Anna Hansdatter: Hunger In the Dale

Chapter 13

On the day after Easter, Anna’s father was buried. The river had fallen nearly to its normal level, exposing the massive destruction at Lower Skurdal. Entire fields were scoured bare, leaving only jumbles of rock and gravel. Two peasant plots were wiped out, along with their cottages. The mill was heavily damaged, and mud was deep on the floors of the few buildings that remained. These were the servants’ quarters, granary, one of the three barns, and the stabur. Only the dwelling-house escaped damage.

At South Skurdal, Anna was given leave from the dairy to care for her mother, while Nels was kept very busy hauling supplies for the rebuilding effort at Lower farm. The other Skurdal farms also contributed workers and material for the reconstruction. The mill was especially important, as it served all of Skurdal, and several other farms in the area.

One evening, Peder Skurdal came to the stables just as Nels was unhitching the wagon for the night. “Come up to the house when you are finished, Nels,” he said. “We have some plans to discuss.”

Inside, over tea, the men smoked and talked. After a few minutes discussing the progress at Lower, and the dismal prospects for crops there, Peder brought up two, more personal, subjects. First, on a positive note, the engagement. “I spoke with the priest today, Nels. He wants to see you and Anna. We tentatively set the engagement for the end of this month. How does that sound to you?”

“Fine, excellent.”

“You can go to see him tomorrow. Your team needs a rest anyway.”

“All right. Thank you.”

Then the farmer broke the bad news. “Nels, you know how badly Lower farm was damaged. And the husmenn got the worst of it.”

“Ja,” said Nels, thinking to himself, they always do.

“Jon Erlandsen and Lars Olsen both lost their houses and all their land. Jon’ wife was drowned. Each of them has three young children.”

“Ja, I know.”

“Nels, I made a promise to my brother. I am going to expand Skurdalshaugen into the pasture land to the east, and lease plots to Jon and Lars. Hans’ plot, I mean your plot, will be a little bit smaller than it is now, as will your neighbor Poul’s.”

Nels cringed. “That land to the east is full of rocks. How can they grow potatoes there?”

“It will take them some time to clear it, that is sure. We will put the dividing line across part of your current potato patches.”

Oh, no, thought Nels. “They are awfully small already,” he protested.

“I know. But we will have extra fertilizer available from Lower, since there is so much less land there to cultivate now. Also, their contract will require them to plant and tend your plot for you, you only need to harvest it. You know how badly we need you to drive this spring.”

Nels was not pleased. There would be enough potatoes for himself, Anna, and Ingeborg (as long as crops were good). But when children began arriving, it would be another matter. And it would not do to have the neighboring peasants tending his potatoes, because they would then be tempted to harvest on his side of the line. He took a long draw on his pipe. The sad fact was that even despite the flood, the population was expanding rapidly, and the farming land in the valley was not. “Well, I guess there is not much choice.”

“Not for any of us,” Peder said. “We cannot very well turn those families out with nothing.”

Nels knew that the Skurdals could do exactly that if they chose. He was grateful in a way that their conscience would not allow it, while deeply disappointed at the price to him and the other husmenn. “But Anna and I can manage our own potatoes. Please take that out of the contract.”

“Are you sure?”

“The plot is ready, Anna has done most of that work.” said Nels. “She can do most of the planting, too. May I haul the seed and manure there tomorrow, after we see the priest?”

“Anna spaded the whole patch, by herself?” Skurdal was incredulous.

“I helped a little, at night after work.”

“After working those long days? You are a good man, Nels. You will be a fine farmer. How is your leg?”

“There are good days and bad. Walking up the hill still hurts a lot. But the special spade the smithy made for me works pretty well.”

“You are my best driver, Nels. The stud team owe their lives to you now, and they seem to know it. No one else can handle the big wagon like you. I need to have you driving every day.”

“Do not worry, sir. I promise you will have.”

So it was that Nels Poulsen and Anna Hansdatter were betrothed on the heels of tragedy. Anna grieved hard for her father, and for Berit. After what seemed like days of constant weeping, she put it aside and threw herself into planting potatoes and caring for her mother.

Ingeborg’s dementia continued to worsen. At Hans’ burial she stood silent and impassive, without weeping or speaking. When she did speak, it was in disjointed, sometimes nonsensical phrases. By the next month, she had stopped speaking altogether. Most of the time she stayed in the house, but was occasionally prone to wander away and become lost. While Anna worked in the potato field, she had constantly to return to the hut lest her mother stray. Sometimes, Ingeborg was gone, forcing Anna to leave off working to search for her. Meanwhile, often as not, her mother would be spied by a neighbor who would interrupt his own work to show her the way home.

More ominous was the loss of land at Skurdalshaugen. A full third of Hans’ potato patch was marked off for one of the refugee families from Lower, along with a third of his pasture. As for the adjacent land that was added to fill out the new plots, it would take the newcomers years of work, clearing rocks and adding manure, before it would be productive.

But the rest of that spring was warm and mild; by the time of the engagement party, the potatoes were planted, and the winter grain crops were growing vigorously. Both of the displaced peasant families had thrown up tiny huts of sod. More substantial huts (but still crude) could later be built with stones cleared from the rocky fields.

= = =

The engagement party itself was a modest celebration in the late spring. Only people from the four Skurdal farms attended. Everyone was making sacrifices to help the victims of the deadly flood at Lower Skurdal, and they were bracing themselves for a long summer with seriously depleted resources. Still, Peder Skurdal provided a good meal and a cask of ale for the occasion. Anna waited tables at the party. Since the crowd was small, she had time to concentrate on serving Nels, and even to sit with him part of the time.

After the meal, Jon Erlandsen was the first to congratulate Nels on the engagement. Jon was the husmann whose new plot was adjacent to Hans’, and included the land taken away.

“A long life to you both,” he said. “I am sorry my bad fortune caused you such a sacrifice.”

“Ja, thanks,” Nels shrugged. “We all need to live somewhere. I am sorry about your wife.”

“Thanks,” said Jon, a lump forming in his throat. “I saw her go under. It was such a helpless feeling. I wanted to go in after her, even though I knew it was no use. If I drowned as well, then what would happen to our children?”

Nels nodded, a far-away look in his eye. He knew all too well the orphan’s life.

The next to offer his congratulations was Evan. “Your health and happiness,” he said. “Say, shall I play some music? The boss wants me to, but I thought I should ask you. I mean, you are the guest of honor, and since you cannot dance …”

“Of course! What kind of party would it be without music? Jon, will you dance the first dance with Anna? Just do not steal her away from me.”

Jon blushed. “You need not worry about that, but …”

“Only the first dance. She will sit out the next one with me, and at least half of the rest. Now, how about another drink?” He held up his empty tankard.

Before Jon could reach for it, Anna swooped in. “Allow me,” she said, smiling broadly.

When she returned, Nels gently grasped her arm. “Dear Anna, we must have dancing, even if I cannot join. Dance the first one with Jon, won’t you?”

It was a delicate situation, but Nels took it into hand. When the music began, Nels stood up, with Anna at his side. In a grand gesture for all to see, he clapped Jon heartily on the shoulder. Then he turned to Anna, embraced her, and placed her hand in Jon’s. With another gesture, he signaled that Jon must return Anna to him after the dance, or else. The guests laughed and applauded.

When the first dance ended, Anna returned to Nels’ table. As she began to sit down beside him, he pulled her onto his lap. She squealed in delighted protest. “Nels! Everyone is watching!” But in fact, the guests were paying little attention, now that the dancing had begun.

“I cannot hold you on the dance floor, so I will hold you this way.” His arm encircled her slender waist and squeezed her gently. A quiver of excitement ran through her as she slipped from his lap onto the bench. His hand remained on her waist, and she reached behind him to return the gesture. They sat close together, in the warmth of each other’s body, swaying to the music.

Some other men asked Anna to dance. She would accept, but only after sitting with Nels for another tune. After a while Amund Skurdal, the boss’ son, approached her.

“All right,” Anna nodded apprehensively. “The next dance, not this one.”

As luck would have it, the next tune was a slow waltz. As they began to dance, Amund pulled her body close, almost touching his. “Stop it!” Anna whispered, squirming.

“Settle down, dear Anna,” he replied. “Don’t forget that I know how old you are.”

Anna’s body stiffened as she drew in her breath, “You wouldn’t!”

“Relax, I will not tell. Not yet, anyway. As long as you are nice to me.” He drew her closer, until their bodies touched.

Anna’s heart was racing with both sexual excitement and deep revulsion. “No!” She tried to sound decisive, as her face burned red-hot.

But still he held her close. “You owe me, girl, you owe me.” They spoke no more.

Her mind was spinning as they danced. Peder Skurdal was a fair and good man. He had tacitly agreed not to bring up her age. Now, could his son ruin everything? If he molested her, would his father believe her word over his?

When the tune was over, Amund returned her to her seat. Nels could she she was deeply shaken. “What is wrong?” he asked, looking suspiciously from Anne to the boy.

“I am all right,” she lied, sitting down beside him. She was pale and sweaty. “Just a little hot. Goodbye, Amund,” she said, hardly looking at him. The boy turned and walked away.

Nels put his arm around her, and whispered “All right, now tell me. What happened?” Anna said nothing, but Nels easily guessed the truth. “Did he threaten you?” Again her silence betrayed her. “I will kill him.”

Anna shook her head, half weeping. “Walk me home, please. Ma needs me.” She stood up suddenly.

Nels stood up and looked around for Amund. The boy was nowhere to be seen. “One more drink,” he gestured toward his mug.

“No, please, Nels. Let’s go.”

“All right, I suppose I have had enough already.” And truly, he was slightly unsteady with his walking-stick. They said their apologies and goodbyes to the host and started toward Skurdalshaugen. As they walked, Nels became more and more insistent. “If that boy ever lays a hand on you, I will crush him like an insect.”

“And what will that accomplish? You will be hanged, and Ma and I will be an invalid and an orphan, or nearly so.”

“Then for all our sake, he had better leave you alone.”

When Nels and Anna arrived at the hut, Ingeborg was sleeping soundly. They thanked Jon’s eldest daughter, who had stayed behind to look after the old woman, and sent her off to the party. Anna and Nels sat outside, watching as the last rays of twilight gave way to the rising moon. A gentle breeze fetched occasional strains of music from the party below.

He took her face in his hands, and they kissed. Tenderly at first, then more hotly. Soon, their passions were rising. Tongue touched tongue, hand touched breast. “Oh, oh, oh God,” whispered Anna, wanting her man more than ever. He lifted her frock, moving his hand up her thigh. As his fingers neared their goal, she panted, sighed, then suddenly stiffened, pushing his hand away. “Nels, no! I cannot. Not yet.”

“Oh, Lord, woman, you want me to stop now? I can’t … All right.” Nels groaned, his body tense. “One more kiss?”

They kissed long and deeply. “Good night, my promised,” said Anna, and slipped into the hut.

As he turned toward the compound, Nels was more pent-up than ever. By the time he arrived, the party had broken up; the empty courtyard smelled of stale beer. As he passed the dwelling-house, he saw a light from Amund Skurdal’s bedroom window. He stopped and stared at it for a long time, then continued on to the men’s quarters. It was dark, but there were drunken voices murmuring old songs, off-key and slurred, mixed with the usual snoring.

With no heart to enter, Nels sat on an outside bench, pulled out his pipe, but the tobacco-pouch was empty. He threw it down in disgust. Evan appeared silently at the door with his pipe and tobacco. “Smoke?” he asked in a whisper.

“What … I did not hear you,” said Nels, startled.

“Shh.” Don’t wake up those idiots.” Evan was dressed in his underwear. “I am drunk too, but I do not fancy their company.”

“Is there any more beer?”

“Hell no, that is why they all went home.” The two filled their pipes and smoked. Evan spoke first, “So you do not like being engaged?”

“Mind your tongue. Get me a drink, I know you have some hidden.”

“I have, unless you drank it yesterday,” Evan quipped, tiptoeing back inside. He returned with a whiskey flask. They drank. Evan spoke again, “I wager she did not put out.”

“Mind your own goddamned business.”

“All right, mister, I will only tell you my own business,” Evan said. “My business is being a bastard child. You think it is hard being an orphan? An orphan only has to look out for his own bread. A bastard has to keep his sick ma from starving, too.”

“I never thought of it like that.”

“Worse than that is the way we are shunned. Other children may bully an orphan, yes, but the adults are always ready to give a loaf or two for his welfare. We bastards get nothing but scorn and spitting, at best. At worst, we see our mothers beaten or stoned.”

“Good Lord, man, I knew you were a bastard, but not that you take it so hard. But if you are trying to make me feel better, it is not working.”

“Aha!” said Evan, “Now you ask, what it is to you? It is this: Do not make your woman a bastard’s mother and your child a bastard.”

“I did not ask you anything. But we are engaged now. If she becomes pregnant, we are free to marry.”

“That matters little. You may think that these ignorant farm women cannot figure, but when a baby is born, they count the months and weeks back to the marriage. If it is not long enough, the child is a bastard to them, even if not on paper. It is hell on earth, either way.”

“I did not think of that.”

“I thought not. Now, I think I am drunk enough to go to sleep. Good night.” He stood up and stepped unsteadily to the door.

“Thanks for the drink,” said Nels, without moving from the bench.

Evan shook the nearly empty flask, tossed it to his friend, and stepped inside.

Anna lay awake most of the night, burning with unfulfilled longing, while her mother snored contentedly. It seemed her situation was more conflicted than ever. She was now promised to her man, publicly and officially. They were now permitted, even expected, to spend time alone together. And yet her desire, her raging need to consummate their love, stronger now than ever, was again denied her. Finally, she fell into a deep sleep. Her dreams were by turns sublime, and terrifying.

On a warm evening in midsummer, Anna was fetching water at the stream. The spring nearest the hut had dried up, as it did every summer, so she had to walk twice as far as usual. She had filled her buckets and started for home when Amund Skurdal appeared in the path before her. “Let me help you carry those,” he smiled.

“No, thank you, I can manage.”

“Are you sure? You are so skinny, and the buckets are heavy.”

“I am fine. Just let me pass, please.”

“But I insist.” The boy stepped toward her and grasped both of the handles. Anna tried to pull them away, but it only drew him closer to her, until their bodies were touching. “Mmm,” he hummed.

“Stop it!” Anna released the buckets to back away, but Amund tripped her. As she fell backwards, he dropped the buckets and fell on top of her. The water spilled on the path, soaking the back of Anna’s frock.

“Oh, dear, now your clothes are all wet. Do not worry, I will warm you enough to dry them.” He kissed her forcefully.

“No! Stop! I will scream.” She writhed, struggling to free herself, but she was pinned firmly to the ground.

“No one will hear you. And remember, I can tell the priest how old you really are. He will call off your engagement, and you will be branded a liar.” He slipped a hand between their bodies to fondle her breast. “But lying lips are as sweet as any other.” He kissed her again.

“Stop! Help! Help! Nels!” she screamed.

“That lousy cripple is miles away, will not be back for days, and you know it. There is no one near enough to hear you, I made sure of that. Just relax and enjoy a real man.” He pulled up her skirt.

“Nooo! Help! Oh, God, help!” Anna cried, not as loud as before.

“The Lord helps those who help themselves,” sneered Amund, unfastening his trousers.

“No! Oh, please, please, no!” she pleaded.

As he drove his penis inside her, she felt only searing pain. There was none of the pleasure she had dreamed of so many times. He kissed her on the mouth, drooling and panting, thrusting his organ deeper, again and again, until his body stiffened. He let out a shout of his own, and she felt his seed enter her.

Anna’s life flashed before her. Not her actual life, but all of her apprehensions, her terrors, and her worst nightmares. She saw herself giving birth to a strange, ugly infant, with Amund’s clothes and Satan’s face. She saw Nels with an expression of disgust and contempt, beating the two of them with his walking-stick, before running away on two good legs. She saw her father, her mother, and the priest, driving her and her child from Skurdal into the mountains through a winter snowstorm.

On his feet, straightening his trousers, Amund said, “Well done, missy. Now, before you go telling any stories, think about who will believe you, once they find out you lied – to the priest.”

On the ground, hurting, bleeding, Anna wept. As her mind began to clear, she knew what must be done.

When Nels returned from his journey a few days later, he limped eagerly up the hill to Anna’s hut. It was almost midnight, but the summer sun was still hanging low above the horizon. The full moon had already risen. He knocked softly at the door. In a moment, Anna opened it and slipped out. Without a word, she threw her arms around him, kissing him deeply, hotly, passionately.

“Well, now,” Nels whispered, “hello to you, too! To what do I owe this lovely greeting?”

“Oh, Nels, I love you. I have wanted you for so long, and you have waited so patiently. Take me now, tonight.” As they kissed again, the irony of the moment brought tears to Anna’s eyes. A dozen times she had wished to say those words in sincerity, and restrained herself with all her strength, but on this night when she finally said them, it was just another lie. In truth, she felt empty, violated, and void of all desire. She wondered now if she even loved him. “Wait here,” she said, slipping back inside. She returned with a blanket, another long kiss, and led him a little way into the forest, where she had fashioned a bed of dry pine needles that morning.

Nels could scarcely believe his eyes. “What … Why? …”

“Shh,” Anna silenced him. “Help me.” They spread the blanket over the leaves.

He wanted to ask her why, but hesitated. After all, he knew well of her desire for him, mostly unspoken, these many months. He was flattered that she made such obvious efforts to resist her own longing. But this sudden change? In the end, Nels could not bring himself to ask her anything at all.

They sat down on the blanket, kissing again and again, exploring each other’s body with their hands, undressing slowly. Moonbeams played on them as trees swayed in the breeze. Anna’s hands shook a little as she unbuttoned Nels’ shirt. Her fingers were long and supple. Nels was careful to touch her only with his fingertips, lest he chafe her with calloused palms. She wondered at the gentleness of his touch.

Her breasts were like the first fruits of summer, her loins as polished silver. As he touched the lips of her womb, they were at once the perfect rose, and the gates of paradise.

In spite of herself, Anna felt the old desire reawakened in her, rising, rising, and spilling over. She kissed his mouth, his tongue, his nipples. She stroked his loin, his thighs and private parts. When he entered into her, she shrank at first, dreading the pain she had experienced before. The pain came, but along with it something else: the warmth and pleasure of her sweetest dreams.

Her body was so thin, yet it seemed to envelop him completely, even as she lay quite still beneath him. He thrust slowly, gently, as the primal force within him wound itself tight as a steel spring, then released with the intensity of a lightning bolt.

As they lay in the afterglow, Anna was suddenly overcome with remorse. She drew away and put on her clothes.

Nels reached out for her, but she only sat and sobbed. “What is it?” He pleaded. “Did I hurt you?” Nels was nearly a virgin himself, having had only one experience with an army camp-follower. What little he knew of lovemaking he learned mostly from conversations in the men’s quarters. But of love, as he felt for her at this moment, he had no prior knowledge at all. “Did I? Oh Anna, did I hurt you?”

Anna tried to compose herself. She sniffled and lied, “Oh, no, no.” But of course it had hurt, although less than before. “I … I … Oh, Nels!” She nearly said “I liked it,” which would have been the truth. She reached out for him, and broke again into tears.

“For God’s sake, Anna, tell me what is wrong! A man cannot bear a woman weeping like this, and not even know why.”

But she would not tell him. She spoke the truth – only not all of it. “Nels, I love you with all my heart,” she said. “I will be a good wife to you, and bear you many children, if God is willing. But … I am so young, Nels. If the truth were known, they would think me still a child. It seems odd – I helped take care of my little brother David since he was born. Ma had her, uh, breakdown when David died. She has been off in the head ever since. From then on, I was taking of her, and of Pa. It seems like I never was a child, and yet I am too young to bear a child of my own.”

“Too young? You are the strongest woman on this farm. If anyone can bear it, you can. The hell with the church and their fickle rules. Your body is ready, you were just born late.” Nels was dressing himself as they spoke.

“Nels, look at me. There is hardly an ounce of flesh on me. I do not think my hips are big enough for childbirth. If I am not too young, at least I am too skinny.”

“’If God is willing’, as you said yourself, it must mean that you are ready.”

“Or else, that I have sinned, and must suffer for it. I lied, Nels. Lied to the priest.”

“Oh, is that it? Anna,God is not so cruel to us sinners. I believe that now. God knows I am a sinner, but He has brought you to me, and made me the happiest man alive. Anna, the plain truth is, I would not trade your love for the return of my right leg.” He wondered, though, whether the choice would be so easy, if it were offered to him. “Besides,” he added, “Do you believe the priest himself is without sin?”

“I have to check on Ma.” Anna jumped to her feet and ran home.

Nels shrugged, feeling her pain in ways he never expected, but mystified at the workings of a woman’s mind. As he began rolling up the blanket, a thought came to him, a detail of one of those conversations in the barracks. He examined the blanket carefully in the moonlight for any sign of blood. There was none. Nels never asked Anna about that, either. He finished rolling the blanket, quietly laid it at the door of the hut, and limped back to the servants’ quarters.