The Sailor and The Sea Queen

Many years ago, in a seaport on the south coast, there lived a sailor and his young daughter. The sailor's wife, who was more precious to him than all the riches of the East, had died giving birth to her. And although his daughter was a pretty girl with long black hair, dark eyes, and a kind nature; deep in his heart, the sailor was angry for the pain her mother's death had caused him.

The sailor had not married again, and so, whenever he went to sea, he would take his daughter to his sister who lived on the other side of the moor. Every time he left her, he experienced a mixture of relief and guilt: relief that for a time he would not be reminded of his loss whenever he looked into the girl's dark eyes and guilt that he could not bring himself to love her.

The moor was a strange place, bleak and desolate with many standing stones; stones that were rumoured to wander by night.

There was a weather-beaten road that ran the length of the moor but, when the weather was good, the sailor would take a short cut along a sheep run. However, he never left the road after dark for it was said:

"Those who stray by night would forever dwell in night."

Then there were the moor-folk; outlandish people rumoured to steal uncared-for children, and the children of parents who were careless with them. The children were never seen again except in dreams, where they wept always.

That morning the sun shone brightly in a china-blue sky, so the sailor and his daughter left the road and took the track that over many years had been worn into the hills.

It was as they rounded a copse of stunted oaks that they spied the first of the corn dollies. The dolly stood about four feet tall. Her clothes were tightly packed with straw, and her wooden head had the roughly-hewn features of a face. She rested against the side of the hill above the path.

The sailor was uneasy when he saw her, and he urged his daughter to quicken her pace.

The next dolly was about twenty yards further on and, from that point; the dollies appeared at regular intervals.

The path, following the contours of the hill, curved again. Around the next corner, they spied, not only dollies but a woman sitting on a rock. She held a piece of rope in her hands into which three knots were tied. As they approached her, she began untying the first knot.

The track was very narrow. It was impossible to pass the woman without stepping off it, and so the sailor was obliged to greet her.

"What a beautiful daughter you have," the woman replied. "Hello, my pretty one," she said, brushing the girl's cheek for a moment.

The girl stood still and stared into the woman's dark eyes.

It was difficult to tell the woman's age. Her face was smooth, with light creases around the eyes, but her black hair was streaked with silver.

"You're taking her to your sister's?"

The sailor blinked in surprise.

"If only your dear wife were here to care for her," she said, and she shook her head sadly.

The woman untied the first knot, and a wind sprang up from the sea.

His daughter's small hand crept into his own and grip it tightly.

The woman turned to the girl again.

"You know your mother was a moor-woman, don't you?" she said. "She was one of us. That's where you got your dark hair and eyes."

She smiled, and her voice was so sweet and reassuring, while her fingers were busily untying the second knot.

"You should bring your daughter to visit us." she continued, turning to the sailor, "Don't you think it would be good for her to get to know her relatives?"