Anna Hansdatter: Hunger In the Dale

Chapter 10

The celebration at South Skurdal was an elaborate affair. The engagement was sealed in the morning, at a small ceremony attended only by the masters and close family of the future bride and groom. The couple made vows to each other, before the priest and the witnesses, not unlike wedding vows. But the wedding itself would have to wait until the death of Anders or his wife, when the couple could move into their appointed dwelling. The groom-to-be (in this case son of the huusman) in addition vowed to care for the elders and their house and land for the remainder of their lives.

In the early afternoon, the guests began to arrive. Farmers and their families rode horseback or in carriages, while the servants and huusmen traveled on foot. An exception was the staff of the Moen farm, who came by wagon, as their farm was over fifteen miles distant. Sigrid’s parents, peasants at Lower Skurdal, grieved the fact that their daughter would be moving so far away. There would be few opportunities for them to see her or their grandchildren. They would even attend different churches, although part of the same parish.

About four o’clock, as evening twilight settled, the dancing began. Nels’ fellow teamster Evan Evansen played a fine fiddle, accompanied by Hans Hansen with his flute and mouth-harp, and Inar Johnsen on the dulcimer. The betrothed couple led the dancing. Polka followed waltz, and Schottish followed polka. When the company began to tire, a slow round-dance was interjected to give them a rest. Bowl after bowl of punch lubricated the joints and the jaws of the merrymakers.

Nels sat on the sideline, smoking and talking with Hans and other, older men. Occasionally, he caught a glimpse of Anna, dancing with one or another of the young boys in attendance. She was light on her feet and graceful, but could not dance well with the adolescent boys. They were embarrassed, awkward, and totally unwilling to follow the lead of the girl, however capable. Nels guessed that Anna would be an excellent dancer in a few years’ time. Once, as she waltzed by with Amund Skurdal, Anna looked over the boy’s shoulder, caught Nels’ eye, and made a comical face to express her displeasure. Nels smiled wryly, amused at the girl’s antic, but bitter that he could not join in the dancing. He imagined himself politely cutting in on the farmer’s son to relieve him of his partner.

On the next dance, Evan took a break while the flute and dulcimer carried the tune. He filled two tankards with punch, and brought one over to Nels. “Thanks,” said Nels, downing half of it in one draught.

“Well, now,” said Evan, “I see you’re as thirsty as ever. That must be a good sign.”

“My thirst was not in my toes, it seems. To your health,” he toasted, draining the rest of his mug as Evan took a few swallows from his own. “Drinking and dancing were my two favorite sports. Since I can’t dance any more …”

“All right, all right,” laughed his friend, “I get the picture. How about another?”

“By all means,” said Nels, handing him the empty tankard.

When Evan returned with both cups filled, Nels was again watching the dancers intently. Evan startled him by setting his tankard sharply down on the table.

“Here you are, my friend. Maybe you can’t dance, but you certainly seem interested. Well, I can’t blame you. There are plenty of fine girls to watch.”

“Ja,” Nels replied. “But not to touch …”

“It’s the same for me,” sighed Evan. “Time to get back to the fiddle.”

Anna was standing on the sidelines with several other girls when Peder Skurdal approached her. “Anna,” he said, “There are so many guests, we need another girl to help serve supper. I’m short on cash, but I can pay you with left-over food from the feast.”

Anna looked down at her frock. “The girls can find a dress for you,” said Skurdal. “and you may keep the dress, too, if I can count on your help from time to time.”

“All right,” said Anna, trying once again to conceal her eagerness, “If my Pa says it’s OK.”

“Of course,” said the master, “forgive me. I will ask him.”

Hans Davidsen had observed this exchange from a distance, with mixed feelings. He was pleased that Skurdal thought highly of Anna’s work, but disturbed at the thought of losing her help at the hususmansplass (tenant farm) if she eventually got a permanent position on the staff of the big farm. With his bad back, and Ingeborg’s poor health, how could they raise enough to feed themselves? But when the master approached him, Hans only smiled and nodded his approval.

The supper bell rang, and a fine feast it was. Peder Skurdal killed a yearling calf for the occasion, successfully outdoing all the other farmers who had hosted parties that season. First, the final summer morsels from the kitchen garden were served: fresh cucumbers and shelled peas. Then, hot wheat bread with butter and fine cheese, followed by the main course, joints of roasted veal, which brought cheers and compliments from the guests. Potatoes, the mainstay of peasants, would never be served at such a celebration, but a specially prepared potato pastry called lefse, with butter and sugar, was enjoyed by all. For dessert there were cream-cakes and rosettes, plum pudding, and fresh berries with sweet cream, and to wash down every course, tankards of the brewer’s finest ale.

By watching the other servants, Anna quickly learned the art of waiting at table. She was surprised that Sigrid, the bride-to-be and guest of honor, was not excused from serving duty. But Anna also observed that Sigrid brought the finest dishes, the choicest cuts of meat, the sweetest pastries nearest to Jens, her promised.

When Anna found herself with a tray of the tenderest loin of veal, she set it on the table next to Nels. “Well now,” Nels smiled.

“Shh,” hushed Anna, as servants were not allowed to converse with guests during the meal, even when the guests were themselves servants. She picked up his empty tankard, filled it with ale, and returned it before hurrying off to remove an empty tray from the next table.

A short time later, a tray full of cream-cakes appeared at Nels’ elbow. He caught Anna’s eye and winked surreptitiously. Anna blushed.

After supper, the dancing began anew. One might have thought that the huge feast would make the guests tired and sluggish, but instead, they danced more vigorously and merrily than ever.

Once again, Nels sat on the sidelines, smoking his pipe and watching the dancers intently. One of the older huusmen approached him. “Come on, Nels, we’re going to play some cards down at the dwelling-house.”

“No, thanks,” he replied. “I’m enjoying the music here. Bring me some more punch, will you?”

Jens Andersen asked Anna to dance. She was pleased to partner with a more mature young man, and the guest of honor besides. The servant’s dress Anna was still wearing made her look and feel more graceful.

“You dance very well,” Jens complimented.

“Thank you. It’s easy when I have a good partner to follow.”

“It’s kind of you to say so. Sigrid speaks highly of you. She told me you volunteered to care for Nels after his leg was broken.”

“It was Pa’s idea. I was glad to help, though. How does it feel to be engaged?”

“Good… I think. It’s awfully strange, though, waiting for my own Pa to die, before we can be married. It’s not like I want him to die. But he is not well enough to work any longer, so he needs me to take care of the place, and of him. Sigrid will visit us when she can. At least there will be time to get to know each other better.”

“You don’t know each other?”

“Oh, yes, we were close friends as children, when she lived with her parents on another huusmansplass at Moen. But her parents died a long time ago, and she came here to Skurdal. We haven’t seen much of each other since then. When Pa and I decided that I should try to inherit our place, we went to Mister Moen with the proposal. He agreed, on the condition that I get engaged as soon as possible. I came to Skurdal, proposed to Sigrid, and got Mister Skurdal’s approval, since Sigrid has no parents.”

“So, the engagement was not arranged by your father and Mister Skurdal?”

“No, the choice to marry was our own.”

When the dance ended, Jens thanked Anna and left her at the sideline. From across the floor, Nels caught her eye and motioned for her to join him. Anna made her way through the crowd to where he was seated.

“Nice dancing.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you and Jens talk about the arrangements for the old man’s place?”

“Ja, how did you know?”

“I just figured you might be curious.”

“Actually, I was more interested in the engagement. But it turns out that was a condition Arnulf Moen put on the contract for the land.”

“You mean, that Jens get engaged to Sigrid?”

“No, only that he get engaged. Jens chose Sigrid himself.”

“Well, lucky for you, anyway. You will be on the staff of South Skurdal by Christmas.”

“You think so?”

“After tonight, I’m sure of it. There are plenty of other girls here he could have …”

Suddenly, a scuffle broke out on the dance floor. One of Skurdal’s stable-boys had tried to cut in on a dance between a Skurdal milkmaid and a field hand from Moen. When the field hand refused, the stable-boy pulled him around and punched him in the stomach.

“Uff da!” he said, more amused than hurt. He sent the stable-boy sprawling with a single blow to the face. “Next time, choose your battles more carefully, little boy.”

Unfortunately, the boy was the brother of Evan the teamster. Evan dropped his fiddle and waded into the crowd swinging, setting off a free-for-all. The women scampered to the sidelines as the Moen men squared off against those from Skurdal, who outnumbered them by at least double. Men from other farms chose one side or the other, or just punched at anyone close by.

Anna helped Nels to his feet, steadying him as they moved further from the melee. “Damn,” Nels grumbled, “I ought to be in there helping Evan.”

“Helping him make a fool of himself?” replied Anna. “I think he’s doing that very well on his own.” It then occurred to Nels that while the other men were cursing and punching each other, he was standing with his arm around a pretty girl, moving gently, just as he had bitterly wished he could only moments earlier, as the others danced.

Before anyone could be seriously hurt, Peder Skurdal appeared with his musket. “Enough!” he roared in his loudest voice, and fired into the air. This quieted the crowd long enough for Skurdal to say in a calmer tone, “This is a night to celebrate, not to fight with one another. There is one more cask of ale, but before I will open it, I must see every man with his hand open to shake that of his neighbor. If there is any more fighting, I will turn my dogs loose on the lot of you. Now, let us have music!”

The men shook hands grudgingly at first, then grinned sheepishly at their own folly. They returned to their women on the sidelines as the music began. A handful of dancers took to the floor, but there was less mirth than before. No one noticed Nels and Anna, swaying to the music, still holding each other side-by-side. “Anna?” he said.

“Ja?”

“I’m tired. Would you help me back to the men’s quarters?” They walked, still with their arms around each other, as Nels carried his walking stick without using it. His leg was in considerable pain, but he pretended otherwise. The more weight he placed on Anna, the stronger the young girl seemed. “You hold up pretty well under a heavy load,” he quipped.

“So do you,” she replied without hesitation.

When they neared the barracks, they heard the sound of loud snoring from within, and a couple of drunken voices droning an old folk song. “Oh God,” said Nels, “I thought I was going to get some rest. Let’s sit down over there.” He pointed to a bench outside the building.

As soon as they sat down, Nels drew Anna to him and kissed her tenderly on the mouth. Anna pulled away. “Nels, you know I’m too young.”

“I have time,” he said. “I’m only twenty-one, and not such a great catch, as anyone can see.” He kissed her again, more deeply. This time, she kissed him back. She had never kissed a man before. It lasted long and tasted sweet.

“I will marry you, Anna. We will live on my farm and have many children.”

“Nels, we can’t even be engaged until I am eighteen,” she whispered, afraid to be heard by the drunken servants inside. “Besides, you have no farm. Shall we live in the stables like the Irish, then?”

“I will have a farm, of that I assure you. I know you love me. I have time to wait. Until you’re eighteen, twenty, thirty, I’ll be there when you’re ready. He kissed her again, longer and deeper.

“Is this what you call waiting?” she gasped, but did not pull away from him.

Yet he relaxed his hold and their bodies separated. “Just preparing for the wait. Take as long as you like.”

“Oh, Nels,” She threw herself into his arms and kissed him again. Then, just as quickly, without another word, Anna ran away toward the party, frightened and confused.

= = =

It was as Nels had predicted; by December, Anna was employed full-time as a milkmaid. She was already a good milker, having helped tend her family’s goats for some time. Skurdal’s goats and even his cows were patient and productive when Anna was under them. She had observed her mother making cheese, and now learned very quickly the high-volume procedures of the Skurdal dairy.

Nels and Anna encountered each other from time to time that winter, but only exchanged greetings and small talk. Anna was frightened of her feelings most of all. She had only just got her period, and already a man wants to marry her and have many children. And the man is a penniless servant with only half a foot. And she can think of nothing, except his eyes, and his arms, and his kiss, her first kiss, nothing but to live her life with this man, to have his children and grow old together. But yet she avoided being alone with him, avoided ever being alone at all. It was fairly easy, as there were now five milkmaids.

When their paths crossed, Nels would whisper, “Can we get away somewhere?” With every fiber of her strength, she resisted throwing herself into his arms once again. She only shook her head and passed by with a curt “good day.”

Nels was willing to bide his time. Even at the Christmas celebration, they shared only a brief, superficial conversation. But when Anna went to her quarters that night, she found on her bed a miniature wood-carving of a heron in graceful flight. Anna could not see much detail in the dim candlelight, but she could make out the figure, and feel the highly polished surface. She knew it was something rare and magnificent.

When the maids awoke on Christmas morning, Anna showed them the carving. “My Lord!” said Ingrid, the housekeeper. “I’ve never seen anything like it. There is nothing so beautiful in the dwelling-house, nor anywhere I’ve ever been, outside of Ringebu church.” The other maids were equally flabbergasted. The carving was not minutely detailed, instead conveying the soaring grace of the heron by its smooth, glistening curves.

“Who could have brought it here? And how did they leave it without being noticed?” asked Anna. She thought of Nels Poulsen, of course, but could not imagine that he could possess such a treasure, let alone bring it to her quarters unobserved. She eyed her co-workers suspiciously. “Does one of you know something about this?” They all shook their heads in wide-eyed denial.

= = =

In the spring, Hans Davidsen’s fears were realized when he was unable to keep up with the planting on his plot, and could seldom help the Skurdal field-hands at all, due to his back pain. Without Anna’s help, it seemed he could not feed himself and his wife. Gossip circulated among the servants, much to Anna’s embarrassment. She asked Peder Skurdal for time off to help her parents. The master was sympathetic, but could only spare Anna’s help on rare occasions, not enough to make up for her father’s disability. The planting season was nearly over, and half of his seed potatoes still sat waiting at one corner of his little plot. In another corner waited a small amount of manure and crushed limestone.

Hans could do the calculus in his sleep, or instead of sleeping. Their daughter’s wages as a junior milkmaid included a small ration for her parents of milk and cheese, along with grain, but not enough to survive; the huusman was always expected to grow enough food, mostly potatoes, to make up the majority of his family’s winter sustenance. There was already not enough fodder for the goats, who were nearly dried up, and would not freshen for months.

To add insult to injury, Peder Skurdal himself paid a visit to Skurdalshougen. Skurdal advised Hans to slaughter his goats, and let his tiny pasture be grazed by a cow of his, in exchange for one quarter of the cow’s milk.

“Which cow?” Hans asked.

“A cow that’s giving milk right now. Anyway, she can only graze here for a month or two, it’s so small. The rest of the time, I have to feed her hay I have raised, cut, and stored, as with the rest of my cows.” That was a cutting remark to Hans, as he was rarely ably to help with the haying.

Hans continued, “You won’t skim the cream from my share?”

“You do all the milking yourselves. My girls will see that you don’t skim it, either. Come to the barn, morning and evening. You get one-fourth, as measured by the head milkmaid. As long as that cow is milking.”

“So you’ll rent me the one that’s going dry soonest.”

“I don’t know when they’ll go dry.”

The hell he doesn’t, thought Hans, but said nothing. Skurdal continued, “That’s a pretty good deal, Hans, maybe two liters a day.”

“Two liters? A good cow should give at least sixteen, my share would be four liters.”

“My best milker isn’t giving that much. And you can’t have by best one.”

“And …” Hans paused. He knew the answer: when the cow dried up, the contract would be ended. He and his wife would have no milk and no goats, and their two tiny pastures would be over-grazed. Even while the cow gave milk, Hans would often be pained to walk to the barn, let alone milk an unfamiliar cow. His wife was not able to walk so far, in her condition, And if he didn’t show up or was unable to milk, then no milk that day. He stammered, “Uh … no. No thank you, Mr. Skurdal, I’d rather keep my goats.”

“As you wish, Hans,” Skurdal sighed. As long as the old folks could live in their hut, and at least try to fend for themselves, he was bound by custom to allow it. But it cost him dearly to have their little plot go to weeds, or fail to provide sustenance for even the two of them. God knows he could ill-afford to increase their food ration, with young families expanding so quickly, and no land to put them on.

= = =

One morning, Nels Poulsen knocked on the door of Hans’ hut at Skurdalshougen. In his hand was not his familiar walking stick, but instead an odd-looking iron spade. Instead of the usual long wooden handle, the handle on this tool was only about three feet long, with an iron fork at the butt-end, supporting a wooden hand-hold at right angles to the main shaft.

Hans answered the door. “Well, now! Good morning, Nels. What brings you here, and what is that contraption?”

“The teams are all busy plowing, so the boss gave me the day off. And this shovel is my new invention. The smithy made it special for me. I can dig pretty well with it, even with my bad leg.”

“Fascinating. But you’re a teamster. Why do you need to dig in the dirt?”

“Driving horses is not bad, but I don’t fancy living in those barracks the rest of my life. Some day, I hope to farm some land of my own. Would you mind terribly if I try my hand at planting some potatoes up here? Just to see if I can manage it. Of course the crop will be yours. The boss still feeds me all right.”

“Well, uh, no … no, I don’t mind,” said Hans Davidsen, his mind spinning. He didn’t like the idea of someone else doing his work for him out of pity. But he desperately needed the help.

Nels set to work, using the time-honored “lazy bed” method. First, he marked two long parallel lines about four feet apart. To drive the spade into the sod, he did not step on the blade like other workers. Instead, he used his shoulder and chest to press against the cross-bar on the handle. Ingeborg brought manure and limestone in a wheelbarrow, which Nels spread between the lines. Hans placed the seed potatoes on top of this mixture, then Nels covered them by digging a trench along the lines he had marked, turning the sod upside-down atop the seed.

By the time he finished the first row, Nels was exhausted, his shoulder and chest badly bruised from pressing against the shovel handle. “Well, this isn’t working very well. I’m already played out, with only one row planted.”

“That’s more than I have been able to do this whole week,” said Hans gratefully. “Lets have some tea and a smoke.”

After a short rest, Nels decided to try spading in a more normal way. Using the special handle for support, to avoid putting much weight on his right leg, he stepped carefully onto the blade with his left foot and pressed it down, using all of his weight. This worked fairly well where the soil was soft and easily penetrated. But where the ground was harder, or the sod more dense, it was difficult to keep his balance. Nels fell down several times, but managed to plant one more long row before his right leg was in too much pain to continue.

“That’s all for today,” he said, limping gingerly back to the hut. “If I get one more day off soon, we can probably finish up.”

“Thank you, Nels, you’ve already been a great help,” said Hans. “Ingeborg, brew up some of that pain-tea for Nels.”

A week later, Nels came again to Skurdalshougen. He was able to work longer this time, and the planting was finished. From that day on, it was understood by all, although unspoken by anyone, that Nels would take care of Hans and Ingeborg, and the huusmansplass, and become engaged to Anna when she reached the proper age.

Anna certainly understood it, but was as silent as the rest. She belonged to Nels. She would have it no other way. And still, she avoided him whenever she could. She would have chosen him over all others, she knew that, but there was no question of having a choice. Those in authority did not consult Anna, nor would they ever, except for a ritual proposal that she could not honorably refuse. All this was of no great concern.

What frightened Anna was her desire for Nels. She had never desired a man, nor even imagined it. And now she dreamed of her arms around him, kissing him, kissing him, and making love. Soon, a wave of shame came over her for dreaming such dreams. She embraced the shame, let it overwhelm her at times, when she would sob so hysterically over a minor mishap, or over nothing at all, that the other servants would fear for her sanity.

Peder Skurdal understood it as well. It was not entirely to his liking, as there were other huusmen on the farm with two or more sons. If the first son asked to inherit the plot from his father, the farmer, while not strictly obligated, customarily agreed to the transfer. That left the rest of the sons with no prospects. It would be more convenient if Anna married one of these young men when the time came, leaving Nels to continue as a full-time teamster. But Skurdal calculated that if he interfered with Nels’ unspoken arrangement, he would seek his fortune elsewhere, and the farm’s prime driver would be lost to him.