The rolled-up towel chafed Marie-Josèphe’s legs.
Do I dare take the nuisance off until tomorrow? Marie-Josèphe wondered. Uncomfortable business! Another of God’s jokes, at which you can laugh only if you aren’t the subject.
At the convent, her confessor had been shocked when she asked about God’s jokes. God performed miracles, and He meted out punishment — such as women’s monthlies — but He did not play jokes.
How sad, Marie-Josèphe thought, to be omnipotent, to be immortal, to possess no sense of humor.
At the bottom of the slope, people shouted and clustered closer around the sea monster’s tent. Marie-Josèphe snatched her skirt above her ankles and broke into a run, afraid something had happened to the creature.
“Wait your turn!” snarled a man in broadcloth and homespun as Marie-Josèphe tried to slip past him.
“Papa, papa, I want the sea monster!” His young son pulled at his coattail. “Papa, papa!” The three other boys, all so young they were still in dresses, joined the cry. Their mother hushed her brood, without effect.
The tradesman turned; Marie-Josèphe could not be sure if he intended to slapher or the child who had started the appeal.
“Sir!”
Her velvet and lace protected her; she stood out in the crowd of visitors as a member of His Majesty’s court.
“I beg your pardon, mademoiselle.” He stepped away, pulling his wife and the four young children with him. They vanished into the crowd, the eldest child still begging for the sea monster.
“Guard!” Marie-Josèphe called.
After a moment, one of the musketeers opened a way for her and led her through the crowd and into the open tent.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “Why have you let everyone in?”
“His Majesty ordered it,” the musketeer said. “His Majesty’s subjects are to be allowed to see the monster.” The musketeers let the visitors file in through one open side of the tent They looked at yesterday’s sketches — not those from the secret dissection, which she had left safe in the chateau — and peered through the bars of the cage and exited through a second raised section of the tent wall.
The water lay as still as glass.
The musketeer ushered Marie-Josèphe through the gate of the cage to the edge of the fountain.
“There’s nothing in the fountain but Apollo,” one of the visitors said.
“We cannot make the creature show itself,” the musketeer replied.
“Shoot at it, that will bring it out.”
“She’s frightened,” Marie-Josèphe said. “Wouldn’t you be, if a thousand people clustered around your bed?”
“It doesn’t bother His Majesty,” said the musketeer.
“The sea monster is a wild creature.”
“So it was said of His Majesty,” said the musketeer. “In his youth.”
More live fish flapped and splashed. The servant had brought dozens of fish, far more than any person would eat for dinner, even if dinner were the only meal. Marie-Josèphe netted one. She smiled at the servant’s wishful thinking, but grew solemn at the thought of his hunger.
“Sea monster! Fish, nice fish!” She swished the net around in the water.
Beneath the hooves of the dawn horses, the sea monster flicked her tails. A few visitors saw the movement and gasped. They shouted to each other, pointed, called out to Marie-Josèphe to show them more.
“Be quiet, I beg you,” she said. “If you’re quiet, she might come out of hiding.”
A ripple moved through the fountain. The sea monster’s long dark hair streamed behind her, protecting her back from the sun, disguising her glowing copper skin. Marie-Josèphe took the fish from the net and held it in her hand.
The sea monster hesitated.
“Good sea monster. Come a little closer, come have your fish.”
“Fishhh!” the sea monster said.
The sea monster surfaced. Marie-Josèphe offered her the fish. She snatched it and gobbled it messily in several bites. Fish guts and bits of fin dribbled into the water.
The audience gasped and murmured in awe and surprise and disgust. Startled, the sea monster slipped back beneath the water. Marie-Josèphe hoped that in the time she had she could train the sea monster not to fear the noise. His Majesty would want to view the creature again; he would want to show off his quarry to the visiting heads of state. He would want the sea monster to be well-behaved.
“It’s all right, sea monster,” Marie-Josèphe said. “The noise means nothing, no more than waves on a beach. It won’t hurt you. Come, let me feed you another fish.”
If I wish her to trust me, I must trust her, Marie-Josèphe said to herself.
Marie-Josèphe dipped her hand into the water. The sea monster swam closer, radiating intense warmth.
The sea monster rose suddenly from the pool. Water splashed against the stairs. Her long tangled hair whipped around her bare shoulders, tumbling over her flat breasts. The paler green strand of hair stuck out at an awkward angle.
Visitors gasped and cried out and applauded. The musketeer clattered away to face the visitors, ready to bully or cajole them: The peace of the King’s gardens must not erupt into riot. But instead of fleeing, the visitors pressed closer, fascinated, entertained. The lucky ones peered through the bars of the cage; the rest tried to see over the heads of the front rank.
The sea monster sank back into the water. Marie-Josèphe stroked the creature’s hair. The sea monster suffered her touch. Marie-Josèphe reached back with her free hand; the musketeer handed her a netted fish. She offered the wriggling creature to the sea monster. The sea monster fumbled at the net, failing to extricate the fish.
Marie-Josèphe untwisted the fabric, pulled the fish from the opening, and handed it to the sea monster.
The sea monster ate the fish in two quick bites and looked around for more. Marie-Josèphe continued to feed her, luring her closer, till the sea monster slithered half out of the water and rested her elbows on the platform. The visitors whispered and murmured in awe.
Marie-Josèphe let the sea monster swim away, then called her back and gave her another fish. After three repetitions of the simple command, the sea monster floated just out of Marie-Josèphe’s reach, singing, but coming no closer. Marie-Josèphe imagined that she should be able to understand the song, then chided herself.
I might as well try to understand a mockingbird, she thought.