When Benjamin was about a year old, Dina found Stine weeping over the boy at her breast.
The tears flowed and flowed. Without a sound. The boy stared at his nurse as he sucked. Now and then he closed one eye because he instinctively knew that a tear might hit him in the face.
He was actually sucking just for comfort and closeness, because Stine’s milk had begun to dry up. And it was about time, in Mother Karen’s opinion.
After much hesitation, Stine told Dina her story.
She had let herself be tempted and taken. Thought she could not get pregnant while she was nursing. But that old rule obviously did not apply to someone like her.
At first she refused to identify the father. But Dina insisted.
“If you don’t tell me who he is, so he can make amends, I won’t allow you at Reinsnes any longer.”
“But I can’t tell you,” wept Stine.
“Why not?”
“Because he’s a gentleman.”
“So he’s not here at Reinsnes?”
Stine wept,
“Is he from Strandsted?”
Stine blew her nose and shook her head.
“Is he from Sandtorg?”
Dina continued this way until she discovered what she really had known already. Niels was the father of the child.
When the warehouse was closed at night, Niels used the sitting room there for more than drinking punsj.
“I hear you’re going to be a father!”
Dina closed the office door behind her and put her hands on her hips. Niels was sitting behind the big oak desk.
He looked up. But only for a moment. He had difficulty meeting her eyes at first.
Then he made an about-face and pretended it was the first time
he heard this.
Breathless excuses poured out, as if a hole had been punctured in a sugar sack.
“That’s ridiculous!” he declared.
“You’re old enough to know what you do, so I don’t have to tell you. But a baby isn’t planted by the Holy Spirit. Not around here! That was in Palestine. And it was a special case. So, this is where you lay with Stine? Here in this room?”
Niels began arguing before she finished speaking. For a few moments, they both talked at the same time.
Then Dina’s eyes flashed. Rage and disdain mingled with a certain joy.
She walked slowly across the room to the desk, holding his gaze. Then she leaned over him and put her arm lightly on his shoulder. Her voice was like a cat purring on a sunny windowsill.
“Niels is old enough to choose. Today he can choose between two things. He can go to the altar with Stine immediately, or he can leave Reinsnes for good. With half a year’s pay.”
Niels turned white as hoarfrost. Perhaps he had suspected that Dina was just waiting for an opportunity to get rid of him. Had understood it from the first time she rummaged through the ledgers.
“You want to drive me away from Mother Ingeborg’s estate!” he said, utterly distraught.
“It’s a long time since Ingeborg owned this estate,” replied Dina contemptuously.
“Johan will hear about this. Today!”
“Don’t forget to tell him you’re going to be a father in six months and you want Stine to bear the shame alone! I’m sure Johan, who’s studying to be a pastor, will find that noble and worthy of a gentleman!”
She calmly turned to leave.
“You can let me know this evening what you’ve decided,” she said, with her back to him. She closed the door carefully and nodded affably to a store worker who stood with her ears cocked toward the door.
At dusk Niels came to the master bedroom, where Dina sat playing the cello. They were well prepared. Both of them.
He could not marry a Lapp girl! Who had also borne a child by someone else, even though the child died. Dina must surely understand that.
To tell the truth, he had something else in mind. He had his eye on a girl from a good family. He mentioned her name and other particulars. And gave Dina a tentative smile.
“But you could ignore your refined, sensitive feelings, and the fact that she’s a Lapp, when you got her down on the office floor!”
“She went along with it!”
“Yes, of course. And she’s still going along with it. It’s growing in her womb. You’re the only one who isn’t going along with it, Niels.”
“Jacob wouldn’t like it if I had to leave.”
“You don’t know anything about Jacob’s wishes. But I do!”
“You’re threatening me out of my home!”
He sank onto a chair.
Dina went to him and stroked his arm. Leaned her firm body over him.
“We only need you on your wedding day. Later you can leave. Or stay,” she said softly. “If you stay, your yearly pay will be doubled, for Stine’s sake.”
Niels nodded and wiped his forehead. The battle was lost.
A tragic figure wandered the gravel paths at Reinsnes that evening. And he did not want any supper. Niels had learned that you must protect yourself when your position is insecure. Different masters have different laws.
Dina’s laws were unlike most.
Niels had operated very cleverly for many years. He possessed a shrewd business sense, when it came to procuring his own income. These earnings did not appear in any account book.
Sometimes fishermen and farmers came to Mother Karen or to Anders and complained about the harsh treatment Niels accorded them when they could not pay their debts.
And sometimes Mother Karen settled the account for a poor soul, so Niels would leave him in peace.
Niels insisted he could not allow it to be said that debts were forgiven at Reinsnes. For then everyone would come running to complain about his troubles in order to get the same treatment.
But Mother Karen paid.
Dina stayed out of such matters, as long as the debt was properly recorded.
But sometimes Niels had collected sums that were not in the books. That were just verbal agreements, as Niels put it.
Dina pressed her lips tightly together and said:
“A number that’s not written in the account books isn’t a number! It can’t be collected!”
And Niels gave in.
He simply made sure that people had no reason to complain the next time.
The payment was not laid away like treasure in heaven.
All who saw it promptly forgot that Niels himself had repaired some old rot in the office fioor. Under the ponderous washstand with a heavy marble top, which dominated the corner behind the door.
The maids did not move the washstand. It was so heavy. They just neatly washed around it. Let their rags lick its painted blue base.
Over the years, a reassuring scrubbed stripe appeared around the bottom, where the wood had come through the paint. The cash lay safely under the loose, inlaid floorboard. In a fine tin box. The fortune grew nicely.
Niels never differentiated between Sundays and weekdays when it was a question of buying or selling at a profit.
Stine was not there when Benjamin needed to be put to bed. He had played with balls of brightly colored yarn in the servants’ quarters all day while the maids took weaving off the loom.
They were annoyed when the boy became tired and fussy. Stine should have come to get him long ago.
So they told Oline. And began looking for Stine.
Even Dina joined the search. All to no avail. There was no trace of the young Lapp woman anywhere.
The third day, Dina found her in the fisherman’s hut where her family lived.
Tomas and Dina came in a faering boat to bring her back to Reinsnes.
Stine was standing by the stove stirring the evening porridge when Dina entered the hut. Her face was grimy with soot and tears.
At first she would not speak. Just peered shyly at her family sitting nearby. The small hut had only one room. No place for a private conversation.
But when her bony, arthritic father clear
ed his throat and looked at her gently, she finally responded.
“I don’t want to marry Niels!”
She would rather bear the shame and punishment for fornication. Refused to be plagued all her life with someone who had been forced to marry her in order to remain at Reinsnes.
“He’s been there since he became an orphan, at the age of fourteen!” she added. There lay an accusation in her words.
I am Dina. I do not need to cry, because everything must be as it is. Stine cries. I carry her with me. Heavy or light. As I carry Hjertrud.
Those in the room heard Mistress Dina of Reinsnes apologize. Again and again.
Stine’s old father sat in a corner. Stine’s younger sister finished the food preparation. A half-grown boy went in and out and brought firewood.
No one tried to interrupt. Finally, everyone was invited to the table. For herring soup and crisp unleavened bread. The table was made of rough wood. Scoured white as a wind-washed whalebone. The steam rising from the soup bowls was weighted with emotions.
The news spread. Like sparks around ignited dry pine. Niels should have been glad he did not need to be in the servants’ quarters. For they had no mercy on him there.
Stine had rejected Niels! What a story! Niels crept around, trying to find respect. The servant girls shunned him. The farmworkers avoided him. He was treated like a leper. The justice of the oppressed was devastating.
But Stine returned to Reinsnes. She gained weight. Had pink cheeks and looked fresh as a rose once the first morning sickness subsided.
She sang for Benjamin and ate well.
Mother Karen conversed with guests from far and near and told about her travels in Europe. It did not matter that she repeated the same stories.
The truly celebrated guests were always hearing them for the first time. And the regular guests grew accustomed to the dignified narratives as one becomes accustomed to the seasons.
Mother Karen had stories suited to the education and temperament of each guest. And she always knew when to stop.
She often withdrew with a gracious sigh as early as the after-dinner puns/, saying she wished she were younger and more spry.
Then Dina took charge, with merciless fingers. The music began. Liberation! Fever! It spread through the courtyard, across the fields. Along the shore. Reached Tomas on his hard cot in the servants’ quarters. Created sorrow and joy. Depending where the tones fell.
Chapter 5
We must all die, we are like water spilt on the ground, which cannot be gathered up again; but God will not take away the life of him who devises means not to keep his banished one an outcast.
— 2 Samuel 14 : 14
One day Stine’s brother appeared in the kitchen at Reinsnes. Dressed in a Lapp fisherman’s simple reindeer-hide clothing and a blue calotte with an embroidered band. His well-worn moccasins were soaking wet.
They had no more flour at home. He had lost his way coming across the mountain to ask for charity at Reinsnes. And had been surprised by a bear on Eid Mountain.
It had frightened him so much that one ski slid off his foot and sped down the mountain. He had been forced to wade through deep snow the rest of the trip.
The boy held out his hands as if they were not part of him. He was short and slight, like his sister. Though confirmed the year before, he still did not have a beard. Just some downy fuzz here and there. And a coal-black shock of hair above intelligent eyes.
Oline immediately realized his hands were frostbitten. Without a word, Stine began to move about the kitchen, preparing something. Woolen rags smeared with cod-liver oil.
Stine was wrapping her brother’s poor fingers in bandages when Dina entered. The air stank of cod-liver oil, sweat, and wet clothes. The boy sat on a stool in the middle of the kitchen. Helplessly let himself be tended.
“What’s going on?” Dina asked. As they were explaining, Jacob entered from the hall with a stench of rotten meat. It was unlike any other smell.
Dina grasped the doorframe and leaned heavily against it, until she felt steady on her feet. Then she walked over to the boy and looked at his poor hands. And Jacob’s odor disappeared.
She watched while Stine smeared and bandaged. The boy whimpered. The blue-wainscoted kitchen was silent. Except for the creaking floorboards as Stine moved about.
The boy recovered, thanks to Stine”s treatment. He stayed at Reinsnes until his hands were completely healed. Slept in Tomas’s room.
He could not make himself useful, of course. But after a few days he began to talk.
This unexpected friendship did not please Tomas particularly. Until he discovered that if he looked after the boy it would bring him closer to Dina.
She asked Tomas how things were with Stine’s brother. She sent get-well wishes through him.
Tomas had taught Dina to shoot with a Lapp rifle even before she moved to Reinsnes. They did this in great secrecy on the mountain above Fagerness when checking ptarmigan snares. People below would think it was only Tomas who was practicing marksmanship.
The sheriff had confidence in the boy and trusted him not to waste gunpowder.
Later the sheriff gave the rifle to Tomas as a gift. Because he had helped in a successful bear hunt. The beast had taken several of the sheriff’s sheep.
Tomas regarded the gift as a consecration. He was to be a bear-killer.
The rifle was made in Salanger. By a Lapp who knew his trade. It was the most precious thing Tomas owned.
And each time there was a bear hunt, Tomas managed to be in the party. He had not yet killed a bear alone.
Dina had been initiated into the art of marksmanship but had no hunting experience.
The sheriff accepted that he had a daughter who could handle a Lapp rifle, as long as she did not mention it when guests were present.
Jacob, on the other hand, thought it was unwomanly to shoot with gunpowder. Gunpowder was as expensive as gold!
But just as he was forced to accept Dina’s habit of smoking cigars, he also had to accept that she practiced shooting a Lapp rifle after she came to Reinsnes.
It was a short rifle, with a fine barrel. Its simple breech bolt was defective, which demanded all the more of the marksman.
The flashpan had no cover, so gunpowder flew around one’s ears when the weapon was fired.
But Dina learned the knack of it. Her eye and her inborn skill were attuned to the weapon. She appeared to be as quick and sure with gunpowder as she was with numbers.
The story that Stine’s brother told about the bear must have been true. Several people had seen the beast. Apparently it was wandering in the mountains. At any rate, it did not plan to hibernate right now. A killer bear. Not too big. But its paw was strong enough to kill two sheep that had not come down from mountain pasturing in the fall
One evening Dina went to see Tomas in the servants’ quarters. She found him alone in his room.
“We’re going hunting tomorrow, Tomas. We’ve got to get that bear that’s wandering around,” she announced.
‘I’ve been thinking about the bear too. But you can’t go along, Dina!” he said. “I’ll get some men from …”
“Quiet!” she interrupted him. “Nobody knows what we’re going to do. Just you and I will get that bear! Do you hear me, Tomas? We’ll say we’re going to set snares.”
The room grew silent.
Then he made his decision. He nodded. He would gladly shoot a bear single-handed in order to have her to himself for hours. From dawn until dark.
The snares were ready. Tomas had the rifle hidden in his sack.
They set the snares not far from the estate. Ptarmigan were plentiful this year. The birds had stayed at the edge of the forest and appeared in no hurry to go to the mountains.
Snow had come early and covered the landscape. But not enough to require skis. The terrain was too rocky. Trudging in the snow for hours would be difficult. But they did not mention that.
The ptarmigan had not yet changed color and
were clearly visible against all the whiteness.
Then they set out to hunt the bear.
Dina leaned forward slightly as she walked, her gaze focused among the trees. Tomas walked ahead with the loaded gun.
Hour after hour they searched the area where the bear had last been seen. But they saw no tracks. Did not hear the creature. Finally, they had to turn around because dusk began to fall. They were exhausted. Tomas could not get over his disappointment at finding no sign of the bear.
They went to the ptarmigan snares in order to bring home at least that game.
Tomas removed the birds from the snares and hung them in his belt.
One ptarmigan had partially severed its wing while struggling to escape. Deep-red drops had eaten into the crusted snow. Another was still alive when Tomas retrieved it. Two round, glowing bits of coal blinked twice at them before Tomas grasped the neck and twisted the small head, and everything was over.
Rime covered the moors. They could see their breath in the frosty air.
They did not stop hunting the bear, even though they had come far down the mountain. They walked at the same horizontal line in the terrain. With a good distance between them.
When they came to the fox trap, they found a hare instead. Its hind leg was badly injured. Nevertheless, it managed to hop away when Dina removed it from the trap. It darted uncertainly among the birch trunks and slipped behind some tufts of snow-covered grass. They both ran after it. Dina found it.
She picked up a stick and tried to hit the hare’s head. But the blow struck its back instead.
The animal gave a violent shudder and fled across the snow on three legs. But a moment later, it turned around. Whimpered like a year-old child. Then, dragging the helpless rear part of its body, it crept toward her on its front legs. Cried out in the white air, as the snow slowly turned red.
“Fire!” said Tomas, when the hare lay down at Dinars feet.
She stood there pointing at it. Death was already in the hare’s eyes.
I am Dina, who stands in the washhouse at Fagerness while the steam cannot choke Hjertrud’s scream. It spreads outward. Echoes in the windows. Trembles in all the faces. Clinks in the chunks of ice in the water barrel. The whole world is pink and white with steam and shrieking. Hjertrud is slowly peeled out of herself. In waves. And with tremendous force.
Dina's Book Page 17