you give a tiny kitten, but gradually my strength increased until a left-handed smack brought tears to my eyes.

I slid down off the bed. I crawled quite a way before I was able to pull myself erect. My arm hurt, not so much that I couldn’t use it, but enough to keep me from falling asleep again. Staggering from one piece of furniture to the next, I finally reached the window.

It was closed. No wonder the room felt so stuffy and hot. My arms felt like cooked spaghetti; I didn’t think I would ever get that window open, and I craved fresh air the way a starving man craves food.

Well, I did it. Finally the casement gave, and I fell on my knees, with my head on the sill, gulping in the sweet night air. It smelled of thyme and of the sea; the scents blended into a perfume that was the essence of the island.

The cool air cleared my head. As I knelt there I saw that I was looking down into a stone-paved courtyard with a high wall on its far side. To the right, behind the wall, the dark bulk of the mountain cut off a segment of the night sky. There was no moon. I could make out shapes, but not details.

I had just about decided to attempt the return trip to my bed when I heard something below-the sound of a door opening. The faintest murmur of voices reached my ears. Then a dark figure came into the courtyard and moved toward a corner deep in shadow. I wouldn’t have seen any more except for a touch of modernity that seemed incongruous in the atmosphere of hushed darkness-a flashlight. The woman switched it on when she reached the dark corner, and the beam showed the shape of a door in the wall. Then the light jumped wildly as a hissing cry came from the part of the house immediately under my window. The cry was one of warning, I suppose; the light went out. But not before I had seen the face of the woman who held it. It was a dark, aquiline face like the ones I had seen in my dreaming vision, but now, with the fumes of the drug almost dissipated, I recognized it. Her name was Sophia, and she ran the store in the village where I bought my fish.