by Maria Gripe
With a sigh Flutter put down the candle. Wise Wit looked up at the moon and then she said to him, “Are you sitting there looking at the moon, Wise Wit?” she asked quietly.
“Yes,” answered Wise Wit, “but I don’t see it.”
“No, you can only see the sun,” said Flutter, patting her weaving reflectively. Then, after a pause, she asked, “You did fly over to All Wishes Town. Why can’t I hear what is happening over there?”
Wise Wit sat just as before with his eye fixed on the moon. He didn’t answer.
“I sent you there because I wanted to know what you saw,” said Flutter Mildweather, moving the candle again uneasily, anxiously.
The raven hesitated and then answered that he hadn’t seen anything except the children. Flutter stared at him, very disturbed.
“Nothing at all?” she asked.
No, Wise Wit hadn’t seen a thing. He seemed upset by this, too, and so Flutter asked him no further questions. But she looked very troubled.
She knew what it meant when Wise Wit could see nothing with his one good eye: there hadn’t been a single solitary good thing there at all, nothing beautiful to see, so he had seen nothing. A terrible thought came to her. What would he have seen if he’d had the other eye, too, the eye that saw only the evil in the world?
Terribly anxious, she grabbed a little roll of paper that lay on the floor. Wise Wit had brought it not long ago. It was a notice he had found tacked up on a tree by the road.
Flutter Mildweather had read it many times, and she read it now with growing displeasure. The ornamented letters spelt out:
Why had Wise Wit bothered to drag this all the way home? There were always a great many different notices on trees along the roads. He usually didn’t bother with them at all.
What did this one have to do with her?
She’d sent the raven to All Wishes Town as a scout, but he had returned with nothing to relate. Was he hiding something from her? He seemed remarkably secretive these days.
In any case, she had no intention of traveling there. Her whole being rose up in protest against the idea. And so she threw away the roll of paper with uncharacteristic fierceness and temper.
“Solomonic!” she sniffed to herself. “What in heavens does that mean?”
“Like King Solomon, of course,” Wise Wit explained immediately.
“Yes, yes,” said Flutter impatiently, “but I’m not going, anyway. Not now when you won’t tell me what’s happening there.”
But the raven answered quietly, “Better seen than heard.”
“That’s what you say. . . .”
“The wise have long ears and short tongues,” said the raven, and shoved his head under his wing as a sign that, as far as he was concerned, their conversation was over. But Flutter shook her head. Obviously Wise Wit wanted her to go to All Wishes Town for some reason, and she didn’t intend to.
She sighed and looked down again at her weaving. She wasn’t enjoying this carpet, for the pattern was confusing her. She was finding it more and more difficult every day. It upset her; she could hardly bear it any longer. This was the most difficult pattern she had ever woven on her loom.
Wise Wit looked as if he wanted to go to sleep. And Flutter Mildweather plunged deeper into her thoughts. The candle flickered. Time passed.
Then the owl shrieked again.
Wise Wit turned, and Flutter Mildweather looked up from her loom. They glanced at each other and listened. It was very quiet. . . .
Then all of a sudden someone knocked on the door . . . several times.
The two of them waited anxiously where they were. Then the knocking began again, and went on without stopping. The raven didn’t move, but Flutter rose slowly and walked over to open the door. She walked with weary steps, while the desperate knocking continued as if life depended on it. Filled with strange forebodings, she hesitated before unbolting the door. A desperate conflict raged within her, for she sensed that dark powers were on the move that night, and she was not yet certain that she had them in her control.
Loudly the knocking insisted. And then she opened the door.
When the door swung wide, the moonlight streamed in. Outside stood Sofia, the glassblower’s wife. She was very pale and breathing heavily.
They studied each other in the dazzling moonlight. Wordlessly, they looked deep into each other’s faces.
Then Sofia quickly stretched out her hand.
“Here,” she gasped for breath. “Here is the ring. . . .”
Without answering, Flutter Mildweather took the ring, looked at it, and slipped it quickly into her skirt pocket.
Their eyes met again. Sofia’s were round, dark, desperately pleading. Flutter’s were neither flower-like nor their usual mint blue.
Perhaps it was only the moonlight that made her glance so intense, so burningly strong and dangerous as it was now. Something about her in that instant was not like her old self. Her whole form seemed to grow larger and shimmer with mystery, a mystic apparition. Sofia felt this and was afraid but also confident. She thought of reminding Flutter about her promise, but the words died on her lips, for she knew there was no need to.
She only nodded and turned and ran down the hill, filled with an inexplicable joy. There was hope. . . . Miracles could happen. . . . Now and always.
Flutter Mildweather left the door wide open and walked back into the room with the moonlight flowing like a train behind her.
The candle had by now almost burnt out, and Wise Wit rested with his head tucked under his wing. Flutter stood for a while watching him.
Then she walked over to the loom and with one finger traced a dark thread running through the pattern. She was calm once again; her lips moved and shaped words full of mystery and beauty. Nothing in the weaving looked confused or disconnected any longer. Everything was clear and wonderfully easy to understand.
She followed thread after thread with her finger, a secret, powerful strength growing within her, overcoming all her doubts. She drew herself up, looked again at Wise Wit—he had been right—she took up the little roll of paper and tossed it into the fire, where it instantly burst into flames.
“So now let us set off, Wise Wit,” she said to the sleeping raven. She lifted him up and returned him to his cage. He slept on undisturbed.
She put on her cloak with the shoulder cape. She was already wearing her hat. Ridiculous as it may seem, a little bundle containing two glass bowls wrapped in rags and the bird cage were all she needed on her journey.
One last glance around the room. She stood there pondering until the candle snuffed out in its holder and the flames died to embers in the fireplace.
Then she left the cottage, locked the door, and stepped out onto the hill with the sleeping Wise Wit in his cage. She smiled. . . .
And then, immediately, they disappeared in a cloud of apple blossoms and moonbeams.
15
WHEN THE LORD was informed that Flutter Mildweather had arrived at the House, he went down to greet her himself.
“Welcome, my good lady,” he said very graciously, though a little ashamed that he should need the help of someone like Flutter Mildweather. He thought about this while he acted the good host. He tried to turn the whole situation into a joke.
“Since we have neither a church nor a theatre here in town, we might as well enjoy a little witchcraft these days,” he said, laughing his dry little laugh.
Flutter stared at him—mint blue—but didn’t answer. For the first time in his whole life, the Lord felt unsure of himself. This remarkable woman had more to tell him than he thought.
“Well, I hear these are hard times for witches and magicians,” he said nervously. “A wizard of the old school can lose his audience. . . .”
He stopped speaking. The awesome old lady stared at him, her eyes turning bluer and bluer.
“Now personally, I have nothing against witches,” he added patronizingly, “Not at all, but. . . .”
He paced back and forth to sh
ow that he was thinking. The old lady stood there smiling. What was there to smile about now? He really must say something to make her understand that he wasn’t terribly impressed by her witchcraft.
“This whole thing is completely the Lady’s idea,” he said, “because actually I would have preferred a dwarf or a little fool, though I gather these are hard times for fools, too. . . .”
“Not that I’ve noticed, dear sir,” said Flutter Mildweather.
Those were the first words she had uttered, and the Lord immediately fell silent.
He who had never cared much about any one single person and therefore could boast that he loved “all mankind,” now felt that this old lady thought rather badly of him. He wanted to tell her to go, but for the Lady’s sake he had to persuade her to stay.
He showed her the way up to the tower where her room was prepared, and it actually did contain a telescope. With a sweeping gesture he explained that, if she needed anything else, she need only ask. As he prepared to leave, Flutter Mildweather called out to him.
“I’d like to know what is expected of me,” she said.
The Lord raised his eyebrows.
“Didn’t I tell you? Well, your task is to get the Lady to wish.”
“Wish? And what should she wish for?”
“Whatever she wants. She says, she insists that witchcraft is required to get her to wish for anything ever again. Well, of course, that is nonsense. Nevertheless, Madam, that is why you are here.”
He paced impatiently back and forth as he talked. It was obvious that he thought Flutter Mildweather ought to be able to know all this without being told.
“Where can I meet the Lady?” asked Flutter.
“In her room, of course.” And the Lord explained where her room was. Then he said goodbye abruptly. At the door he turned and said, with an exhausted expression, “Remember now, Madam, your task is only to make the Lady wish again. It doesn’t matter what she wishes for. Then naturally I, personally, will fulfill her wishes. Is that absolutely clear?”
“Absolutely,” answered Flutter Mildweather with such a peculiar smile that the Lord hastily closed the door.
Flutter put down the birdcage in which Wise Wit had been sitting all the while, silently but attentively. Now she let the raven out and asked him what he thought of the Lord.
Wise Wit flew up and perched on the telescope before he answered. Then he said vaguely,
“Not everyone is equally wise. A small sea has a short coast line, isn’t that so?”
“Yes,” replied Flutter. “Yes, indeed.”
Then she asked the raven to scout around the House, while she set off to visit the Lady.
“Oh yes,” yawned the Lady, as Flutter Mildweather entered her room. Then she turned away indifferently and went on talking, “You must be Mademoiselle Mildweather. Please sit down.”
She lay in her bed surrounded by soft pillows. She pointed to a chair with a tired gesture. Flutter sat down silently and the Lady continued wearily,
“I understand that Mademoiselle has come here to entertain me with her magic arts. Fine. Do what you like, but don’t bewitch me! That I won’t endure.”
She shut her eyes.
“Life isn’t so simple that you can unravel it with a little hocus pocus. But surely Mademoiselle must realize that better than anyone else. . . .”
She fell silent, and neither of them spoke for a while. Flutter watched intently while the Lady lay there, so beautiful, so weary. She kept her eyes closed; she hadn’t even glanced at Flutter yet. She merely lay there motionless. Now she started talking again.
“Mademoiselle isn’t very talkative. Mademoiselle hasn’t said anything yet.”
“I only talk with people who look at me,” answered Flutter quietly.
The Lady made a weak gesture with her hand but didn’t look up.
“Well, that’s fine,” she said, her voice trailing off. “Then you’ll have to listen to me, and I won’t have to see or hear you. Isn’t that a little disappointing for someone who is a witch?”
“Quite the contrary,” replied Flutter Mildweather. “That’s just as it should be.”
Then the Lady opened her mouth wide and yawned.
“Oh, well then,” she said, disappointed, “what can I think of to insult you? Oh yes, I know you and the Lord are plotting to get me to start wishing again, but that’s a waste of time and energy. . . . Are you such a fool, Mademoiselle, as to waste your time? You’ll be sorry if you think I’m that stupid. No, don’t count on me being a fool. Save your ridiculous little acts for someone else. Someone more stupid. . . .”
She paused a moment and yawned, then continued spinning on the same thread:
“I’m just vain and idle, not stupid. Now my Lord is both vain and stupid and so he’s a happy person, as you, Mademoiselle, must have seen. . . . And he can afford to be nice, too, whereas I can’t. I’m wicked . . . very wicked. . . .”
Flutter Mildweather still said nothing, but she listened carefully all the while. They were really chatty here in the House, both the Lord and his Lady.
Now the Lady raised her voice.
“I am WICKED,” she repeated. “DON’T YOU HEAR ME, Mademoiselle? Why don’t you disagree?”
Flutter was silent as a stone wall.
Then the Lady looked up for the first time.
“I AM USED to people contradicting me when I say something bad about myself,” she said with wide open eyes.
“Is that so?” commented Flutter. “And I’m used to agreeing.”
The Lady sat up in her bed and stared Flutter up and down, down and up. She looked childishly displeased, but then her old indifference won out. And her haughty pride.
Her scornful glance fell on Flutter Mildweather’s left ring finger.
“What is that ring you have there?”
“It’s just an old silver ring.”
“Yes, I can see that, but it doesn’t even have a stone in it. Did you lose it?”
“Yes, it is gone . . . now.”
The Lady shivered.
“Ugh, it looks unsightly,” she said. “Just as if it were blind. Take it off immediately.”
But Flutter Mildweather shook her head and the ring stayed right where it was.
The Lady sighed and fell back against her pillows.
Then, like a shadow, a servant suddenly glided noiselessly across the room. He placed a tray with a glass of water and several tablets on the bedside table. Then he disappeared again.
Immediately afterward, a frightening wheezing noise started to build in the air. It sounded as if a hurricane were sweeping through the House, for everything trembled and shook.
The Lady pressed both hands against her face for a moment. Then she took out a pair of ear plugs, put them in her ears, and, with trembling hands, shoved the tablets into her mouth and swallowed them down with water. She looked blankly at Flutter and said in an irritated voice,
“You may go now, Mademoiselle. You’ve sat here far too long already. Why are you still here? I have no desire to talk to deaf ears. And I don’t want to talk when I don’t know what I’m saying, and how can I know what I’m saying when I can’t hear my own voice? You should have realized that by now.—GO AWAY!”
Flutter Mildweather got up and hastily left the room.
16
MEANWHILE, NANA HAD discovered that Klas and Klara crept off during her naps. It so happened that one time she forgot to take her pills and woke after only fifteen minutes’ sleep. The children’s beds were empty, and she found them out on the stairs. Naturally there was a terrible commotion. Everyone was sure they had found an explanation for why glasses broke while Nana slept. She, herself, was convinced of it.
She immediately asked the Lord for a big bracelet and two smaller ones. There was a hook on each of the smaller bracelets and two on the big one. She also asked for two long chains. From then on, Klas and Klara had to wear the bracelets all the time, and Nana wore the big one. Every time she lay down, she hooke
d the chains to her bracelet and attached one to Klas and the other to Klara. So then the children had to lie dead still in their beds, for Nana would feel their slightest movement and wake. Despite her loud snoring, she never slept very deeply.
But when Nana turned over in her canopy bed, she pulled the children’s chains toward her and sometimes she twisted about so violently that their arms were jerked out from under their covers. Sometimes their whole beds were pulled toward her, too.
Nana felt she was being very crafty and clever. She was sure all the glass breakage was over now for good. But she was mistaken.
Despite the fact that both children were chained to her and couldn’t possibly leave their beds, glass broke somewhere in the House almost every time she went to sleep.
No one was able to figure out how it happened.
Flutter Mildweather learned of this mystery on the first day she came to the House.
She had just left the Lady’s room when Mimi screamed in her sleep. Flutter was not easily terrified, but this scream was so ghastly, so heart-shattering, that she stopped, unable to move.
When she had calmed herself, she walked quickly in the direction of the scream. The deafening thunder that filled the House came from the same place.
Flutter’s heart beat hard and fast, and she was filled with awful forebodings.
She saw nary a soul the whole time. Room after room stood empty, but everywhere she found glass shattered on the furniture. It looked most curious and strange.
On one table a vase lay in smithereens. The flowers had scattered, and the water dripped down onto the floor.
In another place, an empty bowl had burst. On a side table a serving tray held broken wine carafes. The different wines dripped silently onto the carpet, staining it slowly redder and redder. And there was not a person in sight.
She walked faster and faster, until she was bounding along, hunting through the rooms. An unusual, overpowering alarm filled her, for she felt sure she would soon face the awful secret.