The Prophets of Eternal Fjord Read Free Page A

him home.
    And which lord might that be? he enquires, pointing first up, then down, prompting his sister to put her hand to her mouth and giggle.
    Kirstine takes his arm and shows him how the land is in flux. The wilderness is in retreat, and the marshlands also, and ponds with attendant insects that have spread disease for centuries. The forest is long gone and where it lay are waving fields of cereal crops that yield a fifth more in grain than only ten years ago. Ancient trees are felled, hedgerows planted. All is neat and tidy. Even the cows in the meadows seem scrubbed and dispirited.
    Strolling through the town, they are met by smiles and greetings. Some approach and wish to talk with her. The young girl from the rectory is liked by all. It makes him proud. She speaks Danish, but when they are alone together they converse in their own sing-song Akershus dialect with its consistent stress on the first syllable of each word. They walk along the beach; they kick at the seaweed and search for Baltic amber; they gather shells. She confides to him that she suffers from home­sickness. She has lived here for two years now and yet she does not feel settled. The old pastor is indeed a trial for any man or woman, but her unhappiness cannot be attributed to him alone. Rather, it is more due to his wife, a quiet and self-effacing woman on the exterior, and yet an ill-tempered and cantankerous tyrant when his sister is alone with her. It is intended that I receive instruction in the duties of the housewife and be of service in the home, she explains. Yet the true reason for my pres­ence here is known to me.
    Morten looks at her.
    One of the provost’s four sons is to enter the seminary himself, says Kirstine. My father and the Reverend Gram have corresponded.
    Aha, says Morten. And what is he like, then, your intended? May we see him?
    He is gone to Fyn on horseback to visit some family. He is both affable and decent. I find no fault with him. It’s not that.
    No?
    People of today ought to be able to arrange their matters accord- ing to their own desires, instead of the will of their parents, she says.
    Dearest Kirstine, he replies. If the gentleman in question is an honest and good-natured soul, then you ought to take him. Who knows what else might be presented?
    It is true, I know. As I said, I have nothing against him. It is this flat and filthy land I cannot tolerate. Where there are no hills, the smells and filth collect around the houses like fog. It causes me to feel that I myself am unclean. One cannot wash it away.
    Perhaps he will find a living in another place, Morten says by way of comfort. You can put it to him once he begins to court. State your condi­tions, barter with him. If he is a decent man he will listen to what you say. Perhaps he might even be moved by the prospect of a living in Norway.
    Oh, but these people, says the sister impatiently. They are so proud of their dismal little town. One cannot utter a single word against it without their jumping on one, filling her ears with regard for the rich soil, the glorious history of the town, and the splendid aspects of the land. I have learned to hold my tongue on the matter.
    There is time yet, says Morten. Perhaps it will all sort itself out. He is somewhat irritated by her and cannot fathom why she should make such a fuss. It seems to him akin to complaining that the wind lies mostly in the west or that winter is longer than summer. He thinks she ought more properly to be content at the prospect of becoming a pastor’s wife. And how can a person long to be back in Lier, the most insignificant spot in all the kingdom? He cannot grasp it.
    His visits to Nakskov extend no more than a few days at a time. Often he leaves earlier than planned, consumed by headache at Kirstine’s complaints and his own desires to be home, a yearning for the city. If the packet boat does not sail, he boards the