Ida Brandt (5 page)

∞∞∞

That evening, Schrøder stood right down on the road to keep a look-out for the carriages, for it was already lightning down beyond Brædstrup, and Mrs von Eichbaum was always so frightened of driving, and now there was a storm approaching as well…

The bailiff’s girls ran past her shouting and carrying sheets from the bleaching ground, and in the home farm she could hear the steward shouting to them to close the hatches, when the two carriages appeared down on the road at as great a speed as the reins could stand. His Lordship was in the barouche with Mrs von Eichbaum.

The maids in the main building closed the windows, and as soon as he reached the entrance His Lordship started shouting that the hatches should be closed, while the steward came running out wearing a big cape.

The guests, who were nervous and stiff, alighted by the steps. Mrs von Eichbaum, as pale as a sheet, went into her sitting room and lit the lamp behind the drawn blinds. She was always afraid when “the elements were angry”.

His Lordship, going through the rooms to make sure the windows were all fastened, shouted that they should all gather together; and Schrøder ran through the rain across to the bailiff’s, and he came back with her. Ida toddled along with her head poking out of a long cloak, and Mrs Madsen was there, too, for she had not dared to go home.

“Indoors, indoors,” Schrøder shouted.

But Miss Rosenfeld had put on a bathing cap and was standing out in the middle of the lawn, catching the rain in her hands.

“Go indoors,” shouted His Lordship, and laughing and bending her back she ran in under the glass roof.

“
Here
,” said Miss Adlerberg, catching hold of her. They were all sitting or standing on the garden steps now, looking out through the rain towards the silent flashes.

“Here,” she said, forcing Miss Rosenfeld down on a travelling rug.

They all spoke in quiet voices, looking out at the heavens that were becoming darker and telling of thunder and lightning.

“Aye,” said Brandt in his slow voice, “when Aggersøgaard burned down, as I’m sure Your Lordship will remember, it was a full hour before we got the cattle out…”

He said nothing for a time; there came a flash of lightning brighter than the others.

“But,” he went on, “both the baron’s carriage horses got away from us…it was dreadful.”

“Yes,” said His Lordship, standing alongside Brandt. “And we were both standing here when the old flagpole was struck.”

“Yes, Your Lordship.”

And in the same voice, His Lordship added: “And that was the year my late wife died.”

Mrs Madsen nodded: she remembered
that.

The lightning became brighter and there were more and more flashes and in the light from them they could see the cattle out in the fields and the houses in Brædstrup. Everyone was silent and no one spoke any more except Miss Adlerberg, who whispered to Mr Feddersen from the Ministry:

“We roll the blinds down at home and light the lamps and dance,” she said, having made a fan of her gardening hat.

The rain came on heavier and sounded like the rat-tat-tat of drums on the roof, while the poplars in the drive swayed and bent as though they were about to break.

“Here we go,” said the bailiff quietly as the first rumble was heard above them.

Lieutenant Falkenstjerne had sat down on the steps at Miss With’s feet; she grasped his shoulder.

“Listen.” And in a fragile little voice she said: “Mother and I always go down into the cellar at home.”

There was another flash and Schrøder was speaking half aloud when the crash came.

“It’s over Ringgaard,” said His Lordship, who knew every patch of ground and every distance in the region.

“Yes, Your Lordship.”

They had not finished speaking before there was more lightning. The flashes came from two sides like bright, interrupted beams, and they saw the flat field where the cattle were running in great circles to escape, and the entire heavens, where the black-edged clouds rolled up towards them like chariots.

No one spoke any more; only Miss Rosenfeld, who was sitting there with her head cocked attentively, whispered:

“How beautiful it is, how beautiful…”

Meanwhile Mrs Madsen sat there all the time moving her lips and Ida had bowed her head beneath her mother’s arm and there was another flash of lightning.

They saw a horseman come in through the gate and a man in a cape came running across the courtyard. It was the forester coming from “Her Ladyship’s wood” and not daring to ride any further on account of the horse.

The thunder drowned his voice, and it was so dark that it was scarcely possible to see his face as he said:

“There’s something on fire to the west of Brædstrup, there were some huge flames…”

“Was it at Christen Nielsen’ s?” said His Lordship. And they muttered some half inaudible words as to whether he was insured.

“It is not very nice,” said Miss Adlerberg to the student; she had folded her hands around her gardening hat.

Schrøder let go of young Karl von Eichbaum and suddenly ran across to Mrs von Eichbaum’s door. Through the keyhole she could see her sitting motionless and pale in front of her candles.

Miss With had not let go of Falkenstjerne’s shoulder, and he could feel her hand ice cold beside his cheek. When the lightning came he could see her face, as pale as a sheet, while her eyes looked as though they were green.

“Miss With, Miss With,” he said.

There came a new flash of lightning and a new crash of thunder as though some huge iron body was being flung against the ground at their feet:

“I suppose that was the end of another oak tree,” said the forester, who was thinking about his forests all the time he sat there.

No one spoke and no one would have been able to hear. When the thunder died away for a moment, they could hear the cattle lowing out in the field and the sheep bleating pitifully.

“It’s over at Christen Nielsen’s,” said Brandt. They caught a brief glimpse of the light from the fire, behind the cattle sheds, in the darkness.

“Keep an eye on the home farm,” His Lordship said to Brandt.

There was a flash of lightning like a shining, white gimlet before their eyes, and the bailiff ran and flung out both his arms like one blinded and then ran again as the report came, a clap of thunder like a thousand things being smashed and crushed; Ida, tearing herself away from her mother, rushed frantically across to her father, shrilly screaming:

“Daddy, daddy,” and she hid herself up against his legs.

Falkenstjerne had taken Miss With’s hands: “Miss Emmy,” he said, using her Christian name for the first time.

“Miss Emmy.”

“Yes, yes,” she whispered, not knowing what she was saying, while he maintained his hold on her hands.

All was quite still for a moment, and the only sound was that of the heavy rain falling.

Then, putting her hand to her forehead, in a gentle, almost deferential voice, Miss Rosenfeld said to Feddersen, to whom she otherwise hardly ever spoke:

“It was so lovely.”

They all sat in silence as though still waiting. But the flashes grew paler over the fields and the rumbles grew less. It was as though a refreshing cool air was coming up from the ground, and the rain died down.

Then, in the western sky, they saw the stars again.

Mrs Madsen sat telling Feddersen all about Madsen’s wound and His Lordship and the forester went down the road to have a look at the fire at Christen’s Nielsen’s.

The rain was gentle and kind. They heard it falling on the roof like a fond murmur, and its drops filled the night like a radiant mist.

Then Miss Rosenfeld, who was sitting with her head in her hands, started to sing quietly.

Falkenstjerne still sat with Miss With’s hands in his:

“Won’t you join in?” said Miss Rosenfeld, turning her head towards them. And in low voices, almost humming, the girls sang:

Fly, o bird, fly o’er the lake’s gentle wave

Soon the black night will be here.

Gone is the sun from hind forest and cave

Day has now left this fair sphere.

Fly you now home to the mate of your heart,

And to your golden-beaked brood;

Then when you come at the morning’s bright start,

You must tell all that is good.

“Look,” said Brandt. Ida had fallen asleep in his arms, with her head against his shoulder:

“Look at the child,” he whispered, bending down towards Miss With. He looked so happy as they continued their singing, and the forester joined in, singing at the entrance in his quiet bass voice:

Fly, o bird, fly o’er the lake’s gentle waters…

The song came to an end.

Out in the night the rain had ceased and they all went down the steps – Falkenstjerne and Miss With walking side by side – and stood breathing out in the cool air.

Then Schrøder came along with a huge tray. They really needed something, she said, after that fright.

They walked up and down the paths for a time. Then there came the sound of laughs and screams from down on the road. It was His Lordship who – old rascal that he was – had snatched a kiss from Miss Adlerberg.

Shortly after this, the party broke up.

Brandt was still carrying Ida. He tiptoed on his long legs so as not to wake the child.

After they all retired, Miss Rosenfeld came out of her door and went quietly upstairs. She opened a window in the gable and sat down by the windowsill with her hands around her knees.

There, she saw the dawn of a new day.

∞∞∞

It was the nineteenth of August, and the whole of Ludvigsbakke was on the go. It was His Lordship’s birthday tomorrow, and he would be seventy years old.

Schrøder was making pastries and baking. There was steam all around her. She had locked the kitchen door with a huge, rusty old key.

“We can’t have anyone meddling in here,” she said.

The key was in the pocket of the print dress and was flapping around her legs.

The girls were making festoons in a corner in the grove and running past the bailiff’s Mound with clothes baskets full of greenery. Mrs Brandt sat there holding Ida rather like a sentry standing at ease until Miss Rosenfeld went up the slope to the Mound and lifted Ida over the fence:

“
We
’ll look after
her
, Mrs Brandt,” she said.

Down in the grove, they were laughing and chatting so they could be heard far away as they fixed oak leaves and asters to the clothes-lines.

Miss Adlerberg was wearing gloves for the work:

“For this dreadful stuff cuts into your fingers,” she said, taking off her gloves about once every ten minutes to show Feddersen the red marks.

Ida went around bending down and picking up all the asters that had been dropped and putting them in Miss Rosenfeld’s lap.

“Thank you, dear,” said Miss Rosenfeld.

The pharmacist’s wife, overflowing with flounces and sitting beside Miss Adlerberg, said:

“Yes, it is dreadful on the hands. Franz (that was the pharmacist) will simply not allow me to do anything…because of my hands.”

“A little glycerine will put it right,” said Miss Rosenfeld.

“Thank you dear.”

It was Ida who was continuing to collect flowers with stems that were far too short.

Brandt arrived; he was going back and forth with all ten fingers as black as coal from the gunpowder he was using to make rockets and Bengal lights down in the office.

“Yes,” he said. “They were really good last year. They all went off except one…But when His Excellency received his new title, Eriksen, my managing clerk, had made a Catherine-wheel…that was rather nice.”

Brandt stopped in front of Miss Rosenfeld.

“Ah, you have the child,” he said with a smile, stroking Ida’s head with his black fingers.

“You ought to look after that cough, Brandt,” said Miss Rosenfeld.

Brandt had had a nasty cough recently.

“Ugh,” – the maids puffed and shook their skirts.

“How many yards have we got now?”

And one of them swung the festoon like a skipping rope while the other started to sing:

In the woods when gunfire sounds

And when the hunter’s horn is heard

And when there’s barking from the hounds,

Where birds do lie and die unheard

And other beasts with wounds profound

Lie bleeding on the ground.

The forester’s family had arrived up on the Mound, where Mrs Brandt was ensconced.

Mrs Lund had come up here: she wanted to present a bunch of flowers.

“And my roses,” she said. “Heaven knows how it comes about… but they seemed to be doing so well, and they are producing no more than buds…And those in the churchyard, there are so many of them and they look splendid, but I didn’t really think I could use them on an occasion such as this.”

So Mrs Lund was welcome to such as Mrs Brandt had, but that was not very many.

“Oh well,” said Mrs Lund in some relief. “His Lordship will look at the will more than the deed.”

The forester clicked his heels and said:

“Aye, I’m a sober man, mother, but on the twentieth I’m going to get drunk.”

“All right, Lund,” said his wife, “provided you don’t make a speech.”

Mrs Madsen arrived down in the gooseberry walk. She did not know what to turn to: Madsen’s top hat needed to be ironed, and she simply didn’t have an iron to use.”

“That’s a bit of a problem then,” said the forester: “Madsen, the representative of the armed forces.”

The veterans were to arrive at twelve o’ clock.

The girls came from the grove in a single big group, and the pharmacist’s wife, holding a white parasol, waved to those assembled on the Mound. Ida shook hands with everyone before going up.

Mrs Madsen wanted just to walk around down in the meadows adjoining the grove, and the forester and his family accompanied her. They went over the stile and looked at the wreaths and garlands lying on the ground.

“It is really beautiful, it is really beautiful,” said Mrs Lund, who was sitting on a bench – she always wanted to sit down.