Dina's Book

by Herbjorg Wassmo

  But the dead avoided her when she was in such moods. They seemed to understand that they were not in her world. Where only this man Barabbas existed.

  * * *

  “I’m coming south before winter.” But Dina could not wait for winter. Patience was not part of her nature. She reached for Blackie’s muzzle more frequently. Made swings in the trees for Hanna and Benjamin. But first and foremost, she went to the flag knoll at the first sign of a southbound sail.

  And she stood there when the steamboat was hailed on its southern voyage.

  She tried to coax information from Johan about Leo’s destination.

  He shook his head but gave her a strange look. She had revealed herself. Then he walked over and put his hand on her shoulder.

  “Don’t wait for that fellow Leo. He’s like the wind. He never returns,” Johan said arrogantly.

  She rose abruptly to her full height. Before either of them knew what was happening, she knocked him down with a single blow.

  For a moment, she stood looking at him. Then she sank to the floor and took his head in her lap. Whimpering like a whipped dog.

  “You mustn’t forswear anything, being a pastor and all. Don’t you understand? Don’t you understand anything? Anything …”

  She wiped his bloody nose and brought him back to reality. Fortunately, nobody came into the room.

  Neither of them told anyone about the episode. But Johan developed a reflex that sometimes struck people as strange. If Dina made a quick, unexpected movement, he ducked instantly. Then he would look ashamed and troubled.

  Johan’s search for a parish took a long time. He had indicated interest in both Nordland and the south. But his existence seemed to have been forgotten.

  Dina left Mother Karen and Johan to their own concerns. Jacob remained distant and weak. Hjertrud slipped away between the coils of rope without a word. It happened time and again.

  Benjamin let her take him on her lap, a surprised expression in his blue eyes. But he soon tired of her heavy-handed, demanding manner. Slid from her lap and ran out the door.

  She was a sleepwalker. Who read in Hjertrud’s black book. About justice and injustice.

  Which struck hard. Caressed hard, and swore revenge.

  * * *

  The season’s first night frosts came. Glazed the mud puddles and forgotten currants. One evening they got light snow, like a small loan.

  Strong, threatening winds followed. It was no longer “before winter.”

  Dina delayed Oline’s customary orders to have the bedclothes and sheepskin coverlets brought from the warehouse loft at the right time.

  “It’s too early for winter bedding!” she stubbornly insisted.

  This was an unforgivable intrusion into Oline’s domain. She lost face on the estate.

  Dina and Oline were two glaciers. With a deep fjord between them.

  One night the cold cut through cotton coverlets and sheets, straight into the soul.

  The next morning, Dina went to see Tomas in the stable. Leaned over the horse he was grooming and gave him a thump as usual.

  Their eyes met with different messages. His surprised, tense, listening. Hers furious, commanding, hard. She snarled an order for him to clear out the warehouse loft and carry the winter bedding into the house. As if he were in disfavor.

  When he asked who would help him, she made it clear that he was to do the work alone.

  “But, Dina! That will take the whole day, and the evening too!”

  “Do as I say!”

  He bit back a reply.

  Winter had showed its teeth.

  Tomas carried a lamp. He came toward her with his head down, not knowing she was there. Watching every step. People might have put things on the floor that could leave a poor fellow lying with his nose in the dust.

  Suddenly she strode from the corner.

  The sheepskins hung from the beams like huge, soft walls. Soaked up the sounds. Buried them forever.

  Outside, the bare ground was frost-covered, and a full moon hid behind restless scudding clouds. It would be hard for anyone to decipher tracks.

  Her rage was strong and deep.

  “I’m coming south before winter,” the moon chanted through the clouds and the old warehouse roof.

  She snapped a hold on Tomas like a starving dog. Barely let him know who she was before they were lying among the sheepskins.

  It took him a few moments to realize what was happening. He gave an initial gasp of pain and fright as he felt her teeth in his neck and her arms around him. Then he let himself be dragged down onto two foam-colored wool coverlets that had aired all summer. He just barely managed to protect the lamp. It stood chastely watching.

  Dina was pain, or delight. It made no difference to him whether he was in her bedroom by the black stove or in the warehouse loft. If the heavens swooped down on him like a black hawk, it was, still, heaven.

  She tore off her shawl and unbuttoned her bodice. Raised her skirt to her stomach. Stretched her large, strong body toward him with no preliminaries.

  He knelt on the sheepskin and stared at her in the yellow lamplight. Then he removed the most essential clothing. So fast that everything got tangled and she had to help him.

  Several times he wanted to say something. He felt a need to bless her. Felt he should repeat the Lord’s Prayer.

  But she shook her head and grew into the darkness with him. Her body was a bare smooth sloping rock in the moonlight. Her aroma filled his brain and drove out everything else. Made every muscle shudder and explode. A desire so enormous it could fill a church! Start an avalanche, a giant wave. Foaming, powerful, and wet.

  He was carried away on it. Driven willingly into the tumultuous sea. The waves washed over his head.

  Now and then he surfaced, to see if he could tame her.

  She let him do so. Then pulled him under again. Down to the kelp forest. To salty seaweed and ocean currents that suddenly grew wild. She drew him across the long beach, where the tide was out and the exciting aroma of bladder wrack filled his nostrils. She rode him into the shallows, among schools of fish swarming side by side. Belly to belly. He smelled them. Felt them spread their odors on his hips. Like this!

  Then he was borne into the deeps. And knew nothing more. Air and liquid exploded from him as she finally rode him ashore. He had large fishhooks and fish knives in his groin and chest. His stomach was a cracked rinsing trough. He might as well die. He was where he belonged.

  But he did not die. She carefully let him lie there. At the highwater mark. He was a young birch bough. Broken from the trunk in a great storm. Leaves and color still remained. But nothing else. Except this one thing: to have given — and received.

  Not a word was said inside. Outside, the air was blue-violet. Gulls scratched on the roof. The rage was lived out. Not beautiful, but strong as the draug.

  As they lay outstretched, catching their breath, Hjertrud suddenly came from the corner and tried to snuff the lamp.

  She leaned over to blow out the flame. Close, close to Dina’s arm. The bottom of her skirt brushed the young woman’s arm.

  “No!” exclaimed Dina. She quickly reached out and drew the lamp to her.

  Hjertrud retreated and then disappeared.

  Dina was left with burned fingers.

  Tomas sat up to see. Held her. And murmured comforting words as he blew on her hand. As if she were Benjamin …

  She wanted to pull back her hand. He had not seen Hjertrud! Had not understood that she wanted to darken the world for them.

  Dina dressed slowly and thoroughly. Without looking at him. When he put his arms around her before they left the loft, she rested her forehead against his for a moment.

  “Tomas! Tomas”’ was all she said.

  The sheepskins and other things got moved into the house that year too.

  Tomas carried loads as high as a hayloft, using every ounce of strength in his body. Without a sound of protest. He finished the task before the evening m
eal. Then broke the thin crust of ice on the water barrel in the courtyard and submerged his head and chest. Several times. Finally, he put on a clean shirt and went to Oline’s kitchen for the evening porridge.

  It had begun to snow. Cautious white shreds. Our Lord was discreet and good. Often the sin is not as great as the sinner believes. Tomas was the happiest sinner in Nordland.

  His body was sore from unaccustomed movements. Lying among sheepskins and carrying sheepskins. Every muscle was a wound. He savored the feeling with immense joy and weariness.

  Chapter 13

  Until the day breathes

  and the shadows flee,

  turn, my beloved, be like a gazelle,

  or a young stag upon rugged mountains.

  — The Song of Solomon 2:17

  Stine taught Hanna and Benjamin to control their excited anticipation by giving them small, manageable tasks.

  Sometimes they grew tired of her motherly hand and came clattering into the master bedroom.

  Dina rarely chased them out, but at times she ordered them to be quiet or refused to talk to them. Or she told them to start counting everything in the room.

  Benjamin hated this game. He obeyed Dina, hoping that when he had counted for a while she would look at him. But he guessed at the numbers and remembered figures from the previous time. Pictures, chairs, and table legs.

  Hanna did not know how to count well and failed miserably.

  Since Johan still did not have a parish, they decided he would remain at Reinsnes through the winter as a teacher for Benjamin.

  But Hanna was Johan’s most faithful follower. Benjamin did not completely trust this grown-up brother who was going to teach him forever.

  It was fourteen days before Christmas. The busiest time of the year. Oline gave orders. Anders, Mother Karen, and Johan were in Strandsted, doing errands before the holidays.

  Benjamin and Hanna came into Dinars room. They complained that Johan had told Benjamin to study today, even though it had been decided long ago that this was the day they would make Twelfth Night candles.

  “There are many hours in the day. Benjamin can both study and make candles,” said Dina.

  Hanna scampered around the room restlessly. She was’ a puppy that bumped into everything standing in her way. As she hurried past Lorch’s cello, she pulled off the blanket covering it.

  Dina stared at the instrument. The crack was gone! The cello was in perfect condition!

  Hanna started to cry. She thought she had done something terrible when the blanket fell and Dina gave a loud exclamation.

  Stine heard the crying and came running.

  “The crack in Lorch’s cello is gone!” shouted Dina.

  “Is that possible?!”

  “Anyway, it’s gone!”

  Dina carried the cello to the nearest chair. Slowly, oblivious to everything else, she began to tune the instrument.

  When the clear tones streamed through the house, people lifted their heads and Hanna stopped crying.

  This was the first time Lorch’s cello had been heard at Reinsnes. It had a darker effect than Dina’s cello. Wilder tones and greater power.

  For hours, nothing else was worth hearing. Not even the news that the steamboat had arrived on a southbound voyage.

  Only Niels was on hand to welcome the ship as usual A heavy snowfall had started. The boat was several hours behind schedule.

  Not many travelers came so late in the year. Just one tall, dark figure carrying a leather travel bag in his hand and a seaman’s sack on his shoulder. He wore a fur coat and a splendid wolfskin hat, and it was hard to recognize him in the Advent darkness.

  But Tomas was standing in the stable doorway as the man walked from the beach with Niels. They crossed the courtyard to the main entrance.

  Tomas greeted the stranger stiffly when he saw the scar on the man’s left cheek. Then he returned to the stable.

  Leo Zjukovski politely requested lodging for a few days. He was tired after several days of stormy weather in Finnmark. He did not want to trouble anyone. Heard the mistress playing….

  Lorch’s cello kept playing upstairs. Deep and resonant, as if a crack had never existed.

  Leo Zjukovski was served some simple food in Oline’s kitchen, at his request.

  He heard about the cello. About how it had been cracked but now, miraculously, was perfect again. And about Dina’s happiness with the old instrument she had inherited from her poor tutor, Lorch.

  Niels talked with the visitor for a while. But when Stine arrived with the children, he explained he had work to do and left.

  Stine wanted to tell Dina that a guest had arrived. But Leo Zjukovski refused to allow that. However, if they would open the doors to the hall, so he could hear the music better …

  The traveler ate porridge and drank Oline’s raspberry juice. He told her he appreciated being able to sit in her kitchen and thanked her for the meal by bowing slightly and kissing her hand.

  Oline had not been the object of such gallantry since Jacob died. She became very animated. Talked eagerly about the house and the workers and the farming seasons. An hour passed. Oline did her strictly necessary tasks, moving to and fro.

  Leo listened. He kept looking toward the door. His nostrils quivered slightly. But his thoughts were hidden inside the polite, serious skull.

  Oline was amazed that he did not think it beneath him to add kindling to the stove of his own accord. Without any fuss. She gave him an admiring nod.

  Lorchas cello wept. Tomas did not come to the main house for supper. The Russian was sitting in the kitchen!

  Dina started downstairs to get some wine to celebrate Lorch’s cello. She did not recognize the wolfskin lying on the chair at the bottom of the stairway.

  But she did recognize the leather travel bag. The sight and the smell of it hit her so powerfully she had to grasp something firmly.

  Her large body leaned on the banister. Doubled over, as if in extreme pain. The smooth round wood became wet with perspiration instantly. She sat down on a stair and snarled when Jacob appeared.

  But he could not do much. Was as surprised as she.

  She raised her skirts and sat with her knees apart and her feet on the step below. Firmly. Her head hung between her hands, as if it were chopped off and placed in her safekeeping.

  She sat until her eyes became accustomed to the dim hallway and the meager candlelight on the glass table. Then she rose very slowly and walked down the stairs. Reached greedily for the travel bag. As if to make sure it really existed. She opened it and touched what lay inside. Found a book. This time too. Sighed and tucked it under her shawl. Then she closed the bag.

  The candle flickered when she left. She had taken a forfeit.

  She climbed the ‘stairs again. Quietly. Did not add wood to the stove. Did not want anyone to hear the stove door slam.

  She lay down fully clothed, her gaze fastened on the door latch. Sometimes she moved her lips. But no sound came. Nothing happened.

  Jacob sat on the edge of the bed, watching her.

  Stine showed the guest to the dormer room. He did not want her to light the stove for his sake. He was just fine, and warm as a live coal, he said.

  She quietly brought towels and pitchers of warm and cold water.

  He bowed and thanked her, while he looked around the room. As if he expected something to leap from the walls.

  One of the maids, Thea, was sent upstairs to get something. She hesitated near the linen cupboard and glanced into the room. Wanted her part of the stranger too.

  Something about the man made Stine shy. She whispered good night and hurriedly withdrew backward through the open door.

  “Dina Gronelv has gone to sleep for the night?” he asked, as she was about to disappear.

  Stine became flustered.

  “She was playing a while ago…. Shall I see?”

  Leo shook his head. He took the few steps across the floor and stood in the doorway.

  “She sleeps
there?” he whispered, nodding into the darkness in the direction of the master bedroom.

  Stine was so astonished she did not even become offended by such an improper question. Just nodded, and curtsied her way into the darkness toward the small room where she and the children slept.

  The large house grew quiet. The night was not cold. But black, with heavy skies. Inside was a dark hallway and two closed doors.

  The lights in Dinars bedroom were watched from the servants’ quarters. For Tomas, the night was a hell. Clung to his body like an insatiable leech when daylight came.

  Thea came to the master bedroom to light the stove in the morning. She said that the Russian with the scar had arrived on the steamboat the previous evening.

  “The man who was here when the barn roof burned!” she added.

  “I see,” said Dina, from deep in the pillows.

  “He brought a seaman’s sack and a travel bag. He didn’t want to bother the mistress. Asked us to open the door to the hallway, so he could hear the cello…. And sat in the kitchen for hours. Oline was dead tired. The fire had gone out in the stove and everything!”

  “Wasn’t Niels there?”

  “Yes, for a while. They smoked a pipe or two. But nopunsj …”

  “In the kitchen?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he say what his plans were?”

  “No; he just asked for food and lodging. They had a lot of bad weather up north, it seems. He didn’t say much, just asked questions. About everything. And Oline kept jabbering!”

  “Hush about Oline! Is he going to stay until the next steamboat?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Was Stine there?”

  “Yes. She showed him to his room with the water pitchers, and it … I heard him ask if the mistress slept in here, and …”

  “Hush! Don’t rattle the stove so much!”

  “I didn’t mean …”

  “I know.”

  “I just thought he … he probably wanted to talk …”

  “Think what you think. But stop slamming the stove.”