Fic: A Man Upon the Land
Birthday fic for graycastle
A Man Upon the Land
Out on the islands at the edges of the civilised world, where togas and wine were in short supply, there were stories of the people who lived in the sea, with their soft hair and their softer brown eyes, who'd come up on the beaches to dance, and would flee back when humans came to spy on them. There were even families that claimed descent from the sea-folk, from unlucky maidens whose sealskin cloaks were stolen by men looking for a wife. It was all terrible pagan nonsense, of course, and not believed by anyone with sense in these more enlightened times, but Pacata the daughter of Brocchus crept out of the house and down to the sea every full moon, just to make sure. She never saw the seals dance, and had almost given up hoping she would. And so it was, when one time she saw the man walk out of the sea onto the moonlit beach and sit himself wearily down on a rock she told herself there had been a shipwreck, and stared out for more unfortunate sailors to come in with the tide.
After many minutes had passed and the sea remained calm and empty, she turned to slip away, and the man said, "You may as well come down here. I won't harm you."
He sounded so sad and tired that Pacata hesitated. She should run straight back to the farm, she knew, and tell her father and her brothers about the man. The priest had visited only the previous week, however, and spoken for a long time on the duty for good Christian folk to help the poor and the helpless. The man didn't know this area, she thought. If he tried to catch her, she could run away faster than he could follow. Step by step she walked down the dune, and came around in front of him, standing between him and the sea.
"It's late for you to be out," he said.
The moonlight on his face at first made his eyes seem some strange light colour, but then she saw they were dark. His clothes and soft dark hair that had streamed with the water when he came up the beach were quite dry. The cloak hanging from his shoulders was sealskin.
"I'm hungry," he said, "would you happen to have any food with you?"
She shook her head, just watching him, and he sighed and unfolded himself from the rock, standing and stretching. He was very tall, and looked unlike anyone she had ever seen before. Nodding politely to her, he turned away and began to walk towards the dunes.
"Are you a seal?" she asked.
The man stopped and looked over his shoulder at her.
"Now there's an odd question," he said. "Do you have many seals that walk on two legs in this land?"
"In the stories," she said. "The priest says we mustn't believe them."
"Priests say many things," the man said. "How old are you?"
"Ten," Pacata said.
"Young enough still to have some sense, then," the man said, smiling. "Who are your people?"
"We're Romans," Pacata said proudly, and the man hid a little smile.
"Romans, is it?" he asked, walking back to her and touching a hand to her red-brown hair. "Well, Domna, might a poor traveller ask for your patronage?" He held the hand out, then, and she found herself putting her own into his, fearlessly.
"That's not my name," she said.
"I know," he said cheerfully, "do you not speak Latin then? Don't you tell me your name, now, that's the kind of thing that always goes wrong in the stories, isn't it? And I won't tell you mine."
"Where have you come from?" she asked as they walked up the dune, the marram grass hissing in the wind. He had come a long way, she was sure.
"Tonight? Hibernia. Before that? The world is a wide place, Domna."
"You swam all the way from Hibernia?" she asked, enthralled.
"I was required to leave the place," he said coldly. He looked down at her. "This is a Christian land, isn't it?" When she nodded he looked vexed, muttering, "Everywhere I go."
"Are seals not Christian folk?" Pacata asked.
He laughed shortly. "I have little truck with the views of the sons of Adam on such matters," he said. He smiled down at her with sharp, white teeth. "You're so sure I'm a seal, Domna. There are other things in the sea; do you not know your Bible? Great sea serpents, for one. Perhaps I'm one of those."
"You came on the beach at the full moon, when the seals come up to dance," she said stubbornly, "and it's too cold here for serpents."
"Well, on that we can agree," he said, shivering. "Quick, let us find your home so we can both be warm." No more did he say until they had reached the farm, and the dogs ran out, barking. "Quiet," he said then, and they all stopped at once.
"You can stay in the barn," she said, pointing. "I'll bring you food."
He nodded and dropped her hand, leaving her to rush into the house as quietly as she could, where she took up what were left of the barley bannocks, and a dish of milk into which she dropped a small piece of honeycomb. She carried them all carefully across the yard and into the barn, finding him slumped against the wall.
"They're not fresh," she said of the bannocks, apologetically. "But if you dip them in the milk they'll taste good."
"Thank you," he said, eating as if he hadn't seen food for a long time.
"I should have brought you fish," she said, embarrassed, and he laughed.
"Don't worry about that. Listen, I'm going to stay here tomorrow, and then leave when it gets dark. Can you bring me more food then?"
"Yes," she said, "will you be swimming over to the mainland?"
"Of course," he said with grim humour. "I had to reach an island, didn't I?" He lay back on the hay. "Run along now," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow night."
All though the next day, Pacata's mind was not on her chores, and her mother chastised her for carelessness and daydreaming. When she could, she slipped into the barn, but there was no sign of the man, just a slight rustling in the hay like mice. When evening came round at last and the door had been barred, she waited till everyone was asleep, then filled a dish with milk, lifted the bar and crept out. The cloth in which she had wrapped her share of the bannocks from supper and some dried fish was still safely hidden in the hole in the wall around the yard. The man was waiting for her in the barn, a quick smile coming across his thin face when he saw the food.
"And you remembered the fish this time," he said teasingly. He had eaten nearly all of it when he looked up and said, "this is your dinner, isn't it?"
"I'm not hungry," she said quickly, not wanting him to think she'd stint her own guest.
He grinned down at what was left of it. "Bread and fish. Not so hard if you know how." She blinked as he held out a soft piece of bread to her and a plump bit of smoked fish. "I had some left over," he assured her with solemn glee, and seemed very pleased to watch her eat it. At last, when every crumb was gone, he stood and took her hand in his. "Show me to the other side of your island, then," he said.
It was a long walk, but it took less time than she'd thought, their way clearly shown in the moonlight. When they came to the other side, he looked down at the black sea, with the tips of the waves silvered, and sighed.
"It's a cold night for swimming," he said, and stepped forward. He turned back to her, and put a cool hand on her head. "You've been kind to a stranger, Domna," he said, "and I've no money to give you. Will you take a stranger's blessing?"
She nodded, and wished he might stay a little longer. He smiled at her then, and said, "No evil will touch you again." He stepped back, lifting his hand gently from her, and walked straight out into the water. She lost sight of him for a moment, then saw some creature's head breach the water, heading for the mainland fast, the wake trailing behind it in a widening V. She was not sure what it was, only that it was large. As she watched, seal after seal raised its head above the water, all looking at him going from her.
For one last moment she saw him, a man again, waving to her, and all the seals looked her way with their astonished soft eyes. Then he dived, and was gone, and the seals looked at her a moment longer and dived also, and the sea was level and flat as a dancing floor under the full moon.
* * * * *
"I am a man upo' the land,
I am a selchie i' the sea,
And when I'm far frae every strand
My dwelling is i' Sule Skerrie."
The Grey Selkie of Sule Skerrie (trad.)
A Man Upon the Land
Out on the islands at the edges of the civilised world, where togas and wine were in short supply, there were stories of the people who lived in the sea, with their soft hair and their softer brown eyes, who'd come up on the beaches to dance, and would flee back when humans came to spy on them. There were even families that claimed descent from the sea-folk, from unlucky maidens whose sealskin cloaks were stolen by men looking for a wife. It was all terrible pagan nonsense, of course, and not believed by anyone with sense in these more enlightened times, but Pacata the daughter of Brocchus crept out of the house and down to the sea every full moon, just to make sure. She never saw the seals dance, and had almost given up hoping she would. And so it was, when one time she saw the man walk out of the sea onto the moonlit beach and sit himself wearily down on a rock she told herself there had been a shipwreck, and stared out for more unfortunate sailors to come in with the tide.
After many minutes had passed and the sea remained calm and empty, she turned to slip away, and the man said, "You may as well come down here. I won't harm you."
He sounded so sad and tired that Pacata hesitated. She should run straight back to the farm, she knew, and tell her father and her brothers about the man. The priest had visited only the previous week, however, and spoken for a long time on the duty for good Christian folk to help the poor and the helpless. The man didn't know this area, she thought. If he tried to catch her, she could run away faster than he could follow. Step by step she walked down the dune, and came around in front of him, standing between him and the sea.
"It's late for you to be out," he said.
The moonlight on his face at first made his eyes seem some strange light colour, but then she saw they were dark. His clothes and soft dark hair that had streamed with the water when he came up the beach were quite dry. The cloak hanging from his shoulders was sealskin.
"I'm hungry," he said, "would you happen to have any food with you?"
She shook her head, just watching him, and he sighed and unfolded himself from the rock, standing and stretching. He was very tall, and looked unlike anyone she had ever seen before. Nodding politely to her, he turned away and began to walk towards the dunes.
"Are you a seal?" she asked.
The man stopped and looked over his shoulder at her.
"Now there's an odd question," he said. "Do you have many seals that walk on two legs in this land?"
"In the stories," she said. "The priest says we mustn't believe them."
"Priests say many things," the man said. "How old are you?"
"Ten," Pacata said.
"Young enough still to have some sense, then," the man said, smiling. "Who are your people?"
"We're Romans," Pacata said proudly, and the man hid a little smile.
"Romans, is it?" he asked, walking back to her and touching a hand to her red-brown hair. "Well, Domna, might a poor traveller ask for your patronage?" He held the hand out, then, and she found herself putting her own into his, fearlessly.
"That's not my name," she said.
"I know," he said cheerfully, "do you not speak Latin then? Don't you tell me your name, now, that's the kind of thing that always goes wrong in the stories, isn't it? And I won't tell you mine."
"Where have you come from?" she asked as they walked up the dune, the marram grass hissing in the wind. He had come a long way, she was sure.
"Tonight? Hibernia. Before that? The world is a wide place, Domna."
"You swam all the way from Hibernia?" she asked, enthralled.
"I was required to leave the place," he said coldly. He looked down at her. "This is a Christian land, isn't it?" When she nodded he looked vexed, muttering, "Everywhere I go."
"Are seals not Christian folk?" Pacata asked.
He laughed shortly. "I have little truck with the views of the sons of Adam on such matters," he said. He smiled down at her with sharp, white teeth. "You're so sure I'm a seal, Domna. There are other things in the sea; do you not know your Bible? Great sea serpents, for one. Perhaps I'm one of those."
"You came on the beach at the full moon, when the seals come up to dance," she said stubbornly, "and it's too cold here for serpents."
"Well, on that we can agree," he said, shivering. "Quick, let us find your home so we can both be warm." No more did he say until they had reached the farm, and the dogs ran out, barking. "Quiet," he said then, and they all stopped at once.
"You can stay in the barn," she said, pointing. "I'll bring you food."
He nodded and dropped her hand, leaving her to rush into the house as quietly as she could, where she took up what were left of the barley bannocks, and a dish of milk into which she dropped a small piece of honeycomb. She carried them all carefully across the yard and into the barn, finding him slumped against the wall.
"They're not fresh," she said of the bannocks, apologetically. "But if you dip them in the milk they'll taste good."
"Thank you," he said, eating as if he hadn't seen food for a long time.
"I should have brought you fish," she said, embarrassed, and he laughed.
"Don't worry about that. Listen, I'm going to stay here tomorrow, and then leave when it gets dark. Can you bring me more food then?"
"Yes," she said, "will you be swimming over to the mainland?"
"Of course," he said with grim humour. "I had to reach an island, didn't I?" He lay back on the hay. "Run along now," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow night."
All though the next day, Pacata's mind was not on her chores, and her mother chastised her for carelessness and daydreaming. When she could, she slipped into the barn, but there was no sign of the man, just a slight rustling in the hay like mice. When evening came round at last and the door had been barred, she waited till everyone was asleep, then filled a dish with milk, lifted the bar and crept out. The cloth in which she had wrapped her share of the bannocks from supper and some dried fish was still safely hidden in the hole in the wall around the yard. The man was waiting for her in the barn, a quick smile coming across his thin face when he saw the food.
"And you remembered the fish this time," he said teasingly. He had eaten nearly all of it when he looked up and said, "this is your dinner, isn't it?"
"I'm not hungry," she said quickly, not wanting him to think she'd stint her own guest.
He grinned down at what was left of it. "Bread and fish. Not so hard if you know how." She blinked as he held out a soft piece of bread to her and a plump bit of smoked fish. "I had some left over," he assured her with solemn glee, and seemed very pleased to watch her eat it. At last, when every crumb was gone, he stood and took her hand in his. "Show me to the other side of your island, then," he said.
It was a long walk, but it took less time than she'd thought, their way clearly shown in the moonlight. When they came to the other side, he looked down at the black sea, with the tips of the waves silvered, and sighed.
"It's a cold night for swimming," he said, and stepped forward. He turned back to her, and put a cool hand on her head. "You've been kind to a stranger, Domna," he said, "and I've no money to give you. Will you take a stranger's blessing?"
She nodded, and wished he might stay a little longer. He smiled at her then, and said, "No evil will touch you again." He stepped back, lifting his hand gently from her, and walked straight out into the water. She lost sight of him for a moment, then saw some creature's head breach the water, heading for the mainland fast, the wake trailing behind it in a widening V. She was not sure what it was, only that it was large. As she watched, seal after seal raised its head above the water, all looking at him going from her.
For one last moment she saw him, a man again, waving to her, and all the seals looked her way with their astonished soft eyes. Then he dived, and was gone, and the seals looked at her a moment longer and dived also, and the sea was level and flat as a dancing floor under the full moon.
* * * * *
"I am a man upo' the land,
I am a selchie i' the sea,
And when I'm far frae every strand
My dwelling is i' Sule Skerrie."
The Grey Selkie of Sule Skerrie (trad.)