“Black clouds rolled in over the village,” he says through the slime running down his face. “They blocked out the sun and did not go away. Every garden died. Then every hen, every goat. All the fish washed up dead on shore. The village died.”

“It was just a dream,” I tell him. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Bryndis pats our brother’s head and tells him not to think about it. “Eat your gruel.”

The boy won’t listen. “Something bad is going to happen. You’ll see.”

The discussion ends when father enters. Father hates talk of dreams. Not on any religious grounds, he just finds them excruciatingly boring. Even Pip knows enough to shut his flapping trap.

Father has barely tasted his breakfast when a hammering on the rectory door makes us all jump. Jon’s son, Jasper, stands panting in our doorway, saying the Reverend is needed in the square. Something has happened. Father snatches his coat from the hook, orders us to stay put, and follows Jasper. Without a thought, Pip races out the door after him, and Bryndis follows. I know what the fuss is about, but I go after them, anyway.

The councilmen are present, along with half the village. The mermaid is gone, and everyone is upset. The men are angry, eager to know what has happened, especially Gunther, who has spent the morning sharpening his blade in anticipation of the slaughter. All the young daughters and sisters are sad, some openly sobbing as they look down into the now-empty fountain. The water smells worse than ever, emitting a noxious miasma that has everyone covering their nose.

Disagreements fling back and forth about what happened to their prize. Did the mermaid escape on its own, slithering over the wet cobbles to reach the sea? Did someone help it escape? Or has some greedy villain stolen it for his own twisted pleasure? Clovis, who is drunk, yammers on about how he had witnessed the mermaid burst into righteous flame and fly up to the heavens where it became a holy comet in the night sky. An act of divine retribution by the One True God. He is clouted about the head and driven from the square. Some are glad to see the end of it, declaring the whole thing a nuisance. Midwife Hagar says it is all for the best, as mistreating a mermaid will only bring bad luck.

I pull father aside. “Ask if they’ve checked the shoreline. Maybe its carcass washed up there.”

Boys are dispatched to the beach and the jetty of craggy rocks that acts as a breakwater to the sea. They return breathless, with nothing to report. The hubbub grows stale, and villagers drift off to get on with their day. Wives shepherd their children home while the fishermen ready their boats for the day’s haul. Our little saga is over, and everything can go back to normal now.