Poul Anderson. The Merman’s Children. Book four. Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Ingeborg watched her for a while that was silent except for the storm battering at shutters. “You must endure,” she said finally, “It’s the lot of women, and you’re to be a woman while your journey lasts, Never forget that, or you could betray Tauno to his death.”

“Well, but can we stop for today?”

“Aye, perhaps best we do.”

“Let me draw a gasp or two ere we meet your world again,”

said Eyjan. In motions which had become deft, she peeled the raiment off her and cast it violently down. Naked, she went to a sideboard and filled herself a goblet of mead. “Would you like some?”

Ingeborg hesitated before she said, “Yes, thank you. But be-ware of getting drunk. That’s for whores and slatterns-and men.” “Is everything for men in your Christendom?”

“No, not really.” Ingeborg took the drink handed her and found a chair. “We learn how to worm a great deal out of them.”

“Undersea, nobody had to play worm.” Eyjan well-nigh flung a seat into position opposite her hostess, and herself into it.

“But we on land bear the curse of Eve. How often I’ve heard told me the word of God-‘ in sorrow thou shalt bring forth chil-dren; and thy desire shall be to thy husband. and he shall rule over thee’-“ Ingeborg clutched her chair arms. She would never bring forth children.

Eyjan saw and tried awkwardly to give comfort. “You’ve be-come better off than most, haven’t you? Niels is pleasant to live with, and I’ve seen how he wants your counsel on different things; you’re no mere pet of his.”

“True. Yet I’m his kept woman, whom no respectable house-wife will have to do with if she can help it. Nor, of course, any respectable man. They greet me politely enough, those merchants and nobles and sea captains, but a greeting is where it stops. What they talk to Niels about, I mayor may not hear from him afterward. And he’s busy, must be much away from home. I can’t bring down his standing by growing friendly with any of our servants. Oh, less lonely was that shack on the strand.” Ingeborg uttered a laugh. “I don’t suppose it’s in you to pray thanks for what you have, Eyjan, but be glad of it.”

“Have you no better hope, then?” the Liri princess asked low.

The woman shrugged. “Who can tell? I do know full well how

lucky I am, and learned years ago how to keep an eye cocked for the next chance that flits by.”

“As Niels’ wedded wife—“

Ingeborg shook her head, hard. “No. He offered me that, but I could see how relieved he was when I refused. What does he want with a former harlot who has no family connections and can’t even give him sons? No, when he weds, out I go. . . oh, quietly, honorably, his protecting hand over me as long as we both live, and maybe a sleeping together now and then for old times’ sake-nevertheless, out.”

She struggled with herself before she could say: “If ever he does wed. His passion for you may grow too strong in him. With me he can be frank about it; many’s the time I’ve held him close while he wept for you; but another-Spare him that, Eyjan, if by any means you can.”

“How?” asked the other, “Your ways are not mine,” After a moment: “Is that immortal soul of yours truly worth a woman’s having?”

Ingeborg shivered, “God forgive me,” she breathed, “I do not

know,”

Spring ran wild with blossoms and birdsong, a season of love,

a season of forgetfulness and farewells, The cog Brynhild raised

sail, slipped her moorings, and departed on the tide, Until she was

hull down, Ingeborg and Niels stood on the dock, waving,

Then: “Well,” she said, “we had them for that span,”

His fist was clenched as if to strike, his vision lost along the

horizon, “She promised she’d come back,” he mumbled, “At least

once, to tell me how she fares, If she can, If she lives,”

“In the meantime,” she told him sharply, “you have your work.

I. . ,should look wider about me than hitherto, I suppose,” She took his arm, “No use dawdling here, Come, let’s go home.”

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