But the next time they stopped to rest, Tink said, “Look what’s dangling there.”
And there was the golden arrow hanging from the blanket that wrapped their bundle. The pin had stuck in the cloth as it fell, and there it had hung all that way.
Eidi sighed, took the brooch, and pinned it back inside Kotka’s old sweater.
When it was getting dark, they stopped for the night in a little dell with grassy sides. And that night Eidi dreamed again of Bandon. They were sitting by the fire and gazing at the colors of the flames. Bandon was younger and handsomer. His curls were all brown, and his mouth was red-lipped and generous. “Shall I tell you a story?” he asked in a friendly tone. And she was just about to say yes when she realized that it was a trap, that he was going to make her hear what she didn’t want to know.
So she woke herself up and lay for a long time listening to the cold wind soughing over the heath. It could not reach them down in the little dell.
14
The day after, they came to the high road that ran from north to south. Eidi had not yet decided if she wanted to ride to Crow Cove first and then ride over to Rossan’s with the horse—because of course he had to have his horse back—or if it was better to take the horse to Rossan’s first and then walk the long way home to Crow Cove with Tink.
It was the sausage and bread and cheese that made up her mind for her. They had eaten every last bit of it, and hunger was gripping Eidi’s insides.
And she was worried about Tink. His little head was dangling wearily on his long, slender neck. But it couldn’t be sickness, because he was fiercely hungry. It was as if he had been holding a deathly tiredness at bay for a long time, and now it had caught up with him and wouldn’t let him go. And he had no strength left to fight it off. At last she took the skirt off him, got him into pants, and used the rope that had held the skirt up to tie him to her back so that he wouldn’t tumble off the horse if he should fall asleep.
It was late afternoon when they came to the bend in the road and she saw Rossan’s house.
“Tink,” she called.
He mumbled something behind her.
“Look! There’s the house!”
The dogs began to bark as they drew near, and Kotka appeared in the doorway.
“Hey there! Who are you?” he called.
“It’s me!” shouted Eidi in reply.
Then she suddenly remembered her short hair. “It’s Eidi. I cut my hair.”
She untied the rope from around herself and Tink, got off the horse, and went up to Kotka.
“I wouldn’t have known you at all,” he said, staring. “You look like a boy, and—Hey, that’s my sweater you’re wearing—and my trousers.”
“I’ll tell you all about it,” she said, “but first I want you to say hello to Tink.”
She turned around and saw that he had fallen asleep sitting up on the horse’s back. The scarf had slid off his head and hung in its proper place around his neck. Then he started to droop to one side, toward them. Kotka caught him just before he fell off the horse.
They carried him inside and laid him in the settle bed. And then Eidi sat down at the table and told the whole story, while Kotka heated up some broth.
When she had finished and was sitting with the big, steaming bowl in front of her, she asked anxiously, “You won’t tell Lesna, will you?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Kotka assured her. “There’s already quite a lot she doesn’t know about. It’s not good for some people to know too much. And she’d let on to that old skirt chaser right away, and he’d come running out here. And we don’t want that.”
At last Eidi could breathe freely. She began on the broth and burned her mouth so that her tongue felt thick. But she kept eating until the bowl was empty and her stomach was filled.
Tink slept for a whole day and a whole night. Then he woke up and ate an enormous helping of broth and fell asleep again.
He lay quite still, with unmoving eyelids, and you couldn’t see his breathing. He was pale, but when Eidi put her hand to his face or his arm, it felt right, so he didn’t have a fever.
Sometimes she pulled her chair up to the settle bed and sang to him—the song about weaving the rag rug—because she thought it must be lonesome to be away from life for so long.
But when Tink finally woke up, it turned out that he hadn’t been lonely at all. He had dreamed that he was so happy he sang as he walked along a road that wound between green hills. Then suddenly it occurred to him that he had no business being happy, since it was his fault his mother was dead.
But then he met his mother. She looked like Eidi, and came right toward him. She was singing as she walked, too, and when she reached him, she bent down and kissed him. She went singing on her way, and from far down the road she turned and waved to him. And then he woke up.
All the weariness seemed to have been washed out of him. His eyes shone green and clear as he looked around with pleasure. He went out with Kotka to the sheep and returned delighted.
“You should have seen the dog,” he told Eidi. “She can gather all the sheep together in a minute. She runs behind them and darts from one side to the other so they can’t slip away.”
Eidi nodded absentmindedly while she went on carding the tuft of wool she had on the combs. She had been working constantly since they arrived, while she waited for Tink to be ready to continue their journey.
All the wool Rossan had not sold at the market, because she was to have spun it during the winter, was lying in big bales in the attic, spreading the odor of sheep through the house. But now that winter was almost gone and Tink was able to continue their journey, Eidi was in no hurry to leave—she wanted to attend to that wool.
And yet she felt uneasy. She was afraid that they would be discovered, and that Tink would be forced to return to Bandon.
“You can hide in the attic if anyone comes,” Kotka suggested. He didn’t want them to leave either.
“But what about the horse?” asked Eidi.
“I’ll just say it’s mine,” said Kotka.
So they stayed on.
Eidi worked out her unrest through her hands. Skeins of gray, brown, black, and creamy white yarn began to pile up in place of the bales. She taught Tink to card wool. Day after day he sat, his long, white neck bent over the carding combs, until suddenly one day Eidi saw him as a featherless fledgling, perched on a twig with a drooping beak. So she sent him off with Kotka and the young sheepdog. Old Glennie stayed in the house with her.
Kotka took care of everything else, so that Eidi could give all her attention to the wool. He looked after the sheep, fed the horse and the dogs, made soup and broth and stews of mutton and potatoes, swept, washed clothes, and scrubbed Tink from top to toe.
Eidi began to feel safe. It was a long while since she had dreamed of Bandon, and Burd was far away—even in her thoughts.
Then suddenly one day Kotka rushed into the room with Tink at his heels. “Hurry!” he said urgently. “Get up in the attic! There’s someone riding along the path from town.”
Eidi dropped everything, and she and Tink scrambled up the steps into the murky attic and hid in the farthest corner. She could hear Kotka bumping around downstairs, hastily hiding anything that might betray them.
Then suddenly she heard a familiar voice at the foot of the stairs. “My, my. What a flurry you’re in,” said Rossan.
15
Eidi held back a bit at first, but all she saw on Rossan’s weathered face was a wide smile. She threw herself into his arms.
“I stole your horse,” she mumbled into his sweater.
“No you didn’t,” he said, giving her a quick hug. “You just rode it home for me. There it is, out in the stable, isn’t it?”
“I took a blanket from Lesna.”
“Well yes, that was worse. She’s so fussy about her things. But you only borrowed it without asking leave, and Kotka can take it back to her.
“So this is the rascal who caused all that
commotion.”
Tink had come down from the attic. He stood at the foot of the steep stairs looking rather forlorn. Rossan went over and shook hands with him. Both the dogs followed close beside him, wagging their tails. Rossan sat down on the bench, scratched them behind the ears, and patted their heads. Then he looked up at Eidi.
“We have such a lot to talk about that I don’t know where to begin. But first let’s have a bite to eat. Kotka, your mother must think we don’t have a scrap of food in the house. Just open that bag and see what she sent with me!”
And Kotka pulled meat pies, salt pickles, sausages, cheese, hard-boiled eggs, baked potatoes and parsnips, and bread and butter out of the bag.
While they ate, Rossan told how Bandon had searched for them for several days but had finally given up, declaring that since, after all, Tink was no son of his, he could go where he pleased and much good might it do him.
Tink had been sitting very still, slowly peeling an egg. Now the anxious look disappeared from his face, and his appetite returned. He attacked the provisions and ate hungrily.
Eidi knew that Rossan had more to tell her, but she didn’t ask. She would wait until Tink had gone to bed. Kotka must have felt the same, because he started talking about the sheep and the dogs, and Rossan inquired about the wool, and Eidi proudly showed him the skeins of yarn.
Darkness fell, and Tink began to yawn. “Come along, I’ll tuck you in upstairs,” said Eidi.
“But Rossan has so much to tell,” protested Tink.
“You’ve heard the most important news,” said Rossan, “and that’s that you can sleep easy now. You’ll hear the rest as we go along.”
So Tink gave in—he was very tired—and went with Eidi up to the attic. He was asleep before Eidi had sung one verse of a song.
The house seemed to have taken on new life now that Rossan was back. It felt warmer and cozier, and only now that he was here did Eidi realize how much she had missed him.
The flames from the hearth set the shadows dancing on the whitewashed walls, and the good smell of food mingled with the homely smell of raw wool. An occasional thump of a dog’s tail on the floor told that one of them had suddenly remembered all over again that Rossan had come home. And an occasional little hop of joy in Eidi’s chest said the same.
At the same time, she realized that it wasn’t just Rossan himself she had missed. She had also missed having a grownup. Even though Kotka was big and strong, he was still only a boy, and what could a boy do against Burd and Bandon?
She had taken out the carding combs and was sitting by the fire. At the back of the room, Kotka was clattering with the dishes.
“That night Bandon came, did you know I’d hidden him?” asked Eidi.
Rossan nodded. “At first I just had a suspicion, but when I looked up in the hayloft, I knew for certain.”
“Did you see him?” asked Eidi in surprise.
“To be sure I did. He had hidden his head and most of his body, but his little behind was sticking up in the air.” said Rossan, laughing. “But I told the truth. I said there wasn’t a cat up there, and there wasn’t.”
Eidi joined his laughter. “I told the truth, too. I said he was shut in, and so he was—up in the loft.”
“Yes indeed, it’s not good to have to tell lies,” said Rossan, “but it’s good to be able to, even if you have to tell the truth to do it.
“The next day I didn’t let on. I complained about you stealing the horse, and that if you showed up at my place I’d give you what for. And I spun a long yarn about how you’d never dream of going back to Crow Cove, because you had fallen out with your mother and Frid.”
“But I haven’t.”
“I had to say something to stop them from looking for you there.”
He filled his pipe and lit it, and the spicy fragrance of tobacco mingled with the room’s other odors.
“He’s right—Bandon. There are lots of colors in the fire.” Eidi looked at Rossan in amazement. He went on, “You see, I could have spared myself all my yarns, but I didn’t know that until I’d talked with him.”
Eidi laid the carding combs aside. Kotka joined them by the fire.
“At first he searched all over town. Then it occurred to him that Tink might have remembered about his hunting lodge. So he went out there. But there didn’t seem to have been anyone in it, so he decided to spend the night there and ride on in the morning. He lit a fire and sat and watched the flames. He told me he sat there thinking of you.” Rossan looked up at Eidi. “That was when he said that about all the colors there are in the fire.”
Eidi nodded.
“He said that as he sat there, he realized he had tormented both himself and the boy by keeping him in his household—that he should have found a good family for the boy long ago.”
“Then why didn’t he?” said Eidi angrily.
Rossan shrugged.
“He just wanted somebody to take it all out on,” Eidi fumed.
Rossan’s pipe had gone out. He lit it again. “Maybe he was lonely. Maybe he thought he owed it to the boy’s mother to provide for him. I don’t know. Everyone has to be allowed to grow some wisdom—”
“And shake the stone out of his shoe,” Eidi suggested.
Rossan nodded and took a puff of his pipe. A greenish flame sprang out of the log at the back of the fireplace, and Eidi could feel something hard and tight inside her soften and unfold.
“He told me that when he discovered you had been in the lodge after all, he realized that it wasn’t Tink he had been looking for. It was you.”
“How could he have known I’d been there?”
“You’d put a new candle in the candlestick, evidently a different kind than the ones he ordinarily uses, one from a fresh bundle in the drawer. He sat up all night, and as soon as it was light, he saddled his horse and rode back to the town. Then he came calling on me.”
Rossan stood up. “I have something for you.”
He fetched a pouch and handed it to her. Eidi opened it and stared at all the golden coins in it.
“Bandon says that what’s left when you’ve taken the rest of your wages is to be spent to provide for Tink, and for you as long as you look after him.”
“But . . . how could he know you would find me here?”
“He didn’t,” said Rossan. “But I told him that sooner or later I was pretty sure to see you again.”
Then he brought a bundle packed in a worn silk kerchief. “These are the things Bandon bought from Tink’s mother when she came sailing to the town.”
Eidi opened the bundle carefully. The kerchief had almost moldered away in several places. Inside were a worn silver hair clasp, a yellowed comb made of bone, a child’s thimble, a small ring set with a green stone, a finely turned wooden case containing a couple of rusted needles, and ten little mother-of-pearl buttons, shimmering with green, white, silver, and blue—even more beautiful than the ones Eidi had lost.
“He wanted you to keep these things and give them to Tink some time or other.”
“I will, for sure,” said Eidi. She packed them carefully back into the kerchief.
16
The rain blew in from the sea and slashed against the windows. They had to have candles lit all day long. The fire blazed on the hearth and kept the stew bubbling in the pot, so the good smell of cooking was always in the room.
Kotka and Tink were out with the sheep. Eidi sat spinning, filling the room with the soothing hum of the wheel. Old Glennie lay asleep in her place by the door, thumping the floor with her tail now and then when she had good dreams. The clicks of Rossan’s knitting needles mingled with the other sounds.
“If you’d like to knit yourself a sweater, just help yourself to yarn,” he said.
“Thank you. Yes,” said Eidi. “I’d like that.”
She stopped the spinning wheel and flexed her fingers. She had been spinning yarn for days now and wanted to use her hands for something else.
“Yes, it’s time for a
change. It’s not good to do one thing for too long at a time,” observed Rossan.
He laid his knitting on the table and went over to stir the stew.
“We can eat as soon as the boys get in.”
Old Glennie woke at the sound of his voice, got to her feet, and shuffled over to him. Eidi went up to the attic and surveyed the skeins of spun yarn. She was looking for something left over from a shawl that Rossan had knitted for Lesna.
But when she found the little light-gray ball, she could see that there wasn’t enough for a sweater for herself. All the same, she couldn’t give up the idea. The yarn was so soft and fine, and it was the same pearly gray color as an overcast sky.
I’ll knit a tiny jacket, she thought, and took the yarn downstairs.
She began to cast on, but the yarn was so delicate and fine that it broke when she tightened the stitches. So she went back up into the attic and fetched down her own long braid, which was still wound up in her knitted head scarf.
She started again on the jacket, but now she knitted her own long hairs gradually into the rows one by one, to strengthen the yarn. Whenever she got to the end of a hair, she pulled a new one from the thick, golden-red plait.
“That will make a warm, well-wearing jacket,” remarked Rossan. “He’ll be glad of that.”
“Who will?”
“Your little brother, to be sure. Cam—isn’t that his name? He’s the only one that size I know of.”
And of course that was so.
At last one day it stopped raining. Kotka wanted to ride to town and see Lesna, and then he intended to come back in time to look after the sheep while Rossan made his trip to the big spring market.
Rossan packed provisions for him and gave him a shawl to take to Lesna that he had knitted for her. Eidi asked him to give Lesna one of her golden coins to pay for her board and lodging, not to forget to return the blanket, and to tell her thanks for the loan of it.
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