Bryndis tells me later that father was helpless to stop them. He was shoved aside and cursed as a traitor while the mob dragged me down to the pier. Carried along by the throng, I lift my head to see the stone pier and the sea beyond that. A single figure waits at the end of the jetty, framed black against the honey-colored sunset. For one foggy moment, I think it is Agnet come to save me, but I am wrong. Her husband snatches me up by the collar with so much force that my feet leave the ground.

“Thou art a sneaky little shit, Kaspar Lensman,” Gunther seethes through clenched teeth. “You adore your sea bitch so much, go to her.”

He means to throw me in, to feed me to the mermaid. The mob urges him on, their blood up and hungry for a scapegoat.

“Gunther, don’t do this,” I plead, eyes on the water for mermaid sign. “I did nothing wrong.”

His breath is hot and foul. “You cheated me of the slaughter. Sin enough for me, lad.”

Not everyone clamours for my death. My sister pushes through the mob to tear at the harpoonsman, demanding he set me free. Pip springs onto Gunther’s back and clamps his teeth onto the man’s neck like a lamprey. Bryn is pulled away, Pip shaken off like a gadfly.

Cornelius, the Prefect, orders Gunther to stop and councilman Clovis also objects, telling Gunther that this is not our way. Gunther is deaf to all of it until one voice adds to the protests.

“Put him down, Gunther,” his wife pleads. “We’ve had enough death as it is. No more. Please.”

The smolder in the man’s eyes drifts into hesitancy, then bewilderment at Agnet’s protest. Gunther is clearly not used to hearing objections from his bride, and it has knocked his anger askew. Enough, at least, that he sets me down. Agnet Guiscard has saved my miserable neck. My childish phantasy of rescuing her has been turned on its head.

I almost thank the brute for sparing me.

No one is minding the water, none see the ripples on the waves, but everyone present is drenched in seawater when the creature erupts from below.

Clovis, the councilman who had tried to save my life, is snatched away by webbed fingers, screaming in unholy terror as he is dragged below.

A thunder of pounding feet as everyone stampedes from the pier. No one looks back until they are safely on dry land. Another bloom of red foam kisses the surface of the water and then it is gone. A single shoe bobs to the surface like a toy sailboat.

Gunther the Brave spits and walks off in disgust. His sycophants follow. The rest of the people fix their gaze on me, yoking Clovis’s death around my worthless neck. I look away and bury my face in my hands.