Adrift: A Little Mermaid Retelling

12: Daniel

Master Tresk's questions were pointed, as if he expected I had some guilt in the proceedings.

"You must understand, sir. We had nowhere else to go. My father was not fully well. We were both grateful that we were given a place here. I would never compromise it."

"Yet your father died, did he not?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Yes. An infection, this fall past."

"And you do not seek freedom now that you are a man with your own free will?"

"Master Tresk, I am only fifteen. I don't know where I'd go."

The old man tilted his head forward, his eyebrows raising until they nearly disappeared in the wrinkled folds of his forehead. "Many a man was made at fifteen, Daniel."

"Well, sir, I haven't thought much on it. Right now I am content to stay here."

"And what of a woman, then? A boy of your age ... have you a sweetheart?"

I thought guiltily of Agnes, but I had no illusions. I answered truthfully. "No."

"Then perhaps the lady of the house caught your eye."

I hesitated, sensing danger. I was the only one who had witnessed Margaret's descent into the sea. It was not surprising that they had turned their suspicion toward me, a poor house servant. I proceeded with caution. "I will not lie to you, Master Tresk. Mistress Allore was beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen. But I saw her as my mistress only. And Master Allore was a kind employer, deserving only of respect. I would never have harmed either of them."

The councilman stared at me for some time, his red-rimmed eyes unreadable. "And the other field hands, then? Did you see any of them about the house that morning? Anyone at all?"

I shook my head. "I swear to you, sir, the only person I saw that morning was Mistress Allore. Everyone else was yet abed when I was out at the well."

"You understand this is all very difficult to believe."

"I understand it is difficult to believe, sir." I wondered how he thought it easier to think that I, scrap of a thing that I was, had hurt Master Allore, a man easily three times my size. And then to have flung his biting, scratching wife off a cliff? I had enough experience with Margaret to know that would not have happened. I'd have been the one to go over.

Looking at him as he peered at me, I saw a hint of compassion in his eyes, and I realized he didn't think me guilty at all. Perhaps it was his duty to scrutinize me, a likely scapegoat for the crime, but he saw me for what I was—all elbows and knees and fright.

I continued. My voice wavered, and it was I who first broke eye contact. "I cannot yet grasp it. But I am being honest, sir. I had nothing to do with this."

At last, he sighed and shook his head. "I believe you, lad," he said. And finally, he let me go.

Another person may have been surprised to find Ness sitting calmly on the steps, dry-eyed. But I never expected to see her sobbing in grief, not from the moment it happened. I knew her, perhaps as no one else did.

We sat there together for what seemed like a long time. It was the first time she really held my hand.

***

At the funeral, I stood back with the other servants as Dervin led the family in prayer. Of religion we had thankfully little in Oranslan, but some stilted prayers to Oran were due at a time like that.

The casket was of richly varnished wood, adorned with a few flowers made of silk. It being winter, there was little in the way of fresh greenery to be had, and Sorla and Sybill had made the flowers, laboring long into the sleepless night.

I could not look away from Agnes's face. She stood at Mistress Yolenn's shoulder. Her eyes were unfocused, as if her mind was far away, and she never shed a tear. Occasionally she would rub the fingers of one hand in the palm of the other, as if they itched inside her thin gloves.

Once, she caught me looking. We shared the few moments that passed as her father's body was lowered into the ground, trading glances, and I had never felt so far away from her as I did that moment.

We walked back to the house together, saying little. Normally we would not have dared, but I don't think anyone had the wits to notice us. Ahead, Wylliam had offered his wife his arm, and both of them moved with lowered heads, whispering together. Cuthbert was standing to the side of the path, hands in his pockets, looking out toward the sea. The field hands headed back to their quarters, where they would return to their winter work—repairing tools, tending the livestock.

Mistress Allore was named a murderess and a suicide, and the news traveled as far as Annisport, at least. Master Tresk delivered the verdict, riding away at a doleful pace on his skinny black horse. After he left, the shadow of Margaret's deeds hung over the house like a somber veil.

No one ever spoke of it. After those first two painful days, even Agnes and I hardly spoke of it. We wondered, I'm sure, in our own minds. Why had she done what she'd done?

But there were mysteries in that place we had not yet begun to unravel.