The doctor looked Rakel in the eyes and lowered his voice. “I hope I’m not opening up old wounds, Frøken Ovreid, but I have to ask you about Svartangen Farm. Considering the situation you were in less than a week ago, I assume you visited the farm occasionally?”
“No, I didn’t, actually,” she replied. “All contact between us took place here at Ovreid.”
“So you were never at Svartangen Farm at all?”
“No,” she answered quickly. “Why do you ask?”
“Fru Holm, little Eilert’s mother,” he replied. “I got the impression you were worried about her, so I hoped you might know something about what happened?”
“Now I don’t quite understand what you mean,” she replied hesitantly.
“Her recovery,” he said. “Everyone is talking about it. I’m sure you’ve heard about it as well.”
“Yes,” she confirmed. “I heard about it after church, but that kind of thing can happen, can’t it?”
“No,” he replied. “It’s impossible. Something is wrong here. Terribly wrong.”
“It can’t really be that serious, can it?” she answered as casually as she could. “A woman surviving can’t possibly be a bad thing.”
“No, I agree with that, but there are a lot of people in the village who get worked up over such an inexplicable event. I’ve now heard stories of omens seen in the weeks leading up to the recovery, and some claim to have heard a voice whispering evil incantations in the wind.”
“What?” Rakel looked at him in disbelief. “That’s utter nonsense!”
“Yes, but there are people who believe in such things. After Fru Holm showed up at church earlier today, people are convinced something abnormal has taken place. One story leads to another and there are whispers of evil powers and black books, and I don’t know what else. That kind of thing is dangerous, you know. There have been cases of people being lynched because of such accusations. I want to find out what happened to prevent this from developing any further,” he added. “Well, if you hear anything, I would appreciate it if you would let me know.”
“I’ll do that, Doctor Eriksen,” she replied weakly.
Lynching? It couldn’t possibly go so far, could it?
Rakel leaned her forehead against Dagros’ fur and let the milk find its way into the bottom of the bucket in thin streams. It was the day after Jenny’s accident and the doctor’s visit, and Rakel couldn’t get the bad thoughts out of her head.
She pondered over what she could do to help Jenny, and the doctor had scared her with his talk about lynching. The people of Skoppum weren’t like that, even though they could be hot-headed and superstitious. Still, she wanted to keep her secret to herself. She didn’t even know if what she’d done was punishable.
Rakel sighed and rubbed her eyes. She felt the warmth of the cow and relaxed. Dagros waved her tail to flick away some flies and whipped Rakel lightly on the face.
“Hey!” she said, laughing. “Did you think I was falling asleep?” She took a firmer grip on the teats and continued until the flow of milk subsided. Then she got up from the stool and stretched her back before walking up to Dagros and stroking her forehead.
“You’re a good girl, Dagros,” she whispered, kissing the cow on the muzzle. Dagros just kept chewing on her hay and looked at her with her beautiful, dark eyes. “It’s almost time for a visit from Herr Alvdalen’s bull, you know,” Rakel said. “Then you’ll have a calf for next spring. That would be nice. Preferably a girl,” she added, letting her gaze wander to the calf loping eagerly around the other end of the field. The bull calves were slaughtered come autumn while the others were allowed to live and become dairy cows.
Rakel let go of Dagros and took the pails back to the kitchen where she found a mug and took a big gulp of milk. It was sweet and warm, just the way it should be. Then she handed the buckets over to Inga. What they didn’t drink or use for cooking was churned into butter or curdled into cheese.
Rakel took another bucket, filled it with grain, and went out to feed the chickens. She met her father on the way.
“Do you have time for a chat, Rakel?” he asked.
“Of course. I’m just going to feed the chickens, and I’ll be right there.”
“We can talk while you work,” he replied, standing by the fence. The chickens came running right away. They clucked and fussed, and she tossed fistfuls of grain onto the ground.
“Are you wondering about Jenny?” she asked, glancing over at him. He looked serious, but not angry.
“Yes, your mother told me she was in an accident?”
“That’s just part of the story,” Rakel replied, tossing the rest of the grain onto the ground. She gave him a quick explanation of what had happened and saw he was taken aback.
“This sounds like a cock-and-bull story,” he said. “And I can hardly believe that Bergan would be involved. How long will Jenny be staying here?”
“I don’t know yet,” she replied. “But she can stay here until it’s all settled, right?”
“Yes, of course she can,” her father confirmed.
“Thank you, Father,” she said.
“And Rakel?” He looked at her uneasily. “I’m glad the sheriff stopped the wedding. In hindsight, I see it would have been impossible to work with the Svartangens.”
Rakel hoped he would continue, and maybe even admit that it had been wrong of him to pressure her to marry Syver. But he stayed quiet.
“What are you going to do about Svartangen now?” she asked, managing to hide her disappointment.
“Herr Disen has advised me to put my plans for throwing them out on hold,” he replied. “He thinks we could risk a court case and that it can drag on.”
“I think that’s sensible,” Rakel nodded, sending a warm thought to Herr Disen. “That will be best for us all.”
“I don’t know,” her father replied. “I haven’t quite decided yet.”
Rakel was only able to hide how upset she was because he wasn’t looking at her. Even though both she and Herr Disen had advised him to let it be, her father still had his doubts. How was it possible to be so stubborn? She wanted to say it to him but knew he wouldn’t listen. He usually listened to her about farm operations, but not about Svartangen.
“Listen to Herr Disen, Father,” she said, feeling irritated that he was more likely to listen to a male solicitor than his own daughter. “But there’s something I must warn you about,” she continued. “When Grandmother is in her bedroom, I think she can hear what you and Herr Disen are talking about in your office.”
Rakel left it at that. If she told him that her grandmother and Ingvald Svartangen were meeting behind his back, she feared he’d be so angry that all reason would go out the window.
“I hadn’t thought about that,” her father replied. “We’ll have to go somewhere else the next time he stops by.”
Then he left, and Rakel started making her way towards the pig pen. She felt dejected. The closeness she’d once had with her father was nothing more than a memory. She didn’t know why, but he no longer had any consideration for her feelings or opinions.
A little while later, Rakel fetched the book she’d gotten from Aunt Esther and took it outside. It was still early in the day and she was planning on looking for herbs. After Jenny’s accident and Bergan’s question about whether she could stop bleeding, she’d been thinking about the book quite a bit. It didn’t say much about the procedure, just that anyone – with a bit of practice – could stop bleeding. The most important thing was to ask for help from divine powers, and then there was a verse from the Bible you had to say. Otherwise, the description reminded her of what she experienced when she touched someone who was sick or injured. What she found the most interesting was which herbs were blood-stopping – like burnet. The book noted that it could be found in Skoppum, and Rakel thought she’d seen it down by the river. She knew some of the plants – such as broadleaf plantain – well. There was a lot of it on their property. Marigold was also said to be effective. They’d planted marigolds all around the field to keep the snails away and she was picking some when she saw a wagon coming up the farm road.
The cart stopped in the yard and the door opened. Out came Priest Lomvi, with Herr Disen following behind him.
Rakel quickly fixed her hair and looked down at her fingers. They were slightly green from the plantain and yellow from the marigolds. She cleaned them as much as she could on her apron and ended up making it stained and ugly. Well, she couldn’t do anything but smile prettily and hope that Herr Disen didn’t notice.
“Welcome to the farm,” she said to them.
“Thank you, Frøken Ovreid,” the priest answered quickly. “How is Frøken Hoem doing?”
“She’s sleeping,” Rakel replied. “I just checked in on her.”
“Good, good,” the priest said, hurrying past. “I must speak with your father. Is he inside?”
“Yes,” Rakel said as he sped past.
Herr Disen came up beside her.
“You must forgive him for being so rude, Frøken Ovreid. He’s quite worried about Frøken Hoem.”
Herr Disen took her hand and kissed it. “It’s nice to see you again,” he said.
“Thank you, and likewise,” she replied, a bit short of breath. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon,”
“No, but I met the priest yesterday evening and he told me about your friend’s terrible accident. When he mentioned he’d be coming here today, I wanted to join so I could see how I can help.”
“That was nice of you,” she replied.
“I’ll try to help however I can,” he said, smiling so his eyes sparkled.
Rakel was about to respond when her father suddenly appeared in the doorway.
“Welcome, Herr Disen,” he said. “I was wondering if you could both come inside? Priest Lomvi has something to discuss, and I think we should all be present.”
Rakel looked at Herr Disen questioningly, but he shrugged and acted like he didn’t know what it regarded.
“I’ll just wash my hands and change out of these work clothes,” she said to her father. “I’ll be right there.”
The three men were sitting at the dining table when Rakel came down shortly after. There were coffee cups on the table and Inga had brought out some cookies. The conversation was already underway. Priest Lomvi was explaining to her father and Herr Disen that his sister had betrayed him and turned Jenny in.
“Rakel told me earlier today, but I don’t really know what to think,” her father said, scratching his beard. “It’s hard for me to believe that Frøken Hoem truly needs to fear for her life. Can it really be true?”
“Yes,” the priest said gravely.
“And the plan is to…?” Herr Disen looked perplexed.
“I’ll visit Grocer Ludvigsen together with one of you and pay for the jewellery she’s accused of having stolen.”
“Let me see if I understand correctly,” her father said. “You want to use your own money to pay for something she hasn’t stolen?”
“Well, it’s not my money,” Lomvi said. “I would very much like to have been able to do it myself, but my salary will hopefully be greater in heaven than it is here on earth. It’s Lieutenant Bakke, Frøken Hoem’s employer, who has offered to pay.”
“How do you intend to proceed?” Herr Disen asked. “Are you going to just turn up at Ludvigsen’s and hand over the money?”
“Yes,” the priest replied. “I’ll tell him that Frøken Hoem fears for her life, but that of course we don’t believe she has any reason to. That way, the grocer will understand that there are more of us who are privy to the situation. Then, it will be impossible for him to harm Frøken Hoem because he’ll realise the suspicion will fall on him.”
“That is rather bold,” Herr Disen said thoughtfully. “If this grocer is as cruel and dangerous as Frøken Hoem believes, perhaps we should try to find another solution?”
“This all sounds rather absurd to me,” her father said. “I find it difficult to believe that a man like the grocer would have such great secrets that he’d be willing to kill Frøken Hoem to keep them from coming out. Besides, Sheriff Bergan will protect her. She is safe.”
“I doubt whether the sheriff will protect Frøken Hoem,” Herr Disen said. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s involved in all of this.”
“What are you saying?” Her father looked at him in disbelief. “Bergan can be trusted.”
He looked over at Rakel. “You’re very quiet,” he said. “What do you think, Rakel?”
So now he wanted to know her opinion? Rakel had no idea whether Bergan could be trusted at all. He’d said he was willing to go to great lengths to settle his debts with the grocer.
“I don’t know what to say, Father,” she replied, glancing at Herr Disen. He seemed pleased with the conclusion. Her father, on the other hand, didn’t look as satisfied.
“How do we proceed?” Herr Disen asked. “We have to set a time, I suppose?”
“I’ll take care of it,” the priest replied. “I’m sending a letter to the grocer this afternoon and asking for a conversation. Then we’ll see if he responds.”
“Well,” her father replied. “I leave this to you. To me, this seems too unbelievable to be true. Will you tell me when you’re ready for our conversation, Herr Disen? We can sit in the living room this time.”
“I’ll be right there,” Herr Disen said, standing up.
Soon, Rakel was alone with the priest. He was twiddling his thumbs in his lap and kept glancing out into the hallway.
“I don’t think Frøken Hoem has the energy to get up quite yet, Herr Lomvi,” Rakel said. “But I can go and see if she’s awake?”
“Could you?” He started standing up from his chair, but then sat back down. “I feel so terrible. This is all my fault. I should never have left her with my sister. She’s a… difficult woman.”
He gave Rakel a sad smile that turned into a concerned grimace.
“Frøken Hoem is grateful for the help you’ve given her,” Rakel said.
“Is she?” he asked. “Is she really?”
“Yes,” Rakel, smiling at him comfortingly. “And you’re not responsible for your sister’s doings, Priest Lomvi. Frøken Hoem doesn’t blame you.”
Rakel stood up. “I’ll go see if she has the energy to get dressed.”
She left the priest in the living room and went up to Jenny in the guest room. Her friend was asleep when Rakel let herself in, but woke up when she sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Good morning, Jenny,” she said. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes,” Jenny said, yawning. “The sleeping aid I got from the doctor worked as it should.”
“How is your arm today?”
“It hurts when I move it.”
“Shall I mix up some more laudanum for the pain? There’s still a little bit left.”
“No, thank you,” Jenny replied. “It makes my head fuzzy. I prefer to be completely awake.”
Rakel looked at her. “Do you think you have the energy to get dressed? Priest Lomvi is here, and he wants to see you.”
“He is already here?” Jenny’s eyes widened and she tried to sit up. She groaned in pain when she moved her arm. “Can you help me, Rakel? I’d really like to speak with him, but I can’t get dressed on my own.”
“Of course. You sit still and I’ll go get your clothes.”
Some time later, Jenny was dressed. Rakel had helped her wash up and had braided her hair. Now, she was sitting in an armchair by the window while Rakel went to get the priest.
He was standing in the sitting room staring out the window when Rakel came down. His hands were behind his back, and he was rocking back and forth on his toes. When he heard her steps, he whirled around and looked at her expectantly.
“She’d very much like to see you, Herr Lomvi,” Rakel said. “Follow me.”
She led the priest up the stairs but stopped outside Jenny’s room. “She’s tired and in a lot of pain,” she said. “I recommend you only say what’s strictly necessary, then you can come back later and have a longer conversation with her then.”
“Yes, of course,” he assured her. “I won’t tire her out.”
Rakel knocked on the door before opening it and showed him inside.
“My dear Frøken Hoem!” The priest strode over to Jenny and squatted down in front of her chair.
“Herr Lomvi,” Jenny replied with a smile. “It’s so nice to see you again.”
“I’m so terribly sorry about all of this!” He looked at her unhappily. “I thought I could trust my sister. How she could betray us both like this is beyond me. She has always been petty and narrow-minded, but I never would have expected this from her.”
“You couldn’t possibly have known,” Jenny replied, smiling at him warmly. “I’m just grateful that you tried to help me.”
“So you don’t hold a grudge against me?”
“No, not at all,” Jenny replied. “I only think well of you, Herr Lomvi,” she assured him.
The priest sighed. “If only you knew how happy it makes me to hear you say that.” He stood up. The strain of kneeling had made his face redden. “Then I won’t disturb you any longer. You need all the rest you can get.”
He bowed. “Farewell, Frøken Hoem.”
“Farewell, Herr Lomvi,” Jenny replied.
Rakel followed him out before helping Jenny back into bed. Her friend lay her head on the pillow and smiled weakly.
“I’ve actually gotten quite tired,” she said. “But I’m still happy I got to speak with him. I appreciate him helping me.”
“He has no intention of giving up on this,” Rakel said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
“What do you mean?” Jenny furrowed her brows. “What does he intend to do?”
Rakel regretted having said anything. It would only worry Jenny if she found out about what kinds of plans the priest and Herr Disen had, and she needed her rest now.
“I just meant he’ll keep helping you as much as he can moving forward. He feels responsible for you after what happened.”
“Yes, he’s a good man. I know he can be a bit… clumsy every once in a while, but he has a big heart and doesn’t deserve to be mocked.”
Jenny yawned and covered her mouth. “I think the sleeping medicine is still in my body,” she said quietly. “I can barely stay awake.”
“Sleep a bit more,” Rakel said, straightening her duvet. “I’ll come back up later.”
Rakel expected to find the priest in the living room when she came back down, but it was Herr Disen who was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper. He closed it quickly and stood up when she entered.
“Where is Herr Lomvi?” she asked.
“He’s speaking with your father, but I’m sure he’ll be back soon. In the meantime, there’s something I wanted to discuss with you,” he said. “It’s about the sheriff.”
“Ask Bergan?” She looked up at him.
“Yes. I noticed you were doubtful as to whether he could be trusted. You shouldn’t doubt yourself. He is a dangerous man, and that’s why I want to tell you something that accurately describes his character.”
“Oh?” she said. “Is this something you’ve experienced personally?”
“No,” he acknowledged. “But it’s the raw truth from a reliable source. From his time in Tønsberg,” he said. “And I wish I didn’t have to say this to an innocent, young woman.”
“I live on a farm, Herr Disen,” she said. “I’m used to a little of everything and don’t need to be protected.”
“All right,” he said, stroking his palms on the front of his trousers. “In any case, it’s best you know what kind of man you’re dealing with.