Rakel tried to pull her hand away, but Syver wouldn’t let go.
“Stupid girl!” His eyes were glowing like he was possessed. “Now you’ll get it for humiliating me in front of everyone!” He tried to drag her off the saddle, but Rakel clung on with her other hand and managed to kick Blakka in the side. The horse reacted immediately and trotted forward.
For a brief moment, she was afraid that Syver would pull her off the horse, but then he tripped and lost his footing.
“You stupid bitch!” he roared. “Just you wait! I’ll get my revenge!”
She glanced quickly behind her and saw he was picking something up off the ground. He flung it at her. It was a rock, and it smashed against the tree trunk right next to her head. Blakka reared, but Rakel clung on. The horse then galloped forward and the path turned so Syver disappeared out of view.
It took a long time for Rakel to calm Blakka down afterwards. She had to pet and chat with the mare to get her to slow down. She’d never experienced Syver being so sly before.
She stopped the horse and tried to listen over her heavy breathing. There were no sounds to be heard apart from those of the forest. Syver hadn’t followed after her.
She found a narrow passage through the trees and took off from the path in the direction of Ovreid. They hadn’t gone far before Rakel and the horse arrived at what looked like a small pond. She hopped off and walked forward among tall reeds and faded irises, but there wasn’t any water there. The pond was overgrown and dried up.
Rakel climbed back onto the saddle, then turned her horse and continued towards Ovreid.
Soon, the forest brightened and they emerged onto an open landscape. She held the horse back and stared at the farm before her. The dried-up pond she’d seen was the old Gråtjønn Pond – the namesake of the sheriff’s farm.
She continued on. She might be able to talk to the sheriff since she was already here. She wanted to ask him if she risked punishment for what she’d done with Fru Holm.
The farm looked completely different from how it had the last time she was there. The exterior had been almost completely repaired and had even gotten a coat of paint. It looked like the work was finished for now, though. Last time, there had been many men at work. Now it was deserted.
She rode around the house and tied the horse to the railing in front of the stairs leading up to the front door. There was a barrel of rainwater that Blakka started drinking from eagerly.
“Herr Bergan?” Rakel called.
There wasn’t a sound to be heard, and she started up the stairs. When she knocked, the door opened with a creak. She thought the sheriff had opened it at first, but no one appeared. She then realised the door hadn’t been closed properly.
“Sheriff Bergan? It’s Rakel Ovreid.”
She leaned forward and tried to see inside. The door led straight into a small entryway. The hallway was empty apart from a brown chest of drawers against the wall next to the doorway. She still didn’t hear anything and got the feeling that the sheriff wasn’t home.
She was just about to leave when she spotted something lying on top of the dark chest of drawers. It was a letter.
She knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help it. She only needed to take one step into the hall before she could reach out and grab the letter. The seal was already broken. She took it out onto the porch and held it up in the daylight. It was addressed to Grocer Ludvigsen, Tønsberg, and beneath his name, it was written that it concerned the Sheriff of Skoppum.
What was this? A complaint about Bergan? She squirmed. She shouldn’t read it, but she was too curious not to continue. She skimmed through the beginning. Then her breath caught in her chest.
No, it couldn’t be true!
Jenny smiled as she looked around the store. She liked the smell of coffee and spices, and even though the sky outside was dark and threatened rain, it was cosy inside. She’d lit a few oil lamps that gave off a soft, yellow light – just enough so that she could see the items she was supposed to count.
She’d offered to make an overview of the items they’d sold over the past week so that Frøken Lomvi could start ordering refills the next day. The older woman had looked doubtful when she suggested it. After all, it was Sunday and the store was closed, but she’d still agreed. In her eyes, idleness was a greater sin than breaking God’s word to keep the day of rest sacred, Jenny suspected.
She was so happy that Frøken Lomvi hadn’t reported her to the sheriff that she could hardly speak. She glanced over at the older woman. After church, she’d come downstairs to the store to help Jenny. Now, she was standing with her glasses on the tip of her nose as she studied something in small print at the back of the latest copy of Norske Intelligenz-Seddeler.
“I’m heading out shortly,” Frøken Lomvi said abruptly, setting down the newspaper. “After church today, I got word of where I can find those boys who stole from me.”
“Did you?” Jenny asked hopefully. She knew Frøken Lomvi had spoken to several customers about who the boys could be.
“Yes, Fru Sommerro thought they might live under the mountain, at the Poor House. I’ll take a trip down there and speak with the manager.”
“Oh,” Jenny replied, imagining the boys. Ever since it had happened, she’d harboured a bitter grudge against them for deceiving her. But if they lived in the Poor House, perhaps it was need that made them act as they did. Still, she couldn’t ask for mercy on the boys’ behalf since Frøken Lomvi would hardly like that.
“Will you count in the pantry as well?” Frøken Lomvi asked.
“The pantry?” Jenny asked. “Yes, I suppose I can.” She imagined the small storage room beneath the stairs. There was dried fruit and pickled vegetables, some empty sacks of flour, and old potatoes that had rotted and couldn’t be sold. And then there were the mice. She shuddered at the thought; she couldn’t stand their long tails.
“Note down what’s in there,” Frøken Lomvi said. “And clean out the empty flour sacks. The potatoes can stay there a bit longer. I’ve promised them to one of the farmers at Nedre Gausen. He’s going to use them for soil improvement.”
“Okay,” Jenny answered, understanding she had no choice. If she made enough noise while she was in there, the mice would probably stay away.
She was on her way to the pantry when she realised she needed to take a trip to the privy first. She had to be quick so Frøken Lomvi didn’t get annoyed.
There was rain in the air as she rushed to the privy in the back garden. She did her business, and it had started to rain heavily when she was heading back.
She ran into the back room and shook off the raindrops.
“I’m back!” she called out. “I just had to take a trip to the privy,” she explained in case Frøken Lomvi had wondered where she was – but she didn’t get a reply. Frøken Lomvi must have already left. She hoped she wouldn’t be too hard on the young boys. Perhaps she’d show mercy on them, as she’d done for her?
Jenny took an oil lamp and went into the pantry. It was long and narrow and sloped down at one end. She could barely stand upright. She held the lamp in front of her and examined the floor carefully. The light didn’t quite reach the back wall where the potatoes were, but she was satisfied with what she could see – no mice and no droppings to indicate any had been there recently.
She put the lamp down on the floor and looked around. Shelves on both sides were full of boxes and jars of dried fruit and pickled vegetables. Jenny sighed. This was going to take a while.
She started counting. Some time later, she was at the very back of the pantry. It smelled strongly of rotting potatoes, but that wasn’t the worst of it. It was extra dark in the corners, and not even the lamp could displace the shadows. What if she saw a mouse tail now? The hairs on her arms stood up at the thought and she swallowed hard.
She was just about to turn to count on the shelves on the wall behind her when the door to the pantry suddenly closed. Then she heard the sound of the latch fastening.
“Frøken Lomvi?” Jenny exclaimed anxiously, feeling her chest tighten. “Hello? I’m in here!” she shouted, but there was no response. Her fingers trembled as she leaned over and picked up the lamp. She walked quickly towards the door. She hammered on it and shouted, but there was only silence outside.
Stay calm, she said to herself, but her heart thudded in her chest. She probably thought you were done and that you went up to the apartment. Shoot! Why had she taken such a long time in the privy? If Frøken Lomvi headed over to the Poor House now, she’d be trapped in here for who knows how long.
“Frøken Lomvi!” Jenny shouted, pounding on the door. “Let me out!”
Suddenly, she thought she heard something in the darkness behind her. She saw something move. It had to be a mouse! She flinched, and the hand holding the oil lamp slammed into a shelf. It fell to the floor and went out.
It was completely dark, and Jenny gasped for breath. Her heart was pounding like mad.
“No!” she cried out in despair.
Jenny squatted down and felt around in the darkness. She found the lamp, but it was too late – she didn’t have any matches and couldn’t light it again. Darkness enveloped her and fear settled like a claw in her chest. It felt as if the walls were getting closer and closer. The feeling of not being able to breathe was paralysing. Then she heard it again – the sound of something moving deep in the back of the pantry.
Jenny threw herself at the door shoulder first in sheer desperation, but it didn’t give way. She couldn’t hold back the tears. She hiccoughed in fear and pain but decided she wouldn’t give up just yet. She tried several times more, but it was no use.
Finally, she gave up. Exhausted from fear and despair, she collapsed on the floor. She pulled her knees up beneath her chin and wrapped her arms protectively around her legs. Then she closed her eyes as tightly as she could and tried to shut everything out.
Jenny sat there for a long time. She had no idea exactly how long. Alone in the pitch darkness and total silence, she grew more and more exhausted. She rocked back and forth with her arms wrapped around her.
What if Frøken Lomvi came home and didn’t find her in the apartment? Then she’d think she’d run off. Jenny was overcome with despair. If that were the case, she might even be stuck in here until the next day! She started crying again and cried until there were no tears left and she dozed off in sheer exhaustion.
She woke suddenly from a familiar sound: footsteps. Someone was walking outside. Before she managed to shout for help again, she heard the latch click, and the door opened. The light stung her eyes as she squinted up – and saw Frøken Lomvi standing in the door.
“Thank goodness,” she said weakly. “I was afraid you wouldn’t realise I was trapped in here.”
“Come with me,” Frøken Lomvi said. “I have something to show you. Come!” Jenny followed hesitantly after her.
“Did you find the boys?” she asked.
“Come and see for yourself,” Frøken Lomvi replied. She grabbed Jenny’s arm and shoved her out into the store.
“Frøken Lomvi, I…”
“I said I was going to get my money back one way or another,” she interrupted. “And I have. It turns out that Grocer Ludvigsen from Tønsberg had a bounty out for you that more than covers the amount that’s gone missing from the cash box. Aren’t you glad you don’t have to pay me back?”
Jenny didn’t respond. Frøken Lomvi’s voice was just noise, and the room was spinning. Because there he was, standing by the counter, impossible to escape. Sheriff Ask Bergan.