The Birds (15 page)

The other man laughed contentedly, felt he was on safe ground again.

“Well no, I hope not.”

Mattis left.

Once outside he couldn’t resist taking another sweet. He placed one on each side of his mouth and let the strong, sweet flavor ooze on to his tongue – it seemed such a long time since he’d last done this.

The whole time he encountered nothing but strangers on the road. He wandered about, staring emptily at the cars rushing past him, and keeping close to the withered treetops where they were visible from the road. But the afternoon came to an end at last, and people began to leave the fields and return home. Those who were working for other farmers had come onto the road, several of them. There was a man coming along now, and Mattis headed straight
for him with an exploratory question: “Well, what have you been doing today?”

It was ill chosen. The man was tired and gave Mattis an irritated glance.

“What have you been doing today?” he countered, and wanted to be on his way.

Mattis gave a start. But he mustn’t let himself be frightened now.

“It’s something important,” he said firmly. “I only asked that other question because it’s the sort of thing people do.”

The man must have realized who he was talking to by now; when he spoke again his tone was kinder.

“I’ve been haymaking, there are still quite a few who haven’t finished yet,” he said. And he plonked himself down on a lopsided guard stone. “Now tell me what it’s all about, Mattis, quickly. I’m tired and hungry.”

“I don’t know how to say it,” said Mattis terrified. “I can’t do it quickly!”

“Then perhaps we could leave it for now and talk about it some other time?”

Mattis didn’t answer, instead he nodded in the direction of the two aspen trees whose tops could only just be seen, one of them shattered by the lightning.

The man wanted to get on.

“Well, if you can’t even tell me what it is, then I’m afraid—”

“I’m nodding,” Mattis explained, interrupting him.

“Well?”

“Do you see what I’m nodding at?”

“The forest.”

“Not the whole forest,” said Mattis, looking straight at the aspen trees.

“Ah, then I think I know what it is,” said the haymaker, embarrassed all of a sudden. Obviously a clever fellow, Mattis realized.

“Then you’re really sharp-witted,” he said to the haymaker. “That made it easy for me.”

The man could have no idea what high praise he was receiving from Mattis. But the important thing for Mattis now was to choose his words carefully.

“Do you see the one and do you see the other?” he asked, quite pleased with himself.

“Yes.”

“But do you see what the lightning’s done to one of them?”

“Oh my word, yes!” said the clever fellow.

Now the way was open.

“But who is it?”

The question was put, but that was the end of it, too. Change came over the man.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about now,” he replied bluntly, unwilling to continue the conversation.

Mattis groaned. The man obviously knew only too well what he meant. That was why he was unwilling to go on.

“It’s the one who’s sitting at home now, isn’t it?” Mattis asked, horrified at the sin he was committing. He was doing something dreadful, he knew it.

“Who’s what?” said the haymaker, looking lost.

This was beginning to unnerve Mattis. Who’s what? Yes, who’s what! He dared not think about it.

“No, nothing!” he said, frightened. “I didn’t mean it the way you think! She’s sitting making coffee, there’s nothing wrong. She’s sitting making coffee like all the others!”

The haymaker got up from the guard stone, clearly unwilling to listen.

“Well, I must be getting home. Tomorrow’s another day, you know.”

But once again the temptation got the better of Mattis – close as he was to a solution. He had to try asking in a roundabout way.

“Is there a name for one and a name for the other?”

“Don’t know.”

The haymaker said it as bad-temperedly as he could, putting a stop to further questions. And off he went.

Mattis was left behind as uncertain as ever, and horrified at his own words. He didn’t dare ask anyone else about it.

DEEP DOWN INSIDE Mattis was in no doubt that it was Hege, the aspen Hege, on which the lightning had left its mark. Hege was the elder of them, too. But he wouldn’t admit that these were his thoughts – some wicked person was thinking for him at moments like this.

“Life is uncertain now,” he said to Hege, “uncertain for both you and me.”

“What do you mean?” Hege asked. A lifetime together with Mattis had made her used to asking questions like this.

“I can’t tell you, but it’s awful,” he answered. “When I said uncertain I mean something awful.”

“Oh, I expect we’ll manage just as we’ve always done,” said Hege. “I’m getting more orders than I can cope with.”

He realized that her thoughts had immediately gone to money and food.

“Are you talking about food?”

“I certainly have to.”

Mattis was flabbergasted. He could see shadows closing in on Hege. He had to warn her.

“Do you remember the bird that got shot?”

“Yes.”

“But it isn’t that either,” he said.

Hege remained silent, waiting.

“But it’s only to do with one of us, the thing I mean!” he said earnestly.

“Well, I expect we’ll manage somehow, whatever it is,” said Hege casually. “But really, Mattis,” she said with a toss of the head, “you think up so many strange things these days that I hardly recognize you.”

This testimony made him light up with joy. Hege knew how to make you happy when she wanted to. He went and sat down by himself to be alone with his joy.

Sitting there all on his own he gave a sudden start: I hadn’t thought of that! If she’s the bird, he said, putting it another way, what’ll become of me?

I hadn’t thought of that.

It looks bad whichever way I think about it.

He pushed the thought out of his mind as quickly as he could and returned to Hege and said: “Let’s forget the whole thing.”

“I quite agree,” said Hege.

MATTIS HAD PLUGGED and repaired his boat and made it fit for use again. He was doing a lot of rowing this summer, caught a few miserable small fish – but most of the time he just rowed about on the big lake, down toward unfamiliar shores. The rowing always went well: his thoughts went straight down to the oars in orderly lines, they didn’t get confused as they did when he was working on land.

There was something new out on the lake this summer. The spirits of Anna and Inger haunted the open water. There was no hope of meeting them – and yet who could tell? Why shouldn’t they come out from one of the inlets, large as life, and see him. Come round a headland, beautiful and real. He asked for no more.

He rowed out onto the lake open and ready.

They didn’t turn up.

Back at the cottage he walked up to Hege: “Don’t you find things different now, either?”

She didn’t answer. But he could see that his words had disturbed her this time.

“Should I?”

He stood staring at her.

“Maybe,” he answered. “No one can tell. Let me look into your eyes, Hege.”

No, she wouldn’t let him. What was it she was afraid he might see? Suddenly he was afraid too. Was it anything to do with him?

“You mustn’t leave me!” he shouted.

Now she looked up.

“I won’t leave you, Mattis. I’d have done it long ago in that case.”

Normally this would have been enough to reassure him, but today things were different. He had lost his peace of mind. And then there was this eternal knitting!

“Put it down for a bit!” he said, grabbing hold of the sweater and throwing it along the bench. Then he seized Hege by the wrist.

A frightened look came into her eyes.

“What on earth’s got into you?”

“You mustn’t go!” was all he said.

Waves of confused thoughts swept through him: it was the Hege tree lightning had struck, he himself had decided this to save his own life. This could mean that Hege was in deadly peril. He’d seized hold of Hege and pulled her up on her feet. She didn’t offer any resistance, as if she knew this outburst was bound to come some day.

“Come outside.”

She went outside with him.

“We can’t stay here either. We must go far away. As far as possible!” he said, frightened and confused.

“In that case we can’t leave at once, we must take food and things with us,” said Hege calmly.

“What?”

The calmness of her voice knocked him completely off-balance.

“If we’re going far we must get ready first, you know.”

She talked as if it were the most natural thing in the world for them to be leaving. In his agitated state of mind he didn’t query it. Then suddenly he realized it was he who’d been talking nonsense.

“Come for a walk with me, then, if nothing else!” he pleaded. “A little way into the forest, if nothing else!”

This she agreed to straight away.

“Come on then, Mattis.”

Mattis’s conscience was torturing him.

“You don’t know what I’ve done to you, Hege,” he said, “but it’s something dangerous. You must take good care, so you can stay alive.”

Hege couldn’t help giving a start.

“Do stop it now, Mattis. I don’t know what’s the matter with you today. There’s no reason why both of us shouldn’t go on living for a long time yet.”

“Something’s been done about that,” Mattis said with great difficulty, “I can’t tell you about it.”

Hege had scarcely ever seen him like this before, so wretched. Now it was she who seized hold of his hand.

“Come on, let’s go. I am coming for a walk with you today. Don’t stand there like that.”

Without any definite idea of where they were going they strode off toward the cluster of spruces between the lake and the road; there was a little footpath there.

But Mattis had to go on from where he’d been interrupted, had to confess to the thing that was racking his conscience.

“And it’s me who’s done it,” he said, “but I can’t tell you about it. It’s simply like I say.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” said Hege, trying to calm him down. “I don’t want to hear about it. So it’s quite right, do you understand? Alright then, let’s have no more of it.”

“Do you really mean it?” he said, full of gratitude.

They were walking fast, as if they were in a hurry to get to someone. Remorse drove Mattis on, and Hege had to follow. They passed the bog where Mattis and the woodcock had talked the language of the birds. Mattis didn’t mention it at all; any expression of doubt from Hege would have spoiled it. They left the bog behind them and entered thicker forest. They were walking on real woodland floor now, no grass on the ground, just brown needles and patches of green moss.

“Let’s stop a bit!” said Hege, sensing the silence of the forest. He did stop, at last, and at once he felt the gentle silence too.

“Where are we?” he asked, confused.

“Not far from home,” she said patiently, “Just a little way inside the forest. Don’t you recognize the place?”

He paid no attention.

“I feel awful,” he said instead. “I’m so dreadfully sorry about something I’ve done.”

“Mattis, didn’t you hear what I said: stop it!”

“Yes, but—”

“Not another word about it. You heard me say everything was alright, didn’t you?”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” said Mattis stubbornly.

“Sit down on that hump there!” Hege burst out in sheer desperation. There was a soft, round, moss-green hump just where they happened to be standing.

Mattis sat down against his will. It was Hege who wanted him to, and she was the one with both willpower and strength.

“You’ve almost worn me out,” she said, standing beside him and drawing in great gulps of air.

Mattis had fallen quiet, and gave no answer. They went on sitting on the little hump. Not a sound was to be heard in the forest around them, and their own thumping hearts regained a calmer beat. Mattis
sat next to Hege in the forest, silent, because he had started thinking about something quite new, something pleasanter than the things that had been upsetting him a moment ago.

“Now if you’d been a girl—” he blurted out, but stopped himself quickly. “Rubbish!” he said. “Of course you’re a girl! I mean some other girl.”

“Do sit still now,” said Hege. “Really, the way you’re behaving today. You must stop it now.”

Since Mattis already seemed to have recovered, it was quite natural for Hege to use this ordinary tone of voice, chiding and scolding him a little. But Mattis put a stop to it:

“You didn’t dare look at me you were so frightened,” he said, banishing his vision of the girl.

“Afraid of you? I’m no more afraid of you than I am of a cat. You know that. Now let’s sit here for a bit, and stop being sorry about the things we’ve done.”

She was stern. She gave him strength.

She added: “You haven’t got anything to be sorry about, Mattis. There may be others who have, though.”

Mattis felt relieved. Hege was the clever one, it must be said. There was no one quite like her for taking the load off your mind.

He said, full of gratitude: “You don’t know how nice this is, Hege.”

“Nice here on this hump,” he added.

Hege looked as if she thought it was nice, too.

“We’ll come here more often,” said Mattis.

But their time on the hump was up. Hege said sternly: “We must go now.”

All the same Hege did something Mattis hadn’t expected, she didn’t rush straight back to her sweaters, instead she said: “We’ll take a little time off, after all this. It hasn’t been easy for either of us.”

“No, it hasn’t,” said Mattis. “But you managed everything alright.”

“Shall we walk on a bit, then?”

His face lit up with joy at this unexpected suggestion of hers.

The floor of the forest was like a carpet. They walked on it quietly without saying a word. But it wasn’t a very wide forest, suddenly they found themselves at the edge of the lake. The big lake where Anna and Inger had been.

The surface was like a mirror, and Mattis said: “We were out there rowing for a whole day.”