Daniel was just about to commit his third act of rebellion and say again that he had never seen a lion, but he could see in the woman’s eyes that she already knew that what he said was true.
‘Actually, I don’t have anything else to ask you about,’ she said after a brief silence. ‘But perhaps I can come to Strängnäs tomorrow and listen one more time. If that’s all right?’
‘You won’t have to buy a ticket, of course,’ said Father. ‘And naturally you are more than welcome. Perhaps I could invite you to dinner? It might not be so improper there.’
‘Perhaps.’
The woman put away her notebook, pulled on her gloves and fastened her hat on her curly hair.
‘It was a real pleasure,’ said Father. ‘Permit me to say as well that you are a very beautiful woman. Surely it cannot be considered improper for me to say that?’
‘And you are a very remarkable man,’ she replied, looking at Daniel.
She has a message for me, Daniel thought. She is sitting behind a rock and whispering to me.
Father stood and watched her as she left the hall. The door closed.
‘She is very beautiful,’ he said. ‘When I saw her I realised that I’m lonely. I have you, of course, but this loneliness is something else. A loneliness you can’t understand.’
But Daniel understood. To be lonely was to be without. How could Father say that he didn’t understand what loneliness was? He who needed to learn the art of walking on water to find the people who were the most important in his life.
It had rained. They walked along a cobblestone street towards the inn. Daniel usually held Father’s hand, but now he didn’t want to. Nor did Father seem to want him to. Daniel stole a glance at him. He’s thinking about the woman with the slender hands. He thought he could see her in Father’s eyes.
The dining room at the inn was empty, but there was a table set for them. Daniel wasn’t hungry. The knot in his stomach didn’t leave room for any food. He thought about the lion and the fact that Father had told a story about him that wasn’t true.
‘Why aren’t you eating?’
Father gave him a stern look. His eyes were glazed because he had drunk many glasses during the meal.
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘Are you sick?’
‘No.’
‘I don’t like your tone of voice. You’re answering as if you don’t want to talk to me.’
Daniel said nothing.
‘One can’t always tell the truth,’ said Father. ‘Maybe there wasn’t any lion. But she liked it. She’s going to write about it. And maybe that will also make her like me.’
Father emptied his glass, shook his head and looked at Daniel.
‘Do you understand what I mean?’
Daniel nodded. He didn’t understand, but it made Father feel good when he nodded.
‘A very beautiful woman,’ Father said. ‘Unmarried. Perhaps radical, but that usually passes. I have to think about the future.’
So do I, Daniel said silently to himself.
When Father had fallen asleep, Daniel got up, dressed and vanished quietly out of the door. A lone dog barked as he hurried along the deserted street down to the quay where they had landed. It was a clear, moonlit night. Daniel climbed down the side of the wooden pier and took off his shoes. He hated those shoes. Every time he came near the water he wanted to throw them as far out into the dark as he could. He would put stones in them so they would sink. There was a clammy smell from the water. Somewhere further out a fish jumped. The dog kept barking. Daniel rolled up his trouser legs and carefully placed one foot on the water surface. When he pressed down the water broke apart. He tried with the other foot. The surface of the water broke again. I can’t do it, he thought furiously. I’m doing something wrong. He closed his eyes and tried to tempt Kiko or Be to come to him. He had to ask them how he should do it. But the desert he carried inside him was empty. The moon was shining there too. He called out for Kiko and then for Be, but all that came back was an echo.
He tried one more time to make the water obey him. First he stroked his hand over its wet pelt. Then he put his foot on the same spot. But the water broke, the pelt twitched.
He began to cry. The tears ran slowly down his cheeks. He wiped them away and dipped his hands into the water. Maybe that would help. But on this night as well the water refused to bear him.
When he came back and cautiously opened the door, Father was awake. He had lit a paraffin lamp and was sitting upright in the bed.
‘I woke up and you weren’t here,’ he said. ‘Where have you been?’
‘I went out,’ said Daniel.
‘That’s no answer. Don’t you understand that I worry about you?’
‘I had to pee.’
Father looked at his watch.
‘You’ve been gone for almost an hour. So you’re lying.’
‘I peed two times.’
‘I should really spank you,’ said Father. ‘If it happens again I’ll have to start tying you up again. What did you do?’
Daniel considered telling the truth, but something held him back, something was warning him. Father wouldn’t understand. The worst thing that could happen would be for him to start tying him up again.
‘I went out to look at the moon,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know I shouldn’t. My name is Daniel. I believe in God. I beg your pardon.’
Father looked at him in silence.
‘As strange as it seems, you’re probably telling the truth,’ he said at last. ‘But if you do it again it’ll be the rope.’
Daniel lay down behind Father’s back.
The lamp was blown out.
Daniel no longer felt any safety behind Father’s huge back. Now it was like a rock that threatened to fall over on top of him.
In his dreams he finally found Be and Kiko once more. Be had a red veil over her face, she was playing again, and Kiko sat carving new arrows. It was as if Daniel had never been gone. But he had grown, he was older now. Old enough to accompany the men on the hunt. He tried to explain to Kiko that he was still a child, but Kiko wouldn’t listen, or else he laughed, and Be slapped him playfully on the back and told him to stop dreaming. Then Kiko shook him by the arm and he woke up, and Father was leaning over him telling him it was time to get up.
‘You were yelling in your dream,’ he said. ‘You were calling for Kiko.’
‘Kiko is the man I grew up with,’ Daniel said.
‘You have no other father but me. Everything that happened back then is gone. It no longer exists.’
‘The same way there was never any lion.’
Father’s face darkened.
‘I won’t permit that,’ he said. ‘I ask very little of you, but if I say that there was a lion, then there was one. That lion will make us money. It will draw the public. More than those real lions that people sometimes exhibit in cages or pits.’
He held up Daniel’s trousers.
‘They’re dirty. I don’t know what you’ve been doing. We don’t have time to get them cleaned now. We’ll have to wait until we get to Strängnäs.’
Daniel got out of bed. His legs were heavy. His feet were still sticky from the muddy water. Father stood in front of his shaving mirror, humming. Daniel could see the woman in his eyes.
They went on board the same boat that had brought them the day before and sailed across a fjord that narrowed and turned into a strait between low islands. On board the vessel were two horses. A boy Daniel’s age sat holding them by two ropes. He looked at Daniel but he didn’t stare. Daniel sat down next to him. The boy touched his hair and laughed. Daniel pointed at the horses.
‘They’re going to be slaughtered,’ said the boy. ‘In Strängnäs they’ll get clubbed on the head.’