The Long Ships (49 page)

“I remember the occasion well,” said Rapp. “But the husband was a heathen.”

“What happened to the woman?” asked Ylva.

“The sugar-baker presented himself before the magistrate with his garments rent and with his four witnesses behind him, and begged that Toke and the woman should be stoned as adulterers. My lord Almansur had himself commanded that the case should be judged strictly according to the law, though Toke was a member of his bodyguard. The magistrate listened carefully to the evidence of the four witnesses concerning what they had seen take place, and three of them swore upon oath that they had distinctly witnessed certain things occurring; but the fourth was old and had weak eyes and so had not been able to see as clearly as the others. Now, the law of Mohammed, which stands written by Allah’s own finger in their holy book, states that no person may be convicted of adultery unless four pious witnesses can be found who have clearly and unmistakably seen the offense committed. So the magistrate found Toke and the woman not guilty and sentenced the sugar-baker to the bastinado for bringing false accusation.”

“That sounds a good land for a woman to live in,” said Ylva, “for much can take place before one is seen in the act by four witnesses. But I think the sugar-baker was unlucky.”

“He did not think so for long,” said Orm, “for as a result of this incident his name became known to the whole bodyguard, and we would often visit his shop to chaff him and drink his sweet Syrian mead, so that his trade increased greatly, and he praised Allah for the magistrate’s wisdom. But Toke said that, though the affair had ended well enough, he would take it as a warning, and he never again ventured to go in to the woman.”

Father Willibald now came to them and told them that Torgunn had been telling the truth when she had asserted that she had twisted her knee. “Before long,” he said to Rapp, “it will be so swollen that even you will have no doubts upon the matter.”

They all supposed that Rapp would feel relief at this news, but he sat for some time buried in his thoughts. At length he said: “If that is so, the magister must have lain there a good while, holding her knee with both his hands, or perhaps with one only. It is difficult for me to believe that he stopped at that, for he has himself told us that he is weak-willed where women are concerned, and that he has learned from Roman books secret methods of pleasing them. It is my belief that he did more than read over her knee; for if he had confined himself to that, the swelling would not have arisen, if there is any virtue in his godliness.”

This was the longest speech that any of them had ever heard Rapp deliver, and none of them could persuade him that he was of a wrong opinion in the matter.

Then Ylva said: “At first you were suspicious because you could not see any swelling; now you are suspicious because you have been told that there is one. But this does not surprise me, for you men are always the same once you have an idea fixed in your head. I shall go myself to Torgunn and have the matter out with her; for she and I are close friends, and she will tell me the truth of what really happened. And if anything has taken place which she does not wish to speak of, I will know from her replies what it is that she is trying to hide. For a woman knows at once whether another woman is telling the truth or not; which is, God be praised, more than any man is capable of.”

With this she left them; and what she and Torgunn said to each other no man knows, for none heard their talk.

“You can put your mind at rest now, Rapp,” said Orm, “for in a short while you will know the truth about this matter. There is no more cunning woman in the wide world than Ylva; of that I can promise you. I marked that the very first time I met her.”

Rapp grunted, and they began to discuss two heifers that had escaped and had not been discovered, and where it would be best to search for them on the following day.

Ylva was absent for a long while. When at last she returned, she shook her fist under Rapp’s nose.

“I have discovered the truth of this matter,” she said, “and it was as I had supposed. You can set your mind at rest, Rapp, for nothing blameworthy took place between these two in the forest. The only one who has behaved badly is you. Torgunn does not know whether to laugh at you for your suspicions, or whether to weep at the memory of the hard words you used to her; and she tells me that she almost regrets not having seduced the priest when she had the chance. ‘We could have had much pleasure before Rapp came,’ she told me, ‘and since I shall in any case have to endure his suspicions and be looked upon as a woman of shame, I might as well have got what enjoyment I could out of the affair.’ Those were the words she used; and if you are as wise a man as I hold you to be, Rapp, you will never mention another word about this business; if you do, I cannot answer for her behavior. But if you handle her tenderly, I think she will be willing to let the matter drop; and it would be a good thing if you could get her with child, for then you would not have to worry yourself any more about this poor unfortunate magister.”

Rapp scratched his scalp and muttered something to the effect that any state she might be in was not the result of any lack of endeavor on his part. But they could see that he was much relieved by what Ylva had told him, and he thanked her for having put the matter to rights.

“And it is a good thing that I myself possess some small stock of wisdom,” he said, “even though I am not as wise as you, Ylva. For if I had been an impatient man, I would have killed the magister and would now be wearing a long nose, and you and Orm would no longer be my friends. But now I will go to Torgunn, to comfort her and make things well again.”

When Orm and Ylva had gone to bed, they talked for a time about this business before falling asleep.

“All this has passed off better than I could have expected,” said Orm, “thanks to your good offices. For if I had been called upon to decide in this matter, I should have adjudged that they had busied themselves with more things in the forest than with this knee of hers.”

Ylva lay for a while in silence. Then she said: “Orm, you would have judged correctly, but you must never let anyone know this. I promised her that I would not repeat what she told me, and that I would talk Rapp into believing that nothing had taken place; and we must leave things as they now are, and nobody must know anything, not even Father Willibald; for if the truth were to come out, it would cause great distress to both Rapp and Torgunn, as well as to this unfortunate woman-crazy magister. But to you I will tell the truth, which is that there was more done between these two than praying over her bad knee. She says that she liked him from the first, because of his beautiful singing voice and the unlucky fate to which he is condemned; besides which, she says that she could never say nay to a holy man. She says she trembled throughout her whole body like a trapped bat when he touched her knee as she lay there on the ground, and that he did not appear embarrassed but straightway guessed what was in her mind. Before long they were both in a state of desire; she says that she could not help this. Later, when they had become calm again, he began to groan and weep and took up his prayers where he had left them off; but he had only had time to say a few sentences before Rapp appeared. That, doubtless, is why the swelling has become worse, for he should, properly, have repeated the prayer thrice for it to be effective. But she will thank God for the rest of her life, she says, for not allowing Rapp to arrive a few minutes earlier than he did. Now if you let Rapp or anyone else know the truth of this, you will make me exceedingly unhappy, and others also.”

This story delighted Orm hugely, and he gladly promised never to repeat a word of it, to Rapp or anyone else.

“As long as Rapp never knows that they have cuckolded him,” he said, “no harm need result from this incident. But this magister is, indeed, a remarkable man; for in all other manly pursuits he is wholly incompetent, but his handling of women leaves nothing to be desired. It would be a bad thing if he should see any more of Torgunn without other people being present; if that were to happen, this business might end evilly, for Rapp will not allow himself to be gulled a second time. So I must think out some regular task for him to perform, which will keep him away from her, and her from him; for I cannot be sure which of the two would be the more desirous of promoting a second meeting.”

“You must not treat him too harshly,” said Ylva, “for the poor creature has enough suffering ahead of him at the hands of the Smalanders. I myself will do what I can to keep him and Torgunn apart from each other.”

The next morning Orm called the magister to him and told him that he had at last found him a task that he thought he would be able to perform to everyone’s satisfaction.

“Hitherto,” he said, “you have not shown much skill in any of the labors to which we have set you; but now you will have the chance to do us all a real service. Here you see this cherry tree which is the best of all my trees; and that is not only my opinion, but also that of the crows. You are now to climb to the top of it, and I would advise you to take food and drink with you, for you are not to come down until the crows and magpies have gone off to their night branches. You shall sit there every day; and you shall take your place there early, for these crows awake in the gray twilight before dawn. It is my hope that you will succeed in protecting the berries for us, if you do not eat too many of them yourself.”

The magister looked gloomily up at the tree; the fruit there was larger than that usually found on cherry trees and was just beginning to darken toward ripeness. All the birds were especially fond of these cherries, and both Rapp and Father Willibald had tried to keep them away by shooting arrows at them, but had been able to achieve little.

“This is no more than I deserve,” said the magister, “but I am afraid to climb so high.”

“You will have to accustom yourself to that,” said Orm.

“I easily become dizzy.”

“If you hold on tightly, the dizziness will not affect you. If you show that you have not the courage to undertake this task, everybody will laugh at you, and the women most of all.”

“I have, in truth, deserved all this,” said the magister sadly.

After some argument he succeeded, with much difficulty, in climbing part of the way up the tree, while Orm stood on the ground below, exhorting him continually to ascend higher. At length, amid much praying, he managed to reach a fork where three branches met; it swayed beneath his weight, and, seeing this, Orm commanded him to remain there, since his rocking would make him more visible to the birds.

“You are quite safe up there,” he shouted up at the magister, “and nearer heaven than we poor creatures who must remain on the ground. There you can eat and drink to your heart’s content, and discuss your sins with God.”

So there he sat; and the crows, which came flying eagerly from all directions to peck at the good fruit, fled in terror and amazement when they saw that there was a man in the tree; they circled over him, cawing with anger, and the magpies sat in the trees around him mocking him with spiteful laughter.

It was on the sixth day, on an afternoon when the heat was very great, that he fell. He had become drowsy with the heat, and swarming bees had come to the tree and had selected his head as a resting-place. Awaking in terror, he whirled his arms violently to drive them away, lost his balance, and fell shrieking to the ground in a shower of bees, cherries, and broken branches. The twins and their playmate were the first to reach the place of the accident; they stared at him in wonder, and the boy Ulf asked him why he had fallen down. But he only lay there groaning and saying that his last moment was at hand. The children now began joyfully to pluck the good fruit that had fallen with him; but this aroused the bees, who attacked them, so that they fled shrieking. All the house people were gathering reeds down by the river, and it was left to Ylva herself and two of her maids to rush to their help. They bore the magister into the weaving-room and put him to bed. When the maids heard of the misfortune that had befallen him, they became so mirthful that Ylva lost patience with them and boxed their ears, and bade them go at once and fetch Father Willibald, who was down by the river with the others.

Ylva was moved with pity for the magister and did what she could to make him comfortable; she also gave him a strength-drink of her best ale. He had sustained no injury from the bees, but suspected that the fall had broken his shoulder. Ylva wondered whether this might not be God’s punishment for his conduct with Torgunn in the forest; and he agreed that this might well be the case.

“But how much do you know of what happened between us in the forest?” he asked.

“Everything,” replied Ylva, “for Torgunn has told me with her own lips; but you need not fear that anyone else will come to hear of it, for both she and I know how to keep our tongues quiet when there is need for it. And this comfort, at least, I can give you, that she had plenty to say in your praise, and that she does not regret what took place between you, though it came so near to bringing disaster on you both.”

“I regret it,” said the magister, “though I fear there is little to be gained by that. For God has so cursed me that I cannot be alone with a young woman without straightway becoming inflamed with desire. Nor have even these days that I have spent in the tree cleansed me of this passion, for my thoughts have dwelt less upon God than upon the sins of the flesh.”

Ylva laughed. “The bee-swarm, and your fall from the tree, have helped you now,” she said, “for here you are, alone with me, in a place where nobody will be able to disturb us for a good while; and I think I am not less comely than Torgunn. But from this temptation, at least, I think you will be able to emerge without sin, poor foolish man.”

“You do not know,” replied the magister sadly, “how powerful the curse is,” and he stretched his arm toward her.

What then happened between these two, nobody ever knew; and when Father Willibald came to the house to examine the magister’s injuries, he found him asleep, purring contentedly, while Ylva sat working industriously on her weaving-chair.