by Ines Thorn
Finja touched her shoulder lightly, but Maren didn’t react. Then she put a hand on Maren’s forehead. “You have a fever, child. You have to lie down.” She took Maren under the arms and pulled her to the box bed. She noticed that Maren’s feet were still ice cold, and she was missing her clogs. She pulled off Maren’s heavy skirt and heated a stone, which she wrapped in a cloth and put under Maren’s feet. Then she covered her daughter with two down quilts and pulled the curtains on the box bed.
Finja tiptoed to the parlor, kneeled in front of the cross on the wall, and prayed. “Dear Lord, I beg you, please don’t take her from me. I know she is trying to reach you, but she’s still so young. Please let me keep my child, Lord.”
In the afternoon, Maren became delirious. “No!” she cried out. “No!” She pounded on an invisible opponent with her fists, as though someone were trying to take something from her. “Go away!” she cried. “No, no, no!”
Finja put a hand on her forehead again and realized that the fever had risen. Then she wrapped herself in her cloak, tied a scarf over her head, and went to find Old Meret. The weather had changed. A winter storm had begun. Sharp needles of sleet blew into Finja’s face and made her eyes water. But she took no heed. She hurried over the slippery path and pulled open Old Meret’s door without knocking.
“You have to come. I think she’s dying.”
Old Meret asked no questions. She grabbed a basket and loaded it with jars of salves and linen bags of dried herbs and hurried out of the house with Finja.
She observed Maren, who was sleeping restlessly, limbs thrashing as she murmured broken sentences in her delirium. Then she told Finja to soak three cloths in ice-cold vinegar water. She folded back the quilts to expose Maren’s calves and wrapped them with two of the vinegar cloths. She placed the third cloth on her forehead.
“What’s wrong with her?” Finja asked as she took Angret in her arms.
“We’ll have to wait and see. How long has she been like this?”
Finja shook her head. “I don’t know. When she discovered that Grit and Thies wanted to take Angret, she ran away. She was out all day, and when she returned in the evening, she wasn’t herself anymore.”
“Did she go to Thies?” Old Meret asked.
“I think she must have. She probably begged him to let her keep the child. And he . . . he . . .” She was so worried she didn’t know what to say.
Old Meret nodded. “He doesn’t dare to stand up to Grit. He’s a weak man.”
“He broke Maren’s heart!”
As Old Meret changed the poultices on Maren’s calves and brewed a strong healing tea, Maren became a little calmer. She stopped fighting against her invisible opponent and fell into a quieter, more restful sleep, though it didn’t seem to be very deep.
Old Meret kept an eye on her while she sat at the table with Finja. “What will you do?” she asked.
Finja bit her lower lip. “What can I do?”
“If you want to keep Angret, the two of you will have to fight for her,” Old Meret said.
“But how?” Finja shook her head. “Maybe it’s God’s will because Maren bore the child out of wedlock.”
“Nonsense!” Old Meret slapped her hand on the table. “You know very well that she loved Thies, and that in her heart, she was married to him already.”
“But what can we do?” Finja said with a sigh.
“Only one person can help,” Old Meret said. “You know that very well.”
“You mean Captain Boyse?”
“Of course I mean Boyse. He’s on the council, just like Piet. Their opinions are taken seriously. The others will listen to them on the day of the hearing. Their voices have great weight in the decision.”
Finja nodded and then began to trace the grain of the wooden table with her finger.
“What’s wrong? Why haven’t you left?”
Finja looked up. “He wanted to marry her. She rejected him, as you surely know. He won’t want to help her now.”
Old Meret bent forward and looked deeply into Finja’s eyes. “You have to try. You have to fight. Your daughter and your granddaughter need you now.”
Finja sighed. “I can’t.”
“Why not, for goodness’ sake?”
“Many years ago, something terrible happened that divided our families forever.”
“What happened?”
Finja shook her head. “I can’t tell you. I can’t speak of it.” Then she raised her head and looked around the kitchen as though she were seeing it for the first time. She saw the glowing fire and smelled the sheep’s dung. Every time a strong gust of wind shook the shutters, a little smoke blew into the small kitchen. The floor was covered in tiles that in two places bulged slightly upward. The kitchen table was scratched from being scoured with sand so many times, and the chairs were old. There was an oil lamp on the table with five wicks, but it had been a long time since they had all been lit at once. They had to be frugal with lamp oil, so they only used two wicks at a time. Only at Christmas did they light all five. She glanced at the stack of driftwood by the door, which dwindled a little every day.
Finally, her gaze fell on the alcove where her daughter slept, restless and moaning. Behind Maren slept her little granddaughter, with whom she had fallen in love at first sight. Finja didn’t care at all that she had been born out of wedlock. Next to the alcoves was a cupboard full of pottery dishes and a single cup made of porcelain, which she had received as a wedding gift from her godmother. Finja realized that she was looking at everything as though it were for the last time. She was saying good-bye.
“It doesn’t matter what happened years ago. You must act now. Boyse could make all the difference.” Old Meret had spoken in a whisper, but Finja took in every word.
“He will demand a very high price,” she replied.
“No price is too high for the lives of your daughter and granddaughter.”
Finja sighed. She wrapped her arms around her, as though she were cold. “I will go,” she said. “I will go to Rune Boyse. But I don’t know if I’ll be coming back.”
Old Meret stood up. She took Finja tightly in her arms. “Whatever happens, I will take care of Maren and Angret. I promise you that.” She took Finja’s face between her hands and wiped away two tears with her thumbs. “And now, go!”
CHAPTER 30
Finja carefully put one foot in front of the other. The path was frozen and slippery, and she had to be cautious. The snowflakes still blew straight into her face, pricking her skin like needles, turning her cheeks red, and making her eyes water. But perhaps the wetness on her face wasn’t really coming from the snow. Perhaps it was her tears. She reached a hand into the deep pocket of her skirt and felt for the gold pendant with the image of the sea goddess, Rán, and the signet ring that also bore Rán’s likeness. The path was difficult not only because of the weather. It was difficult because at the end she would have to talk about a secret that had been well guarded for the last nineteen years. If it had been up to her, the secret would never come out, but now the lives of her daughter and granddaughter depended on it. Finja didn’t know if she’d be able to go on living afterward, once everyone knew.
But at the moment, she didn’t care. The last twenty years had been good for her. She’d had a good marriage with Klaas. They’d had Maren, and they’d been poor but happy. At least Finja had felt that way most of the time. Sometimes she had even been able to forget her terrible secret for a while. But now the past had finally caught up with her. No, that wasn’t true. It was more like history was repeating itself. The first time, she hadn’t even tried to fight. This time she would.
As she made her way down the long path from Rantum to Keitum, her past rushed by in her mind’s eye. She recalled her own youth, thought of the Biikebrennen, and what had happened almost nineteen years ago. She’d never spoken about it to anyone. How could she? Only one person on the entire island knew, and she was on her way to see him now.
When she finally arrived
at his gate, her heart was racing—and not only from her long walk. Finja paused and pressed both hands against her chest. She could still turn back. But no, she had to speak to Rune Boyse. Maybe, she thought, maybe I can still keep my secret. Maybe he’s forgotten. But she knew well enough that Rune Boyse never forgot anything.
She knocked and was let in by the kitchen maid. Finja unwrapped her warm cloak with difficulty and unwound the scarf slowly.
“May I offer you a cup of tea?” the maid asked kindly.
Finja shook her head. “Tea won’t help me. I’d much rather have a cup of strong grog, if I may.”
The maid nodded and disappeared into the kitchen, while Finja knocked at the door of the study.
“Come in.”
Finja took a deep breath and then pushed down the door handle and walked in. Captain Boyse was sitting at his desk, quill in hand with a ledger open in front of him.
When he saw her, he returned the quill to the inkwell and stood up. “You’re a rare guest in my house, Finja,” he said, and pointed to a comfortable armchair near the fireplace. Finja sat down, crossed her ankles, and put her hands in her lap. But she couldn’t sit still, and she began to fold her fingers together and then release them, and finally to knead her hands.
“I can see you’re distressed.” Boyse slid a chair forward and sat across from her.
The maid came in with the hot grog on a silver tray, and next to the cup was a silver sugar box. Finja thanked her and took a few desperate swallows, burning her mouth. Boyse watched her. He leaned back, stretched out his legs, and rested his arms comfortably on the arms of the chair.
“What can I do for you?” he asked. “And first, of course, how are you?”
Finja put the cup down. “I am not well, Captain.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. What is causing you dismay?”
“I suppose you already know.”
Boyse nodded and stroked his beard. “You mean the issue which Thies Heinen intends to bring before the council?”
Finja nodded. “He wants to take my daughter’s child away. My granddaughter.”
Boyse nodded again. “An ugly affair. But how can I help?”
“You sit on the council. You could speak against it.”
The captain’s brow creased, and he shook his head. “You know I can’t do that. They will want to consider who will better provide for the child. Maren has no husband. Even if I vote against Thies Heinen, I can’t change anything.”
Finja stared at her hands in her lap as she balled up a handkerchief. “I can’t believe that you don’t know a way to help.”
“That’s the way of it. I wanted to marry your daughter, and you alone knew the reason. I wanted to make reparations for what my family did to yours. But she didn’t want me. My hands are tied.”
Finja looked up. “I’m ready to reveal my secret. You would benefit from it; you know that. At the council meeting, one more case could be heard.”
“After so many years? What sense would that make?”
“You know the sense of it. If I reveal what happened to me, then your parents’ fortune will belong to you alone.”
Boyse crossed his legs. “I’m not concerned about the money. I was never concerned about it. God knows, I have enough.”
“Then what concerns you, Captain?”
He was silent for a moment and looked out the window at a straggly bush dusted with snow. It was still snowing hard, and the sky was thick with clouds, indicating that it wasn’t likely to stop soon.
“One should receive what one has earned,” Boyse said quietly. “Justice is a precious thing. I’ve always fought for justice. And for a peaceful coexistence.”
Finja sighed. “That’s why I’ve come. So you will have justice. So you can restore justice.”
Boyse leaned his elbows on the armrests of the chair and pressed the fingertips of both hands together. “You don’t want justice, Finja. You want to protect your grandchild. But it’s not as easy as you think. You want to reveal your secret to restore justice to me, and you expect me to do something in return. You want me to speak to the council for you so you can keep Angret. But I believe that every child needs both a father and a mother. If the little one stays with you, the father will be missing.”
“What are you trying to say?” Finja narrowed her eyes.
“Can’t you figure that out?”
“Then you think Angret should live with Thies and Grit? That Grit, of all people, should raise Angret?” She shook her head in disbelief.
“There’s another possibility,” Boyse said, looking down at the tips of his fingers.
Finja looked questioningly at the captain, and then her expression cleared. “I know what you mean. You mean my daughter should marry? And the faster, the better. Then she would have a father for the child, and the council would have no reason to take Angret away from her. Is that true?”
“Well, it’s a possibility.”
Finja waited for Boyse to continue speaking, but he didn’t. She had to risk impertinence. “You once wanted her, my Maren.”
Boyse nodded. “Yes, a year ago I would have taken her. But much time has passed, and many things have changed. I’ve learned that certain things can’t be forced.”
Finja nodded sadly. “And if I help you to restore justice? Will you help me then?” She simply couldn’t give up.
Boyse stood up and paced uneasily back and forth across the room. His expression was thoughtful. Then he stopped in front of Finja. “It’s time to reveal your secret. Not for me, but for your own good.”
“Why? I had a good marriage with Klaas. Why, after all these years?”
“Because there must be justice.”
Finja took the cup, drank the rest of the grog, and cleared her throat. Then she stared at her hands in her lap again. “Your older sister’s husband took me against my will almost nineteen years ago, and nine months later, Maren was born. I never told Klaas anything about it. Not even a hint. Until his dying day, he believed that Maren was his child. And he loved her as only a father can love his daughter. Your sister killed herself because of it, and her husband inherited what was hers: half of your parents’ home. He sold it and left the island, leaving you with nothing. If people had known what he had done, you would have been able to keep the inheritance from your parents. Back then, you asked me to speak out about what your brother-in-law had done to me. But I couldn’t do it, because Klaas would have learned that Maren wasn’t his daughter. And you, Rune, suddenly had no home, and you left to go to sea. And eventually, after about ten years, you returned a wealthy man. You built the most beautiful house on the entire island and were respected and successful, but in your heart, you still had the knowledge of having been denied your inheritance.”
“I never cared about that. Not about the house or the money. The man raped you and is guilty of the death of my only sister.”
“I know that, Rune. But one needs to be strong for justice. And I wasn’t strong enough. You wanted to marry Maren last year. I know why you wanted to do that. You wanted to make amends for what your brother-in-law did to me. You wanted to be sure that at least the child he left behind could lead a good life. But things aren’t so simple.”
“We don’t have to talk about that now, even if you are right. Your daughter decided for herself that she didn’t want me. I’ll admit that she offended me. Her arrogance! I gave you the loan. You know, Finja, I would have never enforced a claim, even though after Klaas’s death, I demanded to be repaid. I thought you’d finally help me get justice. We could have brought my brother-in-law before the council so he would have had to pay for what he did to you and my sister.”
Finja shook her head. “Not after so long. No one, no council in the world, would be interested in something that happened nineteen years ago. And your sister, buried outside the churchyard in unconsecrated ground as a sinner who took her own life, wouldn’t be helped by it anymore either. But now you can make sure that Maren won’t lose her child. No
w is the time that you can make amends for what your brother-in-law did to me.”
Finja stood. She had said enough. Now Captain Boyse had to decide what the next step should be. She reached into the pocket of her skirt and took out the gold pendant and the signet ring with the image of Rán on it, and she put them on the captain’s desk. “Your brother-in-law gave these to me then. I kept them, even though I’m horrified every time I look at them. I don’t want them anymore. Do with them what you wish.”
Finja hadn’t expected an immediate answer from him. Rune Boyse was a man who thought before he acted. But she was sure that she’d given him something to think about.
CHAPTER 31
Maren recovered slowly. The fever diminished, and she gradually regained her strength. But it moved Finja to tears when she saw Maren with Angret. There were moments when Maren would stand by the cradle and watch the sleeping child, and tears would run down her face. Then the baby would wake and cry, reaching out her arms for her mother, and Maren would have to turn away. “You take her,” she would say, and then Finja would pick up the little one and comfort her and play with her, while Maren just sat there and stared into the distance. She had become too thin, and her hair had lost its shine. The fire in her eyes had gone out.
Maren hadn’t mentioned that she might lose Angret since her visit to Thies. Finja knew that Maren was slowly trying to let go of her child, and it was breaking her heart. But she couldn’t help her daughter. She had done everything in her power. Every day she waited for Captain Boyse to appear, but he didn’t come or even send a message.
Then it was time again for the Biikebrennen. The youths of Rantum piled wood on the highest dune and went from house to house to collect more wood and oil, and the women hung their traditional clothes outside to air.
Finja got her own and Maren’s out of the chest and shook them out. “You want your formal wear, don’t you?” she asked.
Maren shook her head. “No. I’m not going to the Biikebrennen.”
Finja lowered the dress she had been shaking. “You’re not?”