“It’s alive now,” Yves said. “How long it will survive...” His worried voice trailed off.
“It need not live long,” Marie-Josèphe said. “I want to see it — Call it to you!”
“It won’t come to me. It’s a beast, it doesn’t understand me.”
“My cat understands,” Marie-Josèphe said. “Didn’t you train it, all those weeks at sea?”
“I had no time to train it.” Yves scowled. “It wouldn’t eat — I had to force-feed it.” He folded his arms, glaring at the bright water. The sea monster drifted, silent and still. “But I fulfilled His Majesty’s wishes. I’ve done what no one has done in four hundred years. I’ve brought a living sea monster to land.”
Marie-Josèphe leaned closer to the water, straining to see. The creature was long, and sleek, longer and more slender than the dolphins that cavorted off the beach in Martinique. Its tangled hair swirled around its head.
“Whoever heard of a fish with hair?” she exclaimed.
“It’s no fish,” Yves said. “It breathes air. If it doesn’t breathe soon —”
He crossed the rim of the fountain and stepped to the ground. Marie-Josèphe stayed where she was, gazing at the monster.
It gazed back at her, its eyes eerily reflecting the light. It extended its arms, its webbed hands.
Yves’ shadow fell across the sea monster. The creature retreated, closing its golden eyes. Yves clenched his fingers around a goad.
“I won’t let it drown.”
He poked the goad at the sea monster, trying to chivvy the creature into motion.
“Swim, damn you! Surface!”
Its hair drifted about its face. Its tail flukes quivered. The creature trembled.
“Stop, you’re scaring it, you’ll hurt it!” Marie-Josèphe knelt on the platform and plunged her hands into the water. “Come to me, you’re safe here.”
The creature’s webbed fingers clutched her wrists and pressed heat against her skin. The sea monster’s claws touched her like the tips of knives, but never cut.
The sea monster dragged her into the pool.
Yves shouted and jabbed with the goad. The monster floated, just out of reach. Marie-Josèphe struggled to her feet, coughing, soaked. The cold water lifted her full petticoats like the petals of a water lily. She pushed them down. Her underskirt collapsed against her legs, scratchy and ungainly.
“Hurry, take my hand —”
“No, wait,” she said. The creature slipped past her, fleeing, then turning back, its voice touching her through the water. “Don’t frighten it again.” She stretched one hand toward the sea monster. “Come here, come here...”
“Be careful. It’s strong, it’s cruel —”
“It’s terrified!”
The creature’s voice brushed against her fingertips. Its song spun from the surface like mist. Barely moving, creeping, floating, the sea monster neared Marie-Josèphe.
“Good sea monster. Fine sea monster.”
“His Majesty approaches,” Count Lucien said.
Startled, Marie-Josèphe glanced over her shoulder. Count Lucien stood on the fountain’s rim. He had come into the tent, crossed the laboratory floor, and entered the sea monster’s cage without her noticing him. Yves remained down on the platform at water level, and Count Lucien up on the fountain’s rim; the two men stood face to face.
On the other side of the tent, the musketeers held the tent curtains aside. A procession of torches marched along the Green Carpet toward Apollo.
“I’m not ready,” Yves said.
Marie-Josèphe returned her attention to the sea monster. It hesitated, just out of her reach. If she snatched at it, it would leap away like a green colt.
“If the King is ready,” Count Lucien said, “you are ready.”
“Yes,” Yves said. “Of course.”
The sea monster stretched its arms forward. Its claws brushed Marie-Josèphe’s fingertips.
“Mlle de la Croix,” Count Lucien said, “His Majesty must not see you in this state of disarray.”
Marie-Josèphe caught her breath, frightened to realize she might insult His Majesty. She waded toward the platform, clumsy in her soaked skirts, unsteady in her heeled shoes on the uneven bottom of the pond.
The sea monster swam around her, cut her off, and lunged upward before her. It gasped a great gulp of air. Marie-Josèphe stared at it, horrified and fascinated. It splashed down and lay still, gazing at her.
Though its arms and hands mimicked a human’s, it was more grotesque than any monkey. Its two tails writhed and kicked. Webs connected its long fingers, which bore heavy, sharp claws. Its long lank hair tangled around its head and over its shoulders and across its chest — its breasts, for it did have flat, wide breasts and small dark nipples. Water beaded on its mahogany skin, gleaming in candlelight.
The monster gazed at Marie-Josèphe with intense gold eyes, the only thing of beauty about it. Grotesque and magnificent, like a gargoyle on a medieval church, its face bore ridged swirls on forehead and cheeks. Its nose was flat and low, its nostrils narrow. The creature’s canine teeth projected over its lower lip.
“Splendid. Splendid and horrible.” His Majesty spoke, his voice powerful and beautiful. Count Lucien and Yves bowed to their sovereign. The King, in fresh clothes, fresh lace, and a new wig, studied his sea monster. His gaze avoided Marie-Josèphe. His court, from Monsieur and Madame to Mme de Maintenon to the grandchildren of France, stared into the fountain. Some gazed at the sea monster; Marie-Josèphe caused others even more amazement.
Frightened, the creature snarled and dove.
If Marie-Josèphe climbed out of the fountain, she would face the King squarely; he could not overlook her. Such a breach of etiquette might force Lotte to dismiss her. She might have to leave court. Trapped, about to burst into tears of embarrassment, seeking shadows, she backed away. Her petticoats nearly tripped her.
Count Lucien flung down his hat, took off his cloak, and held it open between Marie-Josèphe and the King.
Safely concealed, Marie-Josèphe stood still in the cold water. The sea monster, a dark shape, swam away. It grabbed the bars of its cage, rattled them, turned with an angry flick of its tail, and swam to the platform again. The sea monster peered from the water, revealing only its eyes and its tangled deep-green hair.
Most of the other members of court could see Marie-Josèphe perfectly well. But that did not matter. All that mattered was that His Majesty should not be offended.