Zennor

The Mermaid of Zennor

Boats rise and dip

on the rhythmic sway of the ocean's swells. The old fishermen of Zennor, with calloused knuckles and sun-leathered skin, tend to their nets. The Cornwall sun is the slow clock that beats down on a man and can make time away from home seem like eternity.

A young Cornwall fisherman named Matthew Trewella, with thick black hair that fell to his shoulders in swirling locks, and muscles that glistened with sweat as he worked the lines into their various knots, would have made any woman a wonderful husband. Playful, light-hearted and true, he would someday be a wonderful father, the villagers of Zennor were sure. Many of the Cornwall townswomen dreamed about tossing him into the sea and washing him up and taking him home with her like a prize she could call all her own. Others talked of how they would rather toss him into the tub and get him all bubbled and warm. But all of this was mere talk, because his love was for the sea.

Whenever Matthew Trewella would look and see the girls of this small Penwith town all lined up on the rocky bluff and watching him from afar, he considered them all to be idle gossips. He wished they would pull their heads out of the clouds and make something better of their lives, of their homes, and of their purpose. But nonetheless, he was coming of age to consider marrying and settling down, and his time beneath the sun was leading to discontent.

Dreaming that someday he would meet a fine foreign woman who would somehow wander into this Cornwall port, he passed his time by singing. He had a marvelous voice, deep and resonant. From the bellows of his barrel-chested lungs he would often cast his songs upon the sea like a net with hopes that the woman of his desire would sail in. Little did he know that a certain young woman unseen by him sat and listened every day. Being a mermaid in the waters of Zennor, she swam up in ways which he could not see, and positioned herself on whatever side of the boat was opposite of his view, and she listened to him sing, completely enchanted. Some people on this Penwith shore thought every now and then that they'd seen someone's head a'bobbing in the water beside his boat but whenever they'd run to take a closer look, suddenly a mysterious fog would roll in and they'd lose sight of the sea completely.

The time eventually came that Matthew Trewella was called to stay ashore to help with the barley harvest. Zennor's little mermaid waited at the sea day by day, but grew impatient for his return. Although she would never acknowledge any love for a man so completely out of her league, she admitted her love for his voice. And this love pushed her beyond the timid ways of her youth. Empowered by desire, she silently swum up behind some of the old fishermen and she listened to their chatter. They did not have pretty voices. She could hardly endure the raspy texture of their voices at all. But she learned many things by her listening. And soon enough she overheard talk of Matthew. With her fingers clasped onto the rail of the boat, she pulled herself up behind them and listened as close as she could. He sang in church each Sunday! Her quick release sent her down to the depths of the Atlantic in a single movement, and it rocked the boat just enough to rattle the nerves of these elderly Penwith fishermen. Although they never saw what great fish might have swept beneath them, the tell-tale imprints of wet fingertips on the woodwork caused great talk of curiosity and bewilderment once back on shore. It was said that neither of the men were ever allowed to touch whiskey again, or their jealous wives would be sweeping them and their wide-eyed talk of other women right out the door with a broom.

But as for Zennor's mermaid, she rushed to her father for solutions. She swam deep into the sea until she reached the throne of the merman King Llyr, king of the sea.

"Moveren," he answered with sincere persuasion, "it is not right to fall in love with a human. It will only end in unhappiness."

But her heart was addicted to the young man's song. Day after day she continued to work her father for answers, and eventually she wore him down.

"My only desire is for you to be happy, and obviously this is what it will take," he sighed in surrender. So he commanded his most talented seamstresses to weave his daughter a dress. It was beautiful, woven of resplendent tones of Deep Atlantic Green silk, and ornately decorated with flowering patterns at the hems with precious stones from distant lands. And they disguised the gills of her neck with necklaces of pearls and beads of coral. After covering herself with all these adornments, she spun herself in circles and she danced with delight, landing in her father's arms with an embrace.

No one knew who it was, this new maiden in the town of Zennor, who'd stepped so carefully, almost clumsily, up the steps and between the cornices of the arch that led to the nave. But to stand, she was a tall and glamorous sight, unlike anyone in this fishing community had ever seen. Quietly she entered Sunday after Sunday, carefully sitting in the back of the church at the pew closest to the exit.

Women jealous of her beauty said she was a thief who stole these possessions and had run away to hide in this small town. Others murmured that her scent was supernatural, and that no man would survive it's intoxication; that her trail led up from the sea, and that she must be a creature of the middle-nature; somewhere between fish and men. But no woman who had managed to acquire a husband thus far would let him approach her, no matter how much his eyes had moored onto her already from a distance. All the gossips longed for details, and although each one would talk to Moveren in turn, her answers were cleverly contrived. Outsmarting them all, she left them with only more questions than what they had at the start.

After the third Sunday, the underworld princess left once again as usual. But bold Matthew Trewella had been watching her, and he'd noticed that she left sad instead of happy. He'd already noticed this foreign gal had not been befriending the local girls. Certain she must be different, and needing to know more, he ran after her with all his heart no matter what the gossips might say. He caught up to her slow, methodical gait in an instant and as they walked together, the truth about her secrets were revealed more clearly with every step. "Yes, I am different," she confided when their walk ended abruptly at the shore. The two of them stood there for quite some time, right there where the waves roll up and lick at the land. Neither one was going forward, and neither one was stepping back.

Meanwhile, the whole company of the church in Zennor and the townsfolk stood on the slope, anxiously watching and talking amongst themselves as to what the meaning of all this could be. A pair of fishermen at the shore overheard some of the talk, and one yelled back to the crowd that all was well; that he'd overheard the mermaid disclose that this had to be her final visit and she could never return again upon death. Applause rang out and echoed against the canyon walls.

Suddenly, Matthew took that step forward. His mother broke free from the crowd with a yelp. Sobbing and yelling after him to not dare to do such a foolish thing, she hefted her dress up to her knees and ran with all her might.

The whiskey-voiced fishermen, drop-jawed at the thought that a man of such strength would no longer be there to work their nets for them, ran at him to demand his return to his work.

The mermaid, admitting now that she was in love, and knowing that her lover was about to be outnumbered, tore off her beautiful dress along with her necklace and threw it all to the rocky ground. The fishermen's eyes grew large at the sight of pearls and precious stones falling into the crags of the rocks with such a clatter. They dropped to their knees, thrust their fingers between the wedges of stone, and immediately fought each other over possession of such wealth. And with that, the two lovers freely dismissed themselves into the water and disappeared.

The mother threw herself in as well, and some townsmen jumped into the boats in response. They let her flop about for a while till she was spent. Not that they would have pulled the boy out had they actually discovered him, but to get one last look-see at the mermaid in all her beauty was their hope. And being so far from their wives' grasp, they might as well have jumped in too. But eventually the search had to have an end, and the struggling mother was pulled from the sea.

For several years neither of them were seen again, though every day Matthew Trewella's mother watched the shimmering green Atlantic in hopes. She insisted she could still hear his voice, singing atop the seas. Other fishermen concurred, declaring they had heard him too. They said that when his voice would raise up, soft and high, it was going to be a fair day. But if his voice went deep and low, they took warning that King Llyr was about to send a storm. They insisted Matthew was not only still very much alive, but that he still cared about the town. Because of his singing, they knew when it was safe to put out to sea, or when they should anchor the boats at home.

It was at Pendower Cove that the mystery finally was redeemed, though, for it was at that port that fishermen claimed to have seen a woman emerge from the sea. Reports say she stood up, tall and beautiful, her long, saturated hair covering her nakedness like a garment. Chin held high, she approached the men and politely requested they set sail; that their anchor was blocking her path. Raise it, they did. And while drifting off, they watched.

It is said that she continued up the shore and suddenly a home appeared with the cavern walls. Slowly but deliberately she walked into her home; a mansion, hidden in the rocks that overlook the sea.

On the south west coast of England, a small beachfront town called Zennor holds a tale. The church in Zennor sets the stage for the legend of a mermaid. The story in and of itself, though mysterious and enchanting, is very basic. It states that during the 15th century, a mermaid overheard a young fisherman while he was singing. Having fallen in love with his voice, she snuck into his church so she could listen as he sang. He fell in love with her in return, and he carried her into the sea never to be seen again. Although there is a carving of her image on the rearmost pew (where she sat) to immortalize the event, the details seem to vary from telling to telling. So I took some liberty in the telling of it on my own. I hope you enjoyed it.

More about Zennor:

Zennor Parish Council

Zennor on Wikipedia

Encyclopedic Reference

Zennor on Cornwall Guide

Guide to Zennor

Zennor Backpackers Cafe

Things to do while in Zennor

Tremedda Farm and Cottage

Places to stay when in Zennor

Moomaid of Zennor Ice Cream

Treats to enjoy while in Zennor