Anna Hansdatter: Hunger In the Dale

In nine more days, Nels reached Lillehammer. The weather was turning; rain showers became colder, driven by a bitter wind, mixing with wet snowflakes or stinging ice crystals. On a clear but chilly afternoon, Nels was approaching Erstad farm, when once again, Olav Erstad rode out to meet him.

“Well, now, Nels Poulsen,” said the farmer, “it seems you have made quite a name for yourself.”

“So, you have heard of my mishap?”

“Yes, indeed. The sheriff came by a few days ago to inquire about my pistol. He told me what happened at Stange. You are held in high regard there.”

“Yes, well …” Nels hesitated. Now that he had the respect and admiration that he always craved, it made him feel isolated and uncomfortable. In addition, he was still plagued by nightmares, and flashbacks of that horrible moment when he shot the bandit. If only it could be as before. He could not even pretend to boast or encourage the admirers, nor could he speak frankly about his demons and misgivings. “Well, thanks,” he said without further comment.

“We slaughtered two lambs today for Sunday’s Advent feast. You will stay with us until then?”

“I am sorry,” said Nels, “I must press on tomorrow. The snows will be here all too soon.”

“Well, then, we will roast one of the lambs tonight. Come ahead, now! I will alert the cook.” He turned and rode back toward the compound.

Nels pulled into the stable area and dismounted the wagon to unhitch. The teamster Knut and a stable-boy came running. “Welcome, Nels Poulsen, let us help you!” they said.

“It is all right, I can manage.”

“Ha! Manage, indeed! I should think so,” laughed Knut. “Ha, ha! What we mean is, it would be an honor to serve you.”

Nels smiled wryly, “All right, then, but I will stay with them for a while, too.” He handed the reins to the boy, as Knut unhitched the wagon.

“Did you really kill two bandits, sir?” asked the boy.

Nels took a deep breath to reply, but only nodded silently.

“That is wonderful!” the boy exclaimed.

“The hell!” Nels snapped.

The boy was cowed and confused. He stammered, “But … but … you saved the whole parish from them, did you not?”

“I saved my own life. I am glad of that, but the cost was very high.”

“Cost? What cost?”

“What is your name, boy?”

“David.”

“David, if I ask you to do something, will you do it?”

“I swear I will, anything.”

“Every night, David, get on your knees and pray that you never have to kill anyone.”

“What?” The boy had that very day prayed for the opposite.

“I know you cannot understand. Just do as you promised me.”

“Uh … well … all right. But why?”

“I cannot explain why. You must trust me.”

(To be continued)