Anna Hansdatter: Hunger In the Dale

Part 2: Skurdal

Chapter 9

Gudbrands Valley, 1814

On the tenth Sunday after Trinity, Anna Hansdatter was confirmed at the Sødorp church. Confirmation was at that time the most important rite of passage in a young person’s life. After two years of rigorous preparation – the only formal education most children received – they were ceremoniously accepted as full members of the church and the community. The entire congregation turned out to celebrate and congratulate the confirmands, who dressed in their finest clothes (albeit homespun, in the case of huusmen like Anna).

On the same day, Nels Poulsen returned from the war, flat on his back and barely alive. It was not a war really, only a few brief skirmishes that never reached the area where Nels was stationed. The only casualty in his regiment was Nels himself.

Several months earlier, Colonel Engebret Olsen, commander of Gudbrandsdal, visited south Froen. In a meeting with the farm owners, he passionately laid out the nationalist position. Denmark, which had ruled over Norway for almost 400 years, was defeated in the Napoleonic wars. In January, the Treaty of Kiel had transferred possession of Norway, from Denmark to Sweden. But it was high time, argued Olsen, for this great land, with its long and glorious history, to once again become a nation in its own right. In all the cities, and through the countryside, men were rising up. “Norway for the Norwegians!” was a slogan on the lips of patriots everywhere.

Prince Christian Frederick, nominal ruler of Norway on behalf of Denmark, was a comparative liberal and populist. The prince declared Norway an independent country, with a mandate from the elected national legislature, the Storting. The legislature had drafted a constitution, elected him as regent, and there was no need to be subservient to a foreign ruler. The European powers opposed the move, as of course did Sweden, who threatened to invade.

“But the prince is standing up to them, by God!” Colonel Olsen’s speech was coming to its climax. “And we can stand up to them, too. Norway for the Norwegians!”

“Just a moment,” interrupted Peder Skurdal, owner of South Skurdal farm. “Isn’t Christian Frederick a Dane?”

The colonel considered his reply carefully. Peder was one of the most successful farmers in Froen parish, and had much influence upon his neighbors. South Skurdal had the largest and most productive dairy among the four Skurdal farms. It traded or sold milk and cheese to most of the other farms in the area. Peder was proudest, though of his three teams of Gudbrandsdaler draft horses. His largest wagon, when drawn by the full 6-up, could haul many tons of produce or livestock.

“Of course he was born in Denmark,” replied Olsen, “But his blood is mostly Norwegian, and he has our best interests at heart. By this action, he is risking dispossession, and loss of his eventual right to the throne of Denmark. And did he not give the vote to every man with land, even those who rent for only five years?”

That statement caused some grumbling among the farmers. They were not sure that such lowly folk were qualified for such responsibility. The measure brought the total number of franchised voters to about ten percent of the population, unheard of for the time.

Peder Skurdal, however, was persuaded. “I am with you, Colonel Olsen,” he declared. “If he is willing, I commit to you my best teamster, young Nels Poulsen, and two horses of his choosing from my stables. Norway for the Norwegians!”

“Splendid!” said Engebret Olsen. “Who else will contribute to the rebirth of our nation?” Other farmers followed Skurdal’s lead, and soon a complete squadron was assembled from south Froen. Like all the men so chosen, Nels Poulsen was not only willing, but eager. The other teamsters teased him, with overstated warnings about the dangers involved, but they could hardly conceal their envy. Other hired hands, and many huusmen, volunteered to serve as foot-soldiers. The farmers approved as many as they could spare; in this way, the regiment grew to more than three hundred men.

The Gudbrandsdal regiment was deployed near the Swedish border at Aamot, high in the mountains above Lillehammer. From there they could intercept invading forces at any of three important passes. Nels Poulsen and his team towed one of the regiment’s three cannons. Nels was well respected for his cool head, his sense of humor, and most of all, his mastery of horses. He was promoted to corporal, in charge of all three cannons and the munitions wagon.

They were still bivouacked at Aamot when word arrived of the armistice. After a few quick routs of Norway’s defending forces near Oslo, Christian Frederick had capitulated, abdicated to Denmark, and the Storting was forced to accept a “personal union” with Sweden. The terms were relatively favorable, giving Norway far more autonomy and democracy that it had enjoyed under Denmark. Even so, the troops were downhearted as they prepared to demobilize. As the regiment trudged down the mountain, a violent thunderstorm came over them. The narrow road soon became treacherous for the passage of the heavy artillery.

On a switchback near Rena, the road had nearly washed out. Nels positioned himself at the danger point to guide the teams through. As the third cannon was making the turn, a bolt of lightning struck only a few feet away. The team spooked, the cannon overturned, crushing Nels’ right leg under it, tangling it in the spokes, and dragging him a dozen yards before the team came to a halt. He lay moaning, face down in the mud, his leg bleeding and grotesquely twisted, with splintered bones protruding in two places.

Fortunately, the regimental surgeon was highly skilled. Under his direction, the men set up a tent within minutes. Nels was carefully carried inside, cleaned up, and his trouser leg cut away. When Nels opened his eyes, the surgeon was standing over him. “Your leg is in pretty bad shape, son, but I’m going to try and save it.” Handing him a musket ball, he said, “Bite down on this while I set the bone. It will only take a few seconds.”

Nels bit on the lead shot, but could not contain his screams of pain as the surgeon quickly worked the bones back to their approximate places. By the time it was finished, Nels was unconscious, and remained so until the next morning. When he awoke in a wagon bed, the regiment was continuing on their way to Gudbrandsdal.

The doctor was satisfied with his work. He was able to set the leg bones and stop the bleeding quickly. By the time they reached Froen, however, a high fever had set in, and Nels’ toes were yellow with gangrene. The surgeon remained at Skurdal to amputate the toes, and to attend the patient until his fever had lessened. For the amputation, he had a small supply of the new drug, morphine; once that was used up, there were only the local herbs to ease Nels’ pain.

Before taking his leave, the surgeon sat down with Peder Skurdal to give him the prognosis. “The leg bones have a good chance of healing,” he began, “but they will never be straight or strong. I’ve bound the leg with a splint, it must not be moved for at least six weeks. The foot, what’s left of it, well, that’s harder to say.”

= = =

“Will he ever walk again?” asked Skurdal.

“Not in a normal way. If he doesn’t lose any more of the foot, he might be able to hobble around with a crutch or walking stick. If the foot goes, though, the gangrene could spread further. He could lose the knee, or the whole leg. Change the dressing on his foot every day. If you see any more gangrene, you must send for me immediately.”

“Very well, doctor, we will do our best. My wife and son owe their lives to that young man’s late mother. There was no help for her when she fell ill, perhaps this is our chance to repay the family.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” said the surgeon. “If only everyone were as kind to their servants.”

Peder Skurdal still did not know that the real danger all those years ago was not to his wife and child, but to those of his huusman Hans Davidsen. Hans knew the truth though, and out of gratitude asked his young daughter Anna to help care for Nels during his long recovery.

“All right, Pa, if that is what you want,” said Anna, trying to conceal her eagerness. “I will speak with Mister Skurdal this morning.” In recent weeks, as her confirmation approached, she had been hoping for an opportunity to prove herself as a mature, capable worker. Although still in the teen years, a confirmed person was considered ready for independent employment. Once Nels recovered, Anna would stand a good chance of being offered a permanent position in the service of Skurdal, or another nearby farm.

Besides, Anna thought to herself, Nels is an attractive man. She even had a girlish crush on him when he first came to Skurdal (she was only seven or eight). He paid her no attention then, but now that she was a confirmed young woman, who knows? On the other hand – she caught herself – what if he ends up crippled for life?

Anna knocked at the door of the big house, and asked to speak with Mister Skurdal. “My father thought you might need someone to look after Nels while he can’t get around for himself,” she told him. “You wouldn’t have to pay me. I could even go home at night if there isn’t room for me here.”

“That is very kind of you and your father,” said Peder Skurdal. “Your help will be welcome. We are very busy now, with the harvest coming on, and the cattle back at home, and without my prime teamster. I’m afraid it’s true I can’t pay you any money, but I think there is room for you in the maids’ quarters, and there is plenty of food.”

“Thank you, sir, I will do my best.”

The master showed Anna to Nels’ infirmary, a converted workshop adjoining the milk-house, where he was attended on and off by the governess, Alice, or by one of the milkmaids. “Alice,” said Skurdal, “this is Anna Hansdatter. She will be attending to Nels for now. Please show her what is involved.”

It had been four days since his toes were amputated. Nels was only now returning to his senses as the fever, the pain, and the morphine all began to loosen their hold on him. “Hello, Anna,” he said. Anna smiled and curtsied.

“Aha, he speaks,” joked Alice. “He hasn’t done much but moan until today. How are you feeling, Nels?”

“A little better, thanks. It still hurts a lot though.”

Alice was delighted to be relieved of nursing duty, as she found it most unpleasant. “Well, now,” she said, “it’s fairly simple. The main chores are to bring him his meals, see that he is warm and comfortable, and that he drinks plenty of water. There is no more of the doctor’s medicine for pain. He’ll have to make do with just chamomile tea. Oh, and of course he needs help with the bedpan, and you’ll have to keep it emptied.” Anna gulped but said nothing.

“Once a day,” Alice continued, “you change the bandage on his foot. We may as well do that now.”

She lifted the blanket and began to unwrap the foot. “Be as gentle as you can, and don’t move the leg at all.” Nels winced and gasped as she finished removing the dressing.

When Anna saw Nels’ foot, she grew nauseous and nearly fainted. She sat down on the edge of the bed , looking away for a moment.

“I know it looks bad,” said Alice, “but you’ll have to get used to it. It actually looks better than it did at first. The oozing has almost stopped.”

Anna swallowed hard and forced herself to look. There was a single wound where all five toes had been removed. It was stitched with blood-stained white thread, but there was a sizable gap that could not be completely closed. A scab had formed, with a small bit of pus oozing from each end of the gap.

Alice daubed at the pus with a moist cloth. Nels gritted his teeth and groaned. “Check it carefully for yellow areas, or for a foul odor,” she instructed. “If you notice any, or if his fever returns, alert the master immediately.” Nels cried out twice as Alice re-wrapped the foot in a clean bandage. “I’m sorry, Nels, I’m being as gentle as I can,” she apologized. “There we are, all finished. Would you like some chamomile tea?”

“Yes, oh God, yes,” he moaned, but the chamomile was of little help. He remembered that his mother had used a combination of herbs for her pain, but he didn’t know which ones.

“That is about all there is to it, Anna,” said Alice. “I am going to the nursery now. If you need me you may come and fetch me there. Goodbye, Nels.” Nels only groaned.

A short while later, Nels had an idea. “Anna?” he said.

“Ja?”

“Do you know the midwife, Berit Simonsdatter?”

“Ja, I know her.”

“Go to her, please. She will know of something for this pain. I don’t think I can stand it another night.”

“But I can’t leave you alone.”

“Tell the boss I asked you to. There’s nothing you can do to help me here right now. If I can’t get some sleep, I’m going to go crazy.”

Before suppertime, Anna returned from the midwife’s with St. Johnswort and lavender for pain, and Valerian root for sleep. “Berit says the Johnswort and lavender should be brewed together, and the Valerian taken afterward,” she explained. Nels drank a cupful of each with his supper, and dropped off to sleep before he had finished the meal. After about four hours, the pain returned to awaken him. Anna was dozing in a chair beside his bed. When Nels moaned, she awoke and lit a lamp. “Well, you got a little sleep,” she said.

“Ja, the most I’ve had for days. Can I have some more tea?”

“Of course,” she replied, lighting the stove.

“Thank you for staying with me. Once I have more tea, I’ll be fine for the rest of the night. You’d better go get some sleep yourself.”

= = =

Since the milkmaids were home from the saeter (summer pasture in the mountains), the maids’ quarters were crowded. There were three milkmaids, a housekeeper, cook, kitchen maid, and the governess. Anna had to share a bed with the junior milkmaid, a 12-year-old orphan named Else. But as Skurdal promised, food was rich and plentiful, with milk or cheese every day, and meat on some Sundays. There was often bread made of barley or occasionally wheat. There were even fresh vegetables from the servants’ own garden, but these were nearly exhausted until the spring. (In the huusmen’s huts, potatoes were the entree at nearly every meal; the only course at some.) The maids were friendly, and as an added bonus, Anna was given a servant’s livery to wear. Although old and a little faded in places, it was far better than the homespun frocks she had worn all her life.

She soon grew accustomed to the nursing chores, changing the bandages, and even bedpan duty. She especially enjoyed serving Nels his meals, and brewing the teas that helped make him comfortable. As his pain lessened, day by day, his old good nature returned. He was soon joking and teasing Anna.

“You look awfully pretty in that dress. How come you aren’t married yet?”

“Nels,” Anna blushed, “I’m only fourteen.”

“Really? You’re taking such good care of me, I thought you were older. You’ll make a fine wife for some lucky farmer.”

“Shhh, Nels,” she giggled.

“Tell me about your family.”

“Well, you know my Pa. He helps Mister Skurdal in the fields when he can, but he has a bad back.”

“Ja, I know,” replied Nels. “And your place is called Skurdalshougen. At the top of the little hill.”

“Ja, ja. I have two older sisters. Julia is married to Einar Hansen of Hundorp, and Kari is a housemaid at Listad. I had a little brother, but he drowned in the flood two years ago. Ma tends our hut and potato patch, but she is not well, so I have to work pretty hard there. And what about your family?”

“All dead.” Nels grew somber and did not continue.

“I’m sorry,” said Anna. “But won’t you tell me what they were like?”

“Well, my Pa died when I was very small. I don’t remember much about him. My older brother joined the navy and was killed in battle at Copenhagen seven years ago. My Ma died of wasting a few years earlier. The year before that, my little sister died of the choking cough. Her name was Anna, the same as yours.” Nels fell silent again. Neither of them knew the connection of the names.

“Your mother was a midwife.”

“Ja, quite a famous one.”

“I know. Pa says she saved my life when I was born, and Ma’s too.”

“I think about half the people in the valley say that. Even Peder Skurdal.”

“Ja, his son Amund was born the day before me.”

“There you are then, you’ll be the future Madame Skurdal,” Nels teased.

“Wash your mouth out! He’s such a snob, he’d never take a huusmansdatter. And that’s fine with me. I wouldn’t have him either, no way.” They both laughed.

= = =

After another moment of silence, Anna asked, “What did you do after your mother died?”

“The other two families at Flaate took us in. It was good, at first. They were Brethren, you know.”

“What were they like?”

“They were kind and gentle. They never swore or spoke harshly. They sang and prayed, beautifully. When visitors came, we washed their feet, and sang to welcome them.”

“Really? That sounds strange.”

“Ja, but you would be surprised how good it made everyone feel. Before long, though, it all fell apart.”

“How did that happen?”

“It was the preachers. Hans Nilsen Hauge started the whole movement, and he was wonderful. I was too young to remember much about his preaching, but he stayed with us when he came to the area. He was so kind and accepting. He never belittled or criticized in a personal way. When someone disagreed with him, he defended his point, but always with consideration and tolerance.

“But then other preachers started coming. They all claimed to be followers of Hans Nilsen, but they were totally unlike him. Each one had his own agenda, his own quirky set of taboos, and they were quick to put down anyone who didn’t follow them to the letter.

“One of them preached that it was a sin to grow barley, because it can be used to make beer. When Grandpa Ole protested that we didn’t make beer, only bread, the preacher was unsatisfied. ‘What about the miller’s share of your crop?’ he insisted. ‘He could use it to make the Devil’s brew, and it is still the fruit of your land!’

“Another one railed against any woman who gave birth out of wedlock. Yet another despised the singing of any words not found in the Scriptures, even the most innocent children’s rhymes.”

“Ridiculous,” agreed Anna. “Couldn’t Hans Nilsen control these things?”

“No, and worse than that, he was thrown in jail because of their excesses, not his own. I heard that he has been released, but is in poor health and can not travel or preach any more.

“The final straw came when one of the preachers approached our house unannounced and heard Anders Amundsen playing his fiddle. It didn’t matter that he was playing a hymn to God, to the preacher that only compounded the blasphemy. He turned around and didn’t come to the house. We only found out about it at the meeting the next day, when he cursed us by name, and stirred up the wrath of the whole congregation against us.”

“That’s terrible,” said Anna. “What did you do then?”

“Soon after that, Anders sold his share of the farm to Ole and moved back to Gausdal. Ole was too old to work by then, and his son Johan died of an infection. The eldest grandson ‘Little Ole’ took over the farm, and hired servants to tend it. My brother joined the navy, and I was sent to Rudland farm to work as a stable-boy. I’m glad now they didn’t keep me at Flaate as a servant, where I had been a son for most of my life.”

Anna was moved, although she knew no other life than the peasant’s.

“I was kind of a natural with horses,” Nels continued, “and I was fascinated by Grandpa Ole’s gentle manner with our teams. I learned a lot by watching him, even though I was still too little to drive. After I was confirmed, I came here to Skurdal as a teamster.

“My God,” he gasped, “I’ve told you my whole life! Now I’ll have to marry you myself.”

“Stop it, Nels,” Anna blushed. “I’ll go get your supper.”

= = =

When six weeks had passed, Nels began trying his strength. At first, his leg would hold no weight at all. He made himself a crude crutch, and worked doggedly to strengthen the leg. Anna returned home in time for the potato harvest. But her thoughts wandered often to the crippled teamster, and she frequently dreamed up errands that took her to the compound, where she tried her best to encounter him by “chance.”

Despite the pain, Nels struggled for hours each day, eventually graduating from the crutch to a stout walking stick. The shoemaker fashioned for him an oversized boot, heavily padded on the inside to fit the shape of his partial foot. Soon, he was able to limp, with his stick, around the perimeter of the farm compound. Then, twice around, then three times.

On a crisp fall day, just before the first snow, Nels limped all the way to Skurdalshougen, a half-mile or more. He brought a bunch of carrots and some onions from the servants’ garden, as a gift to the family. Anna was delighted when she answered his knock at the door. “Ma! Pa!” she exclaimed, “Look who’s here!”

Nels came in, handing Anna the vegetables. “I want to thank you and your folks for the weeks you spent nursing me back to health,” he said. “It was very kind of you all to sacrifice Anna’s help for so long, especially at harvest time.”

“Oh that’s all right,” said Anna shyly. “It wasn’t so much.”

“Oh, but it was. Thanks to your care, I am already working again. I drove the boss to his brother’s farm at North Skurdal yesterday, and tomorrow I’m taking him all the way to Venabygd. When the snow flies, I’ll be sleighing them all over the valley. The missus told me I’m still their favorite driver.”

“We are happy for you, Nels,” said Hans Davidsen. “Sit down, let’s have some tea.” He pulled a tobacco pouch from his pocket, and they filled their pipes.

As they smoked, the two men chatted about the weather, the crops, the new season’s horses and cattle. Now and again, Anna or her mother interrupted them with questions about the household, the servants, and the neighbors.

“As a matter of fact,” said Nels to one of these questions, “Sigrid, our head milkmaid, is getting engaged to Jens Andersen, a huusman’s son at Moen. Their engagement party is Saturday. The missus asked me to invite you. Of course Sigrid will be staying on here until Anders dies, but the old man is already feeble. There will be a shakeup at South Skurdal before too long.”

Custom in those days placed enormous importance on the engagement. Marriage was not condoned until the bridegroom had a place on which to raise a family. (In exceptional circumstances, generally where children were not to be anticipated, a marriage between two servants would be permitted.) An engagement, on the other hand, could be entered into and celebrated as soon as future arrangements for such a place were firm. Although a huusman’s contract was not automatically inherited by his heir the way a deed of ownership or a permanent lease were, Jens Andersen had negotiated an agreement with the farm’s owner, Arnulf Moen.

Anna quickly grasped the short-term significance of this news. “So, Nels, do you think that Sophie will move up to head milkmaid?”

“Most likely,” he replied. “And there may be other changes as well. The cook is complaining that she needs more help in the kitchen, and with more cows coming fresh next spring, they may add one or two new milkmaids, besides replacing Sigrid.”

While Anna was thinking about a possible job at the farm, Nels was taking a longer-term view. He resolved to question Jens Andersen about his negotiations with Moen. For now, he wanted to learn more about Skurdalshougen. He asked Hans about this fall’s potato crop.

“Not bad at all,” said Hans. “We are getting more potatoes than my father did on the whole plot, before they gave half of it to Poul Eriksen. Plus, we had a fine yield from our little hayfield. We should have plenty of fodder to keep both of our goats milking all winter. The trouble is, my back is killing me. I can barely work a half-day, either in Skurdal’s fields or here at home, before I’m ready to scream.”

“Has Anna given you the tea she got from Berit?”

“Ja, ja, that helps quite a bit, but I still can’t put in a decent day’s work.” He paused a moment. “Hell, just listen to me! Complaining of a little back pain, to you, of all people. How is your leg, Nels?”

“There are good days and bad. Most days, I can walk a little farther than the last before it starts throbbing. Well, it barely amounts to walking. I won’t tell you how long it took me to get up here.”

“What about driving?”

“The driving itself is no problem. Of course I can’t plow or handle any ground equipment. Probably never will. I’m just lucky they like my driving so well, I can earn my keep with only wagon and carriage runs. Harnessing the teams is awfully hard right now. The stable hands have to help me. I think I will be able to do it on my own eventually.”

As Nels limped home, his mind wandered back to the hut, the peasant’s young daughter, and his own situation. He imagined himself as the huusman, with Anna as his wife, and a thriving young family. Then he caught himself: would Anna accept a cripple like him? And, could he manage even such a small plot, with his disability, and the demands of the master on his time?