Vilhelm Moberg - The Settlers

Robert stumbled backward from the impact, against the wall; he almost fell, but the wall supported him.

“Have you become a wild beast yourself?” Kristina had grabbed hold of Karl Oskar’s right arm with both her hands; anger flamed up in her also and gave her strength. “Have you lost your mind? Watch yourself!”

“I’ll shut his trap for him. .!”

“Are you hitting your own brother? Sick and ailing as he is! Get hold of yourself, man!”

Karl Oskar tore himself free of her and stalked back to the corner.

“Attack an invalid!” Kristina’s lips were white with anger.

Leaning against the wall, Robert managed to stand upright, but his legs still shook under him. Just as his brother’s blow hit him he had been ready with his explanation: You must realize that I have been cheated first! I had never meant to cheat you, brother! I would never be low enough to cheat a brother!

But instead of his own voice all he heard now was the ear mocking him in a painful throbbing: What did you bring home? Useless money! How about your health and your life? No riches and no life! What is left for you?

From the kitchen the children had been listening to the commotion, and the two smallest boys were crying with fright. Kristina quickly closed the door. Karl Oskar remained in his corner, staring silently at the floor. He had not answered Kristina’s rebuke. His senses had returned, he stood with his head bent.

“Attacking a brother! Acting like a lunatic!”

Kristina approached Robert.

“Did he hurt you?”

“Not seriously. . It’s nothing. .”

His hand moved to his sore upper lip. His brother’s fist could not knock out teeth which he had lost far out West, in buffalo country.

His fingers moved slowly across his lips.

“Its nothing at all! I’m not even bleeding! The liar hasn’t even blood to give!”

“I want to talk with you calmly, Robert,” said Kristina. “Won’t you tell me the truth now. .”

“Dear Kristina — I didn’t want to fool you, I wasn’t trying to cheat anyone. .”

He turned to his older brother.

“I am not lying. . I didn’t know. . I had never tried to use the money. . I had saved it for you and Kristina. . I wanted to leave everything I owned to you and her. . And I expected you to come back from Stillwater and offer me your hand. .”

He stopped. He continued to himself: You did offer me your hand, brother. But it was a fist, hard, and struck my face. It hit instead of thanked. Such is our fate, brother. Our lot in life.

Karl Oskar had acted in a fit of anger. But now he had had time to control himself and knew that he had gone too far, that he had committed an outrage against his brother. He had given free rein to his anger, and in so doing he had also given his brother the upper hand.

“Forgive me, Robert,” he stammered.

“You had a right to hit me. It was my fault. I lived so long with that wildcat. . I was blind to him. .”

“I blew up,” said Karl Oskar. “Will you forgive me?” He had raised his head.

“I forgive you, of course. You’re already forgiven! You’re my only brother. . I should have asked you to forgive me. . But it’s too late now. . everything is too late. .”

Robert sounded submissive, as if he had earned the blow, as if it were a well-deserved punishment. His legs felt steadier now, and he walked slowly away toward the gable room.

Karl Oskar remained in his corner; the blow he had given his brother seemed to have dazed him instead.

Kristina was silent and reproached him no longer. When she heard him apologize to his brother she felt a strong compassion for her husband; anyone could make a mistake.

Robert had gone to his room. They stood and waited, silent, confused after the flare-up. He came out again, and now he had put on his boots, coat, and hat. He moved quickly and resolutely.

“Where are you going?” asked Kristina, surprised.

He did not reply to her — he turned to Karl Oskar.

“I’m off again. I don’t want you to feel ashamed of your brother. Goodbye! Forgive me the embarrassment I’ve caused you.”

“Take it easy, Robert! Wait a minute!” Kristina had grabbed hold of the back of his coat. “You can’t go off again! You aren’t well! You need care. .!”

“Goodbye, Kristina. You’ve always been kind to me. .”

He walked toward the door, passing the fireplace corner where the green-black bills lay scattered — wildcat money. As they caught his eye he stopped, as if a vision had appeared to him, revealing all, explaining all. He exclaimed, “As good as gold! No! As false as gold! Bills or gold, all money is equally false! ‘As good as gold!’ Ha, ha! As rotten, as deceitful, root of all evil! Dead weight! That’s what gold is! Now I can laugh at it all. . Ha, ha, ha!”

And as Robert hurried out the door he began to laugh, a high, piercing laugh, echoing through the house after him.

His laughter caught his brother and sister-in-law unawares; it frightened them as much as a sudden attack on their home with shot and shell. They were completely perplexed. And they made no attempt to stop him.

They stood and looked through the window after the fugitive, who was already some distance from the house. He walked along the edge of the field, down the slope, toward the lake; he crossed the narrow creek and continued westward.

He was headed for the forest. Soon he would be swallowed up by the pines and the thickets.

“Hurry after him!” Kristina urged her husband. “Hurry as fast as you can — don’t let him get away!”

Karl Oskar replied that he knew his brother. Better to leave him alone when he took off. Robert had always run away. He had fled many times in his life, but he had always come back. He was sure to return this time too.

Robert’s tall, narrow body disappeared among the pines, whose trunks were gilded by the early morning sun. He walked with hurried steps until he vanished from their sight.

— 1—

Robert walked without any definite course, around thickets, avoiding holes and swamps, choosing the easiest path. He detoured, walking sideways, between tree trunks, around boulders and hills, across glades and clearings. He walked without knowing where he was going, cut through the forest without a goal.

It was a sizzling hot day. The bark of the forest pines exuded a scorched odor. Tinder-dry branches cracked underfoot. No one had ever cut or removed fallen and dead trees from this wild forest: they stood where their roots held them, rotting down aboveground. Their dry boles had darkened in the bark and stood there covered with gray peelings; the dead trees appeared to be covered with dust and ashes, buried standing up after their death.

In forest openings he waded through tall, coarse grass which crackled against his knees. And wherever he walked, mosquitoes in great clouds kept him company. One thick swarm circled his head and followed him faithfully in all his turns and detours, stinging him angrily, whizzing, buzzing their eternal hum. They were like wild beasts thirsting for his blood.

When his legs grew tired, he sat down on the ground on a soft spot. But he took only short rests; soon he rose again and walked on; the pursuer inside his head forced him to keep moving on. He must stay on the move, must get away. He must keep walking for as long as he found ground under his feet.

His master kept him awake when he wanted to sleep, awakened him if he nodded, got him to his feet when he sat down to rest. His ear ached terribly. This morning again there had been a big red spot on the pillow.

He wandered about in the forest as the day passed. A dry branch knocked off his hat; he left it behind. The swarm of buzzing mosquitoes followed him on his wandering. He walked with a singing wreath of mosquitoes in his hair, he carried a crown of bloodsucking insects on his forehead. He wandered through the forest crowned like a king, crowned by a cloud of stinging, plaguing mosquitoes, and in the center of the cloud was the aching ear.