The Birds (24 page)

It was addressed to Jørgen, just a casual remark, probably something said while she busied herself getting his sandwiches ready and poured him a cup of coffee.

“Yes, isn’t it,” Jørgen answered indifferently.

“So he’ll be able to get out on the lake today alright,” said Hege.

Mattis didn’t hear whether Jørgen made any reply to this. He felt a shiver run right through his body. His thoughts swept over him from all sides, almost completely overcoming him. But he had to suppress them as best he could, managed to pull himself together and behave in a normal way.

Now you just stay where you are, he said to his thoughts, and got dressed. There was nothing left to do now except carry out the plan.

From the window he could see the lake. It was just as calm as when he’d been outside the night before. Nothing moved except a few thin veils of mist – it was a fine autumn morning. The sun
hadn’t risen yet, but it would soon appear in all its glory and burn away what odd patches of mist there were.

Mattis was still struggling violently with his thoughts when he came into the kitchen. Anyone could see that. Hege was there alone. Jørgen had already left, Mattis noted thankfully.

“What’s the matter?” Hege asked at once. She saw it was no ordinary morning.

Mattis simply shook his head in reply.

“Tell me,” she demanded sternly, knowing her brother as she did, and up to a point he obeyed.

“I’m almost killing myself, I’m thinking so much,” he replied truthfully.

“Oh, is that all?” said Hege.

He gave a start.

“Come and have your breakfast,” she said.

He tried to swallow a few mouthfuls. His answer had satisfied Hege and she asked no further questions. Mattis followed her with his eyes, and at last he announced: “Well, today the ferrying starts.”

Hege reacted with obvious pleasure.

“Yes, that’s right, Mattis. That’s a splendid idea.”

Had she been waiting all that eagerly? But then she remembered the dangerous boat.

“But actually—you once said the boat was a bit rotten. Is it still?”

“No, it’s not too bad really.”

“Do have a good look at it, and if it’s dangerous …”

“Not when it’s calm. It was when it’s windy I meant.”

“Well, keep an eye on it,” she said, and was on the move. “I won’t cut any sandwiches for you today. You can come up when you’re hungry.”

“Okay,” said Mattis.

Now he was ready, had to go. He remained standing in the middle of the floor. Finally Hege asked: “Anything you want?”

And with that he had to go. He could have said quite a few things now, but it wouldn’t have been right. It was difficult to have to leave, with so much unsaid.

As he walked down the slope, the sun rose above the ridge. There was a gentle autumn warmth in its rays that made the scenery translucent, made it somehow easy to walk among the shining foliage. And yet it was far from easy.

Mattis saw how the day was taking shape. The slope felt long and difficult, so he said in a loud and stubborn voice: “It’s going to be nice ferrying today.”

Still farther down: “And that’s a good thing.”

With these thoughts he managed to cover the length of the little path he was so fond of, down to the beach and the boat. The smell of tar struck him, called to life by the morning sun. The huge new oars were leaning against a clump of alders, their white wood shining. Mattis put them in the boat.

And now there’s nothing more.

What about—?

No—

He’d have to act quickly now. Quickly out with the boat. He pushed it out. But then he looked around him, wildly, dragged the boat in again and rushed back over the pebbles up to the clumps of birch and alder which edged the curve of the shore so delicately and neatly. He ran right up to the light gray stem of an alder, and bit his teeth into the bark so that the bitter juice stung. This was something nobody must see, and it lasted only a moment. And for that wild moment he remained standing there stiffly, then he tore a bit of the wood off and half-ran back to the boat again – while the marks of his teeth started turning red in the trunk.

What now?

Nothing more.

He glided away from the shore. He was rowing, and the things he was leaving behind remained in view the whole time.

THERE WAS NOTHING out on the lake except for a motorboat chugging along and growing smaller and smaller. There must be no one to interfere with what he had to do. It had been a great strain, tearing himself away just now – but all the same he managed to fix his thoughts on the right oar and the left oar in the usual way without getting into a muddle. Rowed as regularly as he would on any ordinary day. He didn’t even fix his gaze on anything on the shore this time to keep a straight course, and yet he rowed straight out of sheer habit.

The bow pointed toward the desolated slopes in the west, but the oarsman had his back to them. As he got farther out he could see an even greater expanse of shore from where he was sitting. Everything he saw seemed friendly and inviting.

From time to time he thought: Don’t look at it.

But he couldn’t stop himself from thinking. One person’s like this, another’s like that, he thought. That was as near as he dared come to thinking about it. He had to draw the line somewhere, if he were to have the strength to carry out his plan.

Only the decision is no longer mine, I’ve placed it in the hands of others.

The thick new oars lay across the stern, pointing toward land – they’d easily keep him afloat in calm weather, if the boat sank
beneath him. He couldn’t swim a single stroke, and now that was just as it should be – if he’d known how to, the test would have been meaningless.

He was assailed by all sorts of temptations – the clear autumn air and the yellow trees. He beat them off, whatever shape they took.

Far out. Where was he going? If anyone on the farms saw him, they might come rushing to interfere. He had to get away from all the farms and the shore, far away.

It has to be out over the dark depths, that’s where this has to be decided, I must go far, far out—

And that was where he seemed to be rowing now.

I’ve never been here before, he began telling himself.

He glided along, out of place somehow, although everything around him should have been familiar.

Suddenly he raised his oars – and big drops of sweat appeared on his forehead. What was it? It was here. This was the place. He was hidden here and far from every shore, there was no longer any excuse. Just here! Mustn’t think.

He shipped his oars. The water on them glistened in the sun. The boat glided along for a little while, then lay absolutely still.

“Well, Hege, the time has come,” he said across the surface of the lake.

He’d wanted to say this in a loud and firm tone, but didn’t succeed. On the other hand he managed to carry out his plan without
any bother. With numb fingers he removed the loose board and uncovered the weak spot. His foot felt numb as well, but he stamped hard on the rotten plank, and it went through at once. He jerked his foot back as if he’d been stung. The water came gushing in through the hole. He grabbed hold of the two huge oars and sat trembling in the bottom of the boat with one under each arm.

But where’s my body? he thought. Who is it who’s doing all these things? This isn’t me. Now we’ll see what’s meant to happen.

The boat soon filled up. It was completely waterlogged, and when the water reached the top it sank quietly beneath him. Before he realized what was happening, he was left floating on the oars. Just as he’d intended.

The water wasn’t cold. It still retained some of the warmth of summer. But the black depths seemed to snatch at his feet, and Mattis gave a jerk. Only his head remained above the surface. He began kicking out, and swung his arms wildly in an effort to push himself toward the shore he was trying to reach. He was allowed to do that, that was part of the plan. He thrashed about like a madman, making an odd splashing noise, and he actually moved forward. The lake was like a mirror, sky and earth lay there upside down.

Mattis pushed himself forward, was staring fixedly at a point on the western slopes. The point nearest him. He must plough his way through the water with every ounce of strength he could muster – that was part of the plan.

A puff of air moved across the lake after a while, as if someone had breathed on it. Here and there a shadow landed on the surface, but Mattis didn’t notice. He struggled and gasped for air and went on pushing himself slowly forward in the same direction. In the meantime a bank of cloud had risen over the horizon – he didn’t see that either.

He didn’t see anything anymore, it was as much as he could manage to push his way forward without falling off the oars. His body still felt strange and numb, and heavy as lead too. The distance he had covered was nothing compared with what was left. He was almost as far away from the shore now as when he had started.

“Hege!” he shouted all of a sudden – he had seen the wind coming. So the wind was coming after all! The gentle breath of air had quickly changed to wind. In the distance Mattis could see a dark-blue line stretching right across the surface of the water, and his face turned pale. It was quickly moving nearer. Blue and strong the wind sped from the clouds behind him – soon the lake would be in turmoil.

Already the wind was whipping up white crests on the waves; they would soon fill Mattis’s mouth with water and rob him of breath. Before long he would lose the oars.

“Mattis!” he shouted in his confusion and utter helplessness. Across the desolate water his cry sounded like the call of a strange bird. How big or small that bird was, you couldn’t really tell.

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