The Moon and the Sun

Have they left the ship to break up on the rocks? she wondered. She hoped they had taken Lucien away with them. Anyone who disliked the sea so intensely should not have to drown.

The pumps groaned and rushed. The ship floated free. As the ship settled into the water, Sherzad’s voice travelled through the sea and touched the planks, resounding like a drum. Astonished, overjoyed, Marie-Josèphe replied. Sherzad spoke again, begging her to answer. Hurry, hurry, she cried, I cannot bear to wait for you much longer.

Desperate, Marie-Josèphe pounded on the bulkhead until her scratched hands bruised.

The hatch opened. Light poured in, dazzling her.

“Stop that noise.” The King stood before her. “You’ve exhausted my patience three times over.”

“Can’t you hear her? I freed her—she’ll keep her promise, she’ll lead me to your treasure.”

“I hear nothing. She has disappeared.”

“Shh. Listen.”

The King listened in skeptical silence. The ship rocked and complained around them; the pumps rumbled. Beneath the noise, Sherzad sang in a delicate low register.

“She promises. She says, The sand is covered with gold and jewels. She gives them to you, for my sake, despite your betrayals and your broken promises. Afterwards… she declares war on the men of land.”

“I wonder,” Louis said, “if she’s declared war on you.”

The King would never forgive her, treasure or not. Nor could Lucien hope to return to his proper place in the King’s esteem. Marie-Josèphe wondered if Lucien would ever forgive her.

On deck, Lucien peered into the dawn brilliance of the sea, searching for Sherzad. He had locked his dulled and broken sword in its sheath. He leaned on it and grasped the rail as well, preparing for seasickness.

Marie-Josèphe joined him.

Lucien glanced up. “You are perfectly magnificent.”

She sank down beside him and took his hand.

The captain bowed to His Majesty. “The ship may return to Le Havre, Your Majesty,” he said, “but I can’t answer for any hard sailing.”

Marie-Josèphe searched the horizon and the silver sparks of sunlight. She called Sherzad, but heard no answer. She’s out there, Marie-Josèphe thought. It’s so hard to find anything on the whole wide sea—

“Very well,” His Majesty said. “Return to Le Havre.”

A distant splash marred the perfect pattern of the surface of the sea.

“There!” Marie-Josèphe cried. “She’s there.”

“It’s only a fish,” the captain muttered. If the lure of treasure could not overcome his fears, the will of the King did. The captain sailed his ship in pursuit of Sherzad, though he set a sailor on the bow with a sounding-line. When Sherzad led them to a cove, he refused to take the ship inside.

“It’s treacherous, Your Majesty,” he said. “Look at the chart, the wind. We’d go in. We’d never come out.”

Marie-Josèphe fidgeted unhappily while the sailors lowered the skiff. They objected to her presence, even to Lucien’s, but the King climbed into the skiff and commanded Marie-Josèphe to accompany him, and he said nothing when Lucien climbed down the ladder too.

He believes my friend will be even more miserable in a smaller boat, Marie-Josèphe thought uncharitably. To her relief, Lucien’s discomfort eased.

The sailors rowed nervously after Sherzad. They whispered to each other, when they thought their passengers could not hear. They were afraid of Sherzad, afraid of more duplicity, afraid of ambush. Marie-Josèphe could not blame them. What’s more, she would not have blamed Sherzad if the sea woman fulfilled the sailor’s fears.

She caught only an occasional glimpse of the sea woman. Sherzad was frightened, too, of nets and guns, of explosive charges to stun her back into captivity. She hovered by the mouth of the cove, ready to flee at any threat.

In dangerous water among submerged fingers of stone, Marie-Josèphe stopped the skiff. At the mouth of the cove, Sherzad leaped from the water, flicked her tails in the air, dove, and disappeared.

“Here,” Marie-Josèphe said.

Sailors stripped and splashed over the side.

“Send all your men into the water.”

“Your Majesty,” the captain said, “the rest cannot swim. They must keep their strength—and their lives—to row us back.”

His Majesty acceded with reluctant grace. “Very well.”

The divers submerged, and ascended, and vanished again. Soon they were shivering. One surfaced coughing and half drowned. Louis allowed him five minutes’ rest.

“The sea monster has played you an ugly trick, Mlle de la Croix,” the King said.

“The treasure fleet is here,” Marie-Josèphe said.

“Dive again,” the King said to the exhausted sailor.

Marie-Josèphe sang to Sherzad, asking for more direction. She received no answer.

“She’s gone. Perhaps I’ll never see her again.” She wept. Only the touch of Lucien’s hand kept her heart from breaking.

As far away as she could see, a tiny splash burst from the ocean, and another, and a third, all in a group. Suddenly frightened, Marie-Josèphe trembled.