by Agnes Ravatn
I felt stinging at the nape of my neck. He tightened his grip.
What do you want me to say? I whispered.
He gave no reply.
What do you want me to do?
He said nothing. Just held my gaze. The boat rocked. I had lost any feeling I had once had at the back of my head, I no longer felt any pain, only his fist, his tight grip. I could do it now. I could tear myself away, fall overboard, let him save me. We’d get what we wanted most. The old world would sink into the sea, a new one rising from the deep. The sun’s bright orb had emerged proudly from behind the forest, soaring high into the sky, prickling my face. His expression, his hand. I had to fall over the gunwale, I had to be helpless. I heard the sound of my breathing, shallow gasps. I turned my gaze to the water. It was so still, so clear. The sun. The surface of the water reflected the shining-bright woodwork. The oars were long and pale, the sky blue. The fjord was green and bright, sunbeams penetrating the water’s surface, breaking through and extending several metres underwater. Our boat. Built for starting afresh. I readied myself to break free from his grasp, to meet the surface of the water, break through it, sink beneath it, to force myself not to swim, to let him save himself by saving me. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes. I prepared to pull away, out of his grasp, to tumble overboard. Gulls circled overhead. It was all so strange.
Didn’t you tell me, I whispered, that the water was black?
He said nothing.
It was sunrise. That’s what you told me last night.
I locked eyes with him, my neck stiff.
The sea isn’t black.
I took a deep breath.
What really happened?
He gave no answer. Ashen alarm swept across his face, his breathing shallow. He looked at me darkly.
What happened?
He closed his eyes, saying nothing.
I felt something erupt within me, forced to gasp for air.
When she fell overboard, I said.
He looked at me keenly, my hair still in his clenched fist.
It can’t have been difficult to see her.
He said nothing.
It can’t have been difficult to reach her, to pull her up to the surface.
I felt a cold sweat forming as I held his gaze.
Did she fall?
His breathing was shallow, panicked, he said nothing.
Nithing, I thought. All of a sudden he looked grotesque, his face distorted. A carnivore. I had to save myself.
I wasn’t able to break free before he leapt at me, grabbing both of my wrists. The oars slipped from my grasp and slid down into the water. Gulls screeched overhead. The boat rocked, seawater sloshing in over the gunwale. He was too strong. I fell back over the thwart, the wind knocked out of me, the back of my head slamming against the prow. He pushed down on top of me, his body heavy. Saltwater stung my eyes. He pressed his lips hard against mine. I clenched my teeth and bit hard, gnashing at flesh. He leapt back with a roar, red streaming from his mouth. Eyes as black as coal. I plunged an arm into the water. My fingertips grazed the oar. So heavy. Every wheezing gasp for air tore at my throat. He lunged at me, his hands, I heaved and swung my upper body around with a scream, a sharp whack above the eye. A loud splash. Then everything fell silent.
The taste of salt and blood in my mouth. I rolled onto my side with a gasp, arms and legs trembling, then clambered onto my knees and lay slumped over the thwart. Hacking coughs, I gasped for air. The boat rocked. The fjord glittered in the morning light. I peered over the gunwale. Light shirt, black hair, he was there, just beneath the surface. His rough brown hands, pallid underwater. My chest heaved. I stared wide-eyed into the depths. His hair was exquisite in the water, dancing from side to side. His dark forehead, his shirt almost transparent. His eyes were closed, not looking at me.
I couldn’t tear my gaze from his hair, swirling underwater, a million fine, whirling fibres. I dipped an arm beneath the surface, the dark wisps brushing my hand, each one tenderly stroking it. I wanted to grasp at it, but it slipped between my fingers and was pulled down, down, sinking to depths out of reach of the sunbeams. After that, the fjord was simply green. A pair of wings circled in the sky above me. I looked up, a dark shadow with corpses nestled among its feathers.
This book has been selected to receive financial assistance from English PEN’s Writers in Translation programme supported by Bloomberg and Arts Council England. English PEN exists to promote literature and its understanding, uphold writers’ freedoms around the world, campaign against the persecution and imprisonment of writers for stating their views, and promote the friendly co-operation of writers and free exchange of ideas.
Each year, a dedicated committee of professionals selects books that are translated into English from a wide variety of foreign languages. We award grants to UK publishers to help translate, promote, market and champion these titles. Our aim is to celebrate books of outstanding literary quality, which have a clear link to the PEN charter and promote free speech and intercultural understanding.
In 2011, Writers in Translation’s outstanding work and contribution to diversity in the UK literary scene was recognised by Arts Council England. English PEN was awarded a threefold increase in funding to develop its support for world writing in translation.
www.englishpen.org
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Agnes Ravatn (b. 1983) is an author and columnist. She made her literary debut with the novel Week 53 (Veke 53) in 2007. Since then she has written three critically acclaimed and award-winning essay collections: Standing still (Stillstand), 2011, Popular Reading (Folkelesnad), 2011, and Operation self-discipline (Operasjon sjøldisiplin), 2014. In these works Ravatn shows her unique, witty voice and sharp eye for human fallibility. Agnes received the Norwegian radio channel, NRK P2 Listener’s Novel Prize for The Bird Tribunal, in addition to the Youth Critic’s Award. The Bird Tribunal was also made into a successful play, which premiered in Oslo in 2015.
ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR
Rosie Hedger was born in Scotland and completed her MA (Hons) in Scandinavian Studies at the University of Edinburgh. She has lived and worked in Norway, Sweden and Denmark, and now lives in York where she works as a freelance translator. Rosie was a candidate in the British Centre for Literary Translation’s mentoring scheme for Norwegian in 2012, mentored by Don Bartlett.
Visit her at rosiehedger.com or on Twitter @rosie_hedger
Copyright
Orenda Books
16 Carson Road
West Dulwich
London SE21 8HU
www.orendabooks.co.uk
First published in Norwegian as Fugletribuanlet, 2013
This published by Orenda Books in 2016
Copyright © Agnes Ravatn 2013
English language translation copyright © Rosie Hedger 2016
Agnes Ravatn has asserted her moral right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the written permission of the publishers.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978–1–910633–36–6
Typeset in Garamond by MacGuru Ltd
This book has been translated with a financial support from NORLA.
This book has been selected to receive financial assistance from English PEN’s “PEN Translates!” programme, supported by Arts Council England. English PEN exists to promote literature and our understanding of it, to uphold writers’ freedoms around the world, to campaign against the persecution and imprisonment of writers for stating their views, and to promote the friendly co-operation of writers and the free exchange of ideas. www.englishpen.org
Table of Contents
Title Page
Contents
The Bird Tribunal
About the Author
About the Translator