In many ways the settlement reminded Vanimen of Als. As time passed, he came to understand how shallow the likeness was.
The journey here, on a borrowed ass, had been agony. Once in Tomislav’s house, with a bed to rest in and plenty of hearty food, the merman healed faster than a human would have done. A second Faerie gift was the speed wherewith he mastered the Hrvatskan language. Erelong he and the priest began to hold real discourse, which day by day grew less halting. After people lost fear of him, he came to know them also, and somewhat about their lives.
He sat with Tomislav, sharing a bench, on the gangway landing below the long-raftered roof. It was Sunday, when men rested after their worship. The priest had been laboring at harvest as hard as anyone; Vanimen, now hale, had lent strength which was great if unskilled.
Summer was yielding to autumn. Leaves seemed paler green than erstwhile, a few already brown, red, gold; the sky too had gone wan, pierced by geese whose cries awoke wordless longings; when the sun went under the treetops, a breeze that had been cool became chill. Most persons idled at home. Those who passed by simply hailed Tomislav and his guest. That sight had grown familiar. Clad like the rest, aside from bare feet, Vanimen could almost have passed for a human of mighty stature.
The two were drinking beer out of wooden bowls and had grown a trifle tipsy. “You ’re a good sort,” the merman remarked. “Would that I might help you live better.”
“That’s the kind of wish that makes me think you can indeed receive God’s grace if only you’ll choose,” Tomislav said eagerly.
As his own distrust faded, Vanimen had gotten frank. The priest had softened the story when he wrote it in the reports he dispatched, by a boy, to Ivan. “I’ll not lie to him, but I’ll not needlessly worsen hostility against you,” he had explained.
For his part, Tomislav had tried to make clear what sort of land this was. Hrvatska shared monarchy with Hungary. Richly endowed by nature, with numerous seaports for trading abroad, it was an important realm in its own right. It would have been more so, save that the great clans were generally at odds, sometimes at outright war. Alas, then foreigners, notably the damnable Venetians, took advantage of chaos and occupied what was not theirs. At the moment, peace prevailed. An alliance of the Subitj and Frankapan septs gave strong government. Most powerful was the Count of Bribir, Pavle Subitj, who had won to the position of Ban-provincial ruler, save that his province today was the whole country. Ivan was kin to him.
This eventide Vanimen evaded talk of the Faith by saying; “Toil and poverty may purify the soul, but they’re hard on body and mind. Why, you’ve not even a proper housekeeper.” Women came in by turns to work, but none had much time or strength to spare. Often the priest must do his own cooking—which went rather well, for he enjoyed food—and cleaning; always did his own gardening and brewing.
“I need none” really. My wants are simple. I get my share of jollity. You’ll see when we hold harvest festival.” Tomislav paused. “Indeed, my earthly lot became easier in several ways when my poor wife passed away. She was long helplessly ill, needing my care.” He crossed himself. “God called her to come and be healed. I’m sure she’s in Heaven.”
Astonished, Vanimen said, “Were you wedded? I know cler.. gymen formerly were, at least in the North, but I hadn’t heard of it for generations.”
“Aye, we’re Catholic, yet of the Glagolitic rite, which is not Rome’s. Though the Popes have ever misliked that, they’ve not outright forbidden our usages.”
Vanimen shook his head. “I’ll never grasp why you humans wrangle about such snailshell matters-how you can do it, when you might be savoring this world.” He saw his host would fain avoid dispute, and went on, “But tell me, if you will, of your past. I’ve heard mere shards thus far.”
“There’s naught to tell,” answered Tomislav. “A most ordinary, stumbling mortal life. It can’t interest you, who for centuries have known marvels beyond my imagining.”
“Oh, it would,” Vanimen murmured. “You are as strange to me as I to you. If you would let me glimpse your inwardness, might see-well, not only how the tribe of Adam inhabits earth, but why. . . .”
“You might see what God means!” Tomislav exclaimed. “Ha, that chance is worth baring my breast to you.
“Not that I’ve much to reveal. Ask what questions you will as I go along.” Talking, the man let his voice drop. His gaze went outward, over the roof opposite, to trees and sky-to lost years, Vanimen supposed. Now and then he took a swallow of beer, but not with his customary gusto; it was a thing his body did to keep his throat moist.
“I was born a serf, though not here: in Skradin, ‘in the shadow of the castle,’ as the saying goes. My father was a groom there. The chaplain of that time thought me worth teaching to read and write. When I reached the proper age, fourteen, he recommended me to the bishop. Thus I went to Zadar to study for holy ordershard work in truth, for both flesh and spirit. Nonetheless, there was a city full of liveliness, men from beyond every horizon, worldly goods, worldly pleasures. I confess, for a while I fell into sin. Afterward I repented, and dare believe I’ve been forgiven, and may have gained a little insight into my fellow creatures.
“Repentance made me long back, however, long for my birthland, simple ways, my own kind of people. No pastorate hereabouts fell open for several years. During them, I was amanuensis to the bishop.
“Meanwhile I’d turn lust into lawful conjugality by arranging to marry a woman from these parts. In fact, because of my wish still more than canonical requirement, that was before I entered orders. Ah, lovely in her youth was my Sena!
“But early on, sadness came over her. At first it may have been due to her new environs. Crowds, noise, chaffering, intrigue, restlessness, ever-changefulness, those things frightened her and weighed on her soul. Besides, we lost two children to sickness. She found less comfort in the three that lived than I did, or than I hoped she would.
“Finally I got this church. The bishop grumbled at letting me go, but relented when I made clear what it should mean to Sena.
“Well, it was of no avail. More babies of hers died or were stillborn. Worse, our three growing children found this life as bad as she’d found the city. They missed the outside world; they chafed, waxed rebellious. My ordination had freed my whole family from serfdom. Thus no law bound them in place. One by one, when they grew old enough, they defied us and broke away.
“First Franjo went to sea. After a few voyages, his ship was never heard of again. It may have been wrecked, it may have fallen to pirates or slavers. Could be, this moment, my son is a eunuch in some Turk’s harem. Kyrie eleison.
“It was less bad for Zinka. She wed a merchant she met once when we were in Shibenik-wed him without our leave, almost the day afterward. We could do naught, for the priest was a countryman of his and he took her home with him to Austria. Never a word has come since. I pray she is happy. Christe eleison.
“Later our younger son, Juraj, ran off. He’s in Split, working for a Venetian factor-Venice, the ancient enemy. I hear about him from time to time, through the kindness of a tradesman I know; but I never hear from him. Kyrie eleison.
“Maybe you can guess how this clawed Sena’s heart, which she could never harden. A few years after she bore her last child, she withdrew into silence, and scarcely moved. . . only lay there in bed, empty-eyed. Though I wept when she died, ten years ago. I knew it was God’s mercy. And our little daughter was still alive then, still alive for her.”