Margit Sandemo: The Ice People 32 - Hunger

But there was no time for dreaming now. Instead he went into the market and bought some big muffins that were so soft your teeth just sank right into them. He shared them out among those who were to accompany him up to the ridge, and also bought a small pail of milk to wash down the muffins. No one refused his offerings, especially not the children.

The white clumps of reindeer moss showed them the way. One of the farmers had brought his horse and wagon, on which they would be able to transport the sick woman. It wasn’t always easy getting the wagon to move along the narrow path, but they all helped as best they could. They had brought a hatchet to cut down small saplings that were blocking the path, so they slowly managed to make their way up.

The four adults all helped to refill the baskets with moss so that the children wouldn’t have to go home empty handed.

Still, both children were nervous about going back for one particular reason. It was no longer whether they would be able to find their way or not: the moss trail was showing them the way. No, the big question now was: what if she was no longer there? What if they had lured all these men, and the fancy doctor, up there for no reason? Or what if she was a creature of the underworld? A witch or a mare or some other nasty thing?

By and by everyone reached the ridge, and everything became easier from there. The clusters of moss continued to show them the way – and then they were out on the bog.

They had been walking for nearly two hours by then, and the day would soon be over – it was nearly evening. It grew dark early at this time of year.

What would Mother and Father say when they didn’t come home on time? the children thought. Would they be whipped again?

But could they have done anything differently?

Insecurity follows a child constantly. Insecurity in a world of incomprehensible grown-up rules, or rather lack of rules. You never knew when the whip would be brought out, no matter how hard you tried to do the right thing.

Well, it was still daylight, but the question was whether they would make it down before evening fell.

With a great deal of uncertainty, they walked along the edge of the bog. They must be there soon ... The men followed behind with the horse and wagon. The only thing that could be heard was the squeaking of the wagon wheels.

The children’s pace grew slower and slower.

Finally they stopped. The trail of reindeer moss terminated.

“She was here,” said the boy. He didn’t dare to look at the men.

It was clear to see that someone had been lying on the ground there. An area the size of a human body was outlined on the ground, dark against the grey-white frost.

After a telling pause, one of the farmhands said: “I see. But she’s not here anymore. Perhaps she was just sleeping? And managed to move on of her own accord?”

The children’s cheeks burned with shame.

“She was very ill,” said the boy meekly.

His little sister nodded.

The men lifted their gaze and looked around. The bog lay silent and cold before them. Some of the men walked about, looking here and there.

“There!” one of them shouted, pointing. “She’s lying there, among the trees!”

“Oh, so she was able to move a little,” another one muttered. “

So she isn’t completely helpless.”

But he took those words back when they reached her.

“Good God,” one of them murmured.

Christoffer had a sinking feeling. Although he had seen plenty of miserable cases at the hospital, he never would have believed that anyone could be as emaciated as this woman.

“She’s nothing but skin and bones,” said one of the men.

“But she’s not an old woman, that’s for sure,” said another one. “She’s young.”

“Isn’t it Marit of Svelten?” asked the third in disbelief. “But I don’t think I would have been able to recognize her had it not been for her light brown curly hair. Yes, by God, it is Marit of Svelten. But goodness, what in the world has happened to her?”

Christoffer was already kneeling down next to the prostrate figure and had established that she was still alive. He just couldn’t fathom how anything like this was possible.

“Marit of Svelten?” he asked in an encouraging voice. He wanted to know more about her.

The man who knew her answered somewhat apologetically: “She’s just a woman from one of the smallholdings near here. She’s cared for her malicious father ever since she was a child. All her brothers travelled west. To America. She’s not very sociable – I’ve only seen her down in the village a few times, and then she’ll just mumble what she has to say before sneaking off along the side of the road. I suppose she is to be pitied really.”

“I’ll say,” Christoffer said between clenched teeth.

“She used to be very good-looking,” the man continued. “But nobody wanted her because of that mad father. And she herself was a little odd.”

“She has grass in her mouth,” said Christoffer with horror.

“Cloudberry leaves.” Another man, who was squatting next to her, corrected him. “Has she actually eaten any of them?”

“No, it looks as though she spat them straight back out,” Christoffer established. He was so uneasy that he could barely speak.

“She was undernourished, wasn’t she,” said the most enlightened of the men. “Starving to death. I mean, she isn’t dead, of course, but ...”

“But there’s more to it,” Christoffer said. “When I touch her she cringes, as though she’s in pain.”

“But that’s natural, isn’t it? The starvation triggers pain ...”

“Not to the point that someone reacts when they’re practically unconscious. Look!”

He carefully touched her skinny body, whereupon they could all see her face twisting in pain as she attempted to shield herself from his touch.

Christoffer got to his feet and sighed thoughtfully.

“We’ll have to take her to the hospital, of course. But she’s completely depleted: she could use a little something to restore her energy. And if I’m right that she is suffering from stomach problems, she shouldn’t eat anything at all.”

“In which case she’ll die,” one of the men concluded bluntly. “It’s quite a dilemma!”

“We’ll have to try,” Christoffer said. “Is there any milk left?”

They found the pail of milk. The children, who had regained their courage now that they had managed to find the woman again, didn’t look so anxious anymore. Instead, their faces had a look of pride about them. Perhaps they had managed to save a life after all?

Although it didn’t look too promising!

To Christoffer’s relief, the woman suddenly opened her eyes. He gave her a friendly smile so as not to frighten her, for it was undoubtedly a rather perplexing way to wake up.

“Here,” he said gently. “Try to drink a little milk. And then I would like you to tell me where you feel pain.”

Despite her enormous fatigue and the fact that she was so skinny that her skin was stretched tightly as if on the skull of a skeleton, there was something beautiful about the girl, Christoffer could see that. Even the macabre, staring eyes had something beautiful about them in a pitiable, touching way. He felt a lump in his throat at the thought of how she must have suffered in her loneliness, and his smile grew somewhat insecure.

Marit woke up to the all-consuming pain once again. Where was she? It was cold, wherever she was, and her entire body was freezing. Everything was hazy, but she was able to discern that a group of people were standing over her.

Someone was asking her a question, but her brain was unable to absorb the words, they became meaningless.

Slowly she managed to focus her gaze. What a fine-looking gentleman! But so stern! No, it was only his even, sharp features that made him look that way: he wasn’t so stern after all.