The sun was just rising when Momo groggily stirred. Though she felt a stabbing pain in the lower part of her body, grogginess got the upper hand. Momo rubbed her face and shook her head to clear the cobwebs from her brain.
Suddenly aware that someone was watching her, Momo startled to semi-alertness. As her head quickly cleared, she saw Prince Arturo standing before her. His face was an image of confused indecision as to how to handle the situation.
Momo began to feel uncomfortable by the way Prince Arturo was staring at her. She was sure he meant well, but he was, after all, a twit—rather awkward in social situations that were new to him. Arturo just stood there and stared, mouth agape, his eyes as wide as two fried eggs.
Then she became aware of her smooth, pretty legs—legs like a human girl. For the first time in her life, Momo began to feel embarrassed at the thought that her legs must be disconcerting to him. Little did Momo realize that it wasn’t her legs on which Prince Arturo’s dark eyes were focused.
At that moment, several people came rushing from the palace. A Moorish slave girl, taking no heed of the fact that Arturo was a prince and she was a slave, snatched the cape from Arturo’s shoulders. Then she quickly helped Momo to her feet and wrapped the cape around her.
Prince Arturo was such a twit and a blockhead that this simple act of courtesy would never have occurred to him. As the Moor and the others escorted Momo into the palace, Prince Arturo recovered enough of his wits to tag along with them.
They asked Momo who she was and whence she came, but she was unable to speak. All she could do was look at them with her expressive blue eyes.
The slave girls took her to a bath and washed the salt and sand from her body. Then they dressed her in costly robes of silk, sequined with jewels and cross stitched with images of birds and flowers.
They watched Momo as they finished dressing her. She had never worn clothes before, and she rather liked it. She tried out her legs and noticed the approving looks on the women’s faces. She walked with a graceful gait that rivaled the waves undulating on gentle seas.
The cooked foods of the palace also were new to Momo, but she was sure she’d grow accustomed to them. Because others were watching to see her reaction, Momo pretended to like the taste of these foods from the first bite.
The day passed in a flurry of activities that Momo could scarcely understand. Still, she accepted each event as a part of her new adventure and her new life as a human.
That evening, the slave girls bathed her again and changed her clothes once more. At some point, she thought, she should become familiar enough with bathing and dressing that she could do it herself.
The slave girls, in groups and individually, sang for Prince Arturo and the other members of the royal family. They all had beautiful voices. One girl’s voice was lilting; another soared operatically; another had a forceful, hard-driving voice. Each had her own style that set her apart from the others.
Momo wistfully recalled when her voice was the most beautiful voice in the sea kingdom of Marbella. Alas, but she had given up her enchanting voice to be with her prince. Sadder still, Prince Arturo had no way of knowing that it was she who had rescued him or how much she had sacrificed to be with him.
The slave girls began dancing for the royal family. As with their singing, each had her own dance style that could be called her forte.
One girl danced as liltingly as she had sung. I believe she called it “The Dance of the Swans.” She ended with something she called “The Dying Swan.”
Another did something appropriately called belly dancing. Actually, her belly seemed to be doing less dancing than the rest of her; but Momo could see that most of the energy of the dance seemed to come from the girl’s belly. Momo also realized that humans, like mermaids, had navels.
Momo took her turn in dancing. Unfamiliar with human dances, she drew from her swimming experience and mentally put that experience into her new legs. Everyone acclaimed Momo’s dance as poetry in motion, gently swaying and pirouetting like dolphins, darting and suddenly changing directions like a school of fish, raising her arms expansively in a manner that suggested a puffer fish. Everyone who saw Momo dance wildly applauded.
Momo was filled with joy when Prince Arturo told her that she would stay with him always. Then came the big let down: He would have a cushion placed outside his bedroom door where she could sleep every night. Well, I did say that he was royalty. I did say that he was a blockhead and a twit.
Thus, Momo slept outside his door each night. Each morning, when Prince Arturo awakened, Momo could hear him passing gas. Prince Arturo’s five cats also heard, and they took that sound as a signal that he was awake. In a herd, the cats ran toward the bedroom—sometimes running across poor Momo’s face—and leaped onto Prince Arturo’s bed. For them, it was time to be petted and fed.
Momo wondered, What have I gotten myself into? She would find out soon enough.
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