The Islands of the Blessed by Nancy Farmer Page B

thrall.”
    â€œYou’re supposed to feel pity for her,” Brother Aiden said.
    â€œWhy? She threw rocks at him.”
    â€œThorgil has a point,” said the Bard. “Severus’s crime was not in forcing her to work for him, which she richly deserved, but in thinking she had no soul. He treated her like a chair or a cup, to be discarded when it was broken. Go on, Aiden.”
    â€œFather Severus was contented with life,” continued the monk. “He could pray and meditate whenever he liked. The mermaid no longer bothered him with talk. In fact, she became entirely silent. The garden prospered and he could store food for the winter. When he had a craving for meat, he sent her fishing. There was always enough driftwood for his fire.
    â€œThe mermaid, however, had a hatred of fire. She curled up in the little cave, winter and summer, without a scrap of cloth for warmth. Father Severus supposed she was like a seal and didn’t feel the cold, and so he put it from his mind. He didn’t notice the gradual change that came over her.
    â€œOne day he sighted a ship in the distance, making its way to Grim’s Island. It was the abbot of the Holy Isle, coming to check on his welfare. ‘Delighted to see you looking well,’said the abbot, coming ashore. ‘Good Lord! What’s that?’ The mermaid was shuffling to and fro with loads of driftwood.
    â€œâ€˜Just a sea creature I trained to work,’ said Father Severus.
    â€œâ€˜But it’s female! And it’s naked!’
    â€œâ€˜It isn’t human,’ Father Severus said reasonably. ‘Many a monk lives with a cow and nothing is said.’
    â€œâ€˜It has the form of a human,’ said the abbot, squinting to make her out more clearly. ‘By blessed St. Bridget, it’s the ugliest woman I ever saw.’
    â€œThen Father Severus took a closer look at her too. The mermaid had changed so gradually, he hadn’t paid attention. She was much larger, and the nails of her feet and hands had grown into claws. Her skin was rough, her teeth yellow, her hair was beginning to fall out and the clumps remaining were a rat’s nest. Her movements, never graceful on land, were now totally bestial. ‘She looked better when I got her,’ Father Severus admitted.”
    â€œThat is the way of fin folk,” the Bard put in. “When the females are immature, they are surpassingly beautiful. If they wed a human, they remain so all their lives. But if they marry one of their own kind or are spurned by a human, they change into the adult form: a sea hag.”
    â€œA sea hag,” said Jack, full of wonder. He could make a magnificent poem out of this tale, as good as
Beowulf
or Olaf One-Brow rescuing Ivar the Boneless from trolls. Thorgil’s eyes were shining too.
    â€œUnfortunately,” said Brother Aiden, “the abbot thoughtthere had been quite enough meditating and praying on lonely islands. He accused Father Severus of shirking his duties to the monastery and ordered him to return at once. And so they packed up Columba’s robe and Fair Lamenting and departed.
    â€œThe mermaid—now sea hag—dived into the water and tried to follow them. The sailors rowed for all they were worth. Gradually, the sea hag fell behind, and the last they saw of her was a mop of dirty hair bobbing up and down in the waves.”
    Everyone was silent after that. The Bard put more wood on the fire, and Thorgil, deep in thought, stroked Seafarer’s feathers. Brother Aiden bowed his head. Finally, Jack said, “That’s terrible. They abandoned her to die.”
    â€œI was never sure whether she’d had the strength to return to Grim’s Island,” said the Bard. “Now it seems she drowned and became a
draugr.”
    â€œAn undead spirit,” said Thorgil.
    â€œAnd she’s here,” added Brother Aiden.

Chapter Nine

A PLEA FOR JUSTICE
    As the Bard had