The Prophets of Eternal Fjord (49 page)

And still we have become good friends. I cannot deny that I think well of her, and she, for her part, clearly enjoys my company. We laugh heartily at each other's errors and cross swords with sarcasm and banter. Her husband is expected here within days. I am somewhat anxious at the prospect.

3 May

Out of bed to sit in the chair. Dizzy after a short time. Helped back to the cot by the widow. Does the Magister keep in mind his pledge? Indeed, he does. Then she leaves.

4 May

I ask MM: This woman who is called the widow, do you know her?

MM: I have known her for many years. She is the half-sister of the catechist.

I: Yes, I know something of this relation. But what more of her? Why is she troubled so by disquiet and irascible temperament?

MM: She takes after her father, the Missionary Oxbøl.

I: Her father? Missionary Oxbøl?

MM: So you did not know? The same father who begot Bertel, her brother. And the daughter, the little girl who died, was the Mission ­ary's, too. That is why she is so intent upon her christening, Magister Falck, and for that reason you must not deny her. She feels herself sullied, as though by the priest's very excrement, and seeks salvation that she may die in peace and be reunited with her little daughter, that both may be cleansed of their incest in Heaven.

This gave me something on which to ponder.

Formed faeces this day.

7 May

Since now finally I am considered restored it has been decided that I am to be moved into the house in which Habakuk and Maria Magdalene have their home. They wished not to expend more fuel on a person alone, she explained, on which matter I expressed my understanding. I live now in a corner of their room, where privacy is afforded me only by means of a curtain that may be drawn, but which in no way can exclude the alarm and disturbance that prevails in such a home. My sleeping place, a roughly constructed alcove with a straw mattress that nonetheless is unexceptionably well-filled and clean, fulfils several functions insofar as it is not only my bed, but also my desk and the place of my daily life. This accommodation, however, is quite superior seen from the viewpoint of my fellow dwellers in the house, who lie side by side, shoulder to shoulder, and whose most intimate secrets are shared by all and thereby made the object of much indecent jesting and mirth.

The house is half of peat, half of timber. Its arrangement is much as I recall the communal dwelling houses of the natives, albeit without the long crawlspace by which to enter. There is much life and noise from early until late, crying children and a chatter of men and women talking all at once. The older children amuse themselves by challenging each other to leap over the soup cauldron, on occasion upturning it and spilling its contents onto the floor, whereby much food goes to waste. And yet on such account there is no corporal discipline nor verbal reproach. Education as to proper behaviour is a phenomenon unknown to these people, though nonetheless their children are often charming and inof­fensive, quite without the foul language a city rambler must hear from the street urchins of Copenhagen or even the offspring of well-situated citizens.

Habakuk has returned from his excursion. He is a good-humoured man, as it transpires, quite tall and well built, clad in tunic and cap and hardly to be distinguished from such servants as are employed by the Trade. And yet he is a man of proper pride and confidence, a self-esteem somewhat less natural than his wife's, and his attitude to me is that of a fine gentleman to a tolerated though quite despicable guest. I find this arrogance and the attendant atmosphere of ill-feeling to be oppressive, and would rather speak to him man to man. However, he seldom deigns to look at me, and when he does it seems only to be with disgust. He is popular with the women of the household, who hang upon his every word and pantingly concur with any utterance that passes his lips.

This communal house is quite colossal, in my estimation thirty ells in length and ten in breadth. A sleeping bench running the length of the long wall opposite my own alcove is inhabited by members of Habakuk's and Maria's families, in all some twenty individuals, adults and children alike. The house is built so as to almost emerge from an earthen slope in the normal Eskimo manner, while its front is comprised of timber beams divided into five windows, so that when approaching from the shore the observer will find it resembles a European colony house, though with only one floor. This mixture may also be perceived in the people them­selves, who wear European garments, as well as traditional skins, and use harpoons, bow and arrow and flintlocks for their hunting. Some consid­erable trade must therefore take place, perhaps with foreign ships that have no qualms about flouting Danish jurisdiction and sovereignty.

At one end of the room is Habakuk's and Maria's chamber, which is to say a large sleeping space separated from the rest of the dwelling by some reindeer skins hanging from a ceiling joist. If any quarrel should arise between the couple on account of his infidelity it must be settled elsewhere. Reindeer skin cannot safeguard the house's occupants against sharing in the joys of marriage and the couple's happiness at being reunited after a successful hunting excursion. This time, however, only a single animal was brought home, to be divided equally between a score of ravenous people hungry for meat, and hardly a week will pass before they must once again make do with the usual seal-blubber soup and spoon food. Nonetheless, they suffer no hardship, in contrast to other outposts of the district.

How long must I remain here?

A singular thought: the majority of the inhabitants of this house and this settlement never pause to ponder this question of how long they must remain here. This is their home, their entire life. A narrow band between the sea and the fell. Though often they will enquire as to conditions in Denmark and Copenhagen – especially curious are the women and older children – they feel not the slightest yearning for other places. To look ahead to a whole life within such a constricted framework: how very odd! And yet it must be happiness of a sort to be at such peace with one's life.

MM informs me that tomorrow I may attend their service.

You mean your witches' sabbath, Madame?

Are you afraid, Magister Falck?

No, I'm not afraid. But don't expect me to take part in your unspeak­able indecencies.

Magister Falck, you have my word that we shall behave properly. You have no cause for fear.

I fear not! Be aware, however, that I shall write down everything I observe during your heathen ceremony.

You shall be welcome, Magister. You are hereby appointed to write our chronicles for posterity.

8 May

This service I was obliged to attend was held outdoors in front of their church building while the sun was at its height. Since the snow still lies upon the high ground, the congregation of some one hundred souls had brought with them skins and blankets from their homes, which they placed on the ground and sat upon, young and old alike, slouched in the manner of children with legs stretched out in front of them. Maria Magdalene accompanied me to this battlefield, as I saw it, of heresy and witchcraft, and directed me to a place at which to sit amid the common multitude, albeit slightly aside.

Then Habakuk stepped forth among us, as though conjured from the air, clad in his finest Sunday clothes, i. e. , black anorak, breeches of mottled sealskin and kamik boots. He preaches in his own tongue and yet I grasp quite a measure of it, his meaning being aided by gestures and grimaces. I sense my visitations to the savages of the colony now stand me in good stead and I understand more of the language than I had realized.

Habakuk relates a long tale of his hunting excursion and the reason for the poor catch, which seems to have been an unusual occurrence in the wilderness, where he encountered the Devil himself. Already at this point I sensed some considerable unease arise among the congregation: sighs and whimpers passed between them, and one woman emitted a scream and fell into a swoon. Unperturbed, their spiritual leader continued his account of how he came into dispute with Satan and caused him to flee by invoking the weeping wounds of Christ and holding his crucifix in the face of the fiend.

Whether Habakuk really did encounter the Devil is not for me to judge. However, I made note of the fact that Monsieur Lucifer shared an uncanny number of characteristics with my own humble person. The man thus clearly still harbours a grudge against me due to our former controversy in the church, even though it was he whose honour remained intact, a matter he ought rather to recall with contentment.

Fortunately I sensed no ill-feeling towards me on account of these malicious insinuations, all present being far too absorbed in their leader's tale. While I recognized that his narrative was intended to be a parable, it was apparent that his audience took it quite literally. Those seated around him were strongly affected; some began to spring up and down on their posteriors while remaining cross-legged, a quite hazardous activity as they projected themselves almost one ell into the air. Several succumbed to weeping like small children, others mumbled the Lord's Prayer; a young lad chattered in a foreign tongue reminiscent of French. For my own part, I felt a certain commotion of sentiment, due not to Habakuk's sermonizing, but rather to the general mood, and cannot deny that I struggled to restrain my tears. I still feel a lump in my throat while writing this account, but I am not alone, eyes are upon me: I am watched intently from the bench and am ashamed to give in to such an urge.

No matter, after this sermon and an intensity of prayer, likewise led by Habakuk, who it must be said possesses a true gift with words, the crowd rose to its feet and wandered up to the place where a churchyard has been made. Here they stood around the graves, of which there were at least two score, and sang two pretty hymns, one by Pastor Kingo, the other unfamiliar to me, but perhaps penned by Habakuk himself or else his wife.

After these ceremonies were concluded and the congregation dis ­persed I could not help but notice how smiling and contented they all appeared as they accompanied each other, arm in arm and hand in hand, down to the dwellings. Seldom have I seen such a peaceful and harmo­nious assembly. Only I walked alone, as if shunned. Perhaps Habakuk's insinuations had been heard and understood, after all. And yet they were nothing but friendly upon my return to the big house. I was astonished to realize that the entire day had passed. Where all these hours had gone, I know not, and I believe I did not sleep.

Perhaps these prophets have not received the truth in its purest Christian form and what is practised here is undoubtedly a mixture of Pietism and heathenism. Yet the Lord may also be among sinners. And He was here today. I sensed Him.

Prayer and asceticism this evening. I decline the soup, although I'm rather tempted by it.

Much farting and laughter among my fellow inhabitants. I feel almost carried back to my passage to this land with the good ship
Der Frühling
.

9 May, morning, the Feast of the Ascension

Not without trepidation do I commit this account. I, Morten Pedersen Falck, do hereby declare that I am of sound mind and that the follow- ing is a truthful description of what I saw, in the name of Jesus Christ the Lord.

Upon retiring to bed I promptly fell asleep, though the household about me was quite awake and cheerful and participated merrily in the games put on by Habakuk and his wife for their amusement, such as spillikins and a dance involving all manner of capers and leaping over lamps. I soon slept away from it, only to partake in escapades of my own in dreams, my nightmare presenting me to the Devil, who questioned me upon this and that matter and made obscene and shameless gestures before my face. When I turned away to be free of his dastardly torments he stood immediately before me again and continued his lecherous taunts.

I was awakened abruptly by a tugging at my arm and someone addressing me. It was Habakuk, bent over me and commanding in a loud and fiery voice: Wake up, Priest! Cease your shouting! You're delirious!

I sat up and looked around me at the many faces illuminated by the flickering light of the lamps. I excused my restless sleep with reference to suffering a toothache, which indeed is true.

If you've a bad tooth, then knock it out, said Habakuk.

I thanked him for his advice and said I wished to step outside and get some fresh air.

He stood and watched me as I dressed, whereupon I went out into the night.

Despite Habakuk's animosity, I felt quite light-hearted as I wandered up the slopes behind the settlement. Soon I had gained quite a bit of height and began to sense the cleansing effect of cold air upon my spirit and body.

The churchyard is situated upon a plateau above the church itself, on a ridge that protrudes at right angles from the fell. Here I sat down on a rock to catch my breath and enjoy the still of the night. The sun was up, though hidden behind the high peaks to the north, and the scene was so very much like the earliest dawn at my home of origin, where all as yet were sleeping, even the grouse in the forest and the animals in their stalls, and where the air is as clear and sweet as spring water. I was contented, thereby, and quite awake, not in any way somnolent, and I saw the rippling waves that travelled upon the ford and the rope that hung down from the little bell in front of the church swayed gently in the breeze.

The settlement of the prophets is situated at a junction of two sepa­rate fords, the Eternal Fjord itself and another which is minor. The peak behind the settlement and the promontory on the other side of this ford are quite high and pointed, the first approximately a thousand ells tall, judged by my own eye, the other more than double this measure.

I saw a multitude of people, a procession, wandering from a place less than fifty ells up the fell behind me and proceeding as though by a bridge in the air, diagonally upwards towards the high promontory on the other side. They who were close to the ground were still in shade, while those who had reached further up were bathed in the light of the morning sun. All were quite distinct and appeared in no way to be transparent or spec­tral. It was a procession of tangible individuals. And yet all were dead. Indeed, I knew this to be so, although they in no way appeared to be such, but were vital, cheerful and much as people appear in everyday life.