The Bridges

by Tarjei Vesaas

  She refused to fall in with the joke. She seemed not to hear what he said.

  ‘I’ve come to meet someone,’ she said seriously. ‘It was rather exhausting last time, but never mind.’

  Aud said, ‘We know less than you about that.’

  ‘I suppose that’s true, but all the same you know quite a bit about it, Aud.’

  ‘But since you like sitting with us, then ...?’

  ‘As I’m sure you can imagine, Aud.’

  Aud looked at Valborg, who could be so strange and cutting, and replied frankly, ‘Yes, I can really.’

  ‘All the same, I don’t think you quite remember how much it means to the person who asks for it.’

  ‘Let’s sit down here where we sat before,’ said Torvil, purposely breaking into the conversation.

  They settled on the same tree-trunk, close together, with Valborg in the middle. Valborg happened to touch Torvil as they did so, and started as if burnt.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  He pretended he had heard and noticed nothing. But if he had noticed anything it was that: She started as if burnt. The radiance was coming from Valborg, now as before.

  A thought flashed through his mind: What is Aud afraid of?

  Don’t be afraid, Aud, he thought.

  And yet, I don’t know, he thought a moment after.

  He looked across at Aud. She was sitting on the other side of Valborg, slapping her bare leg with a twig. Slapping it over and over again. What had Aud taken upon herself?

  Valborg sat waiting. The silence lasted too long. Aud slapped herself even more restlessly with the birch-twig.

  ‘You said it was exhausting,’ she began finally. ‘Was there anything we ought to have done? After all, we didn’t do anything—was it that perhaps?’

  Valborg shook her head. ‘Not what you’re thinking. But it was what you did and said that was too exhausting.’

  When neither of them found a reply to this, she added in explanation: ‘You did and said a lot of things that were important, or rather vital, considering what’s tormenting me. Though it may not seem so important from the opposite point of view, as you say, Aud. I’m not sure what I had expected. I suppose you saw how I felt when we parted.’

  Torvil said across Valborg, ‘You’d better say something: after all, you’re a girl.’

  ‘This “you’re a girl” is something Torvil’s got on the brain just now,’ said Aud, introducing a new and welcome note.

  Otherwise they sat in silence.

  Had they found a suitable tone?

  Just sitting, three eighteen-year-olds together.

  Putting to use the only thing they had.

  There had been no choice and so far it had turned out to be simple. If they were helping Valborg. It looked like it.

  But the riddle was not yet solved. What was building up here in secret, providing unexpected snags, was far from solved.

  Someone was sitting tensely, on guard.

  ‘Listen,’ said Torvil softly, as if on sentry-duty.

  A wind. Not here, but far away on a hilltop. They heard it approaching through the wood until it reached them, and then they sat and listened to it quietly and intently, for it was the kind of wind you have to listen to. It came to them and lifted the branches and fanned the leaves with a touch of wildness, yet still gently. It was warm and far-travelled. Then it passed on.

  Afterwards they sat for a long time in silence: Valborg between Torvil and Aud. For a while there was nothing besides a mysterious bewitchment.

  There is a deep, dark well somewhere—but at this moment it is invisible. You do not know what is inside it. If you were forced to go down it you would probably find out. At the moment it is invisible; at the moment you cannot see its gaping mouth.

  They were afraid to move. This must not be spoilt. Torvil sat bewitched, trying at the same time to ignore the sensation. It came from Valborg, of course. He looked across at Aud—Aud who was afraid. Now he was suddenly afraid too, in all the radiance he was being exposed to. Some play of forces was under way, and he deluded himself that it had built up independently.

  Valborg sat quietly between them. He could scarcely take his eyes off her.

  We have Valborg with us, he said to himself, and truth stood on its head. It’s really Aud who brought it all about, he decided.

  No use denying that it’s Aud’s work. It was important to establish this point now. Aud’s wild defence of this unknown person, when she hadn’t the slightest idea what the stranger might be like ...

  He interrupted his anxious defence of himself against Aud, with a shudder when he remembered what he had almost done: run to the telephone to give warning. The wheels would have been set in motion. So that by now Valborg would perhaps have—don’t rake that up again.

  This is something unfamiliar that I want to experience. After all, I’ve longed for this my whole life. The unknown. Now it’s right beside me, shining out towards me. It has come. Do I merely have to reach out my hand? It is for me, too, the unknown. For me, as for other people.

  He looked at Aud who had saved Valborg, but he no longer thought: Don’t be afraid, Aud. He had no thoughts, he was prisoner to a power that could control his slightest movement, including his next movement, which was to take Valborg by the hand. Her hand was resting on the tree-trunk right beside him. Clearly this was no ordinary handshake.

  She’ll start as if burnt, flashed through him—I know she’ll start as if burnt.

  She did more than that. Her whole body winced. He saw the colour rush into her face, glimpsed the momentary confusion in her eyes. She regained her composure just as quickly. She withdrew her hand and her eyes. She sat tense and still.

  Torvil felt hot and cold alternately.

  What’s Aud doing? was his first thought.

  Has Aud noticed?

  Aud did not seem to have seen anything. She was looking the other way. Now, at any rate. Then she turned to Valborg and nodded to her for no reason.

  What on earth was she nodding for? Had she noticed after all?

  No.

  ‘What is it?’ Valborg asked Aud, flustered.

  All these things seemed to happen at once and interwoven with one another.

  Aud could not help the ghost of a laugh.

  ‘Nothing very important, I don’t suppose. I expect you’ll stay and enjoy our company, as was intended.’

  Valborg looked at her uncertainly.

  Torvil flushed at Aud’s little laugh. The bewitchment was over. Why couldn’t I have controlled myself a little? How stupid! So utterly—now look, it’s all spoiled.

  Valborg rose to her feet. ‘Thank you, Aud. I expect it sounds strange, but ...’

  ‘Are you going already?’ asked Aud.

  ‘Yes. I think I should. I see I’m in no state to sit here today.’

  ‘This is rather abrupt. Rather unexpected. But there.’

  Aud’s tone was almost sharp. She stood up too. Torvil recognized that voice from many unimportant quarrels. Here it grated more.

  Valborg said, afraid, ‘Aud, you mustn’t break this off. It mustn’t come to an end.’

  Aud was calm again. She was even friendly.

  ‘Come to an end? I’m not the one who wants to go.’

  ‘No, I know.’

  ‘I shan’t bring it to an end.’

  ‘No, you mustn’t bring it to an end,’ repeated Valborg, as if she had heard nothing. ‘I’ve told you before: it means more to me than you realize.’

  ‘I’m glad you think so. Still glad you think so.’

  They were all on their feet. Torvil, who was consumed with regret and annoyance for what he had brought about, was busy kicking the tree-trunk with his heel. He had moved a couple of paces away from the girls and was standing there kicking.

  How stupid!

  He had to do something to improve the miserable situation he found himself in. Aud must have seen his stupid behaviour. Aud too.

  ‘None of us wants to go!’ he sai
d loudly, as if they were a long way off. ‘It’s all imagination and nonsense—if you want to know!’

  The girls’ faces were turned towards him. There was no anger in them. They stood there as if they understood him, somehow, now that he was confused and helpless. In their eyes he read something that corresponded to his own deepest feeling. They were extraodinary.

  He felt relieved, and was able to speak more calmly.

  ‘Sit down again, Valborg,’ he said, steering a venturesome course and sitting down himself as he said so.

  ‘Yes, I think that’s a good idea,’ said Aud, and sat down at her end of the tree.

  Valborg remained on her feet

  ‘It’s important to us too, Valborg,’ said Aud. ‘We’ve said so plenty of times, and it still holds, you know.’

  Valborg went on standing.

  ‘I can’t take any more today,’ she said. ‘Don’t be offended when I ask you to postpone this.’

  Torvil felt his regret nag at him once more.

  They did not ask her again. There was nothing to be done. To force Valborg to stay was pointless.

  Aud asked softly, ‘But you’ll come again?’

  ‘Oh, yes, of course.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘In a couple of days, if I may.’

  Torvil was dumb. The atmosphere was such that he dared not interfere, nor did the girls attempt to involve him.

  ‘If you may?’

  ‘Yes, I understood you very well, Aud. So I’d like to keep to myself for a couple of days. May we say two days?’

  ‘Very well.’

  ‘And here?’

  ‘We may as well come here.’

  ‘But I’m not free that morning,’ said Torvil, given the chance to intervene in a natural way.

  Aud looked at him enquiringly. ‘Oh? What will you be doing?’ she said.

  ‘Never mind,’ Valborg hastened to say. ‘I’ll come in the afternoon. But I’m afraid I can’t come early. Will five o’clock or a little after suit you?’

  ‘What about you, Torvil?’ asked Aud.

  He felt the sarcasm in her question.

  ‘All right by me,’ he replied.

  ‘We’re agreed, then?’

  When they left, Valborg remained standing as she had done on the previous occasion. She clearly wanted to be the last. It did not concern Aud and Torvil, so they went.

  ‘She doesn’t want us to see which way she goes.’

  ‘She has to cross the bridge, so why should it matter? There must be some other reason.’

  Torvil was miserable after what he had done. At the same time he was pricked by defiance.

  There would certainly be a sequel, and it would be bound to follow at once.

  25

  Aud and Torvil

  Which of us is going to begin? Torvil wanted to say as they walked home from their unexpectedly brief meeting with Valborg.

  But he did not ask the question. From experience he knew that when Aud walked in the way she was walking now, she would answer, ‘Don’t see why we should begin on anything.’

  Well, she’d have to.

  Now she was just walking with her nose in the air. She went before him along the path; he watched her and thought how well everything had been arranged for Aud and himself. He watched Aud, so lithe and energetic, stepping over familiar stones on the path; Aud, who he had seen was wise and everything else you could wish for. And who he had frightened and insulted.

  What had really happened?

  It was all a muddle. He had been overcome by a surge of excitement that left him powerless. Valborg had started as if burnt. It meant that something had been happening before he knew it himself. No, perhaps it wasn’t like that after all. It had been his own wild fantasies, created by an unfamiliar radiance.

  There. He had been mistaken. Aud was going to begin. She halted in the middle of the path and turned round to face him. ‘What was all that about not being able to meet Valborg in the morning?’

  All right, here we go, he thought.

  ‘Didn’t want to tie myself down to the morning—and she said it suited her too.’

  ‘That’s no excuse. I don’t think you’re doing anything that morning. But we’re not going to quarrel about that.’

  ‘Isn’t that just what you want to do, quarrel?’

  ‘It all depends.’

  Aud started walking again, so Torvil had to talk to her back and her legs.

  ‘Out with it, Aud. It’s much the best.’

  ‘You know perfectly well what it is.’

  Torvil did not reply.

  ‘Torvil?’

  ‘Mm?’

  She stopped and turned.

  ‘Do you think you ought to behave the way you did to her just now?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so, but—’

  ‘But? You did it all the same.’

  She started as if burnt, he might have replied. A wave of emotion rose up in him.

  ‘What must Valborg think of you?’

  She started as if burnt, he might have replied.

  ‘Aren’t you going to answer? No, there’s no point in answering.’

  ‘You’re quite right. I can’t answer you, because I don’t know what Valborg thinks of me.’

  ‘You can’t wriggle out of it like that. Surely you can see that she has enough to cope with already.’

  ‘Yes, maybe that’s why,’ said Torvil defiantly.

  ‘You think you’re helping her?’

  Yes, maybe, he wanted to reply again. Or: You’re on the wrong track, Aud. But he wasn’t sure, and he let Aud continue.

  ‘You mustn’t play about with her in any way—you must understand that. It would be awful. She’s not grown-up, any more than we are. And you can see she’s very upset.’

  Torvil said, ‘All three of us are these days. You must take that into account before you get too severe.’

  ‘Yes, all right. In any case you mustn’t fool about next time. I’m warning you.’

  Whose side are you on? he felt like asking.

  ‘Let’s drop it, Aud.’

  ‘Will you promise me?’

  He interrupted her. ‘Neither you nor I can make promises about something we know so little about.’

  ‘Can’t make head or tail of you today.’

  ‘No, but now we’ll go home. We’re only saying things we’ll regret later.’

  They moved on, Aud leading the way. They soon came to where the wiseacres, as they called them, could see them. Torvil was tortured by defiance and perplexity, and as soon as he caught sight of home he stretched out a hand to Aud.

  ‘What is it now?’

  ‘Come on, let’s hold hands.’

  ‘I should think not. What use would that be? I can see you’re feeling pig-headed.’

  ‘Can’t we keep them happy at home for once?’

  ‘Do you know what’s the matter with you today? I don’t think you do.’

  ‘That’s as maybe. But give me your hand.’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  He came to his senses when he saw her face; she seemed to be about to burst into tears. He asked quickly. ‘What do you think I am?’

  ‘I don’t know any more. That’s the trouble.’

  ‘Dear Aud ...’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Remember where you are, Aud. Right in the line of fire.’

  They pulled themselves together and smoothed out their faces. Aud quickly took the few remaining paces to her own house, and slipped inside.

  When Torvil reached his parents, his features were in order.

  ‘Oh, are you back already?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The two days of waiting that followed were two wearing days. They tried to behave normally—and managed at least to avoid comment. They had no conversations alone. They were two long days and nights.

  Do you regret it? Torvil was asked by his inner gnawings and questionings.

  You hurt Aud.

  Yes, that’s what shock
s me.

  What will you do next time?

  I’m afraid, yet I’m looking forward to it.

  26

  Night in the Field between House and Stream

  We are all the creeping things that live along the banks, along the shores of the river. We fill the nights. We are all the little black beetles further up on land—we who have small holes to creep into when the stones above us are turned over. We are all those who bore in the slime when the current settles. We bore into things and live for ever. We are down there and in there where the light does not reach: we have our own light, we crawl past each other with our lights, and move on, lonely in great darkness.

  We are all the places in the wood. Even though no one is here now, the wood is dense with memories where the grass has been trampled down an infinite number of times. We are the places where the words fell, life-giving and life-destroying and paralysing and uplifting. We are the infinitely many kind, hidden places where people have come together. We are the small places that will never be forgotten, that people bear in their memories till their dying day, although they are quite insignificant: a stone or two to sit on, spring foliage, a brook almost without water in the early summer.

  We are the long, gliding hours, and all the places. At every step there is a memorial. If they were visible, we would appear as one ghostly web of life.

  We are those who have emerged from the earth just for this one short summer, and now wither and click all together on the ground, and will blacken beneath the heavy stripes of autumn rain. We are in the centuries-old trees that prosper and stoop, because birds sleep in innocence behind their leaves, and where countless living creatures sit quietly in the forks of the branches, so small that no one has seen them. We are in the bushes where this very minute something is being slowly devoured inside a spider’s web. We are big, radiating spiders’ webs with dew and morning sunshine in them, and we trap what we have to trap blindly.

  We are the soundless grass, where the snakes slither like dark water and dance for people and bewitch them. We are with the snakes even unto death.

  We are all nameless death chirps, in a dance known to few. A dance that fills the earth and the heavens.

  We lie like longing beside the footpaths.