Barbara (4 page)

Pastor Poul sat observing all these completely unknown people in whose midst he had landed. The world was still rocking for him. He had been sailing for four weeks. For the past two days, the ship hove to in a severe gale off a black, sharp island called Nolsoy. At last, the weather had settled early this morning, and they had sailed in.

There were still remains of nocturnal darkness in the air when the
Fortuna
dropped anchor. The air was raw and snow showers were moving slowly across the shabby greensward in the mountains. A weather-beaten, black, wooden church tower rose above a few clumps of houses. This was Tórshavn. Everything was so fusty. The people who appeared beneath the eaves were weak and pale in the pallid morning. Pastor Poul had felt almost as though he had landed somewhere in the underworld when he stepped ashore on the rocks at Tinganes. But as he went up towards the Royal Store buildings he saw two beautifully dressed women standing amidst a crowd of curious people in the entrance. He noted one of them in particular. She was fair and tall, so elegant as she stood there seemingly taking no notice of him.

Throughout the entire dark, rainy day he had been mixing with people he did not know. He still did not have a clear impression of them; they were large shadows speaking a semi-incomprehensible language; a spinning wheel was whirring somewhere or other in the house; the withered grass from the roof hung down in front of the windows; there was a grey view across the East Bay to the Redoubt on the other side, where the flag was flapping. But it was all accompanied by the memory of the woman he had seen. He could forget her for long periods, but she was nevertheless there all the time – like something sweet, a glimpse of light, a consolation.

But now the bailiff obviously wanted to talk mainly about that widow in the benefice.

Augustus Harme, the bailiff, was Danish; he was a big man, rubicund and slightly sweaty. His voice was smug, quite charming, but always didactic, always expressive of superior knowledge. He was constantly clearing his throat and he allowed himself plenty of time for the process. He took a pinch of snuff and let his listeners wait until he was ready to make a statement.

“Yes,” he said, “perhaps you also know that this widow is the daughter of the late judge Peter Willumsen Salling. She is not old, only twenty-eight, I believe.”

“Don’t you go praising Barbara Christina,” came a stern voice from behind some knitting. “She is nothing but a jade, and everyone knows that.” This intervention came from the law speaker’s widow. She was a woman with a big nose, and her eyes were as sharp and cold as those of a sea bird.

“I don’t commend Barbara,” said the bailiff. “But neither do I do the opposite. I simply believe our young parson should be given an insight into the circumstances.”

“Then, in that case you would do better to tell about her goings-on than about her age,” replied Armgard, placing her clenched fist on the table: “about everything she has done in her twenty-eight years…”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” the judge said now. “I don’t think one can call Barbara a jade. She has her faults, which are easy to see. But can she help that? There is not really a drop of evil blood in her.”

“Well, what about you, Johan Hendrik? You have spent a lot of time in that house and been on close terms with the old judge. You must be the right person to say something about these things.”

“That’s correct, Armgard. I’ve known Barbara since she was a child. But you know no more about her than the gossip you have picked up from other people.”

“I know the truth. I know how both Pastor Thomas and Pastor Niels died.”

Judge Johan Hendrik Heyde said no more. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. There was something nervous, something dubious about his tall, slightly stooping figure. He was always like that. A man of honour, wiser than the others, far too wise to be strong. But he was capable of dry, caustic sarcasm, for which reason he was also respected, indeed feared.

Like his brother, the Tórshavn minister Wenzel Heyde, he was considered to be among the best Faroese citizens. They were members of an ancient family, a family in which there was foreign blood in plenty, but which was firmly rooted in the country. Otherwise, the two brothers were very different. The judge was tall and thin, the minister short and thickset. The judge was sceptical, the parson unctuous. And while there always simmered a furtive dislike of his Danish-born colleagues – the bailiff and the head of the Store – Wentzel was filled with an equally surreptitious and equally consuming urge to please them and to be in their company. So Pastor Wenzel was also content now he had them in his living room. The great bailiff, the witty head of the Store with all those amusing stories and the distinguished wife, Madame Mathilde, who said little and was probably anaemic, but who could giggle and swoon in a very distinguished manner.

The conversation had flagged for a time among all these people. Once the news had been exchanged, there was no longer anything really to unite them. But in the study there was a covert focal point that repeatedly persuaded the men to exchange shrewd glances. They were restless. They wandered back and forth and crossed the threshold. It was probably not exclusively on account of Barbara that Armgard was knitting so irately and excitably. She had smelt a rat, and she was annoyed. The same applied to the other women. It was always like this when a ship had arrived.

Samuel Mikkelsen, the law speaker, rose and made an excursion into the study. For this bulky, immovable man this was almost a whole journey. And it took him a long time. Armgard grunted angrily when she saw her nephew, her husband’s successor, fill the entire doorway with his huge back. But her sister, Ellen Katrine, had a conspiratorial glint in her eyes. She lay reclining on a bench and made a cheerful sign in the air with her crutch: “Oh, this world, this world!”

The new parson later remembered all this very clearly indeed. But at that moment he did not really understand it. Not until he was discreetly invited by his colleague Pastor Wenzel were his eyes opened to the fact that there was French brandy to be had in the study.

Nor did he understand all this about the widow Barbara – the fact that a fresh breeze had caught the limp sails of the conversation when the bailiff mentioned her name.

The law speaker returned from the study, large and serene, but with some indeterminate sign of renewal about him. He had a big, wavy full beard. He resembled the god Jupiter. But his eyes were calm and gentle. They usually radiated a fine, almost tender smile.

He sat down without immediately saying anything. Then his gentle voice made itself heard: “What Barbara was like in her first marriage I will leave unsaid, although I have heard some strange things about it. As for her second marriage, I think I can say that she was not a good wife. But to maintain that she was responsible for Pastor Niels’ death – I think that is unjust, for it was an accident.”

Armgard snorted. “Accident! In that case there have been a lot of accidents in Barbara’s life. And they have always come at a remarkably convenient time for her.”

Ellen Katrine stretched on her bench and raised her crutch almost as a signal: “You be quiet, Armgard, and let Samuel speak. He knows better than you after all.”

Samuel sat looking at his small hands. He rarely said very much. Everyone watched him in anticipation. He had never before said anything about Barbara. But he must know all about her. His official residence, Stegaard, was in Sandavág, only a good mile from the parsonage of Jansegærde, where Pastor Niels and Barbara had lived.

“I don’t understand Barbara. When she came west to Vágar with Pastor Niels, no one could doubt that she adored him. Everyone spoke well of her, and for my part I can’t but say that she was quite angelic in her actions and her personality.”

“
Angelic!
” The sea bird, old Armgard, looked sharply at her nephew: “No, by God, Samuel.” Her fist approached the table top again: “If everyone else failed to be so wise,
you
at least should know that being an angel on the outside is not the same as being an angel on the inside.”

The law speaker smiled. He hesitated a little. But no one interrupted, so the way was clear for him. It came deliberately, with an infinitely small touch of indulgent irony: “Well, Aunt Armgard, you are rather hasty in your judgement. But that was not exactly what I was going to say. She was
no
angel at heart. But that does not necessarily mean that she was a devil, for that was not her nature. I think she wanted to be good to everyone. She went down to the ordinary people when they returned from fishing; she went to fetch peat, which is not exactly customary for parsons’ wives. And she took part in dances – something that was probably not to the liking of Pastor Niels.

“Good heavens,” said Ellen Katrine: “taking part in a dance is surely no great sin even for a parsons’ wife.”

“No,” the judge intervened. “If you were the parson’s wife, Aunt Ellen Katrine, and went to a dance, I do not think it would result in any sin either.”

“Oh, Johan Henrik, do for once refrain from your insolent remarks.” She waved her crutch at him. Her expression was at once pompous and playful.

There was a glint in the law speaker’s gentle eyes, though it lasted only a fraction of a second. Then he went on: “It might well be that Pastor Niels would have felt safer with another wife. I am not saying that was Barbara’s fault. But the fact was that when Barbara joined the dance,
everyone
joined the dance, both men and women.”

“No one is going to understand that,” said the parson’s wife, the hostess, Anna Sophie. “It is not always so easy to be Barbara at a dance.”

“If Barbara herself had understood that, she would have kept away from the dance,” said Armgard. And this time she thumped her fist down heavily on the table.

“I wonder whether it was always so much fun sitting at home evening after evening in Jansegærde with Pastor Niels and his dusty books,” said Anna Sophie suddenly with passion.

“Oh, what a world this is,” exclaimed Ellen Katrine, thoughtfully sketching in the air with her crutch.

But Pastor Wenzel Heyde, the unctuous little parson, looked disapprovingly at his wife. With deeply dimpled cheeks, she was cheerful and buxom.

“But tell me one thing,” said Ellen Katrine: “Was Barbara not fond of her husband?”

“I can assure you,” said the law speaker, “that I do not recall having seen a wife treating her husband in such a fond manner as during the first time I knew them. She always wanted to have him with her and to help him with everything. And when he was away, she always missed him. And he probably missed her as well. He always refused to spend the night with us at Stegaard. Even in the worst weather he would always ride home to her in the evening – in rain, sleet or frost. And throughout their entire marriage, incidentally, the situation remained that she could not tolerate being neglected by him. And this was where their first disagreements came in – I believe, by God, that she would hardly allow him to write his sermons.”

“Aye,” said the judge: “When Barbara is in that mood she is capable of being jealous of God in heaven Himself.”

The law speaker smiled: “Yes, but she was quite prepared to allow herself what she refused to allow her husband. For
she
frequently neglected
him
. It was difficult to understand. I am convinced she
did
want to do well by him. But Barbara simply can’t control herself. She does exactly as she wants at any given moment: if there was a dance she wanted to take part in, then she would go to it. God knows, I think she often felt terribly sorry for her husband. But she still went. And then she quickly forgot him. And it was just the same if there was anything exciting going on here in Tórshavn, Barbara absolutely
had
to take part. She would often spend weeks or even months here, as you all know who live here.”

“There’s no denying that,” said the storekeeper.

The law speaker gave him a searching look for a moment: “As to how she behaved here – you know that better than I do.”

“We were not able to help – hmm – were not able to help noticing this and that,” said the bailiff.

“Aye, we did indeed,” said the storekeeper.

The judge gave him a sarcastic look: “Well yes, you showed a certain interest in all that yourself.”

“Well, I made sure that Melzer on the
Jubilee
went off in a different direction. I suppose you have no objection to that?”

Johan Henrik Heyde had no objection. He simply looked even more sarcastic.

“Well,” the law speaker went on, “Barbara didn’t behave as she should even at home on Vágar. It soon came out, although she went about things very carefully. I won’t sit here and retail everything I have heard, and much of it is probably only gossip. But there are various men to whom she has shown friendship.”

Armgard had long remained silent. Now she burst out: “From all I hear, Samuel, the woman you are talking about is a
hussy
.”

The storekeeper gave a little whistle: “No, a parson’s wife.”

“God forgive me,” said Samuel Mikkelsen: “she is as correct and distinguished in her conduct as a queen. And friendly and kind to everyone. As Anna Sophie said a moment ago, it is not all that easy to be Barbara. Everyone flocks around her. She is such a person as tempts everyone and she is tempted herself. I often think that she is like a child.”

“A good child yes, twenty-eight years old, parson’s wife and the biggest whore in the country,” said Armgard.

“Now, now,” said the judge. “And Samuel is right after all. A child – though admittedly a dangerous child.”

“Oh, what a world this is! Yes, everyone has a story to tell. But tell me, what was the parson like, Samuel?”

“I can tell you, Aunt Ellen Katrine, that Pastor Niels was a particularly decent and upright man. A peaceful character. He gave in and tried to close his eyes to things. As I say, she was fond of him, but as time went on his meekness started to irritate her. Then he tried to put the boot on the other foot and stand up to her. But that only made her defy him. They fought each other. She is even said once to have thrown a candlestick at him. Then everyone started to feel sorry for the parson. The servants especially took his side. And conditions in Jansegærde gradually became more and more confused.”