Something exploded in her body.
“What kind of woman are you … waiting for some imbecile who doesn’t know if he’s going to Archangel or Bergen?” said Jacob disdainfully.
His organ had grown so large it reached the list of merchandise. The papers shook in her hand.
I am Dina. Johan enters the sea with me. We are drifting. But he does not know it. I am floating. Because Hjertrud is holding me. We punish Jacob that way. Punish Barabbas.
That evening, under the pretext of needing to discuss Reinsnes and Johan’s future, she brought a bottle of wine from the cellar and invited Johan to her veranda in the midnight sun.
She wanted to show him the whole place, let him see how comfortably she had furnished it.
He absolutely must see the small room facing the sea, where she slept.
He followed her. At first he wondered how to put her off without hurting her feelings. It was not certain that she was thinking what he was thinking, after all…. Dina was so direct. She did the most improper things in broad daylight. Like showing her stepson her bedroom. Alone. Like standing so close to him that he did not know what to do. In the process, he forgot how to say the simplest words.
She captured him like a cat that gives a bird a dizzying blow in order to have a plaything. Held him in her claws a few minutes. Tossed him between the lace curtains and the bed. Then she came even closer. Finally, she attacked.
“Dina! No, Dina!” he said firmly.
She did not answer. Simply listened toward the courtyard for a moment. Then she closed his mouth greedily.
Jacob came from the wall and tried to protect his son. But it was too late.
He had inherited Jacob’s tool. Although in other respects he was built smaller and thinner.
His amazingly large, strong organ rose into the air. It was well formed, with powerful blue veins. Like a net to hold everything that exploded.
She guided him.
He did not have much to give her. Other than a large organ. Even before she undressed him, there was a great void in his soul. Which he tried to hide from them both. With shyness.
But he was willing to learn. He was related not only to Jacob but to the old Adam. Once he let himself be taken.
Afterward, he lay in the shimmering light behind white, drawn curtains and gasped for breath, knowing he had betrayed his God, his calling, and his father. He felt weightless, like an eagle floating high above the sea.
At first he was overwhelmed with shame for having exposed himself so completely. Not only had he emptied himself in her and over her; he was half naked and in a sorry state. And he did not know how to catch his breath again.
He saw from her expression that he must bear this sin alone. And at last he understood his endless longing for home all the years he was a stranger in Copenhagen and did not dare to return to Reinsnes.
She sat in her underwear with naked thighs, smoking a big cigar and looking at him with a smile. Then she calmly began to tell him about the first time she lay with Jacob.
At first Johan felt sickened. It was so unreal. The words she used. The fact that she was speaking about his father. But little by little, the story titillated him. Made him a voyeur through his father’s keyhole.
“It’s a waste of time for you to be a pastor,” she said, leaning back on the bed.
He attacked her furiously. Pulled her hair. Tore at her underwear. Scratched her arm.
Then she drew him to her and hid his face between her breasts and rocked him back and forth. She did not say a word. He was home. Things could not get worse, after all.
The worst had been done — and could not be undone.
When finally he left, he did not leave by the back door. Despite the fact that people were awake and could see him. Dina was adamant.
“Anyone who leaves by the back door is hiding. You have nothing to hide. Remember that. You have a right to come and go as I please. We own Reinsnes and everything about it.”
He was a naked castaway who was safe ashore, but at great cost.
The sun had already bathed in the sea. Now it came running across the fields.
Johan did not understand children. He had never known any.
His lack of experience was one thing. But he never saw them in time to make contact with them.
They were always in motion. Before you knew it, they had moved both their bodies and their thoughts. And were out of reach.
Johan did not think his lessons resulted in much learning.
Benjamin soon discovered ways to divert the teacher and disturb Hanna. Or make her laugh.
They sat at the table in the main parlor and gained little book knowledge, but they learned a great deal about intrigues and making secret signs.
The room became a ghetto of glances, impudence, and subversion.
They had struggled with the catechism and the commandments.
“Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s house, nor his lands nor his man servant nor his maid servant, nor his oxen nor his ass, nor anything that is thy neighbor’s,’ “ Hanna chanted brightly, as her index finger glided under the row of letters.
“Why don’t you have a wife or lands, Johan?” asked Benjamin when Hanna stopped for breath.
“I don’t have a wife, but I do have lands,” he replied.
“Where are your Jands, Johan?”
“Iown Reinsnes,” said Johan absentmindedly, and nodded for the boy to continue the reading.
“No; Dina owns Reinsnes,” Benjamin insisted.
“Yes; Dina and I own it,” Johan corrected him brusquely,
“You’re not married!”
“No; she was married to Jacob, who was my father and your father.”
“But she’s not your mother, is she?”
“No, but we own and manage Reinsnes together.”
“I’ve never seen you manage anything at Reinsnes,” said the boy laconically, shutting his catechism with a loud clap.
Before he realized what he was doing, Johan slapped the boy’s face. A red stripe appeared on Benjamin’s cheek. His eyes became black buttons.
“You’ll pay for that!” he snarled, and rushed out the door. Hanna slid from her chair and ran after him like a shadow.
Johan stood there, his right palm still smarting from the blow.
Johan realized this could not continue. He took out the letter with the royal seal and thought sadly about his situation.
He had gotten looks and questions. People wondered why he did not have a parish yet. And how he, with his bright mind and his theological degree, passed the time at Reinsnes.
The sheriff had bluntly declared it was not good for a grown man from a respected family to settle down as a tutor for his stepmother. And Johan had winced, without answering. The son of Ingeborg and Jacob had never learned to defend himself.
Johan wrote and accepted the parish. He was careful never to have errands in the office and never to be alone with Dina.
Dina and Johan were strangers to each other during his final days at Reinsnes. The last evening, he stood by the door and mumbled to everyone in the parlor that they would wait to say good-bye until the following morning. Anders and Mother Karen sat perplexed. Johan’s decision to take the call had been made much too suddenly. The air was heavy.
Stine rose and walked over to the pale, black-clad man, took his hand in both of hers, and curtsied deeply.
Touched by the gesture, Johan turned and walked out.
Dina followed him immediately, without saying good night to anyone. She reached him halfway up the stairs. In a flash, she had grasped his coat and held him fast.
“Johan!”
“Yes.”
“There’s something we haven’t discussed.”
“That may be.”
“Come! Come with me …”
“No,” he whispered, peering to see if the walls could hear and see.
“Johan …,” she pleaded.
“Dina, i
t was such a terrible sin …”
He put one foot in front of the other. Up the stairs. At the top, he turned and looked at her. He was dripping with perspiration. But saved.
From then on, she was a holy whore for him. A guardian for his lust. She was to stay at Reinsnes and manage everything, while he left to serve the Lord as his mother had wished. He would take the sin with him and atone for it. But because she was so depraved, had such vulgar sensuality and no thought of acting like a mother to him, he forgave himself. The Almighty perhaps understood there were limits to what a man could resist.
They saw him off the next day. Dina went to the beach too. Which was unusual. Somehow she made it seem as if he were a departing guest.
Johan boarded the steamboat and raised his hat in farewell. Then the store manager rowed back to shore.
Benjamin had to knock when he wanted to visit Dina. Stine said so. The first evenings after his mother moved to the cottage with all her belongings, he cried and refused to go to sleep. Then he shifted to a cunning strategy. He used all his tricks and all his charm to manipulate the women in the main house, one after another. Began with Stine, who saw through him and disciplined him into obedience with calm eyes.
Then he clung to Mother Karen’s thin lap. She was his grandmother. Wasn’t she? She was his grandmother alone! Not Hanna’s. Just his. He made Hanna cry, because Mother Karen belonged only to him. With her silver-handled cane, her bun, her lace collar, and brooches and everything. And once again Hanna understood that her status in the house depended on the others” feeling good and not paying attention to who she was and what rights she had.
Mother Karen reprimanded Benjamin, but she had to agree that she was only “sort of” Hanna’s grandmother.
Then there was Oline. Factual information about family or status had no influence on her, but she could be charmed until she forgot her intentions. And that meant he could sit in the kitchen drinking honey tea even when he should have been in bed hours before. As long as he walked quietly enough on bare feet and listened outside the door to make sure Oline was alone, he could succeed anytime.
Tomas was also a possibility. But it had to be when he was tending the animals. For Tomas went so many places and was not always easy to find. He could look at Tomas with big, grave eyes and politely ask to sit on the horse while it was led into the carriage shafts or out to the field. And if that was not enough, he could slip his fingers into Tomas’s large hand and just be there.
Benjamin developed the habit of climbing onto the windowsill and opening the window in the small room that faced the cottage. He sat quite still behind the crosspiece, looking down at Dinars windows.
But soon Stine came, set him on the floor, and shut the window. Without a word.
“I just want to talk to Dina,” he said miserably, trying to climb up again.
“Dina doesn’t talk to children so late at night,” replied Stine, and marched him off to bed.
And suddenly he felt too tired to express his rage. He just sniffled a little and lay completely still until she finished the bedtime prayer and pulled the blanket over him.
Then the night was filled with light and seagulls’ shrieking. And he was alone with the goblins and trolls. He had to make himself go to sleep to put an end to it.
Chapter 6
Upon my bed by night
I sought him whom my soul loves;
I sought him, but found him not;
I called him, but he gave no answer.
“I will rise now and go about the city,
in the streets and in the squares;
I will seek him whom my soul loves.”
I sought him, but found him not.
— The Song of Solomon 3:1-2
The light bothered Dina more than usual this year. They heard her pacing outside and inside. Like an animal.
It began after Leo left. Became a fixed habit after an event which made clear that Leo would not return this summer. A Russian lodje anchored in the sound unexpectedly. And the captain and the mate came ashore to deliver some boxes and barrels. At first everyone thought the goods were for barter or for sale. But they were gifts from an anonymous friend.
Dina had no doubt about the sender’s identity and knew he sent gifts because he was not coming himself.
There was the finest rope for Anders and a solid wooden box filled with German books for Mother Karen. Oline received an elegant French lace collar. A leather roll with Dina’s name on it contained music for cello and piano. Russian folk songs and Beethoven.
Dina locked herself in her room and left the Russian guests to Mother Karen and Anders.
The Russians liked Reinsnes and decided to stay a few days. The mate spoke some Norwegian and entertained everyone with stories and questions.
He knew what was happening in politics and trade in the north and east. Russia and England were at odds. Because of Turkey, wasn’t it? In fact, those Turks had caused unrest for a long time. But he could not explain why.
Anders had heard that the Russian czar had been autocratic toward Turkey.
“You can’t just come and do whatever you please, even if you’re the czar,” he said.
The second evening, Dina ate with them. She played a couple of the new pieces on the piano. The rafters reverberated with the Russians’ singing. And the punsj sold well.
The mate had a handsome bearded face with lively eyes. He was past his youth but still a vigorous man. His unusually large ears thrust out of his magnificent hair and beard with surprising stubbornness. He handled drinking glasses and silverware as if they were doll dishes.
It became a lively party. Cigar smoke lay thick in the parlor long after Mother Karen had said good night.
Sea gulls shrieked to them through the open windows. And light rested like a feather on the rough homespun clothing. Revealed the sailors’ tanned skin, played with Stine’s dark eyes and golden cheeks. Leaped over Dina’s hands as they moved across the keys. And caressed the gold wedding band from Jacob that she wore on her left ring finger.
Stine’s eider ducks cocked their heads and listened to the voices and the clinking glasses with glistening eyes and quivering, downy breasts. It was May, and the southern sky was newborn.
Dina tried to ask the Russians where they had taken aboard the gifts from Leo. But none of them could understand her questions. She tried time after time.
Finally, the mate said the gifts were taken aboard in Hammerfest. From a lodje that was headed east. None of the Russians could say who had sent the gifts. But they had been given precise information about where to unload the merchandise. And were told they would receive royal hospitality!
The new store manager at Reinsnes nodded eagerly. He was a lean, thin-haired man of thirty. Slightly hunchbacked, with eyes that looked in two directions at once. He wore a monocle and a watch chain without a watch. Now, after a fine dinner and three glasses of punsj, he showed a side of himself they had never seen. He laughed!
And before they knew it, he began to tell a story about a merchant from Bremen who noted that many sailors on Russian lodjes had simple crucifixes made of rough, stained wood and pictures of Christ on chased tin gilded with brass.
The next year he filled his merchandise crates with similar crucifixes and pictures, expecting a good business. But the Russians did not want these wares. When he asked why, he learned it was because Christ’s head hung to the left and he was as beardless as a child. The Russians wanted nothing to do with this blasphemous Christ! They did not think he could be much help to a Russian sailor.
However, the merchant was not without recourse. He immediately turned to the Nordlanders, who thought they got a wonderful bargain when they bought the crucifixes for half price. Good Lutherans that they were, they did not need a Christ with a beard. And soon this version was found in all the houses along the shipping lane.
Everyone laughed heartily. And Anders said he thought he had seen such crucifixes in places where he had been. So the story might well b
e true.
The Russian captain’s experience in doing business with Nord. landers had been different. Beard or no beard.
They drank toasts to cooperative trade and hospitality. Later they drank toasts to the barley from Kola, which was of unusually high quality and ripened faster than barley from other regions.
Eventually the party moved outside to see the midnight sun. It was already clinging to the bluff where Jacob had disappeared.
Dina turned to the mate who spoke some Norwegian and tried once more to question him about Leo.
But he shook his head regretfully.
She kicked a stone in passing, smoothed her skirt with an irritated gesture, and asked him to greet Leo and say they expected him before Christmas. If he did not come, he could forget about sending gifts.
The mate stopped short and took her hand.
“Patience, Dina of Reinsnes. Patience!”
Dina said good night immediately afterward. Then she went to the stable and untied Blackie. The horse was disgruntled.
She found a piece of rope and tied up her skirt, swung onto the horse’s back, and trotted into the birch grove. She gave the horse a kick with her pointed boot. Blackie stretched his neck and whinnied. Then the spring wind caught his mane. They flew.
* * *
Standing on the rocks by the boat landing, the sailors stared after the mistress of Reinsnes.
“She’s more Russian than our own women,” said the mate, stroking his beard,
“She’s a little too masculine,” the captain observed. “She smokes cigars and sits like a man!”
“But she has beautiful pink fingernails,” said the second mate, with a loud belch.
Then they got into a boat and rowed toward the heavy lodje that floated proudly in the dead-calm sea.
Dina's Book Page 33