Anna Hansdatter: Hunger In the Dale

Anna was sleeping peacefully, dreaming of Nels, when she was awakened by a cold draft. Reaching across the bed, she felt only blankets where her mother should be. She sat bolt-upright. It was pitch-dark, but she could tell the door was open. “Ma!” she said. There was only the sound of a brisk wind outside. Inside was darkness, and the chill draft. “Ma!” she cried, louder.

Anna leapt from bed, groping frantically for the matches. She tried to light a candle, but the draft blew out the flame. She ran to the open door, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. Snowflakes blew in on her. “Maa!” she shouted in her loudest voice, but the sound died away in an instant. There was moonlight, but stifled by clouds and snow, it left only a dull grayish glow outside. No features could be seen. The clouds parted for only a moment, and Anna could see vague foot tracks, partly filled with snow, leading from the door. She followed them with her eyes and thought she saw a dark form in the near distance. Then, with the next gust of wind, all was again obscured by the blowing snow.

Anna groped for her shoes, quickly pulled them on, and ran outside, screaming, “Ma! Ma!” She could no longer see the footprints, but followed the general direction as she remembered it. No more than a dozen steps from the hut, she bumped into her mother. She was standing, but fell down when Anna bumped her. “Ma! Oh dear God, get up, get up!” She pulled and strained, finally managing to get Ingeborg on her feet. The old woman could not remain upright without Anna’s help.

“Come on, Ma, we have got to get inside.” Anna squinted and stared, but could not see the hut. Using a combination of sight and touch, struggling to help her mother, she slowly followed her own footprints back to the door. Once inside, she lit the candle and the fire, shivering with cold and dread.

Ingeborg was shivering, too, in her wet clothes. Anna undressed her, wrapped her in blankets, and seated her at the hearth. Outside, the wind blew harder. “Oh, Ma, you would have died out there so quickly. Dear Ma, whatever are we going to do?” Ingeborg only looked at her quizzically.

By morning twilight, the snow had stopped. It was only ankle-deep, but a bitter wind was forming small drifts. Black, menacing clouds marched across the sky. Ingeborg had developed a worrisome cough. She lay in bed, while Anna sat by the hearth, brooding.

Around noon, Else came to call. “Dear Anna, a soldier stayed with the men overnight. He passed Nels near Tretten yesterday. That means Nels will be home in just a day or two!”

Anna was buoyed by the news, but afraid to become too hopeful. “That is wonderful, Else. If only the weather does not stop him. Ma wandered off in the blizzard last night.”

“Oh, no! How did you find her?”

“It was sheer luck. She had only gone a few steps, and was just standing there, freezing. I could not even see her until I knocked her down. We barely found our way back to the house. Now she is getting sick.”

As if on cue, Ingeborg coughed hoarsely. Anna brought her a cup of tea, sat her up, and helped her sip at it.

“Else,” said Anna, “do the maids have any peppermint?”

“I think so, and maybe some mullein, too. I will bring you some.”

“Thank you, dear. Maybe one of the men can come up and help me fix a night lock on the door. Something I can open but Ma cannot.”

“Of course.” Else took her leave.

That afternoon, Peder Skurdal opened the letter the soldier brought him from his cousin, Olav Erstad.

(To be continued)