Then he was allowed into my room. They say you can do that once matters have been settled. Mother gave me some scent and told me to rinse under my arms and wash down below in the tub. He began stripping off his trousers with his back towards me, and I clenched my teeth and prepared myself for the pain. I hardly felt a thing. Come morning, after he had gone, Mother rushed to my bedside and began wailing. She asked if it had hurt badly. I said I had felt a bit of a tickle. Mother laughed, clacking her teeth. I could see her cavities shining.
Then he took me to town and bought me fripperies and I was like a lady. I did not care for the gentlewoman’s corset; it was suffocating, and I found it hard to undo at the back. But otherwise I liked it in town, where everything was fine and men stared at me like I was a really good heifer and where there was a place where you could sit daintily and eat lovely cream cakes. I asked him if we could not live in town instead. He said that with his money, we could run both the big house and another in town. And when he promised that I could eat cakes until I grew fat, I saw that I loved him ardently.
Then he began to coax me into it. At first I simply listened, not speaking, and he grew agitated and began harping on about it. I put him out of his misery, telling him there was no need to go on about something so simple. I promised that if I got the cakes and the houses, I would be prepared to be tickled by as many as ten men. We had done it several times by then and I had begun to like it. A roll in the hay is not bad as long as the man smells good.
So he took me to the house. There were other women there, all being ordered around by a madam with her face powdered white. And then the Bailiff arrived and I went upstairs with him. We frolicked a little and that was the end of it. Mauri was very pleased with me.
Then he sent Mother to talk to the Old Mistress of this house. I was to become a maid. It was not such a great sacrifice, I thought, especially since I knew it was temporary. Mauri told Mother what to say to the Old Mistress, and Mother did well because the old lady wanted to see me. The Old Mistress questioned and examined me; in the end I thought she would even check my teeth. I had the wits to lie and make out I could not bake. Kneading dough makes me think of men’s buttocks and then I grow damp.
I was supposed to listen to what they were all saying. I heard nothing special. At night I have had to creep into Mauri’s chamber except when it was that time of the month and I was left in peace for a change. And now I only need to sleep one night and I will be the Mistress. I just hope that Henrik will not let slip what we got up to in the stable not so long ago, before he heads off. Although I doubt Mauri would be cross. He does not really want me, at least not wholeheartedly and all the time. Sometimes, while toiling away with his back all covered in sweat, he forgets my name and calls me Anna.
I leave the drawing room and go into Father’s small study. This is where he used to sit, waiting for death: patient, modest and silent, his dry mouth working thoughtfully. Everything is as it was, nothing has been removed. Dust has been allowed to amass since his burial. There are fingerprints at the edge of the writing desk. Some of them are old, themselves dusted over, other are clearly fresh. They could have been left by anyone, but they make me recall Father’s gnarled hands.
I can now admit it to myself: I was afraid of those hands. Needlessly – he would not have broken a child’s nail.
The drawers are locked. I could easily force them open but that’s no longer necessary. This house is lost. How did the rat do it? I may yet be roused to kill him, but that does not prevent me from conceding his merits. One has to respect a man who first leads a sweet life in a nest belonging to others, a lavishly fed cuckoo chick, and then, at an opportune moment, proves to be the lawful owner not just of the nest but of the whole tree. If I do ever shove a knife into his kidneys, I will at least take my hat off to him beforehand.
Dusk sticks to the window. I was going to wait until night-time to leave, but it makes no difference now. I should go ahead with my plan, forget this place, shake it off. I just wanted to see this little corner once more. I do not know why. Perhaps I thought I would find the familiar smell of boot grease here. But I smell only dereliction and oblivion.
I hear sounds from the kitchen. There is no one in the yard. Although it is not completely dark yet, the oil lamps have been lit indoors. I go outside. To be on the safe side, I walk in the direction of the river. I climb down the bank, trampling the dry, rustling snow, and turn into the forest. I leave footprints but it cannot be helped. The wind has dropped and an overpowering silence comes out from the pines to thunder overhead. I begin hoping for some sound or other to break it – axe strokes, the scrabbling of wood grouse, even the howling of wolves. The sky has withdrawn behind a colourless cloud and the snow is vanishing among trees that match its grey hue. The forest is not as it used to be, the years have reshaped it, I have to find my way by following my instinct. I take care not to stumble on invisible roots. I begin panting, I feel the rush of blood in my ears. Am I afraid? No, but I do not wish to think about it, I just want to do it. The deed has been waiting for me patiently and I am hastening towards it. I will settle the old debt in my way and afterwards I will be far away.
I reach the edge of the field. A light glows in Jansson’s windows, piercing the thickening twilight. I am close, my blood has calmed, my lungs are fresh. I crouch as I creep across the field. I feel the frozen plough marks of autumn through my boots. I reach the cover of the old underground cellar just in time; a short, stout man, probably around the same age as me, walks through the yard. Anna’s brother, presumably. The Devil himself could not remember them all, their very conception is an unpardonable sin. Now the man knocks the snow off his boots on the steps, opens the front door, enters the house. Crouched, sounding out the surroundings with my senses, I speed to the door of the barn and squeeze in through the narrow opening.
I blink the darkness out of my eyes. The stench of straw stings my nostrils. I take the iron and the flint out of my pocket and feel my way with my feet towards the tall, looming stack. I bend down and start striking fire. Sparks fly into the dry hay. I drop to my knees, I blow into it. The straw is reluctant to catch fire. If only I had tinder.
The door opens behind me and a yellowish circle of light appears. I do not need to turn round to know that I have failed. I have my senseless impatience to thank for that. There have been such moments before; they form the landmarks of my journey on this earth. My destiny is to roam the world, superior in my abilities and above all in my will, but forced to concede that inferior abilities and wills again and again get to be in the right place at the right time. They have been granted a dower and they redeem it before they are widowed by the death of their opportunities. So I may as well turn round.
‘Who’d have thought,’ Mauri says, casually dangling a musket in front of him, ‘that you’d sink this low?’
‘I haven’t sunk low,’ I reply. ‘I was trampled down long ago.’
‘Maybe. But now I’ve got to save you, out of the goodness of my heart. I’ll have to settle this with Jansson so you won’t get into trouble.’ He keeps turning the gun so that its barrel traces a line across my stomach. ‘Because an arson attempt can mean a ball and chains.’
‘It doesn’t matter to me. Prison won’t be much of a change. I’d probably meet pitiful scoundrels who enjoy cheating others out of their possessions.’
Jansson, who stands behind Mauri carrying a lantern, clears his throat and says in a quavery voice, ‘What if we just let this go? After all, nothing’s actually happened.’
Mauri does not bother even to glance at him. ‘You saw what he was about to do.’