Barbara (13 page)

When Pastor Poul saw Tórshavn for the first time, he had thought that he had arrived at some underworld town. But now he felt as though it was the world itself of which he was taking leave. He sat in the stern of the boat together with the law speaker and Barbara. They were constantly rocked up and down. The law speaker was steering. One moment his figure could be seen high up against the grey sky, and the next moment he was deep down between walls of foam-tipped water towering above his gentle head.

Pastor Poul had sailed the long way from Copenhagen, but he had never experienced the sea as it was today. He was so close to it; he felt its power trembling in the boat’s timbers, indeed he even felt it right up his own back. He only needed to reach out a hand and it was in the waves; he looked down into them and saw the green refractions of the light.

But not a drop came into the boat. The men sat there cheerfully and comfortably and chatted with each other. The sail was hoisted. It spread out like a bird above their heads.

“You’re not going to be seasick, Barbara?” said the law speaker.

“No… Barbara?” shouted Ole Atten in his hoarse voice: “I’ve never seen another woman who could manage the sea so well. No one has ever seen her seasick, no one at all.”

“No, she will soon be used to the sea,” added the law speaker. He gave Barbara a kindly look. But his kindly eyes betrayed just the flicker of a smile.

“And she’s not afraid either,” Ole Atten continued his chattering.

“Oh yes, God knows I’m afraid,” exclaimed Barbara suddenly. “I hate Holmesund.”

She had grasped Pastor Poul by the arm. He felt that she really was afraid. A black, rocky islet lay before them. The sea was breaking heavily around it, generously donating of its abundance and never giving the rocks time to run dry again. Between this islet and the mainland there was a narrow sound, full of reefs with the sea seething over them. Pastor Poul, too, felt he shuddered a little as he saw the boat turn into these difficult waters. He looked at the law speaker, but Samuel Mikkelsen just nodded back; “The weather is fine.” Shortly afterwards he added, turning benevolently towards the crew: “Your east flow is lasting well today. It hasn’t turned yet.”

All this talk about the east flow had been something of an exaggeration. Niels the Punt admitted that there was still a bit of it left. They had just managed it.

In reality, the current was still flowing almost like that of a river north through Holmesund. The boat was dancing on top of it like a cork. It was so close to the cliffs on the port side that that the blades of the oars almost touched land. Pastor Poul could still feel Barbara’s nervous grasp on his arm. But the law speaker sat at the rudder as immovable as though he was playing chess.

Suddenly the water became calm. They were out of the sound. To the north, the mountain tops of Eysturoy stood out black and sharp. But the men expected rain. The clouds were low over Nolsoy.

It was past noon when they reached Kollafjord.

“I take it you are going to row us as far as Oyrareingja,” said Samuel Mikkelsen innocently to the crew. “It’s such a long walk along the fjord.”

“It’s a long way home,” mumbled Niels the Punt. “And the wind’s against us… and the west flow won’t simply wait for us.”

“The west flow – good lord, Niels,” said the law speaker. “The west flow will surely last a long time yet. It’s hardly begun.”

No one made any answer to this. It could be that the oar strokes became a little resentful. The law speaker sat there looking deadly serious, but perhaps he was smiling a little, deep down inside. They made land at the end of the fjord. The men took the baggage up from the boat. It was the law speaker who had brought least – he had only a small chest. But he asked them to be very careful with it. It contained some stoneware for his wife. Then he started on his dignified way. Pastor Poul and Barbara followed him.

The farm of Oyrareingja was a little way away, in the middle of a small area of flat land but overhung by enormous rock faces. They towered up and disappeared in the clouds. There was the rushing of the river, but otherwise no sound was to be heard other than that of the pale grass rustling at their feet. The farmer came to meet them. Would the crew not come inside, too?

“I don’t think they’ll say no to that,” said Samuel Mikkelsen.

The hearth room was somewhat crowded with the arrival of all these men. They were so diffident and shy on land, standing lined up to receive a dram that the farmer poured for them. Niels the Punt came last with a warm look in his eyes. Aye, aye, that was very kind of you, but the west flow…

“The west flow will last until six o’clock,” said the farmer. “Surely you’ll have a bite to eat before you leave?”

Pastor Poul felt the need to go outside for a moment. He found an enclosure between two outhouses. It was infinitely quiet and delightful here. The law speaker was already there.

“Oh, this is a fine place,” said Pastor Poul.

“Yes,” replied the law speaker, smiling rather uncertainly: “Particularly if the right use is made of it.”

He offered a bottle to Pastor Poul. But the clergyman wondered at the fact that in a country where there was so much occasion to drink, there was so little provision for taking the consequences of drinking. He took a small gulp and continued restlessly along the walls of the house which consisted of loose boulders and turf. But the law speaker appeared not to have any concerns of such an earthly character. He pursued his relationship with his bottle.

Rain had started to fall. The farm of Oyrareingja lay resting on its stretch of level land. The grass covered it like a carpet right up to the roof ridges, and up through the louvre the peat smoke rose in rings of blue. The cattle were lowing in the sheds. But in the kitchen the pans were suspended over the fire. The men from Havn watched with shining eyes – it was not every day they had the prospect of farm food.

When the law speaker returned, he started to discuss horses with the farmer. Could he not borrow a horse? He was so awkward and slow at walking. It would be a pity for Barbara and Pastor Poul if he held them back on their way through the valley in the rain. But if he had a horse to sit on, they would better be able to go all at the same pace.

Yes, he could have a horse with pleasure. The farmer asked if Barbara and Pastor Poul would not also like to have horses, but Barbara did not want one, she was not going to sit and get cold. And Pastor Poul agreed with Barbara.

They finally set off in miserable rainy weather.

Was
that
a horse? Pastor Poul had never seen one like it. Nor did it look particularly happy. It stood there with its eyes closed. Its tail hung straight down, its mane hung straight down and its ears hung straight down. The rain was also falling straight down.

The law speaker asked the crew to be careful with his box. There was a bit of stoneware in it, he said. For his wife. Then he climbed into the saddle, almost causing the horse to capsize. A secret smile spread from mouth to mouth. Perhaps there was also a touch of one in the law speaker’s own eyes. He could presumably almost imagine what it looked like. But his voice was gentle and quiet as always when he said goodbye, and the people from the farm took leave of him with great respect.

The tiny horse put one leg in front of the other; the law speaker’s enormous body swayed slowly on its back, and in this way he meekly disappeared into the wet mist.

Pastor Poul and Barbara followed after him; the grass swished gently around their legs, and they immediately got wet feet. Barbara turned her heavy outer skirt up over her knees and walked in her striped underskirt. A spirited woman she certainly was. Her face was wet, but her eyes were radiant.

The two men from the boat crew followed a little way behind with their burden. They were not happy about having to make the trip in this weather.

The rain poured down. All that could be seen in the dense mist was the wet outline of heather-covered mounds and banks of peat. So as not to lose their way, they had to keep to the river all the time. Its waters rose and rose and gradually became increasingly filthy with soil and mud. They kept encountering streams running down from the sides of the valley to the river. The law speaker’s horse tramped through thick and thin, but Barbara jumped over the streams. Pastor Poul often stood and hesitated before daring to follow her.

“Jump,” she shouted to him with a laugh.

He was not used to such ground as this, full of stones and hummocks, marshy patches and peat banks. He could only admire Barbara’s feet, the way in which they unhesitatingly always found the right place to step on, and the elegant way in which her legs carried her. She was quite statuesque, the way in which she went over all uneven surfaces; her bosom was held high, and she looked straight ahead. But there was a constant smile on her lips as though she was straining to reach some happy objective.

Pastor Poul suddenly felt water running down his back. He was wet to the skin.

The law speaker sat there in the pouring rain, rocking and nodding, but his face was quite serene. “I’m sure you are soaked to the skin now, Barbara,” he said from his elevated seat.

Barbara laughed blissfully through the water; she chuckled, “Yes, right to the skin… just look.”

She drew her skirt aside; it was stuck to her knees.

“You ought to dress like a man.”

“I don’t know. I think it’s more fun to be a woman.” She laughed again and took Pastor Poul’s arm, but immediately let go again.

They had been walking for an hour and could now not become wetter than they already were. It had gradually started to grow dark. They had crossed a watershed. The river they were following now ran the other way down through the valley. The surfaces of two small lakes glistened ahead of them. The boatmen told them that they were now half way.

The law speaker himself was no fiery horseman; he just quietly allowed the horse go on as it wanted. But it was nevertheless starting to tire – it was smaller than he was of course.

They had made their way forward to a bigger lake; this was Leynum. The rock walls projected across the water, but below them the path twisted its way along the lakeside. The oarsmen explained that they must not shout or speak in loud voices here as it could cause the rocks to loosen and fall down. But there was no need to warn them; no one had spoken a word for a long time.

Pastor Poul and Barbara, who throughout had been walking fairly close to each other, sometimes in front, sometimes alongside the law speaker, had now moved very close to each other in the dusk. Sometimes, on reaching some small obstacle, they gave each other a hand. They were wading in mire; their shoes were filled with mud, and they slipped and slid on the soggy ground. The rain was falling straight into their faces; it was hopeless to try to talk to each other, and sometimes they could scarcely catch their breath in this appalling weather. But Pastor Poul was in a good mood and felt refreshed. It was as though he was being drawn into a splendid new life founded on something sweet and precious.

Some way down in the intense darkness they caught sight of a couple of faint lights. Barbara shouted to him that these were the houses in Leynum. They stopped for a moment to wait for the others. Samuel Mikkelsen emerged from the gloom like a huge, tame centaur.

“We’d better go to Ole Jacob’s in Leynum,” he said. “He will give us shelter. The rivers are so full this evening. It will be impossible to get across them and reach Kvívík.”

The oarsmen joined them. They agreed, and Barbara also thought this was a splendid idea. It was always so boring to spend the night with the parson and his family in Kvívík… whatever people might say. But Pastor Poul suddenly discovered that he was sorry that this expedition would soon be at an end. He would have been happy to go through great rivers together with Barbara.

A quarter of an hour later, they were in the croft at Ole Jacob’s farm in Leynum. The law speaker gently raised the latch and slid in through the low door huge and gentle. The others followed one after the other and remained just inside the door. They all looked as though they had just been brought up from the depths of the sea. The fire was burning bright in the hearth, and the room was full of people all staring in silence at the new arrivals.

“Good evening,” said Samuel Mikkelsen at last, gently and slowly.

The farmer’s wife took a step towards him: “Good heavens, is it the law speaker out travelling in this weather?”

“Yes, there are five of us,” said the law speaker with a slight smile.

“Bless you… come in.”

Ole Jacob, the farmer, had risen and came across to shake hands with the new arrivals.

“Had we known we could expect such fine guests this evening, we would have prepared the best room,” said his wife.

But Barbara laughed: “It’s far cosier in the hearth room.”

The saucepan containing the supper was hanging over the fire. The girls went to and fro and were suddenly busy. But the farmhands were for the most part sitting on the benches along the wall. Some of them were carding or spinning and a couple of the older men were knitting.

The strangers were all seated. The warmth came to welcome them, and their clothes gradually began to steam.

“I imagine you need some dry clothes,” said the farmer’s wife.

The law speaker gave a wry smile. There could be no doubt that he was much in need of a change of clothes, but it was a fairly well known fact that there was only one single man in the country whose clothes would fit him. And this man lived somewhere far away in the north.

“I’m not really very wet,” he said. “I can quite well sit here in my clothes. Perhaps I may be allowed to go to bed soon.”

The farmer’s wife came with her arms full of woollen clothing. She kindly started to undress Barbara.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” said Barbara. She smiled contentedly and relaxed all her limbs as though they were tired.

But Pastor Poul suddenly fell into a state of extreme agitation. It came all of a sudden. He jumped up and went across the floor; he was not himself aware that he was doing it.