Simon had been adamant. Unswerving in his belief about the lost city. And it had cost him his life.
It had cost her Simon, even before he died. This place. This stupid place.
Ari couldn’t take it. ‘You’re still looking for Ys?Jesus, Jason, don’t you ever learn?’
CHAPTERTWO
‘I’ll tell you a story,’ Simon said.
They sat side by side on a picnic blanket, on the headland overlooking the Baie des Trépassés. The breeze rippled the heather and it was alive with butterflies. Stretching out her legs, Ari tilted her head back to feel the sun on her face. It was a glorious summer, before she went away, before he’d sent that awful letter which changed everything…before he died.
‘Go on then.’
‘So, this is the Pointe de Van, right?’
‘Got it in one, genius. It’s almost as if you know the place.’
He laughed, a deep chuckle which did interesting things inside her. ‘And that is the Chapelle de Saint They.’ He pointed to the squat church perched on the cliffs a little distance away. ‘He kept watch here on the night Ys sank, its golden roofs and red walls swallowed by the sea. When he saw the water rising, he rang the bells to warn his master of the incoming flood and the saint was able to alert the king just in time. The two of them escaped on the king’s horse, Morvarc’h.’
‘The one that could run on water? Handy,’ she teased and tapped the pendant hanging from a leather thong at his throat. She’d had it made for him, a bone carving of a horse and waves. Then she reached up further to bury her fingers in his hair, caressing him, pulling him closer.
‘Who’s telling this story, Ariadne Walker?’ he scolded in mock-sternness.
She had pouted and he’d kissed her before continuing. Ari, who much preferred the kissing to the story, sank into his embrace.
‘The king’s daughter Dahut cried out to him to save her, and he tried, but he couldn’t pull her from the water. In fact, he almost came off the horse, so strong was the pull of the waves on the woman.
‘“She’s a witch,” the saint told him. “She has caused this disaster. Her lusts led your people to their doom. Let the waves have her. Let the curse of Ys take her.”
‘So the king let his own daughter go and the horse bore them to safety to the sound of the chapel bells. He founded Quimper instead – a new city to rule.’
‘What a bastard,’ Ari remarked. ‘Typical king, I suppose. Why is it always the women that have to die in these stories?’
‘She was a monster, enchanting the menfolk and murdering them. Pay attention. Anyway, she didn’t die. Dahut became a creature of the waves and the storm, agroac’h, or amari-morgen, a water witch, and she still haunts the Mer d’Iroise, from the Chaussée de Sein up to Lostmarc’h on the other peninsula over there’ – he pointed to the north – ‘right in as far as the port of Douarnenez itself, dragging those who see her in the water to their deaths and singing her seductive songs.’
She grinned, enjoying teasing him when he was so serious. ‘Psycho mermaid. Got it.’
Simon kissed her and she lay back beneath him. ‘The bells of the chapel still ring out whenever there’s a storm on the way, all by themselves.’
Ari gave him a stern look, that was only half in jest. ‘You know as well as I do, old stories are not reliable sources. We don’t even know that any of those people existed, Simon, let alone what really happened if they did. Locations change, motivations, even names. Stories change with each telling. You can’t base research on them.’
‘I swear to God, Ari’ – he placed his hand on his chest, his eyes large and liquid – ‘every word is true.’
She glanced at the chapel. The bell was visible, suspended in the steeple, open to the elements. ‘You do realise that any gust of wind would make that bell ring, right?’
‘No, it’s magic, you wicked woman. A warning that the water witch is coming and will drown the unwary.’
‘Are you unwary?’ she’d asked with a low, throaty laugh. She rather liked the idea of being a wicked woman. Especially with him.
‘You’re the only siren I need in my life,’ he had replied, framing her face with his strong hands while she laughed at him. But he was in earnest, his eyes fierce. ‘It would take more than Dahut to steal me away from you, Ari. More than the sea itself.’
But, in the end, the sea had been stronger than his promise.
And even before that, his promise hadn’t been worth very much at all.
* * *
Photos. Jason had dragged her back here just for photos. She should have bloody known.
