A Song for the Ferryman Read online

  And so he did as Pressyne’s husband had done, and broke his vow. He looked upon his wife through the keyhole to her private chambers one Saturday night. And just as Elinas had done, so he saw his lovely wife, as beautiful as ever from the waist up, but as a serpent down below.

  Now, history does not always turn in neat circles, and this time Melusine was unaware of the betrayal, until the actions of their son led to calamity. It happened like this.

  This son, by the name of Geoffrey, had a peculiar deformity of temperament, which drove him to get into many fights. Even as a small child he could terrorise his masters, and other children quickly learned not to play with him. As he grew he became more isolated and more bad tempered, and he gained a reputation as a dangerous man to be around; a good ally in battle, perhaps, but a deadly foe when crossed. Nevertheless, his fearsome reputation served the kingdom well, for along with peace and good government, his father could call upon his services when he needed to defend or attack some cause. Thus, Geoffrey remained a canker in the land, feared by most people and unloved by all, except his mother.

  In one of Geoffrey’s periodic fits of ill-temper he set fire to the grand cathedral in the middle of the capital city. No-one knew why he did it, and everyone was quick to blame him and to say, ‘Enough is enough: he must be banished!’ But Melusine defended him and forbade her husband from punishing the boy. And this for the first time caused a great rift between them, to which the people quickly took sides, either for Raymond or for his son Geoffrey. Each side accused Melusine of witchcraft and of having undue influence over the king.

  Raymond could not ignore the demands of his people to rid himself of his dear wife; and she did not make matters easier by accusing each side of treason. So uncomfortable did Raymond’s position become that one day he angrily confessed that he knew her true nature and what she did on those days that she insisted were her own, and that her wits were like those of a serpent.

  Melusine instantly knew she had been betrayed, just as her mother had been, by a man she thought she could trust. She let out a terrible shriek as her form changed to that of a huge serpent and she flew out of the window, thrashing her long scaly tail behind her.

  Soon news of her change went about, and with it the belief that if she were ever seen again, death would surely follow. And so indeed it came to pass. Some people rallied in support of Geoffrey, some in support of Raymond, and it was not long before civil war erupted. Geoffrey gathered a great army and openly challenged his father; but in the ensuing fight Geoffrey was killed and his father’s side was victorious. And there were those who said, long after, that while the battle raged it was as if a great serpent was seen in the midst of them, rushing between the two sides, striking out at each.

  Raymond may have won the war, but he was a broken man. He had no appetite any more to be king, and a deal was quickly struck whereby the crown would pass to his eldest son who had married a neighbouring princess. Raymond went into voluntary exile and died quietly a few years later, having found some peace in a remote monastery. Their offspring went on to found some of the greatest royal families on the continent.

  And for many, many years afterwards, till people lost faith in the world of the spirits, there were those who said that from time to time Melusine would revisit the kingdom searching for her children, and that her cries could be heard in the wind as it shrieked around the chimneys in a storm.

  The Raven and the Crow

  Once upon a time the great god Apollo, god of music, poetry, and a whole lot else besides, had a special pet, a raven, who because he was so nosey served as his spy. And in those days ravens were white, as white as snow.

  Now, Apollo had taken a mortal, named Coronis as a lover. She was quite a looker and Apollo doted on her, but she was not quite so much in love with him, and so wasn’t as faithful as she might have been. Heaven being quite a small place it wasn’t long before the raven got to hear of this, and he immediately set off to report it to his master.

  On his way he was interrupted by his cousin, a crow who like him had a hunger for intrigue, and who could see that something was clearly afoot. So she stopped him and demanded to know what was going on. And the raven, feeling he could trust one of his own kin, told her the dreadful secret.

  ‘Don’t do it!’ cried the crow after she’d heard him out. ‘You’ll only regret it.’

  The raven looked quite startled. ‘Why?’ he said.

  ‘Once I was as white as you are now,’ said the crow, ruffling her feathers, ‘But now I’m as black as night.’

  The raven had a beak for intrigue and sensed a juicy story. ‘I wondered how that happened,’ he said.

  ‘I once saw a meeting in which my mistress Minerva hid a baby inside a basket and entrusted it to the care of three young women with strict instructions not to peek inside. Well, I could have told her what would happen.’

  ‘I think I can guess.’ said the raven, ‘But do go on.’

  ‘I followed the women. Two of them were sensible,’ said the crow, ‘but the third one opened the basket.’

  ‘It’s always the third one,’ said the raven.

  The crow nodded sagely. She paused for effect.

  ‘And?’ said the raven after a while.

  ‘And what?’ said the crow. ‘I told my mistress the truth of what I’d seen. And that was my mistake.’

  ‘Why,’ said the raven.

  ‘I thought she liked me,’ said the crow, nibbling at one of her claws. ‘I thought she’d be glad to know.’

  ‘I’m surprised,’ said the raven, warming to her subject. ‘You told us once how you and she had this ‘special thing’; how you were like sisters; how she never went anywhere without you; and how there were no secrets between you. I never did believe it myself.’

  ‘All right, all right!’ said the crow. ‘So I misjudged her. It was an honest mistake.’

  ‘Of course it was, dear’ said the raven. ‘Still, no smoke without fire, that’s what I say. Is that why she turned you black and kicked you out?’

  ‘All I’d done was tell her the truth,’ said the crow sadly, ‘which is what she employed me to do in the first place. But there are truths that gods want to hear and truths they don’t.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said the raven.

  ‘I tell you, there’s no virtue left in this world when an honest bird can be brought down for doing her job.’

  The raven shook his head. ‘I don’t think I’ve heard such a load of stuff and nonsense in all my born days. And I don’t believe your story about your dismissal. I think you’re hiding something. In my book, if you’ve done nothing wrong you’ve got nothing to fear, and that’s all there is to it. So I’m off to see my friend Apollo. Good day!’ And with this he rudely brushed the poor crow aside and hurried off to complete his mission.

  When the raven delivered his message to Apollo that great god was thunderstruck. You wouldn’t think that one of the mightiest of the immortals could be brought down by a simple tale of infidelity, but he was - notwithstanding he’d had a few affairs himself. I do believe he had genuinely loved Coronis, and her betrayal cut him deeply to the heart. But Apollo was always Apollo, and he had a fearsome temper. So he took his bow and he shot an arrow straight through Coronis’s heart.

  As soon as he had done it he regretted it, but it was too late. As she lay dying she spoke words that shocked him to the core. ‘I’m so sorry for my betrayal my love,’ she said, ‘And you are right to seek revenge on me. But I only wish you’d waited, for I am carrying your child, that now will never be born.’

  At this Apollo wept and cried aloud and immediately ordered the grandest of funeral ceremonies. It went on for a week. And just as he was about to place her body on the funeral pyre he took a knife and cut open her belly and drew forth his son, whom he entrusted to Chiron, the centaur, who had been his teacher and his guide. And I’m glad to say the lad turned out well. He became a doctor, Aesculapius, the god of medicine in fact, so the end wasn’t all bad.

  But things did not go so well for the raven. For though Apollo was struck down by grief he was still a god, and like all gods he was unwilling to take responsibility for his actions. So he cursed his poor pet and turned him to the deepest shade of black and banished him to the lonely hills, where you’ll find him to this day.

  Isabella and the Business of Business

  Once, not so long ago, as I have heard, there lived in this town two brothers and their younger sister. They were born into a wealthy family, but their parents had died shortly after the brothers came of age.

  Now, the brothers managed everything to do with the businesses and left their sister, who was called Isabella, to do more or less as she pleased. They gave her some education and openly planned for her to make a good marriage which would bring them greater wealth. Isabella gave every impression of being a typical young woman of her class. She loved nothing more than to buy fine clothes, play music, and visit friends and to take pleasure in all the gossip of the city. But she was also a shrewd observer and shared her brother’s love of money and politics, and whenever she could she listened in on their discussions about business, and she learned a great deal from them. And as their business interests grew the brothers found they needed an agent to help them manage their affairs. They searched high and low and took great care in their selection. Eventually they settled upon a young man whose name was Lorenzo. He had learned his craft in some of the best houses in the region and was aware of his skills, and he was easily tempted by a generous offer.

  As soon as the young couple saw each other a spark passed between them of the kind no amount of good sense and high morals can quell. Day by day as he settled into his new job she observed him, and soon she found an excuse to confront him. Whereupon their talk
quickly turned to matters of the heart and they found the need to seek those moments that only couples who are deeply and passionately in love can know and create.

  Their love making was full-blooded and joyful, and was more or less an open secret in the house. It might have gone well for the couple, but Lorenzo had no wealth of his own and Isabella’s brothers had in mind for her a much more lucrative marriage. So it was not long before they called an urgent meeting to discuss what should be done.

  ‘We must act circumspectly,’ said one of them. ‘It will not do us much good to be seen to have allowed this fellow to exceed his limits.’

  ‘Better to deal with the matter quietly, and then marry her off as soon as possible,’ said the other.

  So they agreed to send Lorenzo on a business trip to a far off city and there arrange an accident that would rid them of the problem in one fell stroke. Matters went as planned, and when he failed to return they explained his absence by an excuse to do with business. Then they reported that he had died of an illness and had been hastily buried.

  The news deeply affected Isabella, and she fell into mourning, weeping copiously for days on end over her loss, which of course she could not declare. Seeing the need to act swiftly, the brothers informed her that they had found a wealthy suitor who was keen to marry her and of whom they approved because of his many and useful business interests. They described this man warmly, but neglected to mention that he was old.

  Isabella knew she could not resist, and so she agreed. On meeting her husband she was shocked at his age, but she was so charmed by his good manners and delicacy of concern for her that she decided she could bear to live with him if she must, but could never love him as she had her Lorenzo.

  Soon after the wedding her maid servant came to her with news of a rumour that Lorenzo had not died of an illness but had been killed by the brothers while away on business for them, and that the grave was hidden in a corner of a wood nearby. So with her help Isabella went to the grave and found it covered in soft earth and leaves but without benefit of a headstone. She dug down and soon found the body of her poor lover. And in a moment of inspiration she took a knife she carried with her and cut off the part of him that had been most precious to her and wrapped it in a cloth, and the two stole back to their home that was now tainted with the stain of murder.

  Isabella knew she could not be seen to act directly against her brothers, so she arranged to purchase a deadly poison that if given to them in small portions would slowly bring about their deaths. She compelled the servant to deliver this poison drop by drop in their food, telling her that if she did not do so she would betray her to her brothers, and she would suffer the same fate as had Lorenzo.

  The servant did as she was told, slipping a drop or two of the poison into the meals of the brothers each day, who suspected nothing. And indeed they seemed pleased that their sister had overcome her grief and was settling into what looked to be a marriage that would bring them an ample return.

  Isabella, to her own surprise, found much to enjoy in the company of her husband, not least in the details of his business affairs which he readily shared with her, believing her to be a worthy partner in the office as well as the bedchamber.

  Within weeks the poison was having its effect as first one brother then the next fell ill, and shortly they died within a few days of each other. As a plague was causing much concern in the city no-one questioned their deaths, nor that of a servant woman at about the same time. Nor were they surprised when Isabella’s husband died shortly afterwards of natural causes.

  People were surprised, however, by the speed with which she took over the management of the men’s many business concerns, and the skill with which she expanded them. She never married again, and shortly before she died she sold her businesses to a rival family, which flourishes to this day. Her great fortune was left to a distant cousin, whom she had hardly seen.

  And so things come to pass. But there is one more thing I have heard. During the preparations for her funeral a maid was going through Isabella’s bedroom and came across a jewelled box at the back of a wardrobe. Inside was the shrivelled member of an unknown man, which she quickly threw away.

  A Dream in Paradise

  A long time ago, in a city not far from here, there lived a nobleman. He was a widower and had one daughter, named Andreola, whom he loved. Now, Andreola was beautiful and many men proposed to her, but no matter how her father tried to persuade her that this or that man would make a good match for her, she insisted she would only marry for love. ‘Tosh,’ said her father, ‘You’ve been reading too many romances.’ But while she might have been a romantic, she had a will of iron and remained adamant, much to her father’s consternation.

  Now, her father had a fine house with a beautiful garden that stretched all the way down to a river whose sparkling waters ran clear and bright. Andreola loved to walk beside it and listen while the birds sang and soft breezes gently stirred the blossoms of the pomegranate trees. And she did indeed love to read romances, often out loud to herself or to her maid who, though she could not read herself, took as much pleasure in the words and the sentiments as did her mistress.

  One day Andreola noticed a young man working in the field beyond the river. Though it was clear he was not of her class, yet she was struck by his handsome bearing, which seemed nobler than his situation might suggest. He had long fair hair and broad shoulders, and though his clothes were a little torn yet she could see he had a fine body, and she fell in love with him instantly. She asked her maid, ‘Who is that man working there?’

  ‘Why,’ replied the maid, ‘He is Gabriotto, the brother of my late cousin.’

  ‘Hmm,’ replied Andreola, ‘Why is he working in the fields like a peasant?’

  ‘Alas,’ the maid replied, ‘when my cousin died he left many debts and no children. Gabriotto was his only family, and now he must work the land himself, for he cannot afford to pay anyone to help him.’

  ‘He looks too good for that,’ said Andreola. ‘Surely one so fine could not be born so low.’

  ‘There were rumours,’ replied the maid, ‘that his mother had an affair with a noble count, and that he is in fact Gabriotto’s father. But nothing could be proved.’

  ‘Most unfortunate,’ said Andreola. ‘Might he come a little closer, do you think?’

  ‘I’m sure his labours will bring him nearer, my lady. To within calling distance if I’m not mistaken.’

  And indeed as the afternoon wore on the young man’s labours brought him closer to them. And though no word passed between them, yet she was sure that he had noticed her and was drawn to her, for he seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time upon a patch of ground that was closest to her, weeding it carefully over and over again.

  Her suspicions were confirmed when the next day, and the next, and indeed the one after, he lingered by the river bank, thus giving her ample opportunity to look upon him, and for him to send her in return soft and tender glances. Thus they declared their love.

  Andreola’s maid had been with her mistress some seventeen years, almost from the time of her birth, and she knew her mistress’s thoughts before they were spoken. So she sent a message to Gabriotto that her mistress wished to speak with him about some matter and that he should cross the river by the little ferry and appear at the far end of the garden the next evening. Then, with very little difficulty, she persuaded her mistress to be walking there, so that they should meet. At first Gabriotto was shy before so grand a lady, and hardly dared to speak. But from their glances and the earnest entreaties that Andreola made to him to offer his services in her garden, insisting that no-one else would do, they contrived to meet again. To settle the matter, she also urged her father to hire the young man to bring about some lengthy transformation out of sight of the house where she knew he rarely came, so that she could look upon him and talk with him as often as she wished. And this being the spring, when the days are warm and summer’s heat had not yet blistered the land, she arranged to read to him as he took his rest. He willingly surrendered, and she found in him a soul like her own, and their love-making began in earnest. And it was all her maid could do sometimes to mask their joyous cries as they consummated their marriage over and again.