No prouder cockerel was ever seen, thought Brand as he watched the confident, colourful and slightly comical figure limping towards him, leaning more lightly now on his crutch. His jacket was stretched tightly across his chest and its arms finished well above his wrists. His leggings were also impossibly short, but there was a telltale brightness in those mild eyes. Brand patiently listened to the whole story – several times over and in every detail. Broad concepts and paraphrases weren’t things his friend had ever dealt in.
“Ah, Brand! It was so wonderful, so marvellous!” Jesper told him with a look of ecstasy. “You have to try it sometime! It’s just like ... like ... I don’t know ...” he searched for something to compare it with, the best thing he knew. “Like eating rye porridge with cream!”
They remained on the heath for a second night and Brand gradually regained his strength. While Brand was sleeping, Jesper sneaked back to the farm at dusk, but his heroics of the previous day weren’t to be repeated – because the peasant’s mother came out and chased him away with much screeching and waving of her skinny arms. The following day, both knew that they’d have to move on – and luck was with them. A cart came rattling down the road and the peasant driving it took pity on them. Brand was careful not to say anything about the flux, and in the eyes of the peasant they were simple soldiers, wounded heroes from the war.
Day after day, they travelled north. Their progress was erratic and depended entirely on whether or not they were able to find transportation. In the first few days, Jesper had to take care of everything, which he did admirably but in his own way: He’d learned that young maidens were more than happy to give a strapping flaxen-haired boy a spot of food or a night’s shelter in a barn – in return for half an hour in his strong arms, hidden away in some secret corner of the farmyard.
Brand’s condition improved slowly and he was soon able to take over the decision-making once more. Jesper was happy about that as leadership wasn’t his strong point, but his gratitude was mixed with regret. He had just discovered his powers of persuasion with young ladies but to his immense disappointment, Brand flatly refused to consider the further use of such “questionable” methods.
On the long journey, the two young men continued to suffer periods of great hardship. They froze, were soaked by the rain and often went without food for several days. But at no time did either of them feel they wanted to give up. When they reached the coast, they had no money to pay for the sea passage over the Little Belt and Great Belt, which separated Jutland from the island of Funen and the more distant Zealand. Once again their ragged uniforms proved helpful.
People regarded the two weary, battle-scarred young men with admiration and respect and after only a few days of waiting, a kind-hearted wealthy nobleman paid for their passage. They were lucky enough to board a boat that sailed directly from Jutland to Zealand without stopping at Funen. Finally, after they’d asked directions at least a hundred times, they reached Gabrielshus in late November.
Cecilie was overjoyed to see them both. She already knew that they were on their way because she’d received letters both from Alexander and Tarjei. She had worried during the past weeks as she’d heard that the wounded soldiers had arrived and they’d not been with them.
Tarjei had written a warm letter in which he’d also discussed Alexander’s paralysis in considerable detail. He’d urged her to be positive about the condition but also warned that she shouldn’t expect any early improvement. She felt encouraged by what he’d written, but in contrast, Alexander’s letter had left her deeply upset. She could be free now, he’d said, because he’d no right to cling to her when the two reasons why they’d married no longer existed. She’d lost the child and was therefore free to marry again whereas he would never again be able to engage in any foolish attachments that might endanger his reputation. It had been impossible for her to answer his letter because she couldn’t know how long Alexander would be staying in the temporary camp. She could only wait, feeling distraught, impatient and saddened by what fate had in store for him.
Brand and Jesper stayed at Gabrielshus for a few weeks until they had recovered sufficiently to make the long sea voyage home. Because Cecilie had known longer than anyone else that one of her cousins had inherited the curse, Brand told her the whole tragic story of what had happened to Trond. She’d already known from Tarjei’s letter that Trond was dead, and Alexander had written to tell of his determined bravery in the face of brutal mercenaries and how he’d been buried as a hero.
Brand also told her of the warm relationship that had developed between Tarjei and Alexander. This was a piece of news that had caused her to lose a night’s sleep. Her imagination proved a burden to her and she stayed up late, restlessly pacing the corridors, nervously going from one room to the next all through the large house. Eventually she decided to do what Alexander had always done before going to bed, fastening the shutters on every window and closing every door, snuffing out every light as she went, before finally closing the door to her bedroom. It had always made her feel safe when she’d heard Alexander perform his routine.
She would be on her own now, she decided. Nobody could say whether he’d be coming home again. And what if he did return? Would he be condemned to a very restricted life, lying in his bed? She could accept that, she thought, but not if he had strong feelings for another person who was close to her – her own cousin.
“Oh, Alexander! You were born to suffer,” she whispered hopelessly to herself over and over again as she tossed and turned through the night in her lonely bed.
***
During autumn, not very much happened in the progress of the war. But everybody at Linden Avenue and Graastensholm and in Klaus’s cottage was absolutely thrilled at the return of Brand and Jesper. Are and Meta had already received the news of Trond’s death so their initial sense of grief had abated, which made it easier for them to welcome the return of their youngest son.
They were also very relieved and happy to know that Tarjei was alive and well. Both his parents were immensely proud of him. Of course, Meta went off and wept in silence at not seeing her “little one” Trond return. To her, Tarjei had somehow never been “little.”
The greatest happiness and excitement was in the small cottage when Jesper walked through the door. Klaus wiped away his tears of joy, fetched his keg of finest homemade alcohol and got drunk. This time, Rosa forgave him. She was absolutely over the moon with joy and could hardly believe that her Jesper had grown so tall, handsome and self-confident. He seemed to have become such a man of the world. “But look at the state of his hair,” she thought and was about to get the sheep shears when both father and son laughingly objected.
They insisted that this was a moment for celebration and storytelling, and Jesper duly obliged and told them of all his adventures. Every anecdote quickly became such a tale of brave, daring exploits that everyone in the cottage was convinced that without Jesper, the Danish armies would have been lost. All through this, his little sister sat affectionately beside him, inspecting his fine, somewhat shrunken, uniform in every detail, listening wide-eyed to descriptions of places she’d never imagined and lands and towns that were so far away they couldn’t possibly exist!
Her big brother was coming out with the strangest place names, ones that the people living in German towns would have had trouble recognising! His interpretation of Brunswick became Brunsviken, followed by Stenborgen, Hammern and Paddyborn for Steinburg, Hamelin and Paderborn.
Over and over Klaus begged him: “Tell us again how you saved King Christian from that terrible enemy with a single musket bullet!” This had come about because Jesper hadn’t been able to keep completely quiet about the shot that had killed Trond. He’d simply decided to dress up the story and change the names a bit to protect the truth.
***
Alexander Paladin arrived home at Gabrielshus just as the first snow was beginning to fall over Zealand.
Cecilie was outside in the courtyard, waiting to meet the stretchers. She squeezed her husband’s hand, gently brushing away the snowflakes from his face and welcomed him home in a voice that was so overcome with emotion that only he could hear her. But her face was bright and cheerful at seeing him again, while Alexander’s sad eyes had only one question: ‘So you haven’t left me?’ “Thank you,” he said to Cecilie.
He was completely exhausted after his journey and was put to bed immediately. He had a good night’s sleep, never once stirring or waking. He didn’t dream but inside his mind the words ‘home at last, home at last!’ repeated themselves over and over again and their sound made him relax and sleep well.
When they were told that Alexander was on his way home, Cecilie and his manservant Wilhelmsen had discussed the situation in great detail. They realised that his condition would have a very considerable impact on the way life at Gabrielshus would proceed. They realised that many things would have to change immediately.
“How are we to deal with this?” Cecilie had asked the manservant. “Do we need to find someone to take care of him independently or will we be able to manage by ourselves, you and I?”
“I believe your husband would appreciate it if you and I manage the job ourselves,” Wilhelmsen replied. “I’m certain it would mean a lot to him.”
‘Maybe, maybe not,’ thought Cecilie. She was determined to care for Alexander herself but she suspected, in fact even feared, that he’d object very strongly to the idea.
“Yes, I believe we shouldn’t involve his sister at all,” Cecilie added hastily.
“Absolutely not!” Wilhelmsen answered. “I’m sure that your husband would never agree to it.”
Ursula had, in fact, moved back to her own mansion in Jutland, which her deceased husband had owned. She planned to spend the winter there and Cecilie was quite relieved at this, because she wanted to be alone with Alexander on his return.
“It seems from Tarjei’s letter that my husband will be housebound and bed-bound, doesn’t it?” Cecilie asked Wilhelmsen.
“Yes,” replied the servant.
“But will that really be necessary?” she asked. “It would be an incredibly passive existence for a man like Alexander – and humiliating as well.”
“But he’s paralysed from the waist down,” Wilhelmsen reminded her.
“Yes, but his arms aren’t paralysed! I’ve been thinking over and over again ... What if he could sit in a chair?”
“Mr. Paladin is a strongly built man. I don’t think we’d be able to lift him between us.”
“No,” she smiled absentmindedly, casting a glance at Wilhelmsen, who was short. “Anyway, a chair would be of little use unless ...”
“Unless what?”
She was lost in thought for a time, then looked excitedly at Wilhelmsen again.
“I’ve been lying awake at night wondering how we can make life easier for my husband. And I’ve come up with some far-fetched ideas. But first, do we happen to have a small handcart or ...?”
The servant looked horrified and was lost for words.
“No. I don’t mean that we should pull him after us in it!” she explained quickly. “But the wheels, Wilhelmsen! If we had four wheels and fitted them to some kind of a stool – no, that doesn’t sound right, does it?”
The manservant smiled. He’d been following her thoughts. “I can always speak to the blacksmith. He has a practical turn of mind.”
“I’ll come with you,” said Cecilie without any hesitation. “As I said, I’ve got several ideas.”
In no time at all, the whole estate had heard that the blacksmith was building a strange contraption for Alexander. His favourite armchair had been carried down to the smithy and the blacksmith had been rooting around in the coach houses where he’d examined every wheel he found.
Eventually he selected and removed the wheels from one of the family’s finest miniature carriages, formerly used for transporting children, and attached them to the solidly built chassis he’d made.
Everybody was interested in what was going on, offering advice and suggesting improvements until at last the “wagon” stood finished. It was clumsy and bizarre to look at – but it worked!
And now that Alexander Paladin had come home, there was great excitement among all the staff about how he might adapt to these new challenges. On his first full evening, Cecilie went to see Alexander while he was eating supper in his bed and explained that she and Wilhelmsen had agreed that they’d manage to care for him between them.
“No, not at all,” he said decisively. “We’ll get another man in.”
“But I want to help you,” she insisted.
“Why?” he asked suspiciously.
“Surely it’s obvious. I’m your wife and although our relationship is somewhat unconventional, our friendship is surely strong enough to carry this burden? What’s more, it would look odd if I weren’t allowed to help you.”
“But I don’t want to be nursed by a woman!”
Cecilie looked at him sternly. “So you see me as a woman, then? Not as a friend?”
“I see you as both,” he answered with a fleeting, embarrassed grin. “You’re far too feminine for anyone to ignore that. But you’ve no idea what tending to my needs will mean.”
“Oh, I can well imagine what’s needed. And I can also understand how you’ll feel humiliated because you’ve always been a proud man.” She got up to leave. “Of course, I’ll not force myself on you. If you’re so absolutely embarrassed by the idea, I’ll ...”
“Cecilie!” He grabbed hold of her arm. “You mustn’t think like that! Do you honestly mean that you can understand how I feel?”
“Yes, Alexander,” she said softly. “I do.”
She sat down on the edge of his bed and after a brief moment’s hesitation, she bent forward until her cheek lay against his. Alexander in his turn wrapped his arm around her and they lay quiet and unmoving for a long time – he making his silent pleas for understanding and comfort, and she anxiously and wordlessly providing the answers he needed.
“If you believe in your heart ... that you’re able to ... manage this,” he said haltingly, “then perhaps ...”
“I don’t think there’s anything I want more than to care for you,” she broke in quickly. “It’s something I very much want to do.”
“Then it’s decided.”
“Thank you, Alexander.”
He laughed out loud suddenly: “But you know, I’ll be terrified the first time you tend to my needs!”
“Me, too,” she admitted with a self-conscious smile. “So everything will be okay.”
She released him and sat up again, patting her hair back into place. She looked at him for a moment with a fond expression in her eyes. Then she stood up.
“By the way,” she announced suddenly. “We have a surprise for you.”
“Who’s ‘we’?”
“Wilhelmsen and I. Now wait!”
“I can’t do anything else,” he muttered with a trace of bitterness.
When she had called for Wilhelmsen and told him to bring the surprise, she returned to the bedside.
“Where’s Tarjei now?”
Alexander’s expression showed no trace of that which she’d feared most.
“He stayed behind. He’s a remarkably clever young man – and so like you!”
“Is he? I’ve never given it any thought.”
“Very much. That’s why I felt so warmly towards him.”
“Thank you.” She smiled, not knowing quite how she should interpret his words.
The servant coughed discreetly and Alexander turned his head to look at him. Then he stared in amazement at his new “carriage.”
“What in all the world?”
“A gift for you, Alexander,” announced Cecilie, grinning with pride, “from
me and Wilhelmsen and the blacksmith and ... everyone. Because we’re all so fond of you and want to make life as easy for you as we can.”
Alexander had raised himself up on his elbows. “It’s my old chair – with wheels!” He burst out laughing. “What a monstrosity!”
Cecilie’s smile waned. “Won’t you try it?”
“And how do you expect me to get into it?”
“If you’ll allow me to show you,” said Wilhelmsen, pushing the chair closer, “we’ve placed a strong handle here so you’re able to lift yourself across using your arms. Then, with a little help from us with your legs, you’ll be sitting in the chair.”
Alexander said nothing. He was weighing the possibilities for and against.
“You can sit up, can’t you?” Cecilie chipped in anxiously.
He nodded “With support, yes. But without it, I really don’t know.”
“And you’ve always had strong arms, haven’t you?”
“Of course.”
Wilhelmsen stepped forward, lowering his head respectfully. “We’ve also made a similar arrangement in ... ahem ... your small, private chamber over there.” He pointed discreetly to the door of a little cubicle in the corner of the bedroom.
“So you mean that I can be wheeled everywhere? With somebody pushing behind me or ...?”
“That will certainly be quicker. But we thought that this way, you’d be able to manage virtually everything on your own except for getting into bed.”
Alexander lay very quiet for a long time. He seemed deeply moved.
“Thank you,” he said at last. “You’ve solved a proud man’s greatest challenge.”
“Not proud – noble,” Cecilie corrected him.
“Noble men aren’t bothered by such worldly considerations.”
Friendship Page 15