“No, we won’t starve,” said Ronia. “But I’m not going to enjoy the first day without bread or milk!”
And that day came sooner than they had expected. Lia responded loyally when they called her in the evening, but Ronia could see that she no longer liked to be milked. Finally Ronia could not get more than a few drops out of her, and Lia showed her clearly that she had had enough.
Then Ronia took Lia’s head between her hands and looked into her eyes.
“I want to thank you, Lia, for these past days. Next summer you will have another foal—do you know that? And then you will have milk again. But that is for your foal, not for us.”
Ronia stroked the mare, persuading herself that Lia understood every word, and she told Birk, “You must thank her too!”
And Birk did. They stayed with the mare a long time, and when they left her she followed them a little way through the light summer night. It was almost as if she understood that it was over now, this strange time she had been living through, which was not at all like the rest of her life as a wild horse. The little human beings who had made strange things happen were now going away from her, and she stood there for a time, watching them until they disappeared among the spruce trees. Then she turned back to her herd.
They saw her sometimes in the evenings when they came out to ride, and if they called her name she whinnied in answer, but she never left the herd to come to them. She was a wild horse and she would never be a domestic animal, after all.
But Villain and Savage came running eagerly as soon as they saw Ronia and Birk. There was nothing they enjoyed more nowadays than racing each other, each with a rider on his back. And Ronia and Birk got enormous pleasure from their long rides through the forest.
But one evening they were chased by a wild harpy. The horses went crazy with terror and became impossible to handle or guide. And all Ronia and Birk could do was to throw themselves off and let the horses run. Without riders the horses had nothing to fear— it was human beings that the wild harpies hated and wanted to get at, not the beasts of the forest.
But Ronia and Birk were in danger now. Terrified, they rushed off in opposite directions. The harpy could not catch them both, but they knew that in her stupidity she would try, and that was what saved them. While she was chasing Birk, Ronia managed to hide. It was worse for Birk, but when the harpy tried furiously to see where Ronia had gone to and forgot Birk for one short moment, he crawled quickly down between two great boulders and sat there for a long time, expecting the harpy to find him again at any moment.
But with harpies, what they couldn’t see did not exist. There was no human being there now whose eyes she could claw out, and she flew back to the mountains in a rage to let all her fierce sisters know about it.
Birk watched her go, and when he was certain that she would not come back, he called Ronia. Ronia crept out of her hiding place under a spruce and they danced around, rejoicing over their safety. What luck, neither of them had been clawed to death by wild harpies or carried up to the caves in the mountains to a life in captivity!
“You shouldn’t be frightened in Matt’s Forest,” said Ronia. “But with wild harpies flapping around your ears it’s difficult not to be.”
There was no sign of Villain and Savage, so they now had to walk the long way home to the Bear’s Cave.
“But I could walk all night as long as I don’t see a wild harpy,” said Birk.
And they walked through the woods, holding hands and talking happily, in high spirits after all that fear. Dusk was falling now; it was a beautiful summer evening, and they talked about the wonderful time they could have, even though there were wild harpies. How lovely it was to live in the freedom of the forest, by night or by day, under the sun, moon, and stars and through the slow passage of the seasons, in springtime, which was just over now, in summertime, which had begun, and in the autumn, which would be coming soon.
“But in winter…” said Ronia, and then she stopped.
They saw rumphobs and murktrolls and gray dwarfs chattering and peeping out curiously, now here, now there, from behind tree trunks and boulders.
“Shadow folk,” said Ronia. “They go on living quite cheerfully in wintertime too.”
Then she was silent again.
“Sister mine, it’s summer now,” said Birk, and Ronia could feel that it was.
“I’ll carry this summer around in my memory as long as I live,” she said.
Birk looked around in the twilight woods, and a strange mood came upon him; he did not know why. He did not understand that what he was feeling, almost like pain, was only the beauty and peace of the summer evening, nothing more.
“This summer,” he said, looking at Ronia. “Yes, I shall carry this summer with me till the end of my life—I know that.”
So they came home to the Bear’s Cave. And on the platform outside sat Little-Snip, waiting for them.
Fourteen
Little-snip was sitting there, flat-nosed and tousle-haired and bearded, as Ronia had always known him. But now she felt she had never seen a finer sight, and she threw herself at him with a shriek.
“Little-Snip… oh, is it you… you… you’ve come!”
She was so happy it made her stammer.
“Nice view here,” said Little-Snip. “You can see the river and the woods, can’t you?”
Ronia laughed. “Yes, you can see the river and the woods! Is that why you’re here?”
“No, no, Lovis sent me with some bread, said Little-Snip. He opened his leather bag and took out five big, round loaves.
Then Ronia screamed, “Birk, did you see? Bread! We’ve got bread!”
She seized a loaf and held it up, she breathed in the fragrance, and tears came to her eyes.
“Lovis’s bread! I’d forgotten there was anything so wonderful.”
And she broke off great chunks and stuffed them in her mouth. She wanted to give Birk some too, but he stood darkly by, and without a word, without taking any bread, he went off into the cave.
“Yes, Lovis worked out that you must be out of bread about now,” said Little-Snip.
Ronia chewed, tasting the bread like a blessing in her mouth, and it made her miss Lovis. But now she had to ask Little-Snip, “How did Lovis know that I was in the Bear’s Cave?”
Little-Snip sniffed. “Do you think your mother’s stupid? Where else would you be?”
He looked at her thoughtfully. There she sat, their Ronia, their lovely little Ronia, stuffing bread into herself as if it were all she wanted in life. Now he must get on with what he had really come for. Lovis had told him he had to be cunning, and he was worried. For Little-Snip was not especially cunning.
“Look, Ronia,” he said cautiously, “won’t you come home soon?”
There was a clattering inside the cave. Someone was listening and wanted Ronia to know it.
But Ronia was thinking only of Little-Snip just now. There was so much she wanted to ask him, so much she longed to know. He was sitting beside her, but when she wanted to go on with her questions she found she could not look at him. Instead, she sat looking out over the river and the trees.
Then she asked, so quietly that Little-Snip could scarcely hear her, “How are things in Matt’s Fort nowadays?”
And Little-Snip told her the truth. “It’s melancholy in Matt’s Fort nowadays. Come home, Ronia!”
Ronia looked out over the river and the trees again. “Did Lovis send you to say that?”
Little-Snip nodded. “Yes! It’s too difficult without you, Ronia. Everyone is waiting for you to come home.”
Ronia, still looking out over the river and the trees, asked quietly, “Matt? Is he waiting for me to come home too?”
Little-Snip swore. “That beast of Satan! Who knows what he’s thinking and what he’s waiting for!”
There was a short silence, and then Ronia asked, “Does he ever talk about me?”
Little-Snip wriggled. It was now that he was supposed to be cunning, so he rema
ined silent.
“Tell me the truth,” said Ronia. “Does he ever mention my name?”
“No,” said Little-Snip unwillingly. “And no one else is allowed to either, not in his hearing.”
Devil take it, now he had said what Lovis wanted him to keep quiet about! Oh, yes, he was cunning all right!
He looked pleadingly at Ronia. “But everything will be all right if only you’ll come home!”
Ronia shook her head. “I’ll never come home! Not as long as I am not Matt’s child! You can tell him that! You can shout it out in Matt’s Fort!”
“Thank you so much,” said Little-Snip. “Not even Noddle-Pete would dare to come out with a message like that.”
Talking of Noddle-Pete—he was poorly nowadays, Little-Snip told her. And why shouldn’t he be, when everything else was so wretched? Matt scolded and grumbled morning, noon, and night. Nothing suited him any more, and the robbery business was going badly. The whole forest was teeming with soldiers. They had caught Pelle and put him in one of the sheriff’s dungeons on bread and water. There were two of Borka’s men there as well, and the sheriff had sworn, it was said, that all the robbers of Matt’s Forest would be taken captive and receive their rightful punishment within a year and a day. And what would that mean? Little-Snip wondered. Death, perhaps?
“Doesn’t he ever laugh nowadays?” asked Ronia.
Little-Snip looked surprised. “Who? The sheriff?”
“I’m talking about Matt,” Ronia said.
And Little-Snip assured her that nobody had heard Matt laugh since the morning Ronia had leaped across Hell’s Gap before his eyes.
Little-Snip had to go before it was too dark. He was going home now, and he was already worrying about what to say to Lovis.
So he tried again. “Ronia, come home! Please! Come home, won’t you?”
Ronia shook her head and said, “Thank Lovis a thousand times for the bread!”
Little-Snip quickly thrust his fist in the leather bag. “Sakes alive, I’ve got a bag of salt for you too! I’d have been in deep trouble if I’d taken it home again.”
Ronia took the bag of salt. “I have a mother who thinks of everything! She knows what you need if you’re to stay alive. But how did she know that we had only a few grains of salt left?”
“Perhaps that’s the sort of thing a mother feels,” said Little-Snip, “when her child lacks something she needs.”
“Only a mother like Lovis,” Ronia said.
She stood gazing for a long time at Little-Snip as he went away. She watched him speed nimbly along the narrow shelf of rock, and she did not return to the cave until he was out of sight.
“So you didn’t go home with him to your father,” said Birk. He was already lying on his bed of fir branches. Ronia could not see him in the darkness, but she heard the words, and they were enough to irritate her.
“I have no father,” she said. “And if you don’t watch out, I may have no brother either!”
“Forgive me, sister, if I’m unfair,” said Birk. “But I sometimes know what you’re thinking.”
“Yes,” said Ronia in the darkness, “I’m thinking that I’ve lived for eleven winters but the twelfth will be the death of me. And I’d so much like to stay on earth. If you can understand that!”
“Forget your winters,” Birk said. “It’s summer now!”
And it was summer. More and more summer every day, clearer, warmer than any summer they could remember. Every day in the noonday heat they bathed in the cold water of the river. They swam and dove like a pair of otters and allowed the current to carry them until the roar of Greedy Falls became so loud that it felt too near and too dangerous. Greedy Falls, where the river flung its mass of water out over a mighty precipice. No one got away alive after that journey.
Ronia and Birk knew where the danger began to be immediate.
“As soon as I catch a glimpse of Greedy Hump sticking out,” said Ronia, “I know it’s really dangerous.”
Greedy Hump was a great boulder in the middle of the river some distance above the falls. It was a warning mark for Ronia and Birk. They knew then it was time to make for the bank, and that was hard and tiring. When they reached it, they lay panting and blue with cold, and let the sun warm them through while they watched the otters swimming and diving along the river’s edge without ever tiring.
As the day cooled toward evening, they went out into the woods to ride. Villain and Savage had kept away for a time. The harpy had scared them so much that they were also frightened of the humans who had been sitting on their backs when they were hunted. They stayed shy for quite a long time, but now they seemed to have forgotten everything; now they came running and wanted to race again. Ronia and Birk let them gallop off their first energy and then rode far and wide through the forest.
“These warm summer evenings are lovely for riding,” said Ronia. And she thought, Why can’t it always be summer in the forest? And why can’t I always be happy?
She loved her forest and all that was in it. All the trees, all the small lakes and springs and brooks they rode past, all the mossy outcroppings, all the wild strawberry patches and the blueberry bushes, all the flowers, animals, and birds—then why did it sometimes feel so melancholy, and why must it one day be winter?
“What are you thinking, sister mine?” asked Birk.
“I’m thinking that… there are murktrolls living under that enormous rock,” said Ronia. “I saw them dancing there in springtime. And I like murktrolls and rumphobs, but not gray dwarfs and wild harpies, I’ll have you know!”
“No, who does?” said Birk.
“But I hate harpies most,” she said. “And it really is extraordinary that we have been left in peace here for so long. They can’t know that we’re living in the Bear’s Cave.”
“It’s because they have their own caves in the mountains on the other side of the forest and not by the river,” said Birk. “And perhaps the gray dwarfs have kept quiet for once—otherwise we’d have had the harpies down on us long ago.”
Ronia shuddered. “It’s not good to talk about them. We might bring them here.”
It was getting dark more quickly now. The time of the light nights was over. In the evening they sat by their fire and saw pale stars sparkling in the sky. And as the darkness deepened, the stars became more and more brilliant, burning clear and bright over the woods. It was still a summer sky, but Ronia knew what the stars were saying: soon it will be autumn!
The next morning, another hot day, they bathed as usual. And then the harpies came. Not one or two but many of them, a great, fierce flock. Suddenly the air was filled with them, hovering above the river, screeching and hooting.
“Ho, ho! Lovely little humans in the water! Now the blood will run, ho, ho!”
“Dive, Ronia!” shouted Birk, and they dove and swam underwater until they had to come up for air. And when they saw the sky made dark by more and more harpies, they knew that it was hopeless now. This time they would not escape.
The harpies will see to it that I don’t have to worry about the winter any more, Ronia thought bitterly, listening to the screeching, which never stopped.
“Lovely little humans in the water, now there will be clawing, now the blood will run, ho, ho!”
But wild harpies liked to frighten and torment before they went into the attack. Time enough for clawing and killing, but it was almost as much fun to fly around hooting and terrorizing, while they waited for the great harpy’s sign that meant: it’s time now! And the great harpy, the wildest and fiercest of them all, flew in wide sweeps over the river—ho, ho, she was in no hurry! But just wait, soon she would be the first of all to strike her claws in one of the creatures splashing in the water there. Should she take the one with black hair? The one with red hair was out of sight just now, but he was certain to pop up again soon. Ho, ho, there were many sharp claws waiting for him then, ho, ho!
Ronia dove and came up again, gasping for air. Her eyes searched about—where was
Birk? She could not see him, she could not see him anywhere, and she moaned in despair. Where was he? Had he drowned? Had he left her alone with the harpies?
“Birk!” she screamed in terror. “Birk, where are you?”
Then the great harpy swooped, howling, down upon her, and Ronia closed her eyes…. Birk, my brother, how could you leave me alone at the worst time?
“Ho, ho,” howled the harpy, “now the blood will run!”
But still she wanted to wait just a little longer, just a little, and then… ho, ho! She circled above the river once again and suddenly Ronia heard Birk’s voice.
“Ronia, come quickly!”
A fallen birch, with green leaves still on its upper branches, came floating down on the current, and Birk was clinging to it. She could barely see his head above the water, but there he was. He had not left her alone! Oh, what a comfort that was!
But if she did not hurry now, the current would soon carry him out of reach. She dove and swam for her life… and then she had reached him. He stretched out his hand and pulled her to him, and there they hung, from the same branch, hidden as well as possible under the sheltering leaves of the birch tree.
“Oh, Birk,” Ronia gasped, “I thought you’d drowned!”
“Not yet,” said Birk, “but soon! Can you hear Greedy Falls?”
And Ronia heard the roar of mighty waters, the voice of Greedy Falls. They were now being carried to that abyss by the current. They were already far too close; Ronia knew it, she could see it. And their speed was increasing, and the thunder with it. Already she could feel the relentless tug of the falls. Soon, soon they would be flung out on the last journey, the one they could make only once.
Ronia, The Robber's Daughter Page 11