Dina's Book

by Herbjorg Wassmo

  But she answered with sharp slivers of glass in her eyes.

  Mother Karen and the foster sons allowed Jacob to be a newlywed until he returned from the autumn market. But then they made it clear, both in words and actions: Reinsnes needed him.

  At first, he scarcely paid attention.

  Mother Karen called him into her room and bluntly told him she did not know whether to laugh or cry about the life that he, a grown man, was living.

  It had been bad enough when he was grieving for Ingeborg, but this was much worse. From now on, he must get up in time for breakfast and go to bed at a Christian hour. Or else she would leave. Because things had gotten completely out of control since Dina came to Reinsnes.

  Jacob took it like a son. Bowed his head guiltily.

  He had neglected both the farm and the businesses. Dina demanded all of him. The days went by unnoticed, like a circle dance in which Dinars whims, Dinars ideas, Dina’s needs, blended with his.

  Except for the difference that she was a child, with no other responsibility than to be Jacob’s child bride.

  Jacob had long felt tired and useless. Dinars ideas had become a strain. Her animalistic mating in the canopy bed, and wherever else it might occur, deprived him of the sleep and rest he sorely needed.

  The evening Mother Karen spoke to him, he declined the usual wine and board games in a half-naked state by the bedroom stove.

  Dina shrugged her shoulders and filled two wineglasses, undressed except for her chemise, and sat down to play a game.

  She played against herself and drank from two glasses. Rattled the stove doors and hummed softly late into the night.

  Jacob did not sleep a wink. At regular intervals he gently asked her to come to bed.

  But she pursed her lips and would not even reply.

  Just before daybreak, he got up. Stretched his stiff body and approached her. With the patience of an angel and the cunning of a snake.

  It took a long time to soften her. Three board games, to be exact. The wine had been consumed hours before. He brought a crystal carafe from the night table and poured water into the empty glass intended for him. Then gave her an inquiring look.

  She nodded. He poured some water for her too. They clinked their glasses and sipped the tepid contents. He knew she did not talk when her eyes were heavy with wine, but he still made an attempt.

  “Dina, this can’t continue. I need to get some sleep at night. A man like me has many things to do. During the day, I mean. You should understand that, darling….”

  She sat there with her little smile. But did not look at him. He moved closer. Put his arms around her and stroked her hair and her back. Tenderly. He was so tired that he did not dare to start anything that might result in hostility or quarreling. Besides, Jacob was a peace-loving man.

  “The party is over, Dina. You must understand that the master and his family have to work on an estate. And then we need to sleep at night, like other people.”

  She did not answer. Just leaned heavily against him and lay quietly while he caressed her.

  He sat there drinking tepid water and gently stroking her until she finally fell asleep.

  She had been like a taut spring against him at first, but gradually she relaxed and gave in, like a child that had cried itself to sleep.

  He carried her to bed. She was large and heavy. Even for a man like Jacob. It was as if the earth grasped for her and wanted to bring them both to their knees beside the canopy bed.

  She whimpered when he pulled himself free and covered her.

  It was time to get up. He felt stiff and old and more than a little lonesome as he stole down to all the tasks he had neglected.

  Jacob ordered Oline to prepare the bedroom alcove, which had served as a dressing room until now. In it was a cognac-colored chaise lounge with worn upholstery that had fringes missing. He asked for bedclothes and an extra chamber pot. This is where he would sleep now, he explained. Because his snoring kept Dina awake.

  Oline looked at Jacob in surprise at his remark. But said nothing. Just drew her lips into a thin line that sent expressive wrinkles radiating from her strong mouth. So it had come to this at Reinsnes! The master of the house had to sleep on an uncomfortable chaise lounge, while a young girl lay in the canopy bed! Oline snorted and sent the maid upstairs with sheets, a comforter, and down pillows.

  The night Jacob moved into the dressing room, Dina began to play the cello about midnight, when everyone was sound asleep.

  Jacob awoke with a start, and even before being fully awake he felt a dangerous rage. He strode into the bedroom with blazing eyes, and hissed:

  ‘‘That’s enough! Now you’ve gone too far! You’ll wake the whole house!”

  She made no reply and continued playing. So he staggered across the room and grasped her arm to force her to stop.

  She jerked her arm loose and stood up, so she was the same height as he. Carefully leaned the cello against the chair and laid down the bow. Then she put her hands on her hips, looked him straight in the eye, and smiled.

  This made him furious.

  “What do you want, Dina?”

  “To play the cello,” she said coldly.

  “At night?”

  “Music lives best when everything else is dead.”

  Jacob realized this was not leading anywhere. Intuitively, he did what he had done at dawn the previous day. He put his arms around her. Caressed her. Felt her become heavy. So heavy that he could get her to bed. He lay close to her and kept caressing her until she fell asleep.

  He was surprised at how easily this happened. But realized that, over time, it might become a strain to have such a large child in the house.

  The desire! The desire that had blazed in him day and night before the Bergen trip was gone. Everything was so different from what he expected at first. So much more complicated. He felt weary just thinking about it.

  But he did not return to the dressing room.

  Exhausted and confused, he lay with Dinars head on his arm the rest of the night. Stared at the ceiling and remembered Ingeborg’s gentle ways.

  They had lived in peace and forbearance and had given great pleasure to each other. But they had slept in separate rooms. He wondered if he should start using his old room again. But rejected the idea.

  Dina would take some terrible revenge. He had begun to know her by now. Her way was to possess, without being possessed herself.

  In the dark, he could see only the contours of her body. But he recognized the aromas and the naked skin.

  He sighed deeply.

  Then something happened.

  It began when Mother Karen had a spring attack, as everyone called it. But this was October!

  It was an attack of sleeplessness. This usually occurred when spring began to appear outside the two large windows in Mother Karen’s room. The light was terrible in March, she complained.

  Oline said nothing. But she drew the corners of her mouth into a scornful grimace and turned away. It was just like them! Those people from the south. Even when they came only from Trond-heim, they still complained. About the dark fall and winter. And when the Lord flipped the coin, that was no good either! In her youth, Oline had been in Trondheim, which had daylight in the spring too.

  But they always needed to complain about something. Women from Trondheim, who acted as if they came from Italy!

  Mother Karen’s attack, which everyone had thought was as reliable a sign as the oyster catcher, had come at the wrong time. It came in October this year.

  So the nighttime creaking on the stairs began. And a saucepan with a ring of milk in it stood on the counter waiting for the kitchen maid in the morning.

  For Mother Karen heated milk and honey. Sat at the table in the empty kitchen, watching the light illuminate the copper pans on the wall and the blue wainscoting and reveal that the rag rugs needed washing.

  Mother Karen awoke just after midnight. She padded down to the kitchen and prepared herself for sleep wit
h a cup of milk and the silence of the large, slumbering house.

  But this time it was the wrong season, so she had to bring a candle.

  As she walked past the hall window, she saw a lantern glowing in the summerhouse! At first she thought the moon was playing a trick on her by shining on the colored glass windows. Then she saw the light clearly.

  Her first thought was to wake Jacob. But she pulled herself together. Threw her fur coat over her dressing gown and went to investigate the matter.

  She had gotten no farther than the front steps when the door to the summerhouse opened and a tall figure in a wolfskin coat emerged. It was Dina!

  Mother Karen hurried into the hallway and slipped upstairs again, as fast as her old legs could carry her.

  This was no time to listen to Dina’s loud explanations. But she promised herself she would talk with the girl the next day.

  For some reason, the conversation was postponed.

  Mother Karen became more sleepless than ever. Because she also had to keep an eye on Dina, It did not seem right for a young woman to sit in the summerhouse on a chilly night, even if she was wearing a fur coat.

  Somehow she could not bring herself to talk with Jacob about it.

  She discovered a pattern in Dinars wandering. When the nights were clear and cold, with stars and northern lights, Dina sat in the summerhouse.

  Finally, one day when they were alone in the parlor, she remarked casually, while carefully observing the younger woman:

  “You have trouble sleeping now too, don’t you?”

  Dina gave her a quick look…

  “I sleep like a log!”

  “I thought I heard … weren’t you awake Thursday night, walking around?”

  “I don’t remember,” said Dina.

  That was the end of it. Mother Karen got no further. She did not want to argue or to make an issue of the fact that a person could not sleep. But she thought it strange that Dina wanted to keep it a secret.

  “After all, you’re used to the long dark months.”

  “Yes,” said Dina, and began to whistle.

  At that, Mother Karen left the room. She regarded it as the rudest provocation. Women from good families did not whistle.

  But her indignation did not last long. She soon returned to the parlor. Looked over Dina’s shoulder as she sat paging through some music, and said:

  “Yes, play something for me instead. You know I can’t stand whistling. It’s a nasty habit and very improper…”

  Her voice was gentle enough. But her meaning was unmistakable.

  Dina shrugged her shoulders and left the room. Slowly went upstairs to the master bedroom, where she began playing hymns with the door open.

  Mother Karen made regular rounds to take stock of the household supplies and furnishings.

  It took her great effort to walk down into the damp cellar. But it had to be done. She examined the shelves of canned preserves and the barrels of salted meat and fish. She made sure that old or perishable food was cleaned or replaced. Controlled everything with a strong, gentle hand. Always knew how many jars of currants and raspberries remained each spring. Decided how many were needed for the next year.

  She replenished the wine cellar four times a year. That had usually met their needs until now. For aside from Jacob’s mourning period a few years before, wine was consumed in reasonable quantities at Reinsnes.

  One Tuesday morning just before Christmas she went to the cellar to make an inventory. And discovered that not one bottle remained of the expensive dry Madeira that had cost seventy-eight skillings each! And only a few Hochheimer Rhine wine, at sixty-six skillings a bottle! Of the red table wines, she found only a scanty allotment of choice Saint Julien, at forty-four skillings. Two bottles!

  Mother Karen left the cellar resolutely. Wound her shawl around her shoulders several times and marched down to the warehouse office to talk with Jacob in person.

  He was the only person who had a key to the gate in front of the wine racks. She had had to ask for it herself that morning.

  Mother Karen was more than dismayed. Jacob had shown no sign of a guilty conscience when he heard she was going to take inventory.

  Oline had stern instructions to put a line in the household ledger for every bottle that they opened. And those numbers had to balance.

  Jacob sat puffing his pipe when she arrived. His face was flushed and he wore no shirt collar, as was usual when he examined the ledgers with Niels. It was a task he did not enjoy.

  The moment Mother Karen appeared in the doorway he knew something was wrong. The small, sprightly figure quivered under the fringed shawl.

  “Jacob, I need to talk with you! Alone!’”

  Niels obediently left the room and shut the door behind him.

  Mother Karen waited a few moments, then opened the door quickly to make sure he had left the warehouse and gone into the store.

  “Have you started your bad habits again?” she demanded bluntly.

  “What do you mean, Mother?”

  He pushed the ledger aside and put down his pipe, to avoid upsetting her even more.

  “I’ve been to the wine cellar! There is no dry Madeira left, and almost no Saint Julien!”

  Jacob seemed taken aback. As he sat smoothing his mustache, some of the old guilt feelings returned. He almost believed he had drunk all that wine.

  “That can’t be true, Mother!”

  “But it is!”

  Mother Karen’s voice was trembling.

  “I haven’t been down to the cellar without Oline’s knowledge for a long, long time. Not since my trip south …”

  He was an unhappy little boy, unjustly accused of vandalism he had not committed.

  “Well, the bottles are gone/’ she declared firmly, sinking onto the visitor’s chair by the large desk. She took a deep breath and gave him a searching look. Jacob avowed his innocence. They discussed possible explanations. But none sufficed.

  When Dina returned from horseback riding she found great commotion in the kitchen. A harsh investigation was under way.

  Oline was crying. And everyone was under suspicion.

  Dina followed the sound of the excited voices and stood unnoticed by the pantry door. In the old leather trousers she always wore for riding. Her hair was tousled and her face flushed after riding against a sharp wind and blowing snow.

  She looked from one person to another for a while. Then said calmly:

  “I took the wine. There weren’t many others Mother Karen needed it for, after all.”

  The room became extremely quiet.

  Jacob’s mustache quivered, as it did when he was unsure how to maintain his status.

  Mother Karen turned even paler than she had been.

  Oline stopped crying with a resolute thrust of her heavy lower jaw, which made her teeth chatter.

  “You did? When?” Mother Karen exclaimed in astonishment.

  “At different times. I don’t really remember. The last time was one night when there was a full moon and northern lights, and everything was crazy. I needed something to help me sleep.”

  “But the key?” Jacob collected himself and took a few steps toward Dina.

  “The key is always kept near the shaving chest. Everyone knows that. Otherwise the maid couldn’t fetch wine when it’s needed. Are you going to interrogate me here in the kitchen? Maybe we should get the sheriff.”

  She turned on her heels and left the room quickly. But the look she sent Jacob was not good.

  “Dear God!” sighed Oline.

  “Heaven help us!” added the kitchen maid.

  Mother Karen immediately understood the situation and rescued the family honor.

  “Well, that’s quite a different matter,” she said calmly. “Please forgive me. Oline! Everyone! I’m an old, suspicious woman. I didn’t stop to think that Mistress Dina might have gone to the wine cellar, in her rightful concern for the welfare of the house and its guests.”

  She drew herself erect,
crossed her arms over her breast as if protecting herself, and followed Dina at a dignified pace.

  Jacob stood with his mouth half-open. Oline had an incredulous look on her face. The maids were wide-eyed.

  No one knew what was said between Dina and Mistress Karen Gronelv.

  But when they placed the next orders for wine and liquor, the young wife had her own allotment. Over which she had complete control.

  However, the older woman always noted carefully how often the stock needed to be replenished, and exactly what was ordered.

  When there was a full moon, and often other times as well, Dina did not come downstairs until late in the day.

  Mother Karen kept her worries to herself.

  Since only Dina used the summerhouse during the winter, no one but Mother Karen counted the row of half-empty, frozen wine bottles under the bench.

  But when Dina sang hymns so loudly they could be heard both in the main house and in the servants’ quarters, it was hard for dignity to be maintained the next day, as if nothing had happened.

  She also held long conversations with herself, asking questions and responding.

  To be honest, this did not happen often.

  It was obviously connected with the phases of the moon.

  Jacob and Mother Karen watched the developments with concern. Especially because they knew that when Dina was in this mood she would neither listen to reason nor agree to go to bed.

  She could fly into a frightening rage if anyone tried to approach her.

  Mother Karen hinted that sitting out in the cold in the middle of the night could make Dina ill.

  But the girl laughed soundlessly in the old woman’s face, insolently showing all her white teeth.

  Dina was never ill. She had been in perfect health ever since she came to Reinsnes.

  In the end, the wine-drinking excursions to the summerhouse became a well-guarded family secret. And since no family is without its peculiarities, everyone accepted that this must be the odd thing about the Gronelv family.

  Chapter 9

  The horse is made ready for the day of battle,

  but the victory belongs to the Lord.