Witch from the Sea

It was years since I had seen those noble features. There was nothing I could do. The sea had taken him. Oh Fennimore, who had had his dreams, Fennimore the idealist who had lived long enough to start his great enterprise, to see it expand, that scheme which was going to make his country great as wars never could.

The face of a dreamer; the man who would love an idea more than anything else, Fennimore who might have been my husband.

I knelt and lifted his head into my lap … I smoothed the wet hair made a darker shade of blonde by the sea water. How fine his features were, how noble. And those glassy eyes had once shone with enthusiasm for a scheme and with love for me. He was a man who would accept fate unflinchingly. But his love was gentle; I married and he took another wife. I wondered if he loved her. He would in a calm and gentle way of course. He must have wanted sons and he had one, named Fennimore as he was.

I thought how strange life was. If he had not come into my life I should never have set out to visit his family and so come into Colum’s orbit. His life was bound up with mine, in a way.

I could not leave him. I stayed there with him.

It was Colum who found me. I saw his face darken as he looked at me there with the dead man’s head in my lap.

He cried: “In God’s name …”

“Yes,” I said, “’tis another of your victims.”

“You interfering woman. Keep to your nurseries, will you!”

“No, I will not. You have destroyed one of my father’s ships.”

“If her captain had known how to steer her …”

“Stop it,” I shouted. “This was her captain. She was the Landor Lion—the ship my father and the Landors built that they might follow their peaceable trade. They brought back rich cargoes from the East Indies. You wanted those cargoes. One night’s evil work would give you that which they had taken months of planning and labour to get together. I hate you and everything you stand for.”

“A nice thing,” he said, “to find a wife mourning her lover.”

“He was never my lover.”

“Nay, he had not the spirit for it. He wanted you but being the lily-livered dandy he was, he was willing to pass you over and take another. Do you think you would have had the night sport with him you have had with me?”

I laid his head gently down and rose.

I said: “He must be given a decent burial. On that I insist.”

“Who are you, Madam, to insist?”

“Not your slave, but your unfortunate wife.”

“He shall be thrown back into the sea.”

“Do not dare do such a thing. If you do I will let it be known how you have made your fortune.”

“You talk to me of daring! Know this, I will have my way and you shall obey me.”

“Why should I?”

“Because if you did not you would regret it all the days of your life.”

“I do not care for the rest of my life. Do what you will to me. Kill me if you will. Mine will not be the first death to be laid at your door.”

“Go into the castle,” he said.

“I shall not leave Fennimore Landor until he is taken reverently from here. I wish his body to be placed in the chapel and a coffin made for it. Then he will be buried beside his sister, that poor lady who was once your wife.”

He looked at me and I saw the grudging light of admiration in his eyes.

“I marvel,” he said, “that I should be so soft with you.”

“I shall wait here,” I said, “until he is taken into the chapel. I wish to stay with him for a while. I wish to arrange for his burial.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then I shall leave the castle. I shall go to my father’s house. I shall tell him what happened to the Landor Lion and its captain.”

“Inform against the husband you have sworn to obey! Break your vows to me!”

“I shall have no hesitation in doing so.”

He caught me by the arm. “Do you think I’d let you?”

“I would make the attempt.”

“By God,” he said, “I believe you would. You defy me; you give me no more children and yet I have a softness for you. You shall have your way in this, wife. He shall be taken to the chapel and he shall be buried beside his sister. There shall be no name on his gravestone and do not let me hear the name of his ship pass your lips again. It must be thought that he perished far from here. You see how I indulge you?”

I did not answer him. I dropped to my knees and looked into Fennimore’s dead face.

Colum went away and shortly afterwards four of the men came to the shore.

They carried Fennimore’s body to the chapel.

The next day he was buried beside his sister in the burial grounds of the Casvellyns close to Ysella’s Tower.

It was the end of an era, I could never forget it. I was haunted by the memory of Fennimore’s dead face. I wondered what would happen when my mother visited us. I could no longer keep secrets from her. I was rather glad we did not meet for I was sure she would realize the change in me.

The storm had taken place at the beginning of October. Colum had strangely enough tried to woo me back to some semblance of affection. I could not respond. The sight of Fennimore dead on the shore had killed something in me for ever.