Daniel nodded. He hadn’t understood a thing, but Father had spoken in a friendly tone of voice. There was something about him that was reminiscent of Be, when she and Kiko were angry with each other and she wanted them to make peace.
The rest of the day Father sorted his insects. He talked as if there were many people in the room, and when the insects were sorted and packed up in the little case where he usually kept his combs and brushes he practised with Daniel. My name is Daniel. I believe in God. He corrected his intonation, asked him to speak louder. He practised the way he would get up from his chair, bow and say his piece.
‘My name is Daniel. I believe in God.’
‘You’re talking too fast. And the word God doesn’t sound right. It sounds like Good. It’s God.’
‘Good.’
‘One more time. God.’
‘Good.’
‘One more time.’
Daniel practised until Father was satisfied.
That day they ate nothing but a little dry bread and water. Father brushed his hair for a long time and made a careful inspection of Daniel’s fingernails.
It was already dark when they left their room. Daniel noticed that Father was nervous, and he set his mind to doing exactly as he was told. He didn’t know who Father was, or why he had taken him from the desert, but he hadn’t done it out of ill will.
He also decided to make his own suggestion about what cliff face they should live in. He had never done that before. Now he would explain that he would feel better if they lived where he could see the big water.
They stopped outside a door where torches were burning. A short man in a tall hat was waiting for them. He stared with anxious fascination at Daniel.
‘This will be a great success,’ he said. ‘The Torch Workers’ Association has never before had the opportunity of exhibiting anything like this. Terrifying insects and this black child. A real Hottentot.’
The man leaned in close to Daniel’s face to study him. His eyes were yellow and sweat ran down his brow.
‘The boy must be treated well,’ said Father. ‘He may be black, but he’s a human being.’
‘But of course. A real human being. There is great anticipation for your lecture.’
The man opened the door. They entered a room full of chairs that were still empty. On a podium stood a table with a green tablecloth and next to it a speaker’s lectern from which hung the association’s banner, a semi-nude woman with a shining lamp in her hand.
‘The board members of the association will be here shortly,’ said the man, bowing. ‘They’re eating dinner at the moment.’
‘Who is on the board?’
‘Head Forester Renström, Baron Hake and Law Clerk Wiberg. The founder of the association, Colonel Håkansson, has also said he will come. We’re expecting many guests.’
‘And the workers?’
‘They’re coming. At least a blacksmith is.’
‘But this is a workers’ association, isn’t it? For the instruction and edification of people of limited means?’
‘Naturally. Colonel Håkansson was quite firm on that point.’
‘But what if they don’t come?’
The man threw out his arms.
‘One can hardly blame the colonel for that. He has the best intentions. ’
‘That sounds like a typical evasion. You form a workers’ association to which workers are not admitted.’
‘We don’t prevent anyone from attending.’
‘But you don’t encourage anyone either. The blacksmith will be here as an exception. Who is he?’
‘He’s employed at one of Baron Hake’s ironworks in Roslagen.’
‘What about the public? It will be a full house, won’t it?’
‘A number of lieutenants. Women, of course, are not admitted. A journalist or two looking for something useful to write about. It will fill up. There are so many people out and about, and soon they’ll be sitting here.’
After half an hour the hall was almost full. Father had set out his insect cases and covered them with a linen tablecloth. Daniel sat on a chair in the corner and practised his sentences. He was in the dark, since Father had put a tablecloth over him too when people in the audience began stamping their feet.
‘We’re going to surprise them,’ he told Daniel. ‘I’ll uncover you. They can see the shape of a person under the linen. And when I pull off the cover it will make a big impression.’
Daniel could hear people coming into the hall, banging chairs about, laughing and coughing. The smell in the room had changed, it was filled with the odour of dampness and tobacco. He assumed that it had started raining. Now and then Father would whisper to him.
‘The place will be full soon. There are just a few empty seats at the back of the hall. Practise your sentences.’
‘My name is Daniel. I believe in Good.’
‘God. Not Good.’
‘I believe in God.’
‘That’s better.’
Daniel could hear that Father was nervous. He was talking fast and stumbling over his words. It was hard to understand everything he said.
Then the audience fell silent. Someone banged a club on a table right next to him. The man who began speaking kept clearing his throat. Daniel didn’t understand what he was talking about. A couple of words were repeated over and over that he didn’t know the meaning of: worker, education, I give the floor to, and then a name. He began to grow warm under the linen. Daniel decided to remember that: if it was very cold he could sit underneath a linen tablecloth in a room full of people. Then it would feel as if the sun were rising over the horizon in the desert.
Suddenly he heard Father’s name. Some people applauded, briefly, and then Father’s voice began speaking. The words came uncertainly at first, fumbling their way out of his dry mouth. Daniel prepared himself but he had to wait. Father had a lot to say about the insects. Finally he heard his own name and Father pulled away the linen.
Daniel wasn’t prepared for what he saw: the room so full of people, the faces so close. Father nodded at him and he stood up. It was dead silent in the room and he said his words.
‘My name is Daniel. I believe in God.’
He pronounced them all correctly. He could see that from Father’s face. He was pleased. That was the most important thing.
Suddenly he thought he saw Kiko’s face way at the back of the room, where the light was dimmest. He had to go to him. Kiko had come to get him. He jumped down from the platform and started climbing over the people sitting in their chairs. A tumult broke out; people tried to get out of the way or grab hold of him. But Daniel knew that he had to reach Kiko before he disappeared. He struck at the hands trying to grab hold of him, clawing at the faces in his way.
When he reached the back of the room Kiko was gone.
Someone hit him on the back of the neck and everything went black. He was forced to the floor and the last thing he heard was Father screaming in the background.
CHAPTER 15
When Daniel woke up he was lying on a table covered in green felt. Over his head hung a chandelier on which several of the wax candles had already burned down. He turned his face and saw Father sitting on one of the straight-backed chairs, wiping the sweat from his brow. His memory slowly came back. He had seen Kiko somewhere in the darkness behind all the people staring at him, and he had tried to get to him. It had been like throwing himself into a whirlpool in a river. But Kiko wasn’t there, he had vanished into the darkness the same way Daniel was dragged down by the maelstrom, and now he had washed up on a beach consisting of a table covered with green felt.
‘He’s awake now,’ said a voice quite close to his ear.
Daniel gave a start and sat up. The man who spoke was the same one who had met them on the street in a filthy hat and who bowed and scraped as though Father were a man with great power.
Father got up and came over to him. Daniel could see at once that he was disappointed. His eyes were weary and there were
white flecks on his lapels from the skin that fell from his scalp whenever he was upset and scratched at his brow. He shook his head.
‘I don’t understand you,’ he said. ‘We practised this. They listened when I was talking about the insects. Then I raised the cloth and you went completely crazy. They thought I had let loose a wild ape in the hall. You kicked a cavalry lieutenant in the head and bit a court of appeals judge. There was utter chaos, and I didn’t even get paid.’
‘Most unfortunate,’ muttered the man, who had now taken off his hat and was cradling it to his breast like a baby.
‘I still think I should get paid,’ said Father. ‘That was the agreement.’
The man with the hat hung his head morosely.
‘The secretary left with the cash box. There was nothing I could do. The head forester yelled that it was scandalous and demanded that the hall be cleared. The next meeting a month from now will deal with the distribution of free hymnals to the unfortunate people in the poorhouse. Things will be calmer then. The only topic of discussion will be how to determine who is poor enough to be given a hymnal.’
At that moment the doors to the hall were thrown open. Two men came in and marched in a determined column up to the podium.
‘The baron,’ the man with the hat whispered nervously. ‘Now someone will be taken down a peg.’
Father sprang up and stood as if he were about to meet a god. The man marching in front had a long moustache. He struck at the chairs with his walking stick so they flew to either side, and then stopped in front of the table. Behind him stood a man wearing simple clothes, and Daniel looked at his hands, which were very big. Something made him think of an elephant, the one Kiko had shot with three arrows after they had gone without meat for almost a month.
‘I don’t believe we have ever been properly introduced,’ said the man with the moustache. ‘Baron Hake. Factory owner and patron of the Torch Workers’ Association.’
Father said his name and bowed.
‘I beg your pardon. The boy lost his head.’
‘Actually it was an amusing sight,’ replied Hake. ‘But rather bad form. Besides, he climbed on one of my shoulders. I have rheumatism and the pain immediately returned.’
‘I beg your pardon once again.’
The man pointed with his stick at Daniel.
‘I once saw a Negro in Berlin, but he was full-grown, and a different type. Broader lips and peculiar tattoos on his face. That was in a menagerie. It may have been in Hamburg at Herr Hagenbeck’s and not in Berlin. My memory fails me.’
‘I can do nothing more than beg your pardon.’
Hake thumped his stick on the floor.
‘All these excuses,’ he said angrily. ‘I’ve lived my entire life surrounded by excuses. I can’t stand them. The boy should have been on a lead, of course.’
Hake kept staring at Daniel.
‘What’s going through his head?’ he asked.
‘Hard to know,’ replied Father.
‘He’s wondering why the hell he’s here and being put on display,’ said the man with the big hands, who had been quiet until now.
Hake turned to him.
‘If I chose to do so I might regard that comment as insubordination.’
The man seemed about to leave, but stayed where he was.
‘One of my long-time blacksmiths,’ Hake explained to Father. ‘Nils Hansson. Highly skilled. Made the new wrought-iron gates at Drottningholm Castle, for one thing. That’s why he’s here representing the workers.’
‘I was wondering’, said Father, ‘whether this really is a workers’ association. The hall was filled with lieutenants and foresters.’
‘The important thing is not what we talk about,’ said Hake. ‘The important thing is what we don’t talk about. We encourage peace of mind in the country. No political preaching, no insubordination. On the other hand, insects are a good topic. If the workers’ lot is to be improved, it should be done by deepening the connections among various groups in society, not by changing them.’
‘Too bloody right,’ said the blacksmith.
Hake didn’t seem to have heard that. Or else he chose not to reply. He turned to the man with the hat, who seemed to cringe even more.
‘The insects were excellent,’ said Hake. ‘Being able to hear about and look at fascinating creatures can be useful. But the boy should have been restrained.’
‘Naturally,’ said the man who had shrunk as much as possible without disappearing entirely.
‘I was promised an honorarium,’ said Father.
‘The secretary will see to it.’
‘But he left.’
Hake gave the shrinking man a cross look.
‘Herr Wiberg left?’
‘He was one of the first to vacate the premises. He has weak nerves.’
‘Then he’ll be replaced at the next meeting,’ Hake said firmly. ‘A workers’ association must set an example, don’t you think?’
This last was directed at the blacksmith, who was trying to cheer Daniel up by smiling at him.
‘Naturally,’ Hansson replied. ‘But if I were black like this boy I would also have felt my soul crack and tried to run for the exit.’
‘We’re speaking of the secretary.’
‘I know. But it’s possible to answer more than one question at a time.’
Hake reached into his breast pocket and took out some banknotes, which he handed to Father.
‘Finances at the plant are poor at the moment,’ he admonished. ‘There’s too little war in the world. This is all I can give you. And besides, there are the hymnals to pay for.’
He turned on his heel and left. The blacksmith lingered behind.
‘How the devil can you exhibit people as if they’re in a menagerie?’ he said. ‘Insects you can stick on pins. But people? No, damn it.’
He placed one of his big hands on Daniel’s head before he left. Hake had already vanished from the hall. The man with the hat had now regained his original size.
‘Everything worked out,’ he said with a satisfied look. ‘I have a calling card here, from one of those present this evening. He said he will contact you tomorrow. He has a proposal for you.’
‘A proposal for what?’
‘Business. What else would one propose?’
Father stuck the card in his pocket. The banknotes had improved his mood. He took his bag of insects and headed for the door. Daniel followed him. They went out into the city, which was dark. Daniel longed for the water. In the darkness he thought he could glimpse Kiko now and then, but it was nothing but weary, huddled people who had never seen an antelope.
Early the next day, as Father was busy shaving and Daniel sat by the window looking down at the street, there was a knock at the door. Father nodded to Daniel to open it. A man who was very fat and had short legs came into the room. He was wearing a red overcoat and was bareheaded. Over his shoes he wore multicoloured spats. Even though he was fat and swollen, he seemed quite agile. His face was childlike, utterly lacking in character.
‘Herr Bengler perhaps received my calling card last night?’
Father wiped off his shaving soap and picked up the card lying next to the washbasin.
‘August Wickberg, Master of Ceremonies,’ he read.
The fat man had already taken the liberty of sitting down, placing his large behind on the only cushioned chair in the room.
‘I hope I haven’t come too early.’
‘The poor do not have the luxury of sleeping in.’
‘Precisely. That’s why I’m here.’
Father sat down on the edge of the bed. He motioned for Daniel to sit next to him.
‘A lovely couple,’ said Wickberg. ‘If a bit mismatched.’
‘What exactly does a “master of ceremonies” do?’
‘I handle persons such as you two, who have something unusual to offer but who have no idea how to turn a profit.’
Father shook his head warily. ‘So you’re some sort of
fairground barker?’
‘Not at all. I work only with serious propositions. Insects, yes, but not high-kicking dwarfs who turn somersaults. Displaying people who are black is educational, in contrast to seductive ladies rolling about with lazy pythons wrapped round their necks. We live in an age in which serious matters are assuming more and more importance.’
Father burst out laughing. ‘That’s hardly my impression.’
‘You’ve been away a long time. Things are changing fast. A couple of years ago one could travel about the country and gather audiences who would pay to see a man who poked in the ground for old bronze as a main attraction. That may no longer be possible but some day it will be again. People are not merely looking for diversion, Herr Bengler, but culture.’
‘Just like Baron Hake, then?’
‘That man is a hypocrite, if you’ll pardon the expression. He ingratiates himself with the real friends of the workers, but actually he hates them. Conditions at his ironworks in Roslagen are said to be outrageous. People are treated like slaves. In order not to become a topic in parliament, he undertook to protect the workers’ association. A few months ago there was supposed to be a lecture and discussion about “The Meaning of Life”. Invited speakers were a journeyman tailor and a Lutheran pastor. The tailor was never given the floor, since the pastor was busy preaching. The lieutenants had called in their orderlies to fill the seats. The tailor’s friends had to stand out in the rain and freeze. But Baron Hake had lured one of those radical members of parliament to come, and he later went home and wrote a motion to introduce a bill against irresponsible attacks on the owners of Swedish ironworks.’
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