Daniel

by Henning Mankell

  In the end he realised that she didn’t believe what he was saying. Then he knew that she would never consider coming with him.

  When she ran home he watched her until she disappeared. Then he imagined his own disappearance. He would run through the night and he would be gone when Edvin and Alma woke up in the morning. He had poured a little sand into his bed and hoped they would believe that he had turned himself into those grains of sand.

  The darkness surrounded him. The cold tore at his chest. He made his way along the narrow tracks that wound through the fields. The soil was frozen and no longer stuck to the bottom of his shoes. Now and then he would stop to catch his breath, but he grew so cold that he forced himself to keep moving.

  The plain seemed endless. He felt like he was moving in a trance. The cold had stopped stinging him. Now it burned inside him. He knew that he had to keep going until dawn. Only then could he search for a place where he could get warm and sleep. If he stopped now he would be buried in the darkness, and when the sun returned only his stiff, frozen body would be left. All night long he thought about Be and Kiko. They were inside him and they were as cold as he was. Sometimes he stretched out his arms and asked Kiko to carry him. But Kiko would only shake his head and say that he had to manage for himself.

  The dawn came.

  At the same time it began to snow. At first scattered snowflakes, then so thick that he couldn’t make out the horizon. He was in the middle of a field. Off in the distance he saw a house surrounded by trees but he couldn’t see the sea anywhere. At the top of a small hill stood the ruin of a windmill. Its sails hung like the remains of a dead bird above the crumbling walls. He walked towards the hill. When he looked back the field had already turned white, and his tracks were clearly visible. He kept on heading for the windmill. He glimpsed a fox, and then it was gone. One corner of the ruin still had part of the roof left. On the floor lay some old sacks. He wrapped the sacks around his body and huddled in the corner. Then he ate one of the pieces of bread and a potato. He wondered why he wasn’t thirsty. If he had walked all night long in the desert he wouldn’t have been hungry, but he would have wanted water. Now it was food he needed.

  Did he dare go to sleep? Would the sacks keep him warm enough, or would he freeze to death? He tried to make a decision, but he was already asleep. Kiko lay by his left side, with one arm under his head as usual. Be was somewhere behind him. Without seeing her he knew that she had curled up and was sleeping with her hands clasped under her belly.

  He dreamed that his heart was beating more and more slowly. With a huge effort he kicked himself up out of the dream. He was so cold he was shaking. He had no idea how long he had been asleep. To his surprise he noticed that he was crying. The tears had run down to his mouth. That had never happened before; he had never started to cry while he was asleep.

  At first he didn’t know where he was. It was still snowing. He struggled to stand up and tried to determine from the thickness of the snow how long he had been asleep. He measured with one finger and then looked up at the clouds. He couldn’t see where the sun was. He took a little snow in his hand and put it in his mouth. Now he realised how thirsty he was.

  Before he left the ruin he tore the sacks into strips and stuffed them inside his trousers and shoes. Then he continued heading south.

  He knew that he wouldn’t be able to survive another night. He had to rest, and he had to get warm. Otherwise he would die. Just before dark he reached a farm with big barns and a red-brick house with a tower in the middle. He hid behind some boulders in the field and waited. Now and then he could hear voices in the distance and the sound of buckets clanking. When it got dark he cautiously approached one of the barns. At the back there was an old manure trench that he could creep inside. The barn was full of cows. Some moved restlessly as he trudged forward in the dark. He smelled the aroma of milk. He found some in the bottom of an unwashed pail and drank it down. He kept looking and found another pail of milk. All the while he was listening for voices, but he was alone with the animals. He went back the way he had come and crept into the straw next to the cow that stood closest to the manure trench. The cow sniffed at him. Daniel felt its warm breath on his face. He ate the bread and potatoes he had left and then burrowed into the straw. One hand was slippery with manure. He wiped it off against the wall and then curled up. Slowly he could feel his body’s warmth coming back. Tonight he would not freeze to death.

  He woke up when he heard someone screaming. He had slept so soundly that he hadn’t noticed when the milkmaids came in, clanking their pails. Now a skinny girl with a pockmarked face was standing outside the cow’s stall and screaming him awake. He stood up and she fled, dropping her pail. He sneaked out through the manure trench and ran as fast as he could. It had stopped snowing but it was colder. He slipped and fell but got to his feet and kept running. He expected to hear shouts and dogs barking behind him. He noticed that he was running uphill. If only he could make it over the top he would be safe.

  When he reached the top he stopped short.

  Far off on the horizon lay the sea. He closed his eyes hard and then looked again. It wasn’t his imagination. The sea was there, far ahead of him, and when he turned round the fields were empty. There were no people and no dogs.

  He continued walking and reached a wider road. Already he could see the smoke rising into the air from many chimneys. Maybe he was on his way to the same town where he had once arrived with Father. He carried on. When he saw two horse carts in the distance he left the road and hid in a ditch. The driver behind the first horse was asleep. Behind the reins of the second cart sat a woman. The thought crossed Daniel’s mind that it was Be in disguise, wanting to show herself to him and tell him that he was on the right track.

  He kept hiding until it began to get dark again. He had come close enough to the town to see that it wasn’t the same one he and Father had visited. There were no cobblestone streets here, only a few muddy lanes winding between low houses.

  But he had discovered something that was more important. There was a harbour. And in the harbour were several ships. Perhaps he would be able to get aboard one of them and not have to learn to walk on water.

  Hunger was gnawing at his stomach. He tried to imagine what had happened when Edvin and Alma had discovered that he was gone. Alma probably thought that the sand in his bed was all that was left of him, but Edvin would be doubtful and they would start looking for him. By now a whole day and two nights had passed. They would think that he was lying dead somewhere, buried under the snow.

  Just as darkness fell the wind began to blow. Daniel was worried that the ships would leave before he managed to get aboard. He went a roundabout way past the houses and down to the harbour. The wind picked up. The ships scraped against the quay. He was surprised that there were no lights in the cabins. Where were the sailors?

  The quay was deserted. The only light came from the window of a hut near the end of the jetty. He walked past the ships without running into anyone. His disappointment made him angry. Why were they lying here in the harbour like dead animals? Why weren’t any sailors waiting for dawn to set sail?

  He stopped near the biggest ship. The clouds were beginning to shred in the wind. The moonlight made it possible to see. He hopped over the railing and felt how the deck moved beneath his feet. Suddenly he gave a start. It felt as if Father were somewhere among the shadows. He didn’t want Daniel to board a ship. He wanted to grab him by the scruff of the neck and take him back to Alma and Edvin. But the deck was empty. There was nobody there. Again he felt how hungry he was. If he didn’t find some food he wouldn’t be able to think clearly. He walked along the deck and tried the door to the aft cabin. It was unlocked. Without knowing why, he knocked. No one answered. He opened the door and went in. It smelled of wet clothes inside. There was a candle on a table. He pulled the curtains over the portholes and lit the candle, capping his hand over the flame to shield it. On the table stood a butter tub and a plate of hard tack
. He began to eat. He spread the butter on the bread with his fingers. There was also a bottle there, the same kind Father used to drink, which he called beer. It tasted bitter, but he drank until the bottle was empty.

  When the bread was gone he was full. He put out the candle and sat down on the bunk behind the table.

  There were voices all around him now. He could feel their breath and sense their bodies in the darkness as the ship scraped and bumped against the quay.

  ‘What shall I do?’ he whispered into the darkness.

  But the answers were lost in the whining and screeching from the draughty portholes and from the lines slapping against the masts outside.

  He lay down and pulled up the blankets. They smelled acrid from tobacco and urine. He knew that he ought to make a decision, but he was too tired. He couldn’t even think about finding a hiding place.

  In his dreams he saw Be, who had flown up into a treetop. There was no sound around her, only water. She was alone up there in the tree, and the water was rising up the trunk. He saw that she was giving birth to a child. She called for Kiko but no one answered. Daniel wanted to climb up to help her, but he couldn’t, and finally he understood that he was the one being born up there, as the water slowly rose. He saw Be bite off the umbilical cord of the bloody child and he felt himself being torn away from her. Soon the water would reach all the way to the top of the tree and the waves would sweep them away. Then he noticed that Be had wings. She unfolded them and lifted off from the tree just as the waves began to snatch at her feet.

  He awoke with a violent start. A ray of light was hitting his eyes. A man stood leaning over the bunk with a lantern in his hand. He was unshaven, and one eyelid hung halfway over his eye.

  ‘Now I’ve seen all the devils,’ he said. ‘Who are you?’

  Daniel sat up.

  ‘My name is Daniel. I believe in God.’

  ‘If I was drunk I’d run right out of here. A little black person in the aft cabin?’ The man shook his head. ‘I hear the wind picking up and decide to get dressed and go down to check the moorings. Something makes me take a look in the cabin. And here lies a person in my bunk.’

  Daniel could tell at once that the man wasn’t dangerous.

  ‘I’m on my way home,’ he said. ‘I’m not afraid of climbing up masts. I don’t eat much. I can sleep on deck. Just so long as it’s warm.’

  The man set the lantern on the table without taking his eyes off him.

  ‘You are really black,’ he said. ‘A young black man from Africa. Who speaks Swedish. Who eats hard tack. And drinks Pilsner. And lies down to sleep in my bunk. If I told anyone about this they’d say I was crazy. Maybe I am crazy.’

  He reached out his hand.

  ‘Take my hand so I can feel that you’re real.’

  Daniel reached out his hand.

  ‘You’re real, all right,’ said the man. ‘And you’re cold. You’re freezing. And your name is Daniel?’

  ‘I believe in God.’

  ‘That’s not so important. But you have to understand that I’m wondering where you came from. And how you wound up here. In my cabin, in the middle of winter.’

  The man sat down on the edge of the bunk and pulled the blankets over Daniel’s legs.

  ‘My name is Lystedt,’ he said. ‘This is my ship. Her name is Elin of Brantevik.’

  He paused and pulled the lantern closer to the edge of the table.

  ‘You probably don’t know where you are, do you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you came from somewhere?’

  ‘From Alma and Edvin.’

  ‘Alma and Edvin? Do they have a last name? And where do they live?’

  Daniel thought he had said too much. Even if the man with the droopy eyelid wasn’t dangerous, he might still think that Alma and Edvin ought to come and fetch him.

  The man waited. He had brown eyes and deep furrows in his brow.

  ‘You don’t want to say where you came from? And you say you’re on your way home? That can only mean one thing. That you’re on the run. How long have you been walking in this weather?’

  ‘Two nights.’

  ‘Where did you sleep?’

  ‘With the animals.’

  ‘And you’re on your way home? Where is that?’

  ‘It’s called the desert.’

  Daniel remembered something that Father had often said: The boy comes from the far-off Kalahari Desert.

  ‘I come from the far-off Kalahari Desert.’

  The man nodded pensively.

  ‘Once when I was young I sailed on a Dutch vessel that was going to Cape Town. We almost capsized in a storm off the Skeleton Coast. I recall the captain saying there was a desert called the Kalahari.’

  He leaned over and pulled the blanket up to Daniel’s chin.

  ‘Are you cold?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How did you come to Sweden, boy? Who was cruel enough to drag you way up here?’

  ‘Father.’

  ‘Your father?’

  Daniel was forced to search through his weary and distressed memory for the name that Father used.

  ‘Hans Bengler.’

  ‘A white man? Not your real father?’

  ‘Kiko died in the sand. My mother was named Be. She could fly. Her arms turned into wings when the water went up around the tree. That’s where I was born.’

  Daniel sighed. He only had the energy to give short answers. Most of all, he wanted to go back to his dream and fly away with Be.

  ‘I don’t understand much of what you’re saying. But I know you’re on the run and that you were brought here by some madman who probably wanted to exhibit you at fairs. Is that how it was?’

  ‘Father showed insects. Then he lifted a cloth. There I sat.’

  The man leaned forward and stroked Daniel’s face.

  ‘I understand that you want to go home,’ he said. ‘Why should you be here in the cold winter when you’re used to the heat? What was it he was called, the man who brought you here? Hans Bengler? Do you know anyone else here in Skåne? Because you’ve been living in Skåne. I can tell by the way you speak.’

  ‘Dr Madsen.’

  ‘The doctor in Simrishamn? Then it’s not only unpleasant people that you’ve met. He helps people even if they have no money.’

  Daniel could feel that he was slipping into sleep again. The man sitting on the edge of the bunk made him feel utterly calm.

  ‘I can raise the sail,’ said Daniel. ‘And I don’t get sick when the waves are high.’

  ‘No doubt you’re a good sailor, even though you’re only a boy. But first you have to get some sleep. I think you should stay here. The old woman at home would go crazy and shriek that the Devil had come into her house if I took you there. She doesn’t have much patience with things that aren’t familiar.’

  Daniel could no longer understand what the man was talking about. Or else he didn’t have the strength to listen.

  ‘When do we sail?’ he asked.

  The man gave him a long look before he replied.

  ‘Maybe tomorrow,’ he said at last. ‘It depends. If the wind holds.’

  ‘I can sleep on deck,’ Daniel muttered.

  ‘You can sleep here. You don’t need to run any more.’

  The man put his hand on Daniel’s forehead.

  ‘Well, you haven’t got a fever from the cold, at least. Go to sleep now, and we’ll see in the morning which way the wind is blowing.’

  Daniel sank quickly deep inside himself.

  At one point in the night he opened his eyes. The man was still sitting on the edge of the bunk looking at him. Daniel thought that he would probably sit there until he woke up the next day. He felt completely safe now. He wouldn’t have to learn how to walk on water. And he wouldn’t be nailed up on any boards either.

  He would go home.

  But when he woke up it was Dr Madsen who stood there looking at him. Lystedt waited by the door and avoided looking Daniel in the ey
e. Madsen was grave.

  ‘You’ve caused Alma and Edvin a great deal of worry,’ he said. ‘We’re going home now.’

  Daniel looked with horror at Madsen. And then at Lystedt.

  ‘I had no choice,’ he said. ‘The ship is unrigged for the winter. I won’t be sailing until spring. But I understand why you want to go home.’

  ‘The boy will stay in Sweden,’ Madsen snapped.

  ‘I’m saying what I think,’ said Lystedt. ‘The boy has the right to go home to the desert. What business does he have staying here?’

  Dr Madsen didn’t answer. He just pulled off the blankets.

  ‘Get up,’ he said. ‘I really don’t have time for this. There’s a serious case of gangrene waiting at the hospital. But I will see to it that you get back.’

  They came out on deck. It had started to snow again. Daniel looked up at the sky. Be was there, but he couldn’t see her. Dr Madsen held his arm and shoved him on ahead. Daniel wriggled loose. Instead of hopping over the railing to the quay he ran across the deck and jumped straight into the harbour.

  The last thing he thought of was the antelope, which had finally managed to free itself from the rock and take its leap.

  CHAPTER 25

  The rest of the winter, which was stormy and cold in Skåne, Daniel lay in bed. He had no idea what had happened after he jumped into the harbour. When he woke up he was lying in his bed in the kitchen again. Alma was sitting on a chair next to him, and he saw that she was happy when he opened his eyes. She called Edvin and he came in, but when the milkmaids and the hired hand wanted to see him too, she angrily shooed them out. Edvin stroked his cheek and shook his head. Daniel was warm and his heart was pounding as if he had been running in his sleep.