“Well, then, you spoke softly to the chief,” Ivan said. “What has he told you?”
“Little as yet. However, I feel sure that’s not out of unwill-ingness. His Latin is scant and bears a grievous accent.” Tomislav chuckled. “I confess my own has gathered rust, which didn’t help matters. Moreover, we’re entirely foreign to each other. How much can we explain in a few hours?
“He did convey to me that they came hither not as enemies but only in search of a home-beneath the sea.” That occasioned less surprise than it might have, for the looks of the merfolk had immediately raised speculation. “They were driven out of their country in the far North; I’ve not learned how or why. He admits they’re not Christian, though what,they are is still a mystery to me. He promised that if we let them go, they’ll seek the water and never return.”
“Lies are cheap,” said Petar.
“Do you think he was truthful?” Ivan queried.
Tomislav nodded. “I do. Of course, I can’t take my oath on
It.”
“Have you any notion about their nature?”
Tomislav frowned out at the sky. “Um-m-m. . . a guess or two,
maybe. Just guesswork, founded on certain things they know or believe in my flock, on what I’ve read or heard elsewhere, and on my own. . . my own experience. Most likely I’m wrong.”
“Are they of the mortal world?”
“They can be slain, the same as us.”
“That is not what I asked, Tomislav.”
The priest sighed. “My guess is that they are not of Adam’s
blood.” In haste: “That doesn’t mean they’re evil. Think of Leshy,
domovoi, poleviki, such-like harmless sprites-well, sometimes
a touch mischievous, but sometimes good friends to poor hu-
mans-“
“On the other hand,” Petar said, “think of viljai.” “Be still!” Ivan shouted in a flash of wrath. “No more croaking out of you, hear me? I may well ask the bishop to send me a different confessor.”
He turned back to Tomislav. “I’m sorry, old fellow,” he said.
“I. . . am not… that tender-skinned,” the priest of the
zadruga answered with difficulty. “It seems to be true, in the past few years a vilja has been flitting about my neighborhood. God forgive the malicious gossipers.”
He squared his shoulders. “My guess is that we’d do best, both for ourselves and in the sight of God, to let those people go,” he said. “Take them back to’ the sea, under spears if you like, but take them back and bid them farewell.”
“I dare not do that, save at the behest of an overlord,” Ivan replied. “Nor would I if I could, before we are quite certain that no harm can come of it.”
“I know,” Tomislav said. “Well, then, here’s my advice. Keep them prisoners, but treat them kindly. And let their headman go home with me, that we may get acquainted.”
“What?” shrilled Petar. “Are you mad?”
Ivan himself was startled. “You’re reckless, at least,” he said.
“That wight is huge. When he has recovered, he could rip you asunder.”
“I hardly think he’ll try,” Tomislav answered low. “At worst, what can he slay but my flesh, whereafter my parishioners will cut him down? I’ve long since lost any fear of departing this life.”
The zadruga was a hamlet of less than a hundred souls, whose families were close kin. It lay a full day’s travel from Skradin, on a path that wound northerly, then westerly, through the woods around the lake, though never in sight of yon water. Here men had once cleared land along a brook and settled down to live by farming, with timber cutting, charcoal burning, hunting, and trap-ping on the side. They worked the soil in common, as they would have done were they free peasants. Most of them were actually serfs, but it made small difference, for the nobles of Hrvatska were seldom oppressive or extortionate, and nobody wanted to leave.
The thorp formed a double row amidst croplands, shaded by trees left standing. Of wood, one- or two-roomed, thatch-roofed, houses stood off the ground, with stalls beneath for livestock and gangplanks to the living quarters. The lane between them was muddy when it was not dusty, and thick with dung. Smells were not offensive, though; sweet green distances swallowed them up. Nor did dwellers pay much heed to the flies of summer. Behind each home was a kitchen garden.