The Beachcomber

by Ines Thorn

  But she didn’t mind. She was on her way to see Inga and Arjen. She wanted to make peace with them but didn’t know what to expect. Fear caught in her throat and made it hard to breathe. She had lost so much, and she couldn’t stand to lose anything else. She’d had to deny her feelings for Arjen in order to go on living. If she had allowed her true feelings free rein, she would have fallen apart. As a woman trying to survive on her own, she had to focus on surviving from one day to the next. She didn’t have the luxury of indulging a broken heart.

  Jordis hadn’t yet finished thinking when she arrived at Arjen’s house. It had always reminded her of her own house. It had white walls, a reed roof, and a blue-painted door. A large brass knocker gleamed in the middle of it. Pale smoke was rising from the chimney, and it smelled of beech wood. The windows were bright, the shutters not yet closed.

  Jordis reached for the knocker, but then lowered her hand. Am I doing the right thing? she asked herself. Or will I only be hurt again? She thought of the terrible weeks after Arjen had left her. She had missed him so terribly that it felt like he were a part of her body that had suddenly disappeared. She hadn’t been able to eat or sleep. Thoughts had whirled in her head like a weather vane in a storm. Why? Why? Why? Did I do something wrong? Is it because I believe in the old gods? Because the villagers don’t like me? Did he never really love me? She had never felt so lonely in her life, not even when her mother had died. She had never felt so inadequate. Sometimes, when the sun had shone in a puddle and she’d seen her reflection, she’d thought she was pretty. And she had always believed she was a good person. And then suddenly she’d discovered that the villagers thought she was a witch. She had never harmed another person in her life, but that hadn’t mattered. Nothing she’d ever done had mattered, and Jordis had finally understood that she would always be a foreigner in Rantum, even though she had been born there. The foreigner. Why was everyone so scared of her? To discover the answer to her questions, she would have to knock on the door.

  She took another deep breath for courage and then lifted the knocker and let it fall against the wood. Inga opened the door almost immediately.

  “You?” she asked, but her voice sounded surprised rather than hostile. “Come in!” She stepped aside so Jordis could enter the house.

  Jordis hesitated, then stepped decisively over the threshold. Inga led her into the sitting room. Arjen was at the table and across from him was the pastor, Inga’s father.

  When he saw Jordis, he got up. “I’ll be going now,” he grumbled. Then he turned to Inga. “I always believed that at least you were an obedient daughter.” He pointed at Jordis. “But how can you invite her into this house when I am a guest here?”

  Inga opened her mouth to reply, but Arjen spoke first. “Leave it be, Inga.” Then he turned to his father-in-law. “You are the head of your household and can decide who sits at your table. But in my house, I decide.”

  Jordis lowered her eyes in chagrin. “No, I’ll leave. I’ll come another time.”

  “Please stay,” Inga said, taking Jordis by the arm. Then she turned to her father. “Go, if you want. But don’t tell anyone I threw you out of the house.”

  The pastor growled something under his breath and looked at Jordis so scathingly that she shrank under his gaze. Then he disappeared through the door.

  Arjen got up and pulled out a chair for Jordis. “Please, sit down.”

  Inga remained standing. She wrung her hands unhappily. “Can I offer you something?” she asked. “Tea?”

  Jordis tried not to appear surprised by Inga’s friendly gesture. “Yes, please.”

  Inga disappeared into the kitchen, and Jordis was alone with Arjen. She lowered her eyes, and her hands in her lap twisted the cloth of her dress. There was an uneasy silence.

  “How are you?” Arjen finally asked.

  “I’m well,” Jordis replied stiffly.

  “Do you need something? Can I help you with anything?” he continued.

  Jordis shook her head. “Lian is asking for your help.”

  “What can I do for him?” Arjen asked, but at that moment, Inga returned and placed a steaming cup of tea in front of Jordis. Then she sat down next to her former childhood friend.

  Once more there was silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire.

  After a few moments, Inga spoke. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said.

  Jordis’s brow creased, and she looked at her. “Really? I thought you hated me.”

  Inga shook her head. She looked sick at heart, as though she was about to do something very difficult.

  “No, I never hated you. I was envious of you. You’re so beautiful and mysterious, and all the men look at you.”

  Jordis frowned. “What good does it do me if all the men look at me, and no one wants to marry me?” She knew she sounded bitter. She gazed at Arjen as she spoke, but he lowered his eyes.

  “It’s my fault,” Inga told her. “I forced him to marry me. Do you remember your sixteenth birthday? A rune stone fell under the table. I picked it up. I went to Arjen and threatened to use the rune stone as proof of your witchcraft unless . . .” Inga stopped. She wanted to start a new life. A life free of guilt and wickedness. So she took a deep breath and began to speak again, her eyes focused on the table because she couldn’t bear to look Jordis in the eye. “Arjen married me to save your life,” she said in a steady voice.

  Jordis’s eyes went wide, and her gaze flickered between Arjen and Inga. “How . . . ?” Her voice was faint, as though she was afraid to hear what would come next.

  “I had the rune stone and threatened to show it to my father unless Arjen married me. Arjen did what I demanded, and I gave him the rune on our wedding night.”

  Jordis needed a moment to process the information. Arjen hadn’t wanted to leave her; he hadn’t betrayed her. Just the opposite: he’d made a great sacrifice for her. And not Inga but Arjen had held her future in his hands for the entire time. She found it difficult to believe. She stood up, walked to the window, and gazed out at the street. A light snow was falling, but it melted as it hit the ground. Jordis took a few deep breaths and then turned around again.

  “Inga, you cut the cross from the ceiling in the church. My grandmother and I were then accused of witchcraft. But we weren’t reported to the governor, because Arjen agreed to marry so you wouldn’t use the rune as evidence against us. Is that all true?”

  “Yes,” Inga said quietly. “It’s all true. And I’m so sorry. I can’t even say how much I wish I could turn back time and do things differently.”

  “But then why did you go to the council later with a rune stone, or at least with a bad imitation of one, and have us tried as witches after all?” Jordis asked.

  “I hoped they would exile you from Sylt and Arjen would finally forget you. I didn’t know they’d burn your house down. I didn’t want them to do that, and I didn’t want Etta to die. I only wanted Arjen to stop longing for you so he would finally fall in love with me. I thought if you weren’t here, that would happen.”

  Jordis listened in silence, staring straight ahead at the wall, thinking. Then she broke the stillness. “So, Arjen, you paid my ransom?”

  Arjen nodded. “And I would do it again if I had to.”

  Jordis felt herself break into a cold sweat, and her knees began shaking as though they would collapse. She wanted to weep or scream, but she just stood there, frozen. Then she shook her head and ran out of the house.

  “Wait!” Arjen called after her, but she didn’t stop; she just ran up the dunes. She didn’t even stop at the top but ran down the other side to the beach. She stood at the water’s edge and watched it roll in at her feet, gray and cold. Arjen hadn’t betrayed her. That was the only thing that mattered now. She felt as helpless as a newborn child. She’d had to tear the love for him out of her heart, and it had left an empty hole. She had suffered and been filled with desperation and hopelessness, and felt so unloved. And now this! She had no idea how to deal wit
h all the feelings rolling over her with the force of a spring tide. She would have been grateful to have someone there to explain the workings of the world to her. She thought of her mother, Nanna, and her grandmother, Etta. But she was alone.

  All at once, she felt a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be scared, it’s only me,” she heard Arjen say. Only then did Jordis realize that she had been trembling. Her entire body was shaking.

  She leaned back tentatively against Arjen, and he wrapped his arms around her from behind. They stood that way for a long time while the sea cast white-capped breakers at their feet.

  Finally, Jordis broke the silence. “What shall we do now?”

  Arjen pulled her closely against him and kissed the top of her head. “I don’t know. Time will tell.”

  Jordis nodded and nestled against Arjen, and when he turned her around and kissed her, her knees went weak. They kissed as though they had to make up for all the kisses they had missed, then and there.

  At some point they released one another. The cold had penetrated their clothes. Arjen took Jordis’s hand. “I’ll never let you go again,” he whispered.

  Jordis frowned. “You’re married. Married to Inga.”

  Arjen shook his head. “I never was in my heart. You’re the only one I’ve ever loved.”

  Suddenly Jordis remembered one of the reasons that she had gone to Arjen’s house. “I have to go home,” she said softly. “Lian is waiting. But first, I have to ask you something.”

  “Anything you want, dearest.”

  “Lian has the plans for a new navigation device. The Danes want to use them in the war against Sweden. But the drawings have become illegible because the ink bled during the shipwreck. He has to redraw them, but he can’t because he lost his right hand. He needs someone who understands how to do it.” She paused, trying to read Arjen’s expression. “The plans have to be brought to Denmark. Only then can Lian leave the island and return to his home in safety.”

  Arjen didn’t have to think for long. “I can draw, you know that. If you want, we can start tonight.”

  All at once, Jordis felt the strain of the last weeks. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She wept for joy, wept all the tension away, and felt as exhausted as though she had walked from Rantum to List and back.

  Arjen held her tightly. “Everything will be all right,” he whispered.

  CHAPTER 15

  “Is she gone?” the pastor asked before he greeted Inga.

  She had opened the door without inviting him in, but he just shoved her aside and walked into the house.

  “What did Jordis want?”

  Inga shrugged. “She wanted to visit us, because neighbors do that.”

  He laughed harshly. “You don’t believe that yourself. She isn’t a neighbor, she’s a witch.” He sat down without being asked. “I know all about it,” he said. “And this time I’ll catch her. I only came to warn you. Stay away from her; otherwise I can’t guarantee you’ll remain unscathed.”

  “What are you talking about?” Inga asked warily.

  “I’m talking about that Icelandic witch. She’s hiding the man the Danes are looking for.”

  Inga shook her head. “How could that be? They searched every house and hut. They didn’t find anyone.”

  The pastor wasn’t impressed. “She’s a witch. That’s why they haven’t found him yet. But I followed her when she left here. She ran down to the beach, and your husband went after her.”

  “Yes, I thought so,” Inga said, feeling sad and guilty.

  “When she was at the beach, I went to her hut. I looked in the window and saw a man there. He was at the table, making himself at home.”

  Inga started in shock. Had the entire ruse with the coffin been in vain? Would her father ruin everything?

  “That could have been anyone,” she said, but her father waved dismissively.

  “I know what I saw. It was a man I didn’t know. Who else could it be?”

  Inga shrugged. She knew that she desperately needed a good answer now, but nothing occurred to her. “Maybe it was a man from Westerland or List.”

  The pastor held up an admonishing finger. “Tomorrow, I’ll go directly to the governor in Munkmarsch.” He got up, looked his daughter up and down, and wrinkled his nose in disgust. “You haven’t given me any cause for pride,” he said without compassion. “But now you can repay me. Keep your mouth shut. Don’t say a word to anyone! Then at least I’ll get the bounty for turning the man in.” He slapped her stomach cruelly. “And see to it that you finally bring a brat into the world. I don’t like being made the laughingstock of Rantum.” With those words he turned, and a second later, the door closed behind him.

  Inga sat on the kitchen bench and thought about what to do next. Her father didn’t make empty threats. He would set out for Munkmarsch early the next morning and betray the Icelander. She had to try to stop him. But how? She racked her mind, but she couldn’t think of anything. She couldn’t solve the problem by herself, so she made her way to Jordis’s hut.

  Inside the hut, Arjen, Jordis, and Lian jumped at the sound of a knock on the door. “Are you expecting someone?” asked Arjen.

  Jordis shook her head. Then she got up and opened the door a crack and peered out cautiously.

  “I’m sorry,” Inga said. “I know that you don’t want to see me. But my father came back, and he knows about the Icelander. Early tomorrow morning, he’s going to Munkmarsch to tell the governor. I don’t know how to stop him.”

  Jordis took a deep breath and looked at Lian, who was sitting next to Arjen at the table, staring intently at a sheet of vellum. A bottle of ink was open in front of Arjen, and he held a quill in his hand. She opened the door wide so Inga could enter and then closed it after her.

  “Your father? How did he find out about Lian?” Arjen asked.

  Inga pressed a hand against her racing heart to calm it. “He followed Jordis and looked into her hut. He knows everything.” Exhausted, she sank onto a crate. “What can we do now?” she asked.

  Arjen paused for a moment, seeming to think about it. “The Danes aren’t interested in Lian himself; they want the plans. If we can make sure the pastor brings the plans to Munkmarsch tomorrow, we’ll buy ourselves some time. Enough to get Lian safely off the island.”

  Jordis frowned. “Either that, or we stop the pastor from going to Munkmarsch.”

  “How would we do that?” Arjen asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe he’ll have to drink so much Branntwein that he won’t be able to get out of bed in the morning.”

  Inga shook her head. “He’s already suspicious. He wouldn’t do it. It would be better to have the plans.” She turned to Arjen. “Do you think you can finish in time?”

  Arjen looked at Lian. “Can we do it?”

  The Icelander nodded. “If we hurry.”

  Inga got up and shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. She had fulfilled her duty; she had brought the message. She wasn’t needed here any longer, and no one had asked her to stay. “I’ll be going, then,” she said, looking sadly at Jordis.

  Jordis regarded the plump woman who had once been her friend. She took in her shapeless body, her dull hair, and the stains of perspiration on her dress. There was nothing to envy about Inga. When Jordis realized this, her anger at her former friend faded into pity. She took her hand. “You can stay if you like. But I think it would be better if someone keeps an eye on the pastor. As soon as the plans are finished, I’ll bring them to you. You can tell him you found them in my hut. Say you found the plans, but the man was gone.” Jordis turned to the others. “Shall we do it that way?”

  Arjen and Lian nodded. Then Arjen got up and put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “I thank you, Inga. You’re a good woman.”

  Inga smiled, and the smile made her face alive and pretty. She had just turned to leave when there was another knock.

  It was Tamme. “I wanted to see if there was anything you needed,” he said, and looked in surprise fro
m one face to another. “I didn’t realize you were having a meeting.”

  Jordis took his arm and came outside and Inga followed, so the two men at the table could continue working. Quickly, Jordis told Tamme what Inga had said about her father. “Perhaps you could keep watch with Inga,” she said, almost pleadingly, looking from one to the other.

  “There’s nothing I’d like more,” he replied. Then he took Inga by the hand and they walked away together over the dunes.

  “You can go home now if you want; I can do this alone,” Inga said once they’d reached the village. Her voice sounded a little flat, but her gaze was resolute.

  “No, I’ll stay,” Tamme declared.

  Inga lowered her eyes and dug in the sand with the point of her shoe. “I know. You don’t trust me. You want to stay with me to be sure I won’t betray the Icelander. You can admit it, I don’t mind. I understand.”

  Tamme took a step closer, took her face in his hands, and lifted it so she had to look into his eyes. “No, Inga. I’m not afraid that you’ll betray anyone. I trust you, and I always have. I told you that already.”

  In spite of his words, she still seemed unsure, as though she was afraid Tamme was about to break into scornful laughter.

  “I trust you,” he repeated softly, and then put his lips against hers. She closed her eyes and was amazed at the tenderness of his kiss. Never had anyone been so gentle with her. She returned the kiss and nestled against him. She forgot about everything around her. She knew she had waited her entire life for that moment, for that kiss that turned the blood in her veins into fire and warmed her body more than the hottest summer sun ever could.

  Finally, Tamme released her and looked into her eyes. “Now I want to lie with you. Not so you can have a child whose father will be another man, but because I want to be your child’s father.” He paused and kissed Inga on her closed eyelids, making her lashes tremble. “The father of your child, and your husband. Do you want that too?”