Daniel (32 page)

‘I wonder what he's thinking,' said Edman, taking up a new position to draw Daniel's profile from the left side.

‘If he thinks at all,' replied Fredholm, noting down the length of Daniel's left ear.

‘It's odd to stand before a creature from a race that's dying out. I wonder if he's aware of it himself? That soon he will no longer exist?'

Daniel listened absent-mindedly to what they were saying. Suddenly he had an idea. Maybe they could tell him where the sea was. Since they were alone in the room, neither Alma nor Edvin would know that he had asked. He would wait until they were finished, then he could ask, and he would do it in such a way that they wouldn't realise the purpose of his question.

‘Open your mouth,' said Fredholm.

Daniel obeyed.

‘Have you ever seen teeth like this? Not one cavity.'

‘Cavities are caused by bacteria. But the whiteness of his teeth seems brighter because he's black.'

Fredholm tugged at his teeth. ‘As strong as a beast of prey. If he bit you it would be like having a mad cat hanging from your wrist.'

Daniel remembered that this was the second time he had been drawn and measured. He wondered whether it was a custom in this country to put a measuring tape around the heads of people who came to visit.

Fredholm kept measuring. Now he pulled on Daniel's lips. It hurt, but Daniel didn't flinch.

‘I drew the head of a fox once. Presumably it had rabies and its head
had been cut off. I have the same feeling now, that it's an animal I'm drawing.'

Fredholm blew his nose in his handkerchief and then asked Daniel to raise his arm. He sniffed at his armpit.

‘Bestial,' he said. ‘Very strong. No normal peasant sweat.'

Edman put down his pad and smelled Daniel's armpit. ‘I don't notice any difference.'

‘In what?'

‘The odour of my own sweat and the boy's. You have to be careful to stay faithful to the facts.'

‘Then I shall note that he perspires the same odour as a human being.'

Edman laughed. ‘He
is
a human being.'

‘But of a dying race.'

Fredholm put down his measuring tape and sat on a chair. ‘Just imagine this boy a few years older. Copulating with a rosy-cheeked peasant girl.'

‘The thought is repulsive.'

‘But what if? What would be the result?'

‘A mulatto. With low intelligence. Holszten has already written about that.'

Fredholm scratched out his pipe and then lit it. ‘But what if that's all wrong?' he said. ‘If the very premise is incorrect. Where does that leave us?'

‘Why should the premise be incorrect?'

‘What if Christian teachings are telling the truth after all? That all human beings are created equal?'

‘Species of animals die out. Why not less successful human races as well?'

‘I have a feeling that he understands everything we're saying.'

Edman put down the drawing pad. ‘Perhaps. But he doesn't fully comprehend what he understands. If you're finished I would like to go outside. It smells rank in here.'

Fredholm shrugged his shoulders. ‘I admit that he reminds me of an ape. But I can't keep thinking that nevertheless he doesn't seem like a human being who's about to die out.'

‘Take up that discussion with Holszten. He doesn't like being
contradicted. He believes that racial biology is the future. Whoever doesn't follow his path will have to find different ones.'

Fredholm said nothing more, but put his measuring tape and calipers back in a little bag.

‘Where is the sea?' asked Daniel.

The two men looked at him in astonishment.

‘Did he say something?' asked Fredholm.

‘He asked about the sea.'

‘Where is the sea?' Daniel repeated.

Edman smiled. Then he pointed. ‘In that direction is Simrishamn. And that direction is Ystad. In that direction is Trelleborg. And that way is Malmö. The sea lies all around you like a horseshoe. East, south and west. But not north. There is nothing but forest up there.'

Just as Daniel had hoped, they didn't ask why he was wondering about the sea. They packed up their bags and opened the door to the room where Dr Madsen was waiting with Edvin and Alma.

‘I hope that five riksdaler will be enough,' said Dr Madsen, placing a banknote on the table. Edvin nodded. ‘More than generous.'

Then he and Alma accompanied the three men out to the waiting carriage.

 

Daniel was still standing in the middle of the kitchen. He closed his eyes and thought he could hear the roar of the waves.

Now he knew in which direction
not
to go.

Two days later Daniel set off. Just after one in the morning, when he was sure that everyone was asleep, he silently got dressed and slipped out of the kitchen with his wooden shoes in his hand. He had packed a bundle containing the sand that was left in Father's insect cases, and some potatoes and pieces of bread. When he reached the courtyard the cold hit him hard. He hesitated, wondering whether he would survive his walk to the sea. He didn't know how far it was, or whether the plains would be broken by mountains or bogs. He wrapped his scarf round his head and started off. He sensed that Be and Kiko were calling him. There was no wind and it was overcast. He had decided to head south. The night before he had gone outside and taken a bearing on a star in that direction. He followed the cart track past the house where Sanna lived and ran straight out into a field when a dog started barking. He didn't stop until it fell silent. The cold stung his lungs.

He had explained to Sanna that he had to leave. They were sitting up on the hill and he told her about it while she dug and searched for the invisible people under the mud. She repeated the same thing she had said before, that he was crazy, that they would find him and bring him back. A person who was destined to be nailed up on boards could never escape.

In the end he realised that she didn't believe what he was saying. Then he knew that she would never consider coming with him.

When she ran home he watched her until she disappeared. Then he imagined his own disappearance. He would run through the night and he would be gone when Edvin and Alma woke up in the morning. He had poured a little sand into his bed and hoped they would believe that he had turned himself into those grains of sand.

The darkness surrounded him. The cold tore at his chest. He made his way along the narrow tracks that wound through the fields. The soil was frozen and no longer stuck to the bottom of his shoes. Now
and then he would stop to catch his breath, but he grew so cold that he forced himself to keep moving.

The plain seemed endless. He felt like he was moving in a trance. The cold had stopped stinging him. Now it burned inside him. He knew that he had to keep going until dawn. Only then could he search for a place where he could get warm and sleep. If he stopped now he would be buried in the darkness, and when the sun returned only his stiff, frozen body would be left. All night long he thought about Be and Kiko. They were inside him and they were as cold as he was. Sometimes he stretched out his arms and asked Kiko to carry him. But Kiko would only shake his head and say that he had to manage for himself.

 

The dawn came.

At the same time it began to snow. At first scattered snowflakes, then so thick that he couldn't make out the horizon. He was in the middle of a field. Off in the distance he saw a house surrounded by trees but he couldn't see the sea anywhere. At the top of a small hill stood the ruin of a windmill. Its sails hung like the remains of a dead bird above the crumbling walls. He walked towards the hill. When he looked back the field had already turned white, and his tracks were clearly visible. He kept on heading for the windmill. He glimpsed a fox, and then it was gone. One corner of the ruin still had part of the roof left. On the floor lay some old sacks. He wrapped the sacks around his body and huddled in the corner. Then he ate one of the pieces of bread and a potato. He wondered why he wasn't thirsty. If he had walked all night long in the desert he wouldn't have been hungry, but he would have wanted water. Now it was food he needed.

Did he dare go to sleep? Would the sacks keep him warm enough, or would he freeze to death? He tried to make a decision, but he was already asleep. Kiko lay by his left side, with one arm under his head as usual. Be was somewhere behind him. Without seeing her he knew that she had curled up and was sleeping with her hands clasped under her belly.

 

He dreamed that his heart was beating more and more slowly. With a huge effort he kicked himself up out of the dream. He was so cold he
was shaking. He had no idea how long he had been asleep. To his surprise he noticed that he was crying. The tears had run down to his mouth. That had never happened before; he had never started to cry while he was asleep.

At first he didn't know where he was. It was still snowing. He struggled to stand up and tried to determine from the thickness of the snow how long he had been asleep. He measured with one finger and then looked up at the clouds. He couldn't see where the sun was. He took a little snow in his hand and put it in his mouth. Now he realised how thirsty he was.

Before he left the ruin he tore the sacks into strips and stuffed them inside his trousers and shoes. Then he continued heading south.

He knew that he wouldn't be able to survive another night. He had to rest, and he had to get warm. Otherwise he would die. Just before dark he reached a farm with big barns and a red-brick house with a tower in the middle. He hid behind some boulders in the field and waited. Now and then he could hear voices in the distance and the sound of buckets clanking. When it got dark he cautiously approached one of the barns. At the back there was an old manure trench that he could creep inside. The barn was full of cows. Some moved restlessly as he trudged forward in the dark. He smelled the aroma of milk. He found some in the bottom of an unwashed pail and drank it down. He kept looking and found another pail of milk. All the while he was listening for voices, but he was alone with the animals. He went back the way he had come and crept into the straw next to the cow that stood closest to the manure trench. The cow sniffed at him. Daniel felt its warm breath on his face. He ate the bread and potatoes he had left and then burrowed into the straw. One hand was slippery with manure. He wiped it off against the wall and then curled up. Slowly he could feel his body's warmth coming back. Tonight he would not freeze to death.

 

He woke up when he heard someone screaming. He had slept so soundly that he hadn't noticed when the milkmaids came in, clanking their pails. Now a skinny girl with a pockmarked face was standing outside the cow's stall and screaming him awake. He stood up and she fled, dropping her pail. He sneaked out through the manure
trench and ran as fast as he could. It had stopped snowing but it was colder. He slipped and fell but got to his feet and kept running. He expected to hear shouts and dogs barking behind him. He noticed that he was running uphill. If only he could make it over the top he would be safe.

When he reached the top he stopped short.

Far off on the horizon lay the sea. He closed his eyes hard and then looked again. It wasn't his imagination. The sea was there, far ahead of him, and when he turned round the fields were empty. There were no people and no dogs.

He continued walking and reached a wider road. Already he could see the smoke rising into the air from many chimneys. Maybe he was on his way to the same town where he had once arrived with Father. He carried on. When he saw two horse carts in the distance he left the road and hid in a ditch. The driver behind the first horse was asleep. Behind the reins of the second cart sat a woman. The thought crossed Daniel's mind that it was Be in disguise, wanting to show herself to him and tell him that he was on the right track.

 

He kept hiding until it began to get dark again. He had come close enough to the town to see that it wasn't the same one he and Father had visited. There were no cobblestone streets here, only a few muddy lanes winding between low houses.

But he had discovered something that was more important. There was a harbour. And in the harbour were several ships. Perhaps he would be able to get aboard one of them and not have to learn to walk on water.

Hunger was gnawing at his stomach. He tried to imagine what had happened when Edvin and Alma had discovered that he was gone. Alma probably thought that the sand in his bed was all that was left of him, but Edvin would be doubtful and they would start looking for him. By now a whole day and two nights had passed. They would think that he was lying dead somewhere, buried under the snow.

Just as darkness fell the wind began to blow. Daniel was worried that the ships would leave before he managed to get aboard. He went a roundabout way past the houses and down to the harbour. The wind
picked up. The ships scraped against the quay. He was surprised that there were no lights in the cabins. Where were the sailors?

 

The quay was deserted. The only light came from the window of a hut near the end of the jetty. He walked past the ships without running into anyone. His disappointment made him angry. Why were they lying here in the harbour like dead animals? Why weren't any sailors waiting for dawn to set sail?

He stopped near the biggest ship. The clouds were beginning to shred in the wind. The moonlight made it possible to see. He hopped over the railing and felt how the deck moved beneath his feet. Suddenly he gave a start. It felt as if Father were somewhere among the shadows. He didn't want Daniel to board a ship. He wanted to grab him by the scruff of the neck and take him back to Alma and Edvin. But the deck was empty. There was nobody there. Again he felt how hungry he was. If he didn't find some food he wouldn't be able to think clearly. He walked along the deck and tried the door to the aft cabin. It was unlocked. Without knowing why, he knocked. No one answered. He opened the door and went in. It smelled of wet clothes inside. There was a candle on a table. He pulled the curtains over the portholes and lit the candle, capping his hand over the flame to shield it. On the table stood a butter tub and a plate of hard tack. He began to eat. He spread the butter on the bread with his fingers. There was also a bottle there, the same kind Father used to drink, which he called
beer
. It tasted bitter, but he drank until the bottle was empty.