The Birds (10 page)

The youngster stood there, feeling cheated after his masterly shot. Mattis had taken the edge off his joy. He was not completely blind after all. He stood there full of youth and strength and vitality, but this silent simpleton frightened him.

He asked in a different tone: “What’s the matter, Mattis?”

No reply.

The youngster asked almost helplessly:

“Are you angry with me for this?”

Again no reply.

Mattis shook his head in despair. Should have said something.
No
or something. He looked down at the ground, there was a spot of blood on the grass where the bird had come tumbling down. A little blood was still trickling from its beak. Mattis raised his head again and looked at the youngster without a word.

The youngster made no further attempt at conversation either. And he didn’t take the bird from Mattis by force, despite his strength. He straightened up his gun and walked slowly out of sight, seemed to have come across something he didn’t understand, and wouldn’t easily be able to forget.

Mattis was left standing with the woodcock. Drops of blood trickled down into the grass from its long beak.

Alone again, Mattis got back his power of speech; he mumbled in a low voice: “Eyes shut.”

“No more.”

“Lead in its wing.”

He hadn’t really noticed the youngster or what he’d been doing. Had no feeling of having done anything wrong in not handing
over the bird. He walked toward the steps, dragging himself slowly through the entrance and into the living room. There he placed the woodcock on the table.

This was no nightmare he was caught up in, then. It was real.

The woodcock lay with its eyes shut, full of heavy hidden lead.

She had looked at him as he picked her up, there was no doubt.

He thundered on the door of the small room, forgetting how often he got a snappy answer when he arrived at the wrong moment. Hege must have fallen asleep long ago.

“You must get up … Hege! You must!” he said in a voice that was unrecognizable.

Hege was awake, she replied at once, reluctant and angry, no.

“But you must come, Hege. Something dreadful’s happened.”

“Who to?”

He couldn’t bear to say it: “You’ll see.”

The tone of his voice made her say at once: “I’m coming, what is it then?”

She came straight out of bed, disheveled and deep in her own thoughts, and frightened of whatever Mattis was so upset about. She didn’t notice anything, but then Mattis pointed to the table where the bird was lying.

“You see that?”

“Ugh! What’s it doing on the table making such a mess,” she said
in her familiar nagging tone when she saw the drops of blood on the tabletop. But she quickly checked herself when she noticed the expression on Mattis’s face. She came closer. She was not so ignorant about the wildlife of the forest as not to know what kind if bird this was.

“Is it that woodcock of yours?”

Mattis nodded stiffly.

“Yes, I heard a shot just now,” said Hege. “And the fowler gave you the woodcock, then, did he?”

“No it wasn’t like that,” said Mattis. “It wasn’t his bird, was it, just because he shot it!”

“Did you take it?”

“He let me. It isn’t his bird, is it? But can you understand it, Hege?”

To this Hege made no reply, there was really nothing she could say. They were both turned toward the bird on the table. The problem seemed to be too much for Mattis. He was becoming more and more bewildered.

“Can’t you understand it?”

“No,” said Hege.

“Well, it’s the same with you then,” said Mattis, bitterly. “When things get really serious it’s always like this.”

He was in a terrible state, and Hege had to think up something: “They soon fall down of their own accord too, birds, you know. Whether or not they get shot, I mean.”

Mattis shook his head.

“They can live for years, birds, I’ve been told. And he looked at me too.”

“Who?”

“The bird, of course. Just as I was picking him up.”

“Was it alive?”

“I don’t know but he looked at me alright.”

“Well, we won’t go on about this anymore,” said Hege. “If it wasn’t alive then it didn’t look at you either. It was nothing.”

All Mattis said was: “After that he closed his eyes.”

To put an end to it Hege said firmly: “Now, let’s not think about this anymore. Take the bird outside, I won’t have it here on the table. And we’re not going to use it.”

Mattis shuddered.

“Use it? No.”

“Go out and put it under a big stone, Mattis.”

“Under a big stone? Why?”

“So that nothing can run off with it of course.”

“That’s an idea,” he said gratefully.

“Then come back in as quick as you can and go to bed. Things like this can’t be helped, you know. You’ve just got to accept them.”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts, Mattis. It’s the way things are.”

“I could have said that myself,” said Mattis. “What am I asking you for?”

Hege went into the room, shivering with cold in her thin nightgown. Mattis went outside with the woodcock and did everything just as Hege had told him.

BY THE TIME the difficult task had been accomplished, Mattis was tired and covered in sweat. To honor the bird and to protect it he had covered it with a stone that had been far too heavy for him to lift. It felt like a really massive slab, and it had taken up all his strength. It was already midnight.

When he’d finished he sat on the stone and rested. All of a sudden he thought: If it had been Hege—

It swept through him like an icy blast in the still June night. His thoughts began to frighten him, he saw himself sitting there alone, with Hege and the bird each lying under a heavy stone.

And the eyes are closed.

And the rivers have stopped flowing.

He mumbled these words to himself, but they failed to bring him his usual sense of joy. His gaze wandered uneasily over the grassy meadow where all life seemed to be asleep. He felt cold. Come what may he had to return to Hege. Mustn’t stir from her side tonight, after this.

Once more he knocked on her door.

“You must let me come in and stay with you tonight, Hege,” he said through the narrow opening. He caught a faint glimpse of his sister over by the wall under the mirror.

“Come on then,” she said, surprisingly willing.

So she wasn’t asleep now either. She asked in a friendly tone as he approached: “Did you do what I told you?”

“Yes, but—”

“Has anything else happened?” she asked quickly.

Her friendliness almost made matters worse. She ought to have been telling him off for disturbing her.

“Yes, it has, but I can’t tell you. But that’s why you’ve got to let me stay here with you tonight.”

“There’s nothing to be frightened of,” said Hege suddenly, for no particular reason.

“Frightened? What isn’t there to be frightened of?”

“I don’t know, only I could hear you were frightened. You must try and forget the bird.”

“No!” he shouted. “But I’m talking about other things as well.”

“Well come and lie down, then. I’m sure you could do with some sleep.”

He came. Lay down by Hege’s side. So she smelt like a woman, even though she was his sister. His thoughts wandered far and wide.

She asked: “Did you take off your boots?”

“Yes.”

“It was so awful about the bird,” he started again.

“It’s lying safely under the stone now,” said his sister, comfortingly.

That was a strange thing to say.

“What are you talking like that for?”

Her hand brushed his cheek once or twice in answer. Nice. Made everything seem much more distant, somehow.

“Go to sleep now, Mattis.”

“That was almost like the wing of a bird,” he said referring to her fleeting hand.

Hege replied quietly: “Yes, here we are – just as we’ve always been. Don’t be frightened now.”

He was on the point of telling her the reason why he was lying there – But if I did, that’d be the end of your sleep tonight, Hege, he thought.

“What is it you’re trying to say?” she asked, because she knew him the way she did.

He gave a start.

“Nothing!”

“Well, in that case you must tell me sometime in the far distant future,” said Hege, “because we’re going to stop talking now, and get some sleep.”

He longed to feel her hand, but he longed in vain.

But the dark eye.

Closed now.

And a big heavy stone over it.

Neither lid nor stone can hide an eye like that – once it has looked at you.

“Hege.”

He said it gently. She made no reply, she really seemed to be asleep – his presence had brought her peace.

THE CLOVER FIELDS were so near that their smell came wafting through the trees when the wind was in the right direction. A sure sign that it was the middle of the summer.

And in an uncomfortable way Mattis became the important person in the house. Surely he was going to give a hand with the haymaking? He felt the demand hanging over him from morning to night. A grown-up lad with no job in the middle of the haymaking season – surely he can’t be idling around with nothing to do?

In the cottage not a word was said about haymaking, but they had come to expect a call at this time of year, a call from someone asking Mattis to go and give a hand with the work. That was why he was the more important of them now. When you were as unsure of yourself as Mattis, this could be both pleasant and painful.

They could hear the mowing machines starting up at the crack of dawn, or clanking and clattering into the late evening. Mattis cleared his throat, that was his privilege now, for he was at the center of things. Maybe someone would turn up.

No.

And they went on sitting quietly.

Which is to say, Hege was working at top speed as always. The sweaters were taking shape.

But no call came that day. From time to time Mattis cleared his throat as if to say that he was still waiting. The following day there was no call either.

Ah well, it was no more than they expected really. Everyone knew just how much good Simple Simon was. Hege and Mattis knew, but when the moving machines were rattling and everyone was sweating away at the haymaking you just couldn’t give up waiting for a call.

“They do everything so quickly these days,” said Mattis as a kind of excuse. “They use machines.”

Although Mattis tried to speak calmly, he was keyed up. It was a great strain to be the important person like this. Just before they went to bed, he said: “But the woodcock’s under the stone.”

Hege stopped reluctantly.

“Well?”

“That’s all. The woodcock’s under the stone, whatever I do.”

“You’re talking nonsense,” said Hege sharply, leaving him. At the door to her room she had already begun to regret her harsh words.

“I didn’t mean it,” she said.

He was surprised. It was not often Hege took back something she’d said like that. But it gave him a chance to say to her in a light, easy tone: “No, it’s you who doesn’t understand.”

She left it at that.

He wouldn’t have dared to say something like that to her last spring. He felt sure she was surprised, but she let it pass without a word.

The next morning Mattis took a stroll past the meadow where the haymaking was in progress. Not in defiance, or to show off. His reasons were a bit obscure – it was probably the sound of work that attracted him more than anything. The snorting machines. Grass tumbled, dying-racks sprang up, young and old were busy. Everyone seemed to be strong and clever. Every time he saw something beautiful, he stopped automatically.

Then he met a man coming across the road with a stack of poles over his shoulder. The man couldn’t escape.

“Out for a stroll?” he had to say to Mattis.

Mattis looked at the man expectantly; the man had to say: “If we get around to piling the hay in stacks one day soon, perhaps you could come and give us a hand when we spread them again. One morning when the weather’s dry enough?”

“Yes,” said Mattis joyfully. “I’ve spread haystacks before, you know.”

The man strode off looking as though he’d done his good deed for the day.

Back at home Hege said that this didn’t amount to anything. But Mattis felt that he’d freed himself from the demand that had been staring him in the face for almost a fortnight. Now it was Hege’s turn to be the important person in the house.

Now it is night.

What can you do when everyone around you is strong and clever?

Will never know.

But then what can you do? You have to do something, even then. All the time.

There’s a streak across this house. The bird has been shot and has closed his eyes, and is covered by a stone – but the streak remains. But what can you do?

What can you do about Hege? There’s something wrong with her.

Will never know.

But there’s a gentle whisper outside now, anyway.

ONE DAY TOWARD the end of July Mattis was out fishing. At least, he was out rowing in his boat. These last few weeks hadn’t been at all pleasant. Well, except for the day he’d spent spreading hay. That day had really come, but there’d only been one of them.

Today Hege had sent him out on the lake.

He was sitting in the boat, with a faraway expression in his eyes. The lake was smooth and wide and warm. Mattis rowed a good way out from the shore, had got quite close to a rocky little island. In the far distance one or two motorboats were humming, but apart from them the whole place was deserted. Up on land he could make out the farmers he knew, and a good many others he didn’t know farther down.

His fishing tackle was primitive, but the worst thing of all was the boat that let in the water. Mattis sat lost in thought until the water started trickling into his shoes, then he woke up with a start, and began bailing. A moment later he was deep in thought again. His fishing rod was fastened to the stern, and the line hung limp and useless. A glaring July sun rose up from the deep, it was like being caught between two suns, sitting here in the boat. No one but Mattis went fishing on a day like this. The lake was calm as a mill pond.