The Birds (20 page)

“No,” Hege replied lightheartedly, “we don’t know anything. We’re just happy. Why can’t you be happy, too?”

She was a different person, seemed to have forgotten the past. When Mattis was near her, he saw how full of happiness she was – in a way he was able to share in her happiness. He could appear cheerful and bold, even devil-may-care: “You might just as well tell me,” he said.

“Tell you what?”

“I can take it,” he said mysteriously, although deep down inside he was trembling with fear.

Hege looked at him hesitantly. She was blind, couldn’t see. Then her happiness returned again, and she wanted to be off.

“Do you remember what things were like before?” he began, but he couldn’t go on, had to leave without another word. Too many memories came back to him.

ONE MORNING Jørgen came towards him, obviously with something in mind. Mattis gave a start: this must be some new test. Jørgen was probably going to carry on where he left off. It was a cool morning, at the beginning of September, with patches of mist drifting over the lake, and blue sky overhead.

Jørgen had got ready to leave for the forest as usual, now he came up to Mattis: “You must come and work with me in the forest for a while now.”

“Got the ferry to look after,” Mattis replied curtly.

“No one to ferry now the autumn’s here,” said Jørgen. “You can come with me to the forest today.”

It sounded almost like an order, that was Jørgen’s way. Mattis called Hege, and Hege appeared at once.

“Am I supposed to go to the forest with Jørgen?”

“Yes, you go along with Jørgen,” she said. “If you don’t know about felling trees, he’ll teach you. I’ll get some sandwiches ready right away.”

Mattis stood feeling lost.

Sandwiches were no longer a problem. They had plenty to eat with the lumberjack there, compared with what things had been like before. Mattis allowed himself to be taken care of, but he didn’t feel very happy about it.

“Good,” said Jørgen, when everything was done.

“Why should I do this?”

“You’re going to learn how to fell trees.”

It reminded him of the time when he’d been called out into the thunderstorm. And now, just as he was getting on so well with the ferrying and had a steady job he could cope with.

On their way to the forest they walked through the village together – so people saw them, and saw Mattis dressed as a lumberjack himself. It was nice, though it didn’t mean as much now as it might have earlier, in the spring. A lot of changes had taken place during the summer.

He had to laugh.

“Well?” said Jørgen, smiling.

“Oh, nothing, I just remembered they way I couldn’t thin out turnips in the spring.”

“Hm,” said Jørgen. He was a newcomer and didn’t quite understand.

Mattis noticed this.

“The rocky island,” he said.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what that means,” said Jørgen honestly.

“No, I suppose not,” said Mattis.

No further explanation was forthcoming, either.

They came to the spot where Jørgen had been felling trees. The place looked like a battlefield: there were tree trunks everywhere,
lying among severed branches. Mattis was plunked down by a half-finished trunk and told to get the bark off. Jørgen set to on his own a little farther away.

Mattis did everything as best he could, but this was different from sitting in the boat rowing – here in the forest his thoughts got confused at once. And this showed on the tree trunk, it began to look as if something had been gnawing at it. Over by Jørgen trees were crashing and branches snapping, and the ground trembled.

Mattis was sweating. Finally he announced that he’d finished.

Jørgen came over. Gave a kind of grunt. Apart from that he didn’t seem to be dissatisfied. The trunk must have looked awful to a real lumberjack.

“You take a little rest,” was all Jørgen said, “and I’ll add a few finishing touches here and there.”

Mattis sat down. Jørgen seemed to swallow the trunk with his barking iron, it was so small. A question was going round and round in Mattis’s head like a birdsong: What am I here for?

“What am I here for?” he said aloud.

“To learn,” said Jørgen.

“Yes, but why?”

“It’s a useful thing to be able to do, fell trees.”

Jørgen refused to explain any further. Mattis thought: It’s all because they want to leave.

“You called me out into the thunderstorm, too.”

“Yes, and you managed very well. Now we’ll have a bite to eat, and rest.”

He handed Mattis the food.

“That wasn’t what I—”

“No, but take it. You haven’t had too much of it in your life.”

It was a sort of small token of friendship on Jørgen’s part, but Mattis couldn’t bring himself to touch what he’d been offered.

“You brought me here for a reason!”

Jørgen was slowly chewing his sandwiches.

“It’s your good we’ve got at heart,” he said, “I can promise you that, Mattis.”

He ate a whole sandwich before saying anything more.

“We just don’t know what to do,” he said suddenly and looked openly at Mattis.

“About me?” Mattis asked, quick on the uptake.

“Yes, of course.”

The big lumberjack sat chewing Hege’s sandwiches. There was a kind expression on his face. In one way Mattis wasn’t afraid of him, but at the same time the things that Jørgen knew about and wouldn’t tell him made him tremble.

“But we can talk about this later,” said Jørgen. “You’re going to learn how to fell trees now. People can earn money when they know how to do that, and then they can manage.”

“I manage alright,” Mattis blurted out.

“Oh yes, but it’s best to be able to manage on one’s own,” said Jørgen in a friendly but firm voice.

In the alert and watchful state of mind Mattis was in these days this could only mean one thing: they were going to leave him.

“I don’t want to learn!” he cried.

“Sometimes we have to,” said Jørgen, and it was the same voice that had summoned Mattis out into the thunder and lightning.

Mattis was going to have to give in. But suddenly an idea came to him. He asked abruptly: “Can I go home?”

Jørgen was facing the other way; all he did was make a slight movement with his back, but it was answer enough.

Mattis was entranced by his plan, it was a lightning plan.

“That was stupid of you!” he said to Jørgen.

Then he rushed off.

HEGE SAW HER brother come running toward the house. She dropped everything she had in her hands and went rushing out to meet him, through the fence and over toward him, among the heather-covered humps:

“Has he hurt himself?”

“Who?”

“Who?”

“No, he’s felling trees like mad.”

“Thank God for that,” said Hege, a smile of relief spreading across her face. “The way you were coming along, it looked as if it was a matter of life and death, you know. You must never come rushing out of the forest like that when people are felling trees, or everyone’ll think there’s been an accident.”

“I forgot,” Mattis replied meekly, “I was busy thinking about something else.”

“What is it then? Something to do with you?”

“Well, not really. I can’t tell you beforehand.”

Mattis felt how clumsily he’d put this.

“I ran home because I’ve got to talk to you, and see you.”

Hege snorted: “See me. Really, what will you think of next! Imagine frightening me like that, I thought he’d hurt himself.”

This was about as awkward a beginning for Mattis and his lightning plan as could possibly be imagined. Imagine tearing home in that stupid way, he’d been so sure he could win Hege back before Jørgen returned from the forest. In a flash he had seen a solution. But now? Hege was almost lightheaded with happiness and relief about Jørgen – just because he hadn’t hurt himself.

All the same it was Hege who finally started him off, as they stood there on the other side of the fence. Mattis was breathing heavily after the effort of running – and in a burst of joy Hege put her arm around him and pulled him down beside her onto a little hump.

“Sit down and get your breath back,” she said happily. “You’re sweating, too, after all that running.”

There they sat, side by side on the little hump – as if there were only the two of them, and nothing had changed.

And suddenly Mattis had a fresh idea; now he knew what to do:

First he smiled at her.

Hege smiled back, pleased.

Then he nodded.

She nodded back.

It was like an old forgotten game they’d suddenly rediscovered.

Mattis wasn’t quite as innocent as she imagined now, he thought to himself. He had a plan.

“Here we are sitting on a hump,” he began.

Hege nodded. He went on: “And we’ve sat on humps before.”

“Yes, we certainly have,” said Hege, “not that long ago either.”

Mattis laughed at his success. He must be clever now, and win Hege from Jørgen.

“There’s nothing quite like sitting on humps with you.”

At this Hege looked at him, a little surprised; he had to hurry on: “I think we ought to sit on humps much more often.”

“Oh?”

“What do you think, then?”

All Hege said was: “Well you can, can’t you?”

He could see the barrier she was putting up between them. He was desperate and he wanted the truth.

“But not you?”

“Me? Well no,” said Hege. It was painful to see the way she was avoiding his gaze.

“Why not?”

“You know who I sit with,” she said.

She said it as simply as that, destroying his plan with one blow. Now there was nothing left. It was as if all his ideas and enthusiasm were trickling away through a sieve. He’d lost almost before he’d begun.

“Well, that was all I wanted to talk about,” he said despondently and got up.

Hege didn’t answer, wouldn’t turn her face toward him, either. Mattis added: “Strange the humps didn’t help. And I thought I’d manage to win you back before Jørgen came home.”

Hege was still sitting on the soft hump. Now she got up, too, and said in a tone of despair: “Well, I don’t know.”

“What?”

“Do you think we haven’t talked about you?”

“I know very well you have,” said Mattis quickly.

“We’ll do everything we can,” Hege said. “You know we will, don’t you?”

Mattis hardly noticed what she was saying. He saw her climb through the fence and go back inside. He was busy turning something over in his mind: lightning thoughts. What are lightning thoughts after all, when it comes to the point? Nothing. If you try and make use of them, they blow away like chaff, as soon as one of the clever ones opens his mouth. Hege only needed to say a word or two, and you’ve had it, the plan is in ruins.

Do everything we can, she said. She doesn’t understand at all.

THAT WAS THE end of the ferrying. It was impossible to escape from Jørgen’s iron will. Jørgen took Mattis along to the forest every morning. You must learn, Jørgen said, in that brusque manner of his that made all protest impossible. Mattis protested, but went along all the same.

He returned, worn out after a difficult day, to the new kind of food Hege was now providing.

“You must go through with this training,” she said.

It was no good trying to explain to her that your thoughts ran down neatly to the oars in a boat, but not to an ax or a barking iron – she just couldn’t see it.

Jørgen was kind to him in the forest, it wasn’t that. He picked out small trees for Mattis, easy to fell – and usually gave them a thorough going over afterward. Mattis made no progress, he was dying to talk to Jørgen about Hege the whole time.

And he finally did, while they were having a rest and a cup of coffee. He had exhausted himself, but had little to show for it, had really only been turning the piles of branches. Now they were both lying on the ground, resting their heads on some stones, dozing fitfully, each one in his own world.

It was now or never.

Out into the storm! Mattis thought all of a sudden, to give himself courage. Then he sat up. Jørgen was wide-awake at once, on his guard.

“Let’s go on resting a bit longer, Mattis.”

“No, I want to talk to you!” Mattis announced, in the threatening tone in which this had to be said.

“Out with it.”

“Can’t you see I’m finding it more difficult every day?”

It was true. He was getting worse rather than better. Jørgen knew this very well, that was why he couldn’t bear to hear it, coming from Mattis.

“Yes, what’s the matter with you?” he said, and for once his voice sounded irritable.

This gave Mattis the courage he needed. The angry tone.

“And what’s the matter with you? Taking Hege away from me! What’s the matter with a person like that?”

Jørgen was embarrassed.

“It’s just the way things turned out,” was all he said.

They lay in silence. Hege was there somewhere in between them, and didn’t belong to either.

But then Jørgen said: “Couldn’t you think of Hege a little too? Doesn’t that make you happy at all? What sort of life do you think she’s had?”

Mattis was dumbfounded, needed time to see things from this new angle. Jørgen was probably right, but all the same. His thoughts flapped helplessly around while he remained sitting still. The world was full of forces you couldn’t fight against which suddenly loomed up and aimed a crushing blow at you. It wasn’t just Hege and Jørgen and all the clever ones – no, these forces were so powerful that he, Mattis, ferried his own misfortune across the lake, in his own boat, and asked it into his house. What could you do when things were like that?

“Well, shall we stop talking about this?” Jørgen suggested, since Mattis didn’t answer.

Mattis said, frightened: “I’m thinking nasty things about you now.”

“Well,” said Jørgen, “that doesn’t help much.”

“What does help, then?”

“We won’t go on about this anymore,” said Jørgen, harshly. “Things are going to stay as they are.”

“Yes,” said Mattis. The nasty thoughts were still raging inside him, but he agreed and allowed himself to be shut up and lay down on the ground again.