She sat up. The sheep’s body had nearly disappeared. It was such a pretty sheep, dark brown with a still darker head and legs. She had scratched it on the neck and chest many times, and she knew that its wool was of the finest and softest sort.
“Oh no, little sheep,” she lamented.
Now that dark head, raised high on its neck, was the only part of the sheep that could be seen. Its pupils were narrow and sharp, as if they had been cut with a knife. Its yellow eyes were staring blindly to every side, as the sheep bleated one last time before it disappeared into the bottomless swamp.
“Oh no,” lamented the Crow-Girl again.
She had placed her hands over her face and sat rocking back and forth in an attempt to withstand the pain. All the time she saw before her the sheep’s last, wild look. And each time she moaned at the sight.
“Oh no.”
Glennie, though ordered to wait beyond the bog, had cautiously made her way out to the girl.
Now the dog sat down beside her and whined softly. But the Crow-Girl did not hear it. Glennie pressed her nose in under the girl’s arm, but she just continued sitting and rocking with her hands before her face. Then the dog put her head back and howled like a wolf up at the rain-heavy clouds.
* * *
It was Rossan who found them. When it had begun to turn dark and they had not returned, he went out to search for them. It was Glennie’s howling that had led him to them.
He got hold of the Crow-Girl and lifted her up to take her home. She was so wet that water was pouring off her, and the front of Rossan’s body became soaked from his holding her.
“It drowned, my sheep drowned,” she sobbed.
“There, there,” said Rossan. “That can happen. It happens to all shepherds. It’s happened to me as well.”
“My sheep,” cried the Crow-Girl.
“There, there. We’ll find another one for you. There are lots of sheep.”
But it was as if his words did not get through to the Crow-Girl—as if she had enclosed herself in a shell where he could not reach her or console her.
And before long he did not even have the breath to talk but had to use all his strength to carry her home.
* * *
Back at the house Foula undressed her, rubbed her dry and warm, and put her to bed.
“Now she should just have a good night’s sleep,” she said, and tucked the sheepskins carefully around her.
The Crow-Girl’s teeth were chattering. Eidi sat down beside her and held her hand. At first it was icy cold, but it soon became burning hot. The Crow-Girl was running a fever.
Eidi called her mother, and Foula came over to feel the Crow-Girl’s forehead.
“She’s very warm,” she said, removing the skins and covering her with a thin blanket. “Get a mug of water,” she said to Eidi.
But the Crow-Girl could not be persuaded to drink. It was as if she neither saw nor heard anything, as if she were somewhere else entirely.
“Eidi,” said Foula, “sleep in the settle with Doup tonight. I’ll stay here.”
“Is she very sick?” asked Eidi.
Foula shrugged her shoulders, but Eidi could see how worried her mother was. And in the middle of the night when Eidi awoke, because Doup had happened to kick her, she saw that Foula was sitting on the bed with the Crow-Girl’s head in her lap and that Rossan was sitting on a chair at the end of the table, knitting his stocking and watching over them. Then she fell asleep again.
* * *
The next day Foula and Rossan took turns getting some sleep, and at night they both kept vigil again.
Foula spent a lot of time trying to get the Crow-Girl to drink. Then she came up with the idea of pouring water in a bottle, tying a piece of leather over the opening, and poking a hole in it. She stuck the bottle in the Crow-Girl’s mouth, and the water trickled slowly out so the girl could swallow it in small amounts.
But Eidi noticed that even if Foula was happy to have gotten the Crow-Girl to drink, she still had, right above the bridge of her nose, those two vertical lines that showed how anxious she was.
* * *
The Crow-Girl still hadn’t spoken. She only moaned weakly once in a while.
She let out a groan each time a sheep drowned before her mind’s eye. Black-and-brown, gray-and-white sheep were slowly swallowed up by a spongy, yellowish brown bog. At first there were just as many sheep as in Rossan’s flock, then double that number; then double again—as if all the sheep in the whole world were destined to drown right before her eyes. And she felt her body as a great aching that was perpetuated by the death of each sheep.
After a while the sheep became smaller and smaller, and finally little lambs were drowning, as, beside themselves with terror, they called to the mothers from whom they had strayed.
“No!” she screamed, and she thought she sounded like a crow screeching out across the winter-wet heath.
Then she felt that she had taken off and had begun flying away from the bog, out across the sea. She had a dizzying fear of falling and knew that if she gave in to it she would be doomed. So she kept herself afloat and discovered that the sea was not just beneath her but also above her and on all sides, as if she were contained within it.
And within the sea, in that void with water on all sides, a well-known voice said, “My chick, I am right here.”
The void itself seemed to speak, and the voice was her grandmother’s.
“Oh, Grandmother,” called the Crow-Girl, “let me die. Won’t you, please? I can’t stand it anymore.”
“My chick,” came the voice again, and this time the sound of it gently stroked her brow, and the touch calmed her. “You are far too young to die. Come, I’ll take you back now.”
And it was as if a pair of great, gentle hands carried her and carefully laid her on the bed, with her head on Foula’s lap.
A cool hand stroked her forehead, and a voice softly hummed a slow melody, which wafted through the air like a thread of the finest silky-soft wool.
12
Slowly the Crow-Girl got better. She lay in bed while Foula spun and Eidi carded. The sound of the spinning wheel and the combing cards and the crackling fire consoled her, and Doup’s persistent attempts to pull her up from bed even made her smile.
“Mine Cwo,” he coaxed, “come see little puppy.”
“I can see her quite well from here,” she said, and looked over at Glennie’s black head sticking up from the dog’s basket.
Then it dawned on her that there was something not quite right about it. “Hey,” she said, “why is Glennie here when Rossan is out with the sheep?”
Foula smiled as she continued to spin. “Doup is right. Glennie had two pups while you were sick.”
“May I see them?” begged the Crow-Girl.
“If she’ll let me,” said Foula, and went over to the basket.
Glennie whined uneasily when Foula picked up one of the pups, but she let her do it.
Foula carried the tiny pup over to the Crow-Girl, who took it and held it for a moment in her hands. The creature was no larger than her palm. Then Foula carried it back again.
The Crow-Girl looked longingly after it.
“Would you like us to put the basket over by your bed?” asked Foula.
The Crow-Girl nodded.
And so Eidi and Foula carried the basket over to the bed, while Glennie followed, whining.
* * *
Each morning when the Crow-Girl awoke, the first thing she did was to look down into the basket at Glennie and the pups.
She would sit in bed for long periods of time holding Doup on her lap, talking about and watching the two “little puppy,” as he called them. But even though she seemed happier, she was still so tired that she had to join Doup in taking an afternoon nap.
Eidi and Foula worked diligently, and bundles of brown, white, gray, and black yarn piled up in a basket in the corner.
One day, Rossan announced that he would go to the market in the nearest town a
nd sell what had already been spun—if Eidi would look after the sheep a couple of times a day. She was happy to do so. Then he asked the Crow-Girl if he might borrow the horse so he could transport all the yarn. She said yes on Doup’s behalf, for she considered the horse to be his.
Rossan set off, and Foula and Eidi continued spinning and carding. The Crow-Girl lay watching them.
Illness had left its mark on her face. Her eyes were deeply sunken in their sockets, and her cheekbones prominent beneath her pale skin. Her nose stuck out below her dull hair like a curved beak. Only her eyes shone; large and dark blue, they looked at the world as if they were discovering it for the first time.
The sun came in through the windows, dividing the room into strips of light and shadow. Eidi sat in a band of light holding one of the combing cards on her thigh and the other in her hand, and between those two cards she worked the wool into the long, narrow wisps that Foula spun the yarn from.
The only hint in Eidi’s face of the blows she had received from her stepfather was a white scar in one light-brown eyebrow. Her thin, bruised face was now round and smooth, and her hair hung down her back in a red-gold braid that ended in a large curl right above her waist. Foula had combined light-brown and dark-brown yarn in the braid, and Eidi had found a red-brown feather and stuck it in at the bottom.
Foula sat in the shadow between the two windows. She no longer limped, and the sad, tired expression had left her face. She seemed quite calm and satisfied as she sat by the spinning wheel—as though she was sitting someplace she wanted to be.
Her hair was a little lighter and a little less golden than Eidi’s, owing to its scattering of gray. But it was still thick, and it curled up in locks that had fallen down from the heavy bun atop her head.
The Crow-Girl looked down at herself and sighed.
“What is it?” asked Foula gently, without raising her eyes from her work.
“It’s my hair,” said the Crow-Girl.
Foula looked over at her. Her dark hair was tangled and bristled out on all sides.
“Shall I braid it for you?”
The Crow-Girl nodded.
Foula sat down on the bed and brushed the girl’s hair, dividing it into two braids and tying the ends with white bows made of yarn. When she was done, the girl’s hair was just as dark and smooth as it had been before she took ill.
Foula went back to the spinning wheel, and the Crow-Girl laid her head down on the pillow and closed her eyes.
At first, everything was black behind her eyelids. Then some small shining dots came dancing out of the dark, and suddenly an image clearly appeared to her of the little white house by the cove. She felt a tug of longing for it and the sea, for the grass and the brook. Then the picture disappeared once more, and darkness returned.
* * *
She awoke to the sound of Foula’s voice.
“I wonder whether we shouldn’t ask Rossan if we might stay here,” she said to Eidi.
The Crow-Girl felt her breast aching at the words, and she happened to cough. Eidi looked over at her, frightened.
The Crow-Girl turned onto her side with her back to them. She felt that she had to get back to the cove whether Foula and Eidi came along or not, but the thought of doing it alone with Doup made her desperate.
“Oh, but no, Mother,” said Eidi. “Why should we do that? We promised Crow-Girl we’d go with her.”
“Yes, but we are doing well here, and we can be of some use. Rossan, after all, needs somebody who can help him with the wool, and Crow-Girl can help him with the sheep. And look at Doup; see how much he has grown since we came here. His cheeks are round now. Can you remember how little and thin he was when we first saw him? With snot running out of his nose all the time?”
The Crow-Girl knew that she was right. Now Doup got milk from Rossan’s cow every day and all the food he could stuff himself with. Maybe she should let him stay here. But the mere thought of leaving him and being completely alone again caused tears to trickle slowly from her eyes.
“Well,” said Foula, “it’s not anything we can decide now. We have to talk to Rossan about it first.”
Then she leaned over the spinning wheel and started it whirling, and shortly after, the Crow-Girl heard Eidi busying herself with the combing cards. But there was no consolation in those familiar sounds. Feeling heavy and tired, she lay under the hides and let her tears run freely down the pillow.
* * *
Rossan returned a couple of days later. He brought a wine-red silk ribbon for Eidi and a sky-blue one for the Crow-Girl, and for Foula he had various kinds of herb seeds. Doup received a music box. And Rossan had sugar and tea and a tin of tobacco for himself. He had managed to sell all the yarn, and people had praised its fine quality.
He talked about his trip at supper. He said that Foula’s husband had been at the market and had gone around to customers asking about her and Eidi.
“He also came over to me,” said Rossan, “for he had heard that I had people living here. But I said that it was two orphans whom I had met one evening when I was on my way home.
“I don’t know if he believed me. He stood there staring at the yarn. Then he said, ‘Those children are truly good at spinning.’ And I answered that the girl was big enough to be able to spin, but the boy was not yet big enough to be able to speak clearly. And, after all, that’s not completely wrong,” he said. Then he smiled at the Crow-Girl. “It’s not good to have to lie, but it’s good to be able to.”
Rossan ate a few mouthfuls of soup, then looked at Foula and said, “Nevertheless I have the feeling that he could show up here. But it is also about the time when all of you wanted to be taking off anyway. And at Crow-Girl’s cove you’ll not be disturbed. I can scarcely believe that there is anyone who remembers the place anymore.”
Foula opened her mouth as if she were about to say something but then closed it again.
Rossan leaned back in his chair, rubbing his paunch. Then he put his hands behind his head and looked around at the little flock. “It’s been cozy having all of you living here. I think I’ll miss you, but I’m an old hermit, you know. And one has to wonder if that’s not what suits me best!”
13
A couple of days later Rossan took them out to the sheep, so they could each choose one.
“Foula, you’re first,” he said, “for you’re the oldest.”
Foula stood for a good bit of time looking at the flock. Then she chose a large light-gray sheep, which, by the way it bulged out on both sides, was obviously carrying a lamb in its belly.
Rossan nodded his approval. “She’s a good choice, has fine wool, and always has twins.”
“Baaa,” bleated Doup at the flock from up in his basket on the horse’s back.
Then it was the Crow-Girl’s turn. But she shook her head and did not want any of them. “My sheep was the one the bog took.”
Rossan did not pressure her but let Eidi choose one.
She immediately chose a white sheep with long silky wool.
Again Rossan nodded. “She is just a year old. A fine animal. Her mother also always has twins.”
Then he looked inquiringly at the Crow-Girl, but she again shook her head. So with Glennie’s help, they caught the two sheep and dragged them to the stable.
* * *
Once they were back home, Glennie immediately leapt into the basket with her two pups. They had already grown much larger and could easily be left alone while she was out with Rossan and the sheep.
The Crow-Girl sat down on the bed beside them and scratched them behind their ears. Rossan pulled a chair over and sat down by her.
“Well,” he said, “Glennie is getting to be an old dog. Earlier she had five or six pups at a time. Now it may be that she’ll have no more at all. I’d better keep one of them.”
“What will happen to the other one?” the Crow-Girl wanted to know.
“Oh, well,” said Rossan, “it will probably be hard to find a place for it. Would you consider t
aking it?”
The Crow-Girl looked up at him with eyes shining. Then she shook her head. “No,” she said decidedly. “I was given a sheep. That must be enough.”
“That’s a pity,” said Rossan. “I don’t like having to kill it, but three dogs are too many for me.”
“Kill it!” gasped the Crow-Girl. “Then you had better give it to me.”
“I think that’s a better idea, too. You’ll need a dog for the sheep. Which one would you like?”
Both pups were females, and both were black. But one had a little white fan on its breast, and it was the one that the Crow-Girl pointed to.
“That’s fine,” said Rossan as he stood up and put his chair back in its place. “She’s yours.”
* * *
They made up a whole little flock on the morning they set out from Rossan’s. Eidi pulled the two sheep behind her, and the Crow-Girl led the horse with Doup and the pup in the baskets. Foula walked in front, holding the pail of coals in one hand and a bundle in the other.
Rossan stood at the side of the road and watched them go. He would gladly have accompanied them to the cove, but he had no one to look after the animals.
At the curve in the road they all stopped, turned around, and waved. Rossan waved back.
Foula kept standing there.
“Come on now,” called Eidi.
So they went on, and Rossan and Glennie disappeared from sight.
The Crow-Girl raised her head and looked around. The sea was no longer visible. The countryside lay bare and brown before her. But there was spring in the air. Flocks of birds came in long steady flights, and the wind felt warm against her face. She flared her nostrils, drawing the air deep into her lungs and catching the scent of grass.
Down between the dried blades along the road fresh green shoots pushed up their tips. Low willow bushes with downy catkins on their branches stood along the edge of the bogs. Chirping birds were flitting from one bush to another. The wind came alternately in quick blasts and gentle breaths; clouds rushed across the sky. The whole world was in motion.
The Crow-Girl--The Children of Crow Cove Page 6