Dina's Book

by Herbjorg Wassmo

  The chief magistrate cleared his throat and glanced at his papers. Then he nodded.

  “Who is this Pushkin?”

  “He wrote the poetry, Your Honor. He wrote the book!”

  “Yes, of course. Leo Zjukovski could not convincingly explain where he came from or where he was going. Do you have any idea?”

  She considered the question carefully. Then shook her head.

  “Was the suspect at Reinsnes just before he went to Trondheim?”

  “No. The last time he was a guest at Reinsnes was the spring of 1854.”

  “This … this poetry book has been at the asylum all that time.”

  “Your Honor must ask the asylum director about that. But one thing is certain. Someone broke Dina Gronelv’s seal on a private package.”

  “Hmm …”

  “Isn’t that illegal, Your Honor?”

  “That depends upon …” ‘

  “But, Your Honor! Before they broke my wax seal, they didn’t know what was in the package. So surely it was against the law to break into another person’s property?”

  “1 can’t answer that, in this case.”

  “And the letter? Where’s the letter?”

  “Letter?” asked the chief magistrate with interest.

  “There was a letter in the package. To Leo Zjukovski. From me,”

  “I’m the one asking the questions. You are just to answer them.”

  “Very well, Your Honor.”

  “1 haven’t heard about any letter. I’ll start a search for it. What did it say?”

  “It was private.”

  “But this is … a court hearing.”

  “It said: ‘When Mohammed won’t come to the mountain, the mountain comes to Mohammed.’ And: ‘Barabbas must come to Reinsnes if he’s going to escape the cross again.’ “

  “What does that mean? Is it a code?”

  “If so, it has little to do with the Swedish king.”

  “You must remember that you’re talking about the king of Norway and Sweden!”

  “Of course.”

  “What do those words mean?”

  “It’s a reminder that we’re still as hospitable as ever at Reinsnes.”

  “Was that all that was written?”

  “Yes. And then my signature.”

  “Did you and this Leo Zjukovski have any … any friendship beyond normal hospitality?”

  Dina looked at the magistrate.

  “Will you please explain what you mean?”

  “I mean, was it usual for you to exchange letters and codes?”

  “No.”

  “I’ve heard that you’ve traveled quite a bit the past two summers. Both north and south. Have you met Leo Zjukovski on your travels?”

  Dina did not answer immediately. Over in the corner, the sheriff stretched his neck. He did not feel well

  “No!” she said firmly.

  “Do you believe this man is innocent of the alleged actions for which he was arrested?”

  “I don’t know why he was arrested.”

  “For having in his possession a suspicious book in Russian which experts have carefully examined and have deciphered. The codes show a hostile attitude toward the king and toward highly respected citizens and insinuate that the king and those citizens have plotted to draw the Nordic lands into the Crimean War.”

  “On which side?’”

  “That is irrelevant to this case/’ said the judge, somewhat disconcerted. “But Napoleon III is our ally. Please just answer, and don’t ask questions.”

  “We’ve been involved in the war a long time here in the north. Your Honor can arrest me as well for the coded messages which Leo Zjukovski is accused of carrying.”

  “What do you mean by ‘involved” in the war?”

  “We’ve sailed to Archangel and bought grain, to keep from starving to death. As far as I know, the king hasn’t bothered to ask how we’re faring. And now he wants to drag us into a war that, judging from its name, they should be fighting elsewhere — not by bombarding Russians on the Finnish coast.”

  “Please, keep to the matter at hand!”

  “Yes, Your Honor. As soon as I understand what the matter at hand is.”

  “Dina Gronelv, you testify that you participated in creating the codes?”

  “It was an enjoyable way to learn Russian words.”

  “What do these … these codes say?”

  “Your Honor read it at the beginning of this hearing, but I don’t remember it word for word. We’ve talked about many things since then. And much water has flowed into the sea since Leo Zjukovski was at Reinsnes and taught me Russian.”

  “You’re not very cooperative.”

  “I think it’s crazy to arrest a man because he made fun of the Swedish king, while you don’t lift a finger to reprimand those who broke Dina Gronelv’s seal! And nobody will win the Crimean War! Except those who earn money from it.”

  Finally, the magistrate decided to end the hearing. The court proceedings were read. She accepted them. And everything was over.

  “Am I charged with anything?” she asked.

  “No,” replied the judge. He was obviously tired.

  “How will this hearing affect the charges against Leo Zjukovski?”

  “It’s hard to know. But your testimony weakens the code accusation, that much I can say.”

  “Good!”

  “You sympathize with this Russian?”

  “I don’t like it when my guests get arrested because they try to be friendly and teach me Russian words. I won’t deny that.”

  The chief magistrate, the sheriff, and Dina parted in a spirit of complete understanding.

  The sheriff was content. He felt as if he had personally put everything in order! Persuaded first one person and then another. Come with firsthand information to both the bailiff and Dina. So the hearing could occur promptly and properly.

  Today Dina was his daughter.

  A rainbow curved over Reinsnes when Dina arrived from Ibestad. As the faering boat gradually drew nearer, one building after another slipped away and became shrouded in mist.

  One end of the rainbow’s arc was fastened to the cottage roof, the other was hidden in the sound.

  She peered toward land. Today she was sailing alone.

  Dina stood at her bedroom window, watching Stine and Tomas walk across the courtyard. Close together. It was late in April.

  Nobody walked like that when people could see. Nobody!

  They stopped by the dovecote. Turned their faces toward each other and smiled. Stine said something that Dina could not hear from the window. Then Tomas threw back his head and laughed.

  Had anyone ever heard Tomas laugh?

  He put his arm around Stine’s waist. Then they strolled across the courtyard and into the cottage.

  The woman behind the curtain drew a breath between her teeth. With a sharp hiss.

  Then she turned away. Tramped across the room. To the stove, to the cello, back to the window.

  The room grew darker and darker.

  The newspapers carried articles about the Paris peace agreement. Russia licked its wounds without much honor. England licked its wounds without much triumph. And Sweden-Norway did not free the Finns. Indeed, Napoleon III was the only true victor.

  One day Dina read in the newspaper that Julie Müller had died. She sent condolences to Mr. Müller. And received a long, sorrowful letter in which he said he wanted to sell everything he owned, including the horse, and emigrate to America.

  Dina went to the flag knoll. Meanwhile, summer brought its blessings to Nord land.

  Chapter 20

  Then deep from the earth you shall speak,

  from low in the dust your word shall come;

  your voice shall come from the ground like the voice of a ghost,

  and your speech shall whisper out of the dust.

  — Isaiah 29 : 4

  Blackie had a sore on his belly that would not heal. No one knew what caused it
. The animal stood in the stable and seemed to be gnawing itself to pieces.

  All Tomas” s efforts to prevent the horse from tearing open the wound again with its stubborn yellow teeth did little good.

  No one except Dina could get near the afflicted animal It was obviously in pain, because the sore was infected. She put a basket over Blackie’s muzzle. And each time it wanted to drink or eat, she stood there to make sure it did not tear the sore.

  They heard the wild, furious whinnying night and day. And the pounding hooves in the stable made both people and animals uneasy.

  Stine cooked salves to put on the sore. And Oline brought her porridge poultices.

  But after a week, the horse lay down on the stable floor and refused to get up. It spit mucus over Dina when she approached, and bared its teeth to one and all.

  The hoof nearest the sore lay under the animal. Its eyes were bloodshot.

  Hanna and Benjamin were forbidden to go into the stable.

  I am Dina. Human beings are so pitifully helpless. Nature is indifferent. Squanders all life. Never takes responsibility. Lets everything settle like slime on the surface. How can new life bear to begin in this mire? Slime begets slime endlessly, but nothing meaningful happens or is created. If only one person had raised himself from the mire and done something with his life! Just one …

  The numbers and the notes are not subject to the mire. Are independent of human knowledge. The numbers have a law, wen if nobody writes it down. The notes will always be there. Whether or not we hear them.

  But nature is slime. The rowan tree. The horse. Human beings. Risen from slime. To slime they shall return again. Everything has its day. Then it drowns in the mire.

  I am Dina who is alone with an iron sledgehammer and a knife. And the horse. Do I know where to strike? Yes! Because I must, I am Dina who talks to Blackie. I am Dina who holds him around the neck. Who looks into his wild eyes. For a long time. I am Dina, who strikes. Deeply.

  I am the woman who sits here in all this warm redness and receives the horse. Who sees its eyes slowly become glass and fog.

  Tomas went to the stable to check on the horse, because everything got so quiet.

  From a distance in the dim light, it appeared as if Dina had fresh, rain-wet rose petals strewn over her face and clothing. She sat on the floor holding the horse’s head. Its large black body lay peacefully, the strong slim legs and hooves stretched out two by two.

  The blood had gushed out in powerful spurts. Far up the wall and across the yellow hay on the floor.

  “My God!” groaned Tomas. Then he took off his hat and sat with her.

  She did not seem to realize he was there. Nonetheless, he stayed. Until the last trickling drops stiffened in the deep knife wound.

  Then, slowly, she pulled herself free, placed the horse’s head on the floor, and covered its eyes with its mane. She stood up then and brushed her hand across her forehead. Like a sleepwalker who awakens while still wandering.

  Tomas got up too.

  Dina gestured to him to keep his distance. Then she walked across the floor and outside,-without shutting the door behind her. The sound of her iron cleats on the straw-covered floor echoed gently through the stable.

  Then came the silence.

  The sledgehammer and the knife were returned to their places. The stable was cleaned. The bloody working clothes were placed in the river, under a large rock. For the current carried every loose object to the sea.

  * * *

  Dina went to the washhouse and built a fire under the huge kettle. Sat on a stool close to the stove until the water was hot enough and steam began to rise toward the ceiling.

  Then she crossed the room and bolted the door. Fetched the large metal washtub hanging on the wall and filled it. She took off her clothes slowly. As if performing a ritual.

  She folded each piece of clothing to hide the bloodstains. As if she wanted to remove them by not having to look at them. Finally, she stepped naked into the steaming water.

  The howl began somewhere outside her. Prepared itself in her throat. Broke loose and shattered everything around her. Until Hjer-trud came and gathered up the pieces.

  Chapter 21

  I come to my garden, my sister, my bride,

  I gather my myrrh with my spice,

  I eat my honeycomb with my honey,

  I drink my wine with my milk.

  Eat, O friends, and drink:

  drink deeply, O lovers!

  — The Song of Solomon 5 : 1

  The day Dina was away in Kv^fjord, looking at a horse that had been recommended to her, Leo Zjukovski arrived with a small boat that chanced to sail from Strandsted. He did not have much baggage; just his sailor’s sack and a travel bag. Peter the store manager, who had just closed for the night, met the stranger on the wharf.

  When he realized this was not a late customer but an overnight guest, he told him to go to the main house.

  Leo stood for a moment, looking at the rowan trees that lined the road to the house. Their branches teemed with crimson berries. But the wind had already taken all their leaves.

  Then he walked between the rows of trees. Their leafless crowns sang softly. He paused at the front steps. And apparently changed his mind. Turned and walked around the house and in the back entryway. After tossing his sack and travel bag on the steps, he knocked. Soon he was inside the blue kitchen.

  Oline recognized the man with the scar. At first she was shy and formal, as if she had never received guests at Reinsnes. She invited him into the parlor, but he politely declined. He wanted to sit with her, if it would not be a bother.

  She stood for a moment with her hands hidden under her apron, but then she rushed over to him and thumped his chest.

  “Thank you for the gift! I haven’t gotten a present like that since I was a girl! Bless you….”

  She was so moved that she had to thump him even harden

  The gesture was unexpected, but he laughed and gave her a kiss on each cheek.

  Embarrassed, she turned and began stoking the stove.

  “To think you’d give me something so elegant as a lace collar!” she said. Perspiration sparkled on her face as she leaned over the wood hole in the stove.

  “Have you worn the collar?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes … but that’s not what matters. I don’t go many places, after all. And it’s not proper to go around looking so fancy here in the kitchen.”

  “But you do dress up, now and then?”

  “Yes,” she said. To put an end to the questions.

  “When did you last wear your collar?”

  “Christmas Eve.”

  “That’s a long time ago.”

  “Yes, but it’s nice to have something that’s not spoiled and worn out, you know.”

  He gave her a good-natured look behind her back. Then he began to ask how things were at Reinsnes.

  The maids poked their heads through the pantry door, one after another. Leo shook hands with them. Oline ordered them to prepare the largest guest room. Brief orders. Just the key words. Which showed that the maids knew what needed to be done. And the real goal was to get them out of the kitchen.

  Then she served coffee at the kitchen table. He went out to the steps to get his travel bag. And urged her to have some ram. Oline sat there glowing. Until he asked again how things were at Reinsnes.

  “Mother Karen is no longer with us…. Died,” said Oline, brushing her hand across her eyes.

  “When did that happen?”

  “Last-fall. After Dina returned from Troms0. Yes, she was in Troms0 to arrange to get flour from Archangel…. But of course Mr. Leo wouldn’t know that.”

  Oline told about Mother Karen’s death. And about Stine and Tomas, who were married and lived in the cottage and were expecting a little one.

  “It seems I always arrive after a death,” he murmured. “But that’s good news about Stine and Tomas…. Strange, I didn’t notice when I was here last. That something was brewing.” />
  Oline looked embarrassed. But then she said:

  “They didn’t know much about it either. Dina thought it was a good solution. So that’s what happened. And it seems to be a blessing for all of us. But not all women at Reinsnes are a blessing….”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The mistress. I shouldn’t say anything, I know. She’s too hard. On herself too. She’s got an iron knot somewhere. And she’s not very happy! You can tell that. But I shouldn’t say such things…”

  “That’s all right. I think I understand.”

  “She killed her horse herself!”

  “Why?”

  “He was sick. Had a sore under his belly that got infected. He was old too, of course. But that she could …”

  “She was fond of her horse?”

  “It appeared so. But that she killed him herself!”

  “Did she shoot it?”

  “No; she stabbed it. Huff, huff!”

  “But a horse wouldn’t allow that!”

  “Dina’s horse did.”

  Oline’s face suddenly became a wooden wall without a door or windows. She went to the stove to get the coffeepot and poured a cup for each of them.

  Then she told him that he had gotten thinner and paler.

  He smiled broadly and asked about the children.

  “Benjamin is with his mother, for once. She probably needs him more, now that the horse is dead.”

  “For once?”

  “Yes; that child hardly ever gets outside Reinsnes. Of course, many people come here. But a boy who’ll be responsible for as much as he will be should see more of the world!”

  “He’s still young, after all.” Leo smiled.

  “Yes, yes … And Stine’s going to have a little one in November. Then there’ll be three children in the cottage. But none in the main house. It’s not right that Benjamin isn’t being brought up according to his status. Mother Karen wouldn’t have liked it. She would have brought him back to the main house.”

  “Benjamin doesn’t live with his mother?” Leo asked.

  “No … he doesn’t want to, I guess.”

  Leo regarded the woman in the apron.