Rakel threw herself into her work on the farm to avoid thinking about the upcoming wedding. Luckily, her mother and grandmother were taking care of all practical aspects like invitations, cleaning, and cooking. Rakel had helped make food and prepare the house a bit, but it was as if none of this had anything to do with her at all. She couldn’t bear to dwell upon the fact that all of this was for her. And Syver. She tried not to think about him much either, but every time it dawned upon her that they would soon be man and wife, an ice-cold shudder ran down her spine and she felt ill. She lost her appetite entirely, and what little food she consumed threatened to come back up.
Syver and his father had stopped by a few times. She dreaded each visit and had no idea what she should talk to them about. For once, though, her grandmother came to her rescue. She was keen as mustard and entertained the men with an enthusiasm Rakel had never seen the likes of – at least not from her grandmother. Rakel made sure to stay in the background. It felt as though she was always holding her breath when Syver was close by, as though she drowned a little each time, and the only thing that helped was work. So, she gritted her teeth and worked as hard as she could.
In addition to her daily tasks and the wedding preparations, Rakel found new things to do. She cleared the field by the horse pasture almost single-handedly and was so tired when she went to bed at night that she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
She only ate when her mother made her, and otherwise stayed with the animals as much as possible. She couldn’t share the thoughts she had spinning in her head with anyone anyway.
No one besides Ask Bergan seemed to understand that it was difficult for her to marry Syver, but she couldn’t talk to him. In any case, she hadn’t seen any more of him since the visit to Fru Horgen.
Rakel had taken the time to send a letter to Herr Disen. It was short. She thanked him for his letter and explained they’d got nowhere with the deed, which was why she now had to marry Syver Svartangen. She’d asked for his forgiveness for not having had the opportunity to tell him about the news in person and finished off by wishing him a good life. It had hurt at the time, and she’d shed a tear when she gave the letter to the farmhand and asked him to deliver it, but hard work had taken the sting out of this pain as well.
Today, Rakel had taken care of her chores with the animals quickly. Now, she was standing in the bedroom and washing up before going to church. Her mother had asked her to dress in one of her prettiest dresses and take great pains with her appearance. She wanted Rakel to be beautiful on her last Sunday as an unmarried woman. Rakel did as she was told. She washed up and pinched her cheeks to get some colour in them, but nothing helped, no matter what she did. She mostly just looked like a shaggy sparrow who’d been saved from a predator’s claws.
She crumpled in despair. Her hair wasn’t cooperating either. She brushed her curls, trying to bring out a beautiful shine, but they looked more like dry hay. There was nothing to do but braid her hair and hide the braids beneath a bonnet.
There was a knock on the door and her mother came in. Rakel sat on the stool in front of the dressing table and met her mother’s gaze in the mirror.
“I just wanted to make sure you were wearing one of your prettiest dresses and that you…” Her mother stopped herself and frowned. “But what’s wrong? You’re terribly pale and you have dark circles under your eyes. Are you getting sick?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Rakel said, shaking her head carefully. “I’m just tired.”
“I see,” her mother said. “Perhaps it’ll help if you put on a colourful dress.”
She hurried over to the wardrobe and came back with the yellow dress Rakel loved. “This is summery and pretty,” her mother said. “Come now, and I’ll help you with the corset.”
Rakel did as she was told and her mother tied and tightened the corset. It wasn’t as tight as it usually was, and Rakel could still breathe easily.
“You have to tighten it more, Mother,” she said. “It’s not sitting like it should.”
“I can’t tighten it anymore,” her mother said weakly. “I’ve done as much as I can.”
She took a few steps to the side and studied Rakel. “You’ve got terribly thin,” she said quietly. “Just skin and bones. You’re not eating enough.” “I’ve had so much to do. I’ve completely forgotten to eat,” Rakel replied. She didn’t like to make her mother anxious.
“You’re excited about the wedding, I understand. But you need to get some food in you, or you’ll get sick.”
“I will. I promise,” she said. “I’ll eat properly when we come back from church.”
Rakel managed a small smile that seemed to appease her mother.
She hadn’t had any appetite for the last few weeks, but she knew her mother was right. The wedding was in five days, and then she’d move to Svartangen Farm. She needed her strength to endure that.
They arrived at the church sometime later. Rakel dreaded going in. Her father held his hand out to help her down the carriage step and she let him support her. Their eyes met for a brief moment, but then he turned away.
That was how it had been ever since he’d made the deal with Svartangen. The closeness they once shared was only a pale memory. Now, he avoided her as much as he could, but every so often, he stole a glance at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. There was something sad and pained about his look. Was it because he knew what a tremendous sacrifice it was for her to marry Syver? Or was it just wistfulness because his only child was moving away from home? She didn’t know.
“Thank you, Father,” she said as she set her feet on the ground. She straightened her dress and shuddered from a chilly gust of wind.
“It’s unusually cold for July,” her father said, turning up his coat collar.
“Yes,” she replied. “Imagine that the weather would take such a turn when the summer started so well.” Rakel felt sad as they walked towards the church. Before, she could talk to her father about almost anything, but they were now reduced to discussing the weather. “How is the grain?” she asked. “Has it started ripening?”
“Yes, but it’s going more slowly than I’d hoped,” he said. “It won’t be ripe until well into autumn this year. We’ll just have to cross our fingers that there won’t be a storm.”
She nodded. “Perhaps we have to do like we did last year and hire people to get everything ready quickly.” She wanted to say something more, but then it hit her: She no longer had anything to say about the running of the farm. From now on, it was up to Syver and the fathers to decide how the grain harvest would be carried out.
She lifted her face and felt the cool wind that cast a light drizzle over her skin. “And the mill?” she asked, her voice cracking a bit. “Is it finished now?”
“More or less,” her father replied. “There’s still a bit of work to do on the dam, but we’ll be able to start using it by the time the grain is ripe. The neighbours will come with their harvest and we can start earning money.”
“You don’t think we’ll continue to deliver our grain to Sande Mill, then?”
“No, Ingvald and I have a plan for that,” he replied. “We’ll persuade enough people to switch so we can turn a good profit.”
Ingvald and I, Rakel thought grimly. Not many weeks had passed since her father considered Svartangen senior to be his worst enemy. At the time, it was Ask Bergan he’d planned on operating the mill with. Now that wouldn’t be the case, of course, but that wasn’t why she was surprised. It was just so strange to hear her father talk about Ingvald Svartangen as though they were old friends.
She peered up at him. He’d trimmed his red-blond beard and tamed his thick hair. He looked pleased – as though he were looking forward to everything to come. When she thought about it, though, it had been a long time since she’d seen his hearty smile.
Rakel sat down on a bench in the church and stared stiffly at the altar. In just a few days, she would be standing here, in God’s house, promising to be a good wife to Syver. She fiddled her fingers in her lap. How was she going to do that? Lie in church?
She got the strange sensation that someone was staring at her. She peered over at the men’s side. She thought it was Syver, but he was leaning towards his father in an intimate conversation. Was it Herr Disen? She hadn’t seen him since the first time the candles were lit for her and Syver, but he could have come to speak with her about the letter she’d sent.
She turned her head. No, it wasn’t Herr Disen. It was Ask Bergan. He was sitting on one of the benches at the back and held her gaze. It was the first time she’d seen him in church. Then, her mother nudged her and she turned back. The service had begun.
Afterwards, they stood outside the church and talked to a few neighbours about the upcoming wedding. Syver was standing next to her, looking quite proud. For her own part, she could neither smile nor pretend to seem happy. Instead, her eyes started wandering again. She saw the sheriff exchanging a few words with the priest at the church door before he looked up and met her gaze. Then he came towards her.
The wind came rushing down between the trees and rustled his hair so it fluttered wildly behind him. Only now did she see he was wearing the worn grey cloak over his shoulders, and he pulled his hood over his head to shelter it from the wind.
“What in the hell…” Syver swore quietly next to Rakel, and she looked at him in shock. What was he angry about? Then she noticed he was staring at the sheriff.
“He has every right to be here, Syver,” she said. “Whether you like it or not, he’s the sheriff of Skoppum. It’s expected he attend church.”
But Syver wasn’t listening to her. He grabbed her arm and took a step in front of the sheriff so he had to stop in his tracks.
“What do you want?” Syver said sharply.
Rakel saw Ask Bergan’s eyes darken.
“I have something to say to Frøken Ovreid,” he said firmly. “In private.”
“You can forget about that,” Syver said, tightening his grip on her arm so hard that it started to hurt. She looked up at him, alarmed.
“You’re hurting me, Syver,” she said through gritted teeth. “Let go.”
He appeared not to hear her. All of his focus was on the sheriff.
“You have no right to speak with my fiancée in private,” he said. “If you have something to say, you can say it while I’m standing here.”
Bergan opened his mouth but then changed his mind. His eyes narrowed and darkened.
“If you hurt her, you’ll have me to answer to,” he said quietly. “You should let go of her now.”
“You don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,” Syver hissed. “And I’ll treat her however I want. She’s my fiancée, soon my wife. You have nothing to say to her!”
He loosened his grip anyway, at least enough for the pain to subside, and she nodded quickly at the sheriff so he would understand. He did. She saw he relaxed a bit.
“I swear to you,” Syver continued. “If you come anywhere near her again, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
“Is that a threat, Syver Svartangen?” Bergan asked. “Are you threatening the sheriff?”
“No, I’m threatening the man who’s going after my fiancée!” Syver said so loudly that several heads turned and noticed the tense situation.
Rakel grew warm. This was embarrassing. She expected the sheriff to laugh and assure Syver that he had nothing to worry about, but he didn’t. He said nothing, just stared coldly at Syver before turning his back on them and walking away.
Rakel tore her arm from Syver’s grip and looked at him angrily.
“What are you doing?” she said quietly. “Are you trying to get arrested?”
“Hah!” Syver snorted. “That coward wouldn’t dare arrest me.”
“You threatened him,” she said angrily. “And he’s not a coward. The only reason you’re not in chains already is that he didn’t want to cause a scene outside the church.”
“The only reason he gave up was that he wanted to save you from any further difficulties,” Syver said. “Do you think I’m stupid? I can put two and two together.”
She looked at him, exasperated.
“You were already bad at sums in school,” she said dryly. “And in this case, you are completely wrong as usual.”
“Don’t you dare speak to me that way!” He widened his eyes, and for a moment, she was afraid he was going to slap her. Then she remembered where they were. He wouldn’t hurt her here, but she had to watch her tongue. She couldn’t talk to him like that.
“I’m sorry, Syver,” she said. “I didn’t mean to be rude. Won’t you come back to Ovreid for coffee? The two of us need to talk.”
“I’m not going to Ovreid,” he said. “I have other plans.” He glanced down the road towards Carljohansværn and she understood.
“You’re going to the tavern,” she stated.
“That is absolutely what I’m doing,” he said. “This is my last week of freedom and I’m going to enjoy it.”
She wanted to answer him and tell him just how free he could be if he wanted, but she managed to hold it in. She didn’t want to argue with him, and why should she stop him from going? She didn’t have to be around him if he was at the tavern.
A while later, Rakel was in the cowshed in a work dress. The pregnant cow was mooing more than usual, and Rakel wanted to check how close the birth was. She put her hands on the cow’s belly and shut her eyes. Then she felt around. It was how she’d always done it, and this time, she also got a sense of how things were. She could feel the calf in there and see it in her mind, and it confirmed her suspicions. The calf wasn’t positioned as it should be. It would be a difficult birth if it didn’t move.
She opened her eyes and straightened up. The cow would be allowed in the barn tonight. Just as Rakel was about to lead it up to the barn, she heard a wagon approaching. She saw it was the doctor’s, coming from Svartangen Farm.
She walked over to the fence and motioned to the driver that he should stop. The doctor saw her and opened the door. He greeted her gravely.
“Good morning, doctor. Is something wrong?”
“Yes, I can tell you this, I suppose,” he said. “Since you’ll soon be mistress of Svartangen. You also know about the maid’s situation.”
“What do you mean?”
“That young woman is dying,” he said sadly. “The infection has spread to her internal organs, and there’s nothing more I can do for her.”
Rakel stared at him without quite understanding.
“But…” she stuttered. “Eilert said she was better… that she was almost healthy again.”
“Did he? Well, I suppose his mother must have been trying to comfort him. But now she’s doing so poorly that even he can see it. She only has a few days left. I’m sorry. This must be the last thing you wanted to hear, what with the wedding being so close.”
“Yes,” she answered weakly. This was the last thing she wanted to hear. Not because of the wedding, but for Eilert’s sake.
Rakel said goodbye to the doctor and led the cow into the barn. It settled down on the straw she’d laid out for it, and she sat down in the corner of the stall to await the birth as she thought about what she’d just heard. The doctor had given up on Eilert’s mother. All hope was lost.
Or was it?
Rakel raised her hands and stared at her palms. The feeling she’d had the last time she saw Eilert’s mother returned. She should have done more for her – but could she? Her mind wandered to the time she took care of the wild dog. What had she done to help it? She remembered nothing besides pushing the dog’s hip into place. There was nothing supernatural about that – just luck, really.
But how had she known what to do? When she thought about it, it had come to her naturally. She’d just known. When she put her hands on an animal, she immediately understood how it was doing. The same thing had happened the first time she’d touched Eilert’s mother; she’d felt what was wrong. But not this last time. She’d become scared and pulled away.
She raised a hand and clasped the cross hanging around her neck. Was this blasphemy? And what about this other thing – the abnormal strength the sheriff claimed she had? Rakel shifted uneasily. She’d chosen to dismiss the sheriff as crazy. He was only trying to torment her and drive her mad. But… why should he want to do that? She believed him when he claimed he didn’t mean her any harm… and didn’t she know it, deep down? That there was something deep inside her, something she barely dared to believe?
Then she remembered something the priest had said in his first sermon: that you could pray to help others and that the Lord would listen to such prayers. Did she have the ability to impart the Lord’s mercy? If so, she had to help if she could. But what if she hurt Eilert’s mother? No, she was going to die anyway… Dear God in Heaven, she prayed. Give me a sign. Help me understand what to do.
Rakel waited, but nothing happened. After a while, she got up and went over to the cow. It was resting with its eyes closed. It looked like there was still some time before the birth. Rakel bent down and felt it again, and her suspicions were confirmed: this would take time. It also felt as if the calf had turned so it was lying the right way, and now the cow was completely calm. That meant Rakel didn’t have to watch over it after all.
Was that the sign she’d been waiting for? She chose to interpret it that way, at least. But how was she supposed to get into Svartangen Farm? Fortunately, Syver was probably still at the tavern. Still, it wouldn’t be that much easier with Svartangen senior there. She couldn’t exactly tell him that she was going to attempt to heal his dying maid.
It was evening when Rakel left the barn. She’d barely taken two steps before she saw a figure coming over the shortcut across the river towards Ovreid. She recognised Ingvald Svartangen even from a distance and remembered her father had mentioned he’d be coming over to discuss plans for next year.
She smiled to herself. Another sign. She was meant to help Eilert’s mother.