The next Sunday arrived. Jørgen was in his room as usual.
Mattis was bursting to talk.
“Hege,” he began in a fumbling voice. He had to find out more about her and Jørgen.
And she really let him have it: “I’m fed up with you staring at me!” she burst out. For once there was genuine fury in her voice. “I can’t take a step without you staring!” she said.
Her words went through him like a knife. Fed up with him? She’d actually said she was fed up with him.
She regretted it almost as soon as it was said – as usual when she loses her temper. She softened again: “Please try and forget it, Mattis. It’s not true, I’m not fed up with you.”
“How can I forget it if you’ve said it?” Mattis replied, horrified.
Hege stood in front of him, frightened: “Sometimes you have to ask people to forget things you’ve said all the same. Haven’t you ever felt like that? I didn’t want to—”
“I know what it is,” said Mattis suddenly.
“What is it you know? How can you know anything when there’s nothing to know?” Hege answered quickly. “I’m not fed up with you.”
She is sharp alright, he thought, but he’d been sharper this time, he’d been talking about Jørgen and well she knew it, she couldn’t fool him. He’d been turning it all over in his mind while he’d been out ferrying these last few days. If she was fed up with him, it was because of Jørgen. And now he had to find out about it, there was nothing else to do!
“Come down, Jørgen!” he called up to the attic suddenly, in a voice that was dangerously loud.
Hege shouted: “Mattis! What on earth do you think you’re doing?”
“Come down, Jørgen!”
Hege thought her brother had taken leave of his senses, she grabbed him by the arm to try and get him out of the room. At the same time she uttered threatening words in a low, angry voice: “Shut up! Have you gone mad! What in the world are you thinking of? Come on, we’re going outside. Can’t you leave Jørgen in peace!”
“Jørgen!”
“It’s nothing,” Hege shouted up to the attic.
“I can hear him coming now,” said Mattis, refusing to let himself be dragged outside.
Yes, Jørgen was on the ladder now.
Hege let go of Mattis, rushed into her room and shut the door behind her.
Jørgen came in and asked: “What is it, Mattis? Here I am.”
Jørgen was in his Sunday best, a fine-looking fellow and a terrific lumberjack. Mattis didn’t answer his question, he stood rather taken aback by his own impetuous behavior.
“What sort of a game is this?” said Jørgen rather sharply, coming nearer.
There was nothing to do but to have another go: “I’m afraid you can’t stay here any longer,” said Mattis, the color rising in his cheeks. The words were out before he realized what was happening – they’d run through his mind countless times already.
“Really? What have I done then?” said Jørgen. He didn’t sound very angry either, it was almost as though he expected it.
“You mustn’t take my sister away!” Mattis blurted out.
Jørgen stood unmoved.
“I’m not going to take your sister anywhere. Nor am I going to leave the house, just when I’ve settled in.”
Mattis was momentarily at a loss.
“Hege isn’t like she used to be, and it’s your fault.”
“What do you mean? What’s Hege been telling you?”
“Hege isn’t—” Mattis began, but he stopped. He was going to say isn’t kind anymore, but he changed it to: “Isn’t like she used to be, that’s all!”
The lumberjack forgot himself, and gave a little laugh,
His laughter had an instantaneous effect on Mattis. He became absolutely furious, all kinds of thoughts chased through his brain, and before he realized what was happening he was giving the smug fellow a piece of his mind: “There is no need for you to laugh! What do you know about the things I know? What do you know about the bird that was up on the path here – more wonderful than you’ll ever know. But it was there. And it was for Hege’s sake. I know a lot about Hege, a lot. And then you come along!”
Mattis almost collapsed at the force of his own words, and they were probably intended to crush Jørgen so completely that he’d never dare show his face here again.
But it didn’t work that way.
“Yes, then I come along,” Jørgen answered calmly. “By the way, where’s Hege got to?”
Mattis pointed to her door.
“What are you doing?” he rapped out, seeing Jørgen making straight for her room.
“Wait a second, Mattis, we might just as well talk about this thing properly.”
And with that Jørgen went into Hege’s room, and Mattis’s outburst had been all for nothing. Inside the room a few hasty words were exchanged – then the door opened and Jørgen and Hege both came out, Jørgen obviously acting as Hege’s protector. Hege looked shyly at her brother this time.
Jørgen put his arm around her short plump body. Then he took her across to where Mattis was standing. Mattis could only gape. Hege was blushing.
“We’re good friends, Hege and me,” said Jørgen, “it’s just as well you should know.”
Hege didn’t resist, she was quite content to stand there with Jørgen’s arm around her – happy on the one hand and frightened on the other.
Mattis asked with great difficulty: “Are you really sweethearts?”
Hege looked up at last. She had given Mattis so many meals over the years that she felt she could.
“Yes, we are,” she said to him. And whether or not she’d intended it, her face lit up in a broad smile, broader than Mattis could ever remember.
Then she smiled in a different way, and said to him: “And you were the person who ferried him across to me, remember.”
Mattis hardly heard what she was saying. He was gripped by a sudden fear. Hege was lost to him.
“When did you become sweethearts, then?” he asked weakly, yet insistently.
“While you were ferrying we became sweethearts.”
Mattis saw how happy Hege was, standing there with Jørgen’s arm around her. Her face was hardly recognizable, no trace of tiredness or anger, no worry marked it. He felt quite overcome by it all, at first almost inclined to be pleased, but then the full realization struck him: Hege was lost.
No, no.
Surely you can see that. She’s lost.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before, Hege?” he burst out at last.
“We wanted to be sure first,” said Hege. “But you’ve found out for yourself now as well. You’ve been clever.”
He started at this word of flattery she’d used to pacify him. It made him writhe. He asked the question on which everything seemed to hang.
“Are you going to go away?”
“Why should you think that?”
“Well, seeing you didn’t dare tell me about it!”
“No,” Hege said firmly, “we’re not going away. There’s room for Jørgen here too. Everything will be just as it was before.”
Mattis hardly dared believe it, they’d hidden so much from him. Fervently he said: “I wish I’d never been installed as ferryman.”
“Now, now,” said Hege. “You’ve got a good job, rowing on that lake all day.”
“But Jørgen’s the only one I’ve brought across! I wish I’d never taken it up.”
At last the reticent Jørgen spoke.
“There may be others,” he said.
Mattis just shook his head. Jørgen went on: “You never know what may turn up—on the lake, you know.”
Mattis felt he had the right to be hard and merciless now: “I wish I’d never—”
He didn’t get any further, Hege intervened before he had a chance to damn and destroy anything. She walked straight up to her brother and did something she’d never done before as long as he could remember: she embraced him, held him tightly i
n her arms. There was an odd expression on her face. And then she said: “Bless you, Mattis, for becoming the ferryman.”
She released him again quickly and rather shamefacedly walked away, over to Jørgen.
Mattis had to ask himself: then why has she been getting so cross with me since she became Jørgen’s sweetheart? Should he ask her? No.
“Well then, there must be different kinds of sweethearts,” he said instead, a little off the point.
They looked at him, were on their guard. Had he been too clever for them this time? he wondered. Hege asked: “What do you mean, different kinds?”
“Just that this isn’t the first time I’ve seen sweethearts, you know,” said Mattis. “Last spring I was thinning out turnips with a couple, and they spent the whole time pinching each other’s legs.”
Hege and Jørgen felt happy again. Off their guard.
“They were younger,” said Hege, “that’s when they pinch each other.”
Jørgen remained silent.
“They were kind, too,” said Mattis, “the whole time.”
“Yes, I’m sure they were,” said Hege.
“But why have you been so cross?”
There it came after all, tumbling out, because of what Hege had said. He couldn’t take it back. Actually he was quite glad he’d said it.
Hege blinked, a little startled. Then she tried to cover up, without much success.
“Cross? I haven’t been cross.”
This was no answer – Mattis had stumped her, he could see that. While he was in this strong position he said: “I’m going down to my boat. I must think a lot more about this!”
“Yes,” said Hege.
He went at once.
Halfway down the slope he paused, stood thinking, went up a little way, then he turned abruptly and went back down again.
You, my woodcockest bird – the phrase suddenly struck him inside.
He didn’t push the boat out, sat down on the shore next to it, inhaling the pleasant tarry smell. But he looked at it with distaste and thought: Who was most to blame for Jørgen’s arrival, the boat or himself? Neither of them could have brought Jørgen across to the house alone.
33
HEGE NOW BEGAN visiting Jørgen quite openly in the evening when he was resting. This was the first change that took place after the important announcement. And Mattis could see that Hege was full of happiness. He realized that he ought to be full of happiness as well, but he couldn’t manage it, he was frightened.
He plucked up courage and asked: “What are you going to do? Are you going to stay here?”
“We won’t decide anything about that for a long time yet,” Hege answered. “We’re going to leave things as they are for the moment.”
“But when will you know!”
“We’ll see. Just stop worrying.”
Didn’t she realize how frightened he was? What was going to become of him the day she left and wasn’t around any longer? Hege’d been within arm’s length all his life, he’d never known anything different.
“And then there was the bird up on the path,” he began, but got no further.
“The one that got shot? What about it?”
“No, that one only got filled with lead.”
“Listen, Mattis, you shouldn’t think about these birds so much, leave the birds to look after themselves,” she said lightheartedly, as if ready to burst into song. She didn’t though; the expression in Mattis’s eyes stopped her at once.
Mattis said gravely: “I don’t understand you.”
All song was gone, she said firmly: “Try and act like a grown-up man, Mattis. Use your common sense, the way grown-up men have to.”
“What is it, then?” he asked bitterly.
“Think of others a bit, too,” she said. “You have to when you’re grown-up.”
“What others?” he asked helplessly, filling her with fright.
She made no reply.
He set off to do a bit of ferrying. There’s got to be a call from the lake soon, surely, he thought. Something or other’s got to happen now.
Be a grown-up man, she said. She never used words like that in the old days.
He was plugging the holes in his boat. Every morning he had to inspect the tarred rags and the patchy repairs. His new boat was now more than ever a dream vanishing into the distance.
Be a grown-up man?
Mattis stared at the demand without understanding.
Hege was so drunk with joy she didn’t know what she was saying any longer, that must be why.
He still hadn’t pushed the boat out – and in the event he never did, for he heard a faint rumbling in the air.
Thunder.
A bank of cloud was rising over the hills. At the same time there was a rumble from somewhere.
Well, there’s only one thing to do now, he said. I never agreed to ferry anyone in a thunderstorm. Luckily I made that an exception.
He used an extra piece of rope to tie the boat up, in case the wind got really strong, put the oars under cover, and was off to his usual hiding place with no other thoughts in his mind. He didn’t feel bound by normal agreements during thunderstorms. Halfway up the slope he suddenly remembered Hege’s insistent demand: Be a man! He stopped and thought about it.
Up at the top he saw Jørgen going into the house. Had he had an accident in the forest? Didn’t look like it. Jørgen hadn’t gone to the forest yet, was at home with Hege when he should be at work.
Things are in a real mess, Mattis thought. Jørgen doesn’t fell trees and Hege doesn’t knit sweaters. I’ll soon be the only one here who does any work.
The rumbling was growing louder, and he walked faster. Suppose he went into the house and stayed with Hege and Jørgen while the storm was raging, wouldn’t that make him a man?
No, I don’t dare, he admitted. And he made straight for the usual safe place. Maybe the storm wouldn’t be as bad as last time, but it would be enough to sap him of all his strength. He got inside, fastened the door and put his fingers in his ears.
The storm wasn’t any too light. Outside, the thunder crashed, and the uncanny hissing sound started. Mattis sat huddled up. Not for a moment did it occur to him to try to be a man, the situation was far too serious.
But this time his hiding place failed to give him proper protection. Neither the thunder nor the noise of his fingers in his ears could drown Jørgen’s shout. It came from just on the other side of the wall. It was a stern voice full of authority.
“Mattis! Out you come!”
Out? Is he mad? thought Mattis. He didn’t stir, just looked to make sure the hook was on the door.
Outside, the order was repeated.
“Come out, Mattis!”
It suddenly struck Mattis that this was just the way he’d called Jørgen down from the attic himself that day.
Jørgen shouted: “Do I have to come in and drag you out! Out with you now, Mattis!”
What was going on? Jørgen was almost unrecognizable. Drag you out, he said, making it impossible to stay. Outside, the thunder was crashing so violently that Mattis’s face turned pale and his legs felt limp, but he had to go out now all the same – or there’d be nothing left of him. And all because Jørgen stood there calling.
“I’m coming!” he shouted through the door.
He undid the hook and his eyes were almost blinded by a flash of lightning as he opened the door, it seemed to get right inside him – but he walked across the threshold and out onto the grass. There was a crash of thunder overhead. The rain had held off so far.
He hardly realized where he was – but there was Jørgen, standing right in front of him. His eyes were half-blinded, he saw Jørgen through a mist, and farther away he could just make out Hege standing in the doorway. She was gesticulating and waving to Jørgen, looked as though she was trying to make him stop – wanted Mattis to be spared this ordeal.
“Here I am!” Mattis announced simply, and stepped forward. All feeling had gone from hi
s legs. He walked straight toward Jørgen who had stepped back a little. The lightning flashed again.
“What is it you want, Jørgen?”
Jørgen stood waiting, motionless and silent.
Mattis walked through lightning and thunder. He didn’t collapse like an empty bag, didn’t have his fingers in his ears, kept his eyes wide open, walked purposefully toward Jørgen – he’d show him!
He came up to him, and Jørgen received him, motionless as before.
“Good,” was all he said.
Jørgen said it with emphasis – Mattis could feel it. He said it with respect.
Mattis was trembling, but his legs carried him without giving way. He looked at Jørgen, not knowing which feeling was stronger: friendship or fear.
“Yes, but what is it?” said Mattis, in a frenzy of excitement. “You must tell me what you want from me.”
“Come in and sit with us,” said Jørgen, “that’s all. This is no place for you to stay.”
Mattis felt anger stirring inside him but he didn’t dare get angry in this kind of weather. He hesitated a bit, but finally followed him in. His heart was beating wildly. The worst part of the storm was over, the noise of the thunder was dying away.
Hege was still standing in the doorway, it was obvious she was uneasy about Mattis.
“I think you’d better let us come in,” Jørgen said to her.
Hege nodded, didn’t know what to say. She followed them in, so that they were all together inside. Mattis stared helplessly at these strong and clever people. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to sit with them, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything – the reaction was setting in after all the excitement. While the storm was subsiding he went over to his bench and lay down, dropped off into an easy slumber, his thoughts far away.
The Birds Page 15
