Dina's Book

by Herbjorg Wassmo

  And Niels grew limp and distant and disappeared.

  Whether or not Anders had heard the rumors, he did his work and seemed calm and untroubled.

  He suggested whom to approach about buying flour and gave Dina the names of people with whom she should not do business under any conditions. Bent over lists of merchandise and numbers with her. Brushed her hand, without noticing it.

  They discussed how much they could pay for Russian flour without having to charge exorbitant prices at their store to make a profit. And how large a stock they should keep on hand until spring shortages occurred.

  He ran his hand through his thick blond hair and nodded energetically now and then to emphasize his words. His eyes were clear and open. He looked as if he had just been to Communion and received forgiveness for all his sins.

  When they had finished, she brought a small glass of rum for each and asked bluntly if he had heard the rumors that were circulating.

  He smiled broadly.

  “I’ve heard that people in Strandsted and on the cotters’ farms are trying to marry off the bachelor at Reinsnes. But that’s nothing new.”

  “And what do you say to that?”

  “I make sure I don’t have to say anything.”

  “You’ll let it’hang to dry for a while?” she wondered.

  He looked at her in surprise. Then shut the ledger without a word.

  “Do you find such rumors amusing?” she asked a little later.

  “No,” he said at last. “But they’re not exactly sad either.”

  He gave her a teasing look. Then she gave up. They laughed. Clinked their rum glasses and laughed. But it was hard to erase the conversation.

  “ ‘Prince Gustav’ looks like a woman,” Benjamin declared savagely, and hooked his fingers around his suspenders, as he had seen Anders do.

  “That’s just a figurehead, not the real Prince Gustav,” explained Hanna, stretching her neck, curious as an ermine, to see everything that was happening.

  She tried to hold on to Benjamin, but he pulled himself free and ran to Dina, who stood on the pier, dressed for traveling.

  “ ‘Prince Gustav’ is a woman! Are you traveling with a woman?”’ he shouted at her furiously, and kicked a stone so it flew close to Stine’s head.

  Dina was silent.

  He did not give up, despite the fact that many people had come to say good-bye to her.

  “Are you going to come home like a crow this time too?” he hurled at her fiercely.

  “Hush now,” she said quietly, dangerously friendly.

  “The last time, you stayed in bed for weeks after you came home.”

  He was crying openly now.

  “That won’t happen this time.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because!”

  He threw himself against her and wept loudly.

  “You’re making a lot of noise!” she said firmly, and grasped the back of his neck.

  “Why are you going there?” he raged. “Mother Karen says it’s winter all year long. And nothing but seagull poop and uproar,” he added triumphantly.

  “Because I must go. And want to go.”

  “I don’t want you to!”

  “I hear that.”

  He pulled and tugged at her, cried and struggled, until she got into the rowboat and Tomas put the oars in the oarlocks and pushed away from shore.

  “That little fellow isn’t afraid to show his feelings,” she said to Tomas.

  “He wants his mother at home,” said Tomas, and looked away.

  “I guess that’s true.”

  Dina held her hat as he rowed against the wind and neared the steamboat with long, powerful strokes.

  “You’ll take care of everything?” she asked in a friendly tone. As if he were a distant acquaintance of whom she was forced to ask a favor.

  “I expect we’ll manage. But it’s hard when Anders is on a trip to Bergen and you’re away too. There are many people to oversee in the haying season and …”

  “You’ve managed before,” she said firmly.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m depending on you. Take good care of the horse,” she added suddenly. “Ride him a little now and then.”

  “He won’t let anyone except you ride him.”

  She did not reply.

  “Isn’t that Mother Karen sitting in the window?” she asked, and waved toward the main house.

  The spacious, smoke-spitting vessel had been named Prince Gustav after Crown Prince Oscar’s youngest son. Which was why the round-cheeked figurehead adorned the bow. Not very pretentious, but clearly visible. The prince’s name was painted on the paddle wheel. In neat letters, with a crown over them.

  The paddle wheel began churning. On the shore, caps and handkerchiefs were tossed into the air as if at a signal. Voices hummed on every side. Dina raised a white-gloved hand.

  Although there was scarcely a breath of wind, the big chokecherry in the garden swung back and forth.

  Benjamin sat there, howling. Howling and shaking the tree. He attacked and abused it. Tore off branches and trampled boughs. So she would see what he had done and feel sad about it.

  Dina smiled. A light breeze caressed the rippling sea. The steamboat was on its way north. Mother Karen had given her blessing. Would it help?

  She greeted the captain just before they came to Havnviken. Expected to meet the man with the enormous, grizzled sideburns whom people called Captain Lous.

  Instead she met a tall man who reminded her of a workhorse in his movements and appearance. His nose loomed bravely in a large, long face. His lips were a muzzle. Generous and constantly in motion, with a dark cleft between them like an old woman’s breasts. Two kindly round eyes were hidden behind bushy brows.

  He expressed his regrets in a refined manner when she asked to speak to the old captain. Clicked his heels and offered her a slender, well-formed hand, which bore no resemblance to the rest of the man.

  “My name is David Christian Lysholm,” he said, as his blue glance swept over her from head to foot.

  He showed her around the ship as if he owned it. And praised Nord land as though it were her private property, where he was a guest.

  Times had not changed here in the north. The gentry could still travel in a manner befitting their status. That was certainly not possible on the miserable roads farther south, he said.

  He stroked the highly polished brass railings and nodded at his own statements. Then asked if he would be permitted to smoke a pipe in madam’s presence.

  Of course he would, Dina said. She enjoyed smoking a pipe herself. He smiled like a new moon and seemed lost for words. Dina did not go to get her pipe from the cabin. There was no need to make a spectacle of herself.

  They were still standing inside the brass railing that separated first class from the “other travelers.”

  People are given space according to their status, not according to their pocketbooks, the captain said. And took her arm as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

  In Havnviken they were met by several small boats filled with young people.

  The captain stood at attention to welcome the only new passenger. The bailiff. He came aboard with his pigskin portfolio and an air of great authority.

  They greeted each other as old acquaintances, and the captain introduced Dina.

  Meanwhile, the postmaster stood by the ladder, talking with a local tradesman about two letters that did not bear tjie proper stamps. He insisted on four skillings postage.

  Then the ship’s bell rang for the third time, and the paddle wheel began churning. They glided through salt water. People ashore were like ants. Mountains drifted past.

  The travelers stared at one another surreptitiously. Some with a self-contained expression, others curious or seeking. All had some reason for being on the move.

  “What brings the bailiff north?” the captain wanted to know.

  Evidently the Russians had pushed across the border b
etween Norway and Russian Lapland in two or three places. Settlers there in the north complained that the foreigners had usurped Norwegian territory. And had even insisted the land belonged to Russia! Now the invaders had come as far as Tana. And local efforts to make them leave were unsuccessful. So the bailiff was on his way north.

  “Are the Russians violent or peaceful?” Dina asked.

  “They’re as pesky as horseflies — that’s what they are!” said the bailiff.

  The postmaster chewed thoughtfully on his mustache and pushed his cap farther back on his forehead. He had heard that the Russians acted as if the northern region of Finnmark belonged to the czar and that many Finnmarkers wished it were true. For the government in Christiania did not look good in the matter. The shrewd Russian diplomats arranged everything. And the government officials never bothered to lift a finger. They did not know anything either. Had never been to Finnmark to see conditions there.

  The postmaster bowed three times to the bailiff as he spoke. As if he realized that he did not know for certain where the bailiff’s sympathies lay, with the government or with the Finnmarkers. It was just as well to act courteous, even if you said what you believed.

  The captain was embarrassed. But the bailiff was not. He looked at the postmaster good-naturedly and said:

  “This is a long country. It’s hard to keep a close eye on everything. People in the north, especially Finnmark, are dependent on a good relationship with Russia. It’s their source of important products, such as grain and rope. But of course, there’s a limit to everything. We can’t allow our country to be invaded.”

  The bailiff turned to Dina and asked how things were in her district. And about the health of her father, the sheriff.

  Dina replied briefly.

  “The sheriff has never been sick a day in his life, except that sometimes his heart gets out of rhythm. This spring was a nightmare of snow and food shortages. But it’s over now.”

  The bailiff seemed to be enjoying himself. His brow wrinkled attractively, and he asked her to give his greetings to the sheriff if she saw him before he did.

  “What happened to the pirates who plundered Raft Sound a while ago?” asked Dina.

  “The case is going to court in the fall. But they’re already sitting in chains in Trondheim.”

  “Is it true that two women were involved?” she wanted to know.

  “Yes, there were two women in the band. Gypsies, I’m sure.”

  “How do you transfer such dangerous prisoners to Trondheim?”

  “It takes husky fellows. And we keep the prisoners in irons,” he said, seeming surprised at her question.

  Dina said no more, and the men began their usual talk about the weather.

  Aside from the serving girls and two young sisters traveling in third class, Dina was the only woman aboard.

  She withdrew to the women’s cabin in first class, which she had to herself for now. Opened her travel bag and carefully chose a dress and jewelry. She even pinned up her hair and wore a corset. But she did not wear a hat. She twirled around and nodded with satisfaction.

  It should be possible to get eastbound transportation with the bailiff! She regarded the evening ahead as a chess game.

  There were two coastal pilots on board. But only one was sober. That was enough, the captain said good-naturedly. The other lay snoring in a bunk. With one pilot on the bridge and another belowdecks, the trip would go safely.

  A bewildering array of languages was spoken. German, English, and Danish, in addition to Norwegian.

  The third-class passengers had gathered around the black smokestack. They sat on boxes and chests. Some dozed in the fine weather. Others had taken out their picnic boxes and were calmly eating food they had brought with them.

  Soot from the smokestack slowly settled on them, but they paid no attention. One of the girls sat demurely knitting with brown yarn. A tangle of red hair escaped from her kerchief onto her forehead.

  Her sister guarded a box of potted plants, which had been taken aboard with much shrieking and commotion. Carnations and geraniums. The flowers protruding over the edge of the box looked amazingly sturdy. Virulent green, with red clusters of flowers. They transformed third class into a hidden windowsill.

  Dina stood on the bridge, watching for a while. Then she went to the dining room, where a table was set. Fish was served for the evening meal. Platters of salmon and herring. Ham, cheese, bread and butter. Coffee, tea, and beer.

  A large bottle of brandy stood in the middle of the table. They did not drink such things at Reinsnes. Dina had been served brandy in Bergen. It was too sweet for her taste.

  Three servants slipped back and forth, filling platters and exchanging full bottles for empty ones.

  Dina hesitated in the doorway, exactly long enough. The captain rose and invited her to the table.

  She allowed him to escort her. Half a head taller than most of the men. They stood rigidly at attention and remained standing until she was seated.

  She took her time. Jacob was there, whispering in her ear how to behave. She offered them her hand, one after another, and looked each man in the eye.

  A Dane, with far too much flesh on his face, introduced himself with a count’s title and did not want to release her hand. It was clear that he had already helped himself from the bottles on the table.

  His fur coat lay on the chair beside him, and he had servants with him.

  Dina observed that such bulky clothing must be warm at this time of year.

  But the Dane said that voyages so far north could run into all sorts of weather. In an impressively short time, he managed to inform her that he was a doctor of philosophy and a member of the Copenhagen Literary Society. He thought the people in Nord land were friendly and not as commonplace as he had feared. But there were few with whom one could speak English.

  He gestured eagerly, so they could see all his rings.

  Dina furrowed her brow like a newly plowed potato field, but this had no effect on the man holding her hand so tightly.

  She finally escaped. Because an older man offered his hand and bowed. His face was the color of a young boy’s who had played outside in the cold all day.

  He was short and stocky and spoke German. Nodding toward a sketch pad on the chair beside him, he introduced himself as a chamberlain and painter. For the rest of the evening he kept an eye in Dinars direction, no matter to whom he was speaking. It turned him into a cross-eyed merchant from Hamburg. But he proved to be quite talented in various ways.

  Another guest at the table was a British salmon fisherman. Who was actually a real estate agent. He claimed he traveled extensively.

  Dina said she understood that the British traveled a great deal. One often encountered them along the shipping channels.

  The captain acted as interpreter. The real estate agent chuckled and nodded. He had sat with a crooked smile while the other men flirted with Dina according to all the rules of the art. Now the meal could begin.

  I am Dina. I feel the folds of my clothing. All the seams. All the hollow spaces in my body. Feel the strength of my bones and the suppleness of my skin. I feel the length of each hair on my head. It is such a long time since I could float away from Reinsnes! I draw the sea close to me. I carry Hjertrud through wind and burning coals.

  During the meal, the men addressed most of their comments to Dina. The conversation was a complicated mixture of languages. But they all did their best to follow it.

  The Danish count soon dropped out of the conversation. Simply because he fell asleep. The bailiff asked Dina if he should have the gentleman removed from the dinner table.

  “A sleeping man rarely gets into mischief,” she replied.

  The men were clearly relieved that the lady was so tolerant about such matters. And the conversation continued to flow easily.

  The captain began talking about Troms0. It was a lively city and offered something for everyone’s taste. The best place along the shipping lane, in his opin
ion.

  “You really should visit Mr. Hoist, the British vice consul,” he recommended. “The man is not without resources. He owns the valley across the sound…”

  Everyone listened attentively to hear whom it might be worthwhile to visit in Troms0.

  “Some of the merchants subscribe to British newspapers,” the captain continued, turning to the real estate agent from England.

  “And Ludwigsen’s hotel is not uncomfortable. Not at all. It has a billiard room!” he added, with a nod toward the others, who could not expect to visit the British vice consul’s home.

  “Ludwigsen is a captain too, and speaks English,” he said, again directing his comment to the Englishman.

  The others listened politely at first but then began to talk among themselves in low voices.

  They gently nudged the Dane’s arm to awaken him. He looked around, embarrassed, and excused himself, saying he had been on deck very early that morning. Because the midnight sun had awakened him.

  Dina suggested that perhaps it was the early-morning sun. But the Dane gravely insisted it had been the most beautiful midnight sun. At four in the morning5 and the world had been incredible, with a calm shining sea and islands reflected in the waten Skäl!

  They all raised their glasses and nodded.

  I am Dina. Tonight I have them in my bed. All at the same time, Leo is closest. But Tomas steals under my arm and pushes the others away. I lie with my thighs spread and my arms straight out from my body. I do not touch them. They are made of spindles and ashes.

  Jacob is so moist that I start to shiver. Anders lies in a tuft of wool, warming himself in my hair. He does not move. Still, I feel his firm hips pressing against my ear.

  Johan has turned his back to me but keeps edging closer. In the end, we have skin and arms in common. He hides his head against Leo and refuses to look at me.

  While the others lie with me, Anders is a bird nesting in my hair. His breath is a soft whisper.