Rakel was in the carriage house with Lars Disen. It smelled like wood oil and leather. Spiders had taken over one corner, and the sunlight made the intricate patterns in their webs sparkle like silver. Herr Disen had suggested they come in here. Rakel had mentioned that her father had an old wagon that he was planning on fixing and Herr Disen had wanted to see it.
Rakel glanced over at the door, which was standing ajar to let the daylight in. Perhaps she shouldn’t have come here alone with him. It felt too intimate – verging on inappropriate – and she wasn’t sure what her father would think of it.
“Is this the one?” Herr Disen asked, and she looked back in his direction. He was pointing at the old wagon at the other end of the shed. The light didn’t reach all the way there, and he was standing in the shadows. Still, she could see his white smile and dimple.
“Yes,” she replied and walked towards him. He’s just curious about the wagon, she told herself. There was nothing wrong with that.
“What’s that peculiar smell?” he asked, wrinkling his nose.
“Wood oil,” she explained. “It’s to protect the beams of the old coach.”
He stroked his hand carefully over the woodwork. It was almost black with age.
“Is it a landau?” he asked.
“Yes, from the beginning of the century. It’s fragile, and parts of it are rotten. Father is planning on changing out the necessary parts to get it in working order again.”
“He should do that,” he said quietly. “You deserve a carriage worthy of a princess.”
At first, she was a bit taken aback, but then she reminded herself that it was common amongst the upper class to give each other compliments. But princess? She wrinkled her nose.
“What is it?” he asked. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, I just can’t quite see myself as a princess.”
“I can,” he replied. There was a serious tone in his voice that caught her attention. It no longer sounded like an ordinary polite compliment.
She lifted her eyes and met his. The tenderness in his gaze was so unexpected that she gasped for breath.
“I don’t mean to be importunate,” he said quietly. “I understand you need more time after what’s happened, but my intentions are still the same as what I described in the letter. If you don’t wish for my attention, I will bow out without another word.”
He didn’t say anything else, just looked anxiously and hopefully at her.
“I enjoy your company, Herr Disen,” she stammered and was rewarded with a wide smile.
“That’s what I was hoping to hear,” he replied. He continued looking her in the eyes, and then she felt one hand against her cheek. He stroked it tenderly – so gently he was barely touching her. It made her skin tingle, and she started breathing more rapidly. He put his other hand carefully on her hip. It felt good, but wrong at the same time. This was going far too quickly, but she didn’t move. He was terribly close. She saw he was starting to close his eyes and realised what was about to happen: he wanted to kiss her.
All of a sudden, the door creaked. It was slammed open abruptly, and light flooded into the carriage house. Rakel backed away from Herr Disen, a blush flaming on her cheeks.
“What the devil?” the sheriff exclaimed. He was standing in the middle of the doorway with the light of day at his back. His blond hair shone in the sunlight, but the rest of him oozed anger. His fists were clenched and the muscles of his upper arms bulged under his shirt. “What are you doing? Are you trying to seduce Frøken Ovreid?”
He was beside Herr Disen in three long steps. His eyes glittered and a deep furrow was visible between his eyebrows.
“Of course not!” Herr Disen replied. “You misunderstand, Herr Bergan.”
“I’m not misunderstanding anything,” he replied with a snarl. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Why else would you lure her in here?”
“I’d never do such a thing,” Herr Disen said. “We were just talking, and strictly speaking, this is none of your business. You’re not Frøken Ovreid’s family, so this doesn’t concern you.”
“But I’m making it my concern,” he responded coldly. “If you so much as think about taking advantage of Frøken Ovreid, I’ll make sure you regret it for the rest of your life!”
“I’d never do such a thing!” Herr Disen protested. “On the contrary! I have the greatest respect for Frøken Ovreid.”
“If that’s the case, you’d never have taken her here. I know men like you,” Bergan said coldly. “You can turn a phrase and use that skill to get what you want. But Frøken Ovreid is out of your reach, you hear me?”
“Herr Bergan, please,” Rakel said, both embarrassed and angry at the same time. That he should care about her honour so much was completely unexpected, but what he was saying about Herr Disen didn’t make any sense. He was the most honourable man she knew, and he didn’t deserve to be spoken to in such a way. “It’s true what Herr Disen said,” she continued. “We were just talking.”
“Are you really so naïve or are you just acting like it?” he asked ruthlessly.
“Herr Disen’s intentions are pure,” she replied defiantly. “You don’t have to protect me. In fact, I’m asking you not to. This is making me uncomfortable.”
“What if it had been your father who’d come in?” he asked. “Would that have made any difference to you?”
Rakel looked down at the floor. “Yes,” she said.
“So then you’re aware that Herr Disen went too far. That’s good, at least,” he snorted.
“Well,” Herr Disen said. “I suppose I went too far, then. I apologise, Frøken Ovreid, but I had no intentions of seducing you. My emotions simply ran away from me. But I can’t understand why you should suddenly be acting like you’re the guardian of morality,” he added, scowling at the sheriff. “With your background, you have no right to judge others.”
“My background has nothing to do with this,” the sheriff replied coolly. “I know how to protect a woman’s honour. But your past, on the other hand…” He didn’t say anything else, just turned away from Herr Disen and grabbed Rakel’s arm. “It’s best you go back inside.”
She tore herself away from his grip.
“I decide for myself when I go in! As Herr Disen said, this is none of your business. You’re neither my father nor my brother!”
He stopped and looked at her. His mouth was a thin line and his eyes were dark with anger. There was something authoritative – almost threatening – about him. Just like she’d felt about the teacher at school when she was young, before she got a telling-off. But he wouldn’t get the pleasure of giving her that. So she crossed her arms and hurried out of the carriage house and up towards the farm.
It wasn’t until she’d gone some way that she realised that was exactly what the sheriff had wanted. Now the two men were alone, and the sheriff had been terribly angry. What if he got violent? She turned and walked back towards the shed.
She heard loud voices before she even reached the door. Luckily, it didn’t sound like they were going at each other in there. She peeked in. Bergan had his back to her. His fists were clenched, but they were still hanging along his sides. Herr Disen was standing where he’d been the whole time and was staring at the sheriff without a hint of fear in his eyes.
“You’ve misunderstood,” Herr Disen said. “And you know nothing about the hospital.”
“I know everything I need to,” he replied. “And if you don’t leave Frøken Ovreid alone, I’ll make sure she finds out about it.”
“You shouldn’t threaten me, Herr Bergan,” Herr Disen replied. “I can do the same to you. I have contacts in Tønsberg who can certainly dig up all your sins. If Herr Ovreid hears about what kind of man he’s about to enter a partnership with, he might break off all contact. I’d think you’re quite dependent on the income from the mill come autumn, or?”
“You rotten little…” the sheriff began.
“Now that’s enough!” Rakel exclaimed as she strode into the carriage house. She stood where she could look at them both. “This ends now!”
She looked up at the sheriff. “What are you really doing here?”
She saw that he was still enraged, but now he let out his breath and relaxed his fists.
“Your father sent me here to get some tools,” he said sullenly. “We’re working on the mill.”
“Then I suggest you get the tools and leave. Herr Disen and I are going back to the house for a cup of coffee.”
The sheriff’s eyes narrowed before he grabbed a crowbar that was leaning against the wall.
“Do whatever you want, Frøken Ovreid,” he said sourly. Then he looked over at Herr Disen. “This isn’t over,” he snarled, then hurried past Rakel and out the door.
“What on earth were you talking about?” Rakel asked when they were alone. “And why did he bring up the hospital?”
“The hospital? Oh, no, that was just a misunderstanding,” Herr Disen replied. “He thinks he knows something that can hurt me, but he’s wrong.”
He gave her a weak smile. “I apologise,” he said. “It was foolish of me to get angry, but he was so terribly arrogant, and I didn’t like how he was trying to make our friendship out to be something crude.”
“He probably thinks he’s protecting me,” she said with a sigh.
“Are you sure that’s all?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly. “I hope this hasn’t made you see me differently?”
“No, of course not,” she replied. “But now we should go inside to Frøken Hoem and Herr Lomvi.”
“Yes, of course,” he replied, offering her his arm. She took it and they walked out of the carriage house together. She glanced down the farm road and saw the sheriff disappearing over the horse pasture with long strides. She didn’t like that he’d argued with Herr Disen. Bergan could be a powerful enemy, but Herr Disen didn’t seem to understand just how dangerous he could be.
A week later, they were all on their way to Carljohansværn. It was 22 August, and the garrison church was opening at last. Rakel was looking forward to seeing both the king and his sons. The papers wrote that the princes were coming by the overland road and that the king was coming to the shipyard via the steamboat Vidar at around eleven. That was now.
They could hear the cannons firing. The king was going to invigilate the Guard before he continued to the church, so they still had plenty of time.
That morning, Rakel’s grandmother surprised them all when she showed up fully dressed and announced that she was coming to church. She hadn’t been out among people since the wedding was called off, but she was willing to bid defiance to the gossip to catch this once-in-a-lifetime event.
There was a long queue to get across the bridge into Carljohansværn – or “Horten,” as some had now started to call it. The post office had even changed its name to “Horten Post Office”. There had been an article in the newspaper a few days ago about how there would be an application for approval of the town as a ladestad. That was when the name Horten had been suggested – after the old farm that was in Carljohansværn when the navy had bought the area.
“Can’t you speed up?” her grandmother growled. “We might as well be walking!”
“Along with everyone else filling the street in front of the carriage,” Rakel’s father replied dryly.
“If the farm boy would pick up the pace, they’d move,” she said sourly.
“I think we’ll walk the rest of the way,” her father said, knocking on the wall. “We’ll walk from here,” he shouted at the farmhand, and the carriage stopped.
Shortly afterwards, Rakel was walking with her family and countless others towards the garrison church. She guessed that everyone who could crawl and walk in the area – and probably also some people from Tønsberg and Holmestrand – had turned up to catch a glimpse of the royal family. There wasn’t room for everyone in the church. Rakel had heard it held about a thousand people. She hoped they’d get a seat since Herr Disen was going to sing. She so badly wanted to hear him.
She looked up at the sky. It was a beautiful day, but the wind was sharp and hinted that autumn was approaching. Then the church bells started to ring, their silvery tones heralding the coming service.
There were festively dressed and happy people everywhere, all looking around expectantly. In addition to the royal family, Prime Minister Due and several other prominent people were to attend. It was a joyous occasion no one wanted to miss.
Rakel wondered how Herr Disen was doing now. Was he excited? Yes, he must be. In less than an hour, he would be singing for royalty and all of Carljohansværn.
They met the navy’s men as they approached the church and were guided along the side of the road. The men were making sure the street was clear and that people were standing along the ditch. Then, they heard music in the distance. It was naval music, Rakel guessed, and soon, she saw them coming up from the hospital quay. There was an open carriage pulled by four horses behind the corps, and on board were the royal family and prime minister.
The expectation rose among the crowd. Many of them were waving flags with the union mark, or the “herring salad” as most people called it. Many were opposed to the union, but today, there were only joyous faces to be seen as they awaited the Swedish royal family.
Rakel found herself caught up in the ecstatic atmosphere and smiled contentedly as she tried to catch a glimpse of the royal entourage, but she was small in stature and there were far too many people on the road. She had to get closer. Her father was at the very front, and she managed to sneak her way to a place in front of him just as the corps came marching past. The drums made quite the impression; they were so powerful that Rakel felt their thudding in her chest as they passed by.
Then, the carriage was there. Along with the commander and prime minister were the three members of the royal family. All were clad in military parade uniforms that bore distinctions and medals. King Oscar was the most decorated of them all, and he also carried a shining sabre.
The king was older than Rakel had imagined. He’d lost most of his hair, and what was left was as white as his big beard. The two princes were in their early thirties. Both Crown Prince Carl and Prince Oscar had their dark colouring intact, and both had beards as thick as their father’s. All three nodded formally at the crowd.
Military guards rode behind the carriage. They kept a close eye on the people along the road and rode forward if anyone was tempted to take a step further out into the roadway than was allowed.
After the carriage had passed, everyone crowded together in the street and hurried after it. Rakel followed, too, and soon they were heading up the stairs to the plateau in front of the garrison church. It was already starting to get full when they reached the open doors. Rakel stared wide-eyed at all of the people pressing together on the pews and in the gallery. It was hot, and a low chorus of excited voices hummed in her ears.
They found a place to stand under the gallery, just inside the door. Rakel couldn’t see the royals, who were sitting at the very front of the church. All she could see was the top of the beautifully decorated royal chair. Bishop Arup, Priest Halling and Priest Lomvi stopped before the congregation. They seemed to be deeply affected by the gravity of the moment.
The service began and silence descended in the church. Crisp organ notes filled the interior and soon, the choir began to sing from the gallery. The sound carried well under the high ceiling, and Rakel stood on her the tip of her toes in the hope of catching a glimpse of Herr Disen – but she saw neither him nor any other members of the choir. They were directly above her head and hardly visible to anyone apart from the bishop and those sitting in the gallery.
But she didn’t need to see Herr Disen to recognise his voice when he started to sing. His distinctive voice rippled through the nave, warm and clear, and so beautiful she heard several people whisper in admiration and turn in the hope of seeing where it was coming from.
It was over a while later, and the church slowly cleared out. Rakel peered around when she was back outside. The crowd was dense, and she was short. She soon started to feel claustrophobic and snuck away from the people and over to the trees at the edge of the churchyard. She was standing a bit higher than everyone else, and could see royal entourage as they came out. The king and the princes had been the first to leave the church along with the prime minister, the commander of the shipyard, and the bishop. Now, they were standing in the middle of the square to say their farewells, guarded by the navy’s soldiers.
No one could get close, but Rakel did notice a man who was trying rather persistently as the royals started to depart. He was striking – tall and broad-shouldered with a shaved head beneath his hat. He must have been incredibly handsome at one point. Now, age had taken its toll, but he still looked quite good. His gaze was focused and determined.
He looked like a man who was used to getting what he wanted – and there was no doubt that he was rich. His clothes were elegant and well-fitting, made of costly materials.
He pushed forwards and practically forced himself past the guards, but he never got close to the royal entourage. Instead, he was brusquely turned away by a guard who pushed a bayonet up against his chest. He stopped grudgingly and raised his upper lip in a snarl.
Rakel followed along with excitement. He didn’t seem dangerous, just eager. Was he going to make another attempt? He clenched his fists and looked like he was considering whether he should use them on the guard.
Then a woman grabbed his arm. She was elegant and looked around self-consciously while she said something into the man’s ear. The woman started to leave, and the man followed after her, resentfully. They came straight towards Rakel and stopped so close that she could hear what they were saying.
“How dare they turn me away?” he growled. “Don’t they know who I am?”
“Don’t bother, dear,” she replied coldly. “We’re not in Tønsberg now and you can’t expect everyone to know who Grocer Ludvigsen is.
Rakel gasped. It was him!
Another woman joined them. She was much younger than the first but just as elegant.
“It’s just lowlifes here,” she said, looking around haughtily. “You can’t expect them to know you’re one of the richest men in all of Jarlsberg. Please don’t spoil today for me and mother.”
Rakel took a breath and looked around. Where was Priest Lomvi? Or Herr Disen? She didn’t see them anywhere.
“We’re going home,” Grocer Ludvigsen said. “I came to meet the king, but I didn’t get to. There’s no point in being here any longer.”
No, Rakel thought. He couldn’t leave – not before they’d spoken with him about Jenny’s situation. She looked around again but didn’t see anyone she knew. There was only one thing to do: she had to plead her friend’s case herself.
She lifted her skirts and strode purposefully towards Grocer Ludvigsen.