Bertha sat on the blanket she had spread out on the deck of the ship, the evening wind blowing through her golden hair. The setting sun and the aftcastle behind her covered Bertha’ white face in shadows.
She raised a wineglass to her red lips. It had been a long time since she and Cerdic had been alone together. She intended to enjoy their time together.
Clad in a black robe that covered his skeletal frame from head to toe, Cerdic glided down from the wheel without a sound. As he approached Bertha, he glanced around. The sails hung in tatters along with part of the rigging. Missing boards from the deck and hull revealed the ship's frame.
As he stood beside Bertha, he looked down on her gaunt form, clad in an ethereal gray dress.
“Enjoying yourself, my love?” he asked..
She picked up a second glass of wine as she stood up. “Yes, I can’t remember the last time we were alone. Have some wine and relax.”
Cerdic took the glass from Bertha and raised it to his mouth.. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his cold chest. “I know there is no music, but can we dance?”
For several minutes, the couple swayed together on the deck like a pair of entwined vines until Bertha gazed out over the prow of the ship. She stopped moving and raised her head.
“I think I see another ship.” She looked up at Cerdic.
When looking westward, I beheld
A something in the sky.
At first it seemed a little speck,
And then it seemed a mist;
It moved and moved, and took at last
A certain shape, I wist. - (Coleridge)
Cerdic peered to the east.
“Yes, it is another ship. It appears to be in some distress. Their sails aren’t catching the wind,” he said, his voice was icy and hollow. “Shall we investigate?”
Bertha turned her head back towards Cerdic. “No, let them be. If they are in distress, let that cuitie, Edwin, deal with it. He is supposed to monitor your domain.”
“He is incompetent. They’ll be stuck for days,” Cerdic said with a sneer.
Bertha sighed. “Beauty and competence are not the same. Let them be. What are a few days compared to what awaits them?”
“I am a DEATH and I do what I must. It will only take a moment. A grain of sand on the beach of eternity.”
“We were to be alone, away from our tasks, and here you are, working. You are always working and never devote yourself to me.” A fire lit in Bertha’s eyes as she released Cerdic and stepped back.
Cerdic stood rigid. “What about France in 1348? I let you dance in the streets to your heart’s content.”
“That is because you had a quota to fill.” She put her hands on her hips as her dress and hair fluttered in the breeze. The pair stood staring at each other, Bertha tapping her foot on the deck.
It was Bertha who broke the silence. “So, what is their story?” she asked, clenching her teeth.
“One aboard that ship killed an albatross. The bird was sent as a good omen and a guide to safety. When the crew praised the act, all were damned.”
“Worse has been meted out for less,” Bertha said. She pursed her lips and nodded several times before she raised her hand and turned it over, revealing dice. “Since you want to work instead of spend time with me, I will do my task. I will play you for them.”
“You cannot.”
A sly smile crosed Bertha’s blood-red lips. “I am a Night-mare LIFE-IN-DEATH and I can.” She threw the dice on the deck. “Now I have cast my dice, you must cast yours.”
As they approached the stranded ship, Cerdic reached into his robes for his dice. Bertha’s vision focused on one man with a dead albatross hanging around his neck.
The naked hulk alongside came,
And the twain were casting dice;
‘The game is done! I’ve won! I’ve won!’
Quoth she, and whistles thrice. - (Coleridge)
Except for Bertha’s outburst, the two ships passed each other in silence. Their crews staring at each other.
“What have you done?” Cerdic asked once the Mariner’s ship was behind them.
“A curse, my love. A simple curse.” Bertha turned her gaze back to her mate and batted her eyes.
He reached out and took her by the hand and, with a deft but gentle motion, spun her around in a pirouette.
“I know you too well. It is more elegant than a ‘simple curse.’”
“The Mariner will be stranded at sea until he repents. Then he will be forced to tell his tale as an immortal.” She smiled a warm, impish grin at Cerdic.
“You whistled three times, so what of the crew?”
Four times fifty living men,
(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
They dropped down one by one. - (Coleridge)
“They are trapped between life and death until they ferry the repentant Mariner home. Their final task,” she said.
If he could smile, a grin would have graced Cerdic’s face. He stared at his mate as he wrapped his arm around her.
“You realize I will have to explain this.”
“That is your penance for working when we were to be alone.”
“Come then, let us change course.” He took a sip of his wine before leading Bertha to the aftcastle.
“To where?”
“Montreal. I have no business there and thought we may dance while we can.”
“Montreal. That sounds wonderful.” A long, joyful smile came to Bertha’s face. “But isn’t that Edwin’s domain?”
“It is,” he said.
“You are not trying to do him a favor?,” Bertha asked, stiffening.
“No favor. Let us make 1832 an interesting year in Montreal.”
Samuel Taylor Coleridge. “Rime of the Ancient Mariner”
Image by Gustave Doré, {{PD-US}} Public Domain.
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