Depths. Part 6

The snow eased off at about eleven. He stood in the window and looked down at Vasagatan. He was looking for somebody among the pedestrians who might be himself.He made his decision. He would stay in the hotel today and tonight. Then he would go home to Kristina Tacker.The events on Halsskar began to fade. He examined his hands. No trace there of what had happened. His fingers were smooth and unmarked, his hands were unaltered.He went out in the evening. It had stopped snowing, but it was bitterly cold and the city was deserted. Only those who had to ventured out of doors. He took a cab outside the Central Station and asked to be taken to the Grand Hotel.As he was entering the dining room a man turned towards him. It was his father-in-law, Ludwig Tacker.Tobia.s.son-Svartman could see no escape. Tacker introduced him to the man he was with, Tobia.s.son-Svartman understood his name to be something like Andren. Tacker asked his companion to wait in the foyer.'I spoke to my daughter yesterday,' Tacker said. 'She was very worried to have heard nothing from you.''My mission was cla.s.sified as secret.''So d.a.m.ned secret that you couldn't even send a greeting to your wife? When did you get home?''I came to Stockholm about an hour ago,' he said. 'I haven't been home yet. I have to meet some of my superiors first and submit a report.'Ludwig Tacker's eyes were narrow and cold.'At the Grand Hotel? In the dining room of the Grand Hotel? Secret goings-on?''We shall be meeting in a special room. I just wanted to see if I was the first to arrive.'Tacker eyed him up and down.'And when are you intending to go back to your home and your wife?''I don't want to disturb her too late. I shall spend tonight in a hotel. I can't go back home like a thief in the night.'Tacker leaned towards him.'I don't believe you,' he said. 'I have never liked you, I could never understand why Kristina married you. You're lying. There's something fishy about you, something about you never rings true.'He did not wait for a reply but marched out of the dining room. Tobia.s.son-Svartman went to the Grand Cafe and started drinking. His father-in-law had seen through him. Now he would have to repeat that explanation to Kristina Tacker when he got home the next day.He would give her the details, apologise for having spent the night in a hotel then sit down calmly by her side. She would tell him what had happened while he had been away. He would listen, and all he would say about his expedition to the frozen waters at the edge of the open sea would be that he was glad it was over.

CHAPTER 114.

That night he dreamed about very deep water.He was holding his sounding lead in his hand, using it as a sinker and gliding down through the sea, but he felt no pressure despite being several kilometres under the surface.It was not the fissure in the Pacific Ocean where a British hydrographic vessel had claimed to lower more than ten kilometres of line into the water before the bottom was reached. This was an unknown deep spot he had himself discovered, and even as he was gliding slowly down with his sounding lead in his hand, he knew that the bottom was 15,345 metres below the surface. It was a bewildering depth, and it concealed a secret. At the very bottom was a different world and a different life corresponding to the one he led.He carried on sinking, perfectly calm, no hurry. His only worry was that he would never reach the bottom.He had often had this same dream, and he had always woken up before reaching the bottom. It was the same again. When he opened his eyes he remembered that there had still been quite a way to go.He stayed in bed. His disappointment at not having reached the bottom metamorphosed into an intense desire to murder Ludwig Tacker.Somewhere there must be a hole in the ice for him as well, he thought. One of these days Ludwig Tacker too will descend to the bottom of the sea with iron sinkers strapped to his body.

CHAPTER 115.

A porter wheeled his luggage through the streets of Stockholm.Horses ploughed their way through the snowdrifts. It was still cold. He held a hand over his mouth as he followed on the heels of the porter.I am frightened, he thought. Not because of what I have done, but because she will see straight through me, just like my father used to do with his scary eyes.He longed to be back among the silence and the ice. It was as if the city had turned its back on him.

CHAPTER 116.

His father-in-law had got there first. Kristina Tacker's surprise at seeing him was pure artifice. The maid took his coat and left them alone.'I arrived in Stockholm late last night. I didn't want to frighten you.''You wouldn't have frightened me.'She took his hand and led him into the room in the middle of their flat, the warmest room in winter and the coolest in summer. There were flowers on a table. He was on his guard immediately. She never used to buy flowers.She sat down on the edge of one of the red plush chairs and said something in such a low voice that he couldn't make out what it was.'I couldn't hear.''I'm pregnant.'He did not move. Even so, it felt as if he had started running.'I've been waiting for a chance to tell you.'He sat on a chair next to her.'Are you pleased?''Of course I am.''The baby is due in September.'He worked it out in his head and realised right away when it must have been conceived: the night after he had come home in December.'I've been frightened. I didn't know how you would react.''I have always wanted to have a child.'She stretched out her hand. It was cold. Sara Fredrika's hands had been warm. He held her hand and longed to be back on Halsskar. As he was walking over the ice he had thought that he would never return. Sara Fredrika would stay there, waiting for him. But the ice would melt away without his going back, the sea would open up but he would never go back to her island.Kristina Tacker said something he did not catch. He was thinking about Sara Fredrika and could feel his l.u.s.t rising. What he longed for was somewhere else. Not in the warmest of the rooms in Wallingatan.'Life will be different,' she said.'Life will be as we imagined it would be,' he replied.He stood up and walked to the window since he couldn't bear to look her in the eye.He heard her leaving the room. Her steps were sprightly. There was a clinking noise as she started moving her china figurines about. He closed his eyes, and it seemed to him that he was now sinking down to the point where there was no bottom.

CHAPTER 117.

The next morning he left the flat at about nine.He forced himself to walk quickly, so as to shake off his tiredness.He had not slept a wink all night. When Kristina Tacker had fallen asleep he breathed in the smell of her skin, then carefully got out of bed. He wandered around the flat, trying to understand what was happening. He was losing his grip on his surroundings. This had never happened to him before. His instrument no longer worked.He stood with one of her china figurines in his hand, just before dawn, when time seems to stand still. He thought aloud and whispered to the china figurine with its naively painted face that in fact he was the one who no longer worked. He had no right to blame his instrument.He was out of breath by the time he came to Skeppsholmen. He waited until his pulse rate was normal before going in through the high doors.

CHAPTER 118.

Tobia.s.son-Svartman walked down the echoing corridors and reported to a lieutenant by the name of Berg.Lieutenant Berg looked at him in surprise.'n.o.body told us you were coming.''I'm doing that now. I don't expect to be interviewed today, I've only come to report that I'm back in Stockholm.'The lieutenant asked him to take a seat while he finished writing an urgent message. Tobia.s.son-Svartman sat down to wait. The clock on the wall was two minutes slow. He could not resist standing up, opening the gla.s.s case and adjusting the minute hand. Lieutenant Berg raised his head, saw what he was doing then continued writing. His pen made a rasping sound. When the letter was finished he put it in an envelope, sealed it and summoned an adjutant by ringing a hand bell on his desk. The adjutant looked strangely pale, almost as if he were made up. He left the room after giving a half-hearted salute.'You know that man's brother,' said Berg, rising to his feet.Tobia.s.son-Svartman did his usual a.s.sessment. The man towering up in front of him was two metres tall, give or take two centimetres, depending on what kind of shoes or boots he was wearing.Lieutenant Berg stood behind his desk, as if remaining within a fortress.'Or rather, you did know his brother. He is no longer with us.'He paused to allow Tobia.s.son-Svartman time to consider his own mortality.'Lieutenant Jakobsson,' he said. 'Your superior officer last autumn. The man who died at his post. Adjutant Eugene Jakobsson is his younger brother. Just between you and me, he's not going to go very far. The notion of his being in command of a s.h.i.+p is unthinkable. He's an excellent adjutant, but a very limited person, and frankly a bit stupid.''I didn't know Lieutenant Jakobsson had a brother.''He has another three brothers and two sisters. It's very rare for us to know anything about the private circ.u.mstances of our fellow officers. Unless they become personal friends, of course.'Berg sat down again.'How did your mission go?' he said. 'I know about it.''The errors have been corrected.''But you don't have your charts with you?''As I said, I didn't expect to be interviewed immediately.'Berg consulted the fat ledger on the desk in front of him.'The committee is due to have its regular meeting on 7 March. You can be interviewed then. Bring the charts with you. Prepare your presentation scrupulously, your time will be limited. The admirals are nervous.'Berg stood up.'I have another request,' Tobia.s.son-Svartman said.Berg didn't sit down. Time was short.'I'd like two months' leave. Starting immediately. On the grounds of utter exhaustion.''Every poor devil is exhausted nowadays,' Lieutenant Berg said. 'The admirals chew their moustaches, the commodores get heart attacks, bosuns get drunk and fall into the sea, and the gunboat crews can't aim properly. Who the h.e.l.l isn't exhausted?''I don't want to be a burden on the navy by going on sick leave. I'd rather take unpaid leave.'"Very few get leave granted nowadays. The navy requires all its resources. Your request is hardly going to be favourably received.''But I shall be applying even so.'Lieutenant Berg shrugged.'Let me have a written application by no later than tomorrow afternoon. I'll make sure it gets looked at this week.'Tobia.s.son-Svartman clicked his heels and saluted.He left Naval Headquarters. The sun had broken through the clouds, and it did not seem quite as cold any more.He went straight home, feeling relieved about the decision he had made.There was obviously a risk that his application would not be granted. Even so, he was not especially unhappy, indeed his relief was greater. He increased his stride. He was in a hurry to be home.Kristina Tacker was sitting at a table, reading a book. Women's poetry, he thought dismissively. I'm sure Sara Fredrika doesn't read poetry. She probably barely knows what it is.Kristina Tacker put her book down.He gave her a worried smile.'I've been given another mission,' he said. 'It means that I'll have to be away again for considerable periods. But I won't have to rough it this time. No treks over the ice, no long weeks on s.h.i.+ps out at sea.''What will you be doing?''As usual the mission is cla.s.sified. You know that I can't tell you even if I wanted to. Everything to do with the navy is secret. War is just round the corner all the time.''All I have is a postal address,' she said. 'The Military Postal Service in Malmo. But I never know where you are.'They were sitting in the warm room. The maid was not on duty, the building was silent. They had drawn their chairs up to the tiled stove. Its bra.s.s doors were half open. He raked the embers. He was calm, even though everything he said was meaningless. His professional secrecy merged with the mission that did not exist but that he would carry out even so. His expedition was moving in a vacuum.Not even the sea was right.'What I can tell you is that I shall be on the other side of Sweden. Part of the time I shall be at the Karlsborg fortress, by Lake Vattern. Then I shall be moved to Marstrand in total secrecy. You mustn't mention any of this to anybody.''I never say anything.''You mustn't even hint at the fact that I'm on a mission.''If you're not here, surely I have to say something?''You can say that I'm on leave, indisposed, that I'm in a convalescent home.'She squeezed his hand. 'I want you here.'I don't don't want to be here, he thought, and had to force himself not to push her hand away. I don't want to be here, I'm afraid of the baby, of these rooms, of all the china figurines and their dead eyes. want to be here, he thought, and had to force himself not to push her hand away. I don't want to be here, I'm afraid of the baby, of these rooms, of all the china figurines and their dead eyes.I love you, but I don't want to be here. I love your fragrance, but I dread the day when it's no longer there. I'm scared of waking up out of a dream without knowing what it meant.He stroked her hand gently.'I'll soon be back, and above all our child will have a father who used the nine months of waiting to gain promotion.''That is a worthy cause.'He could sense her expectation.'That's also a secret.''Surely you can tell me.'He leaned over, put his face next to hers and whispered: 'I'm to be made a captain.'He enjoyed the taste of the words, and smiled.'I'm so pleased to hear that. It will make my father happy.''It's essential that this remains between you and me. You mustn't say a word to him.'He carried on telling her patiently how he would soon be back. There was no danger, he would simply be doing his duty.'Nothing is more important than the baby,' he said. 'I must do my duty, but the baby is the most important thing.''I want our son to be called Ludwig, after my father. If it's a daughter, I'd like her to be called Laura. After my sister. I always wanted to be called Laura when I was a child.'He kept on smiling.'Ludwig is an attractive name and has a touch of strength about it. Of course our son should be called Ludwig.''Maybe he should be called Hans Ludwig?''On no account should he have my father's name.''When will you be leaving?'I have already left, he thought. I am not here, it's only an aura that I have left behind. A spoor that will be washed away.'Soon,' he said. 'I don't know exactly when, but soon. I must be with you when the time comes, of course.'He was sitting by her side, holding her hand.It felt warmer now, not so cold as it had been.

CHAPTER 119.

Three days later he collected a letter from Skeppsholmen.The board stated their view in great detail that Commander Lars Svartman had always carried out his duties with the utmost care and competence. The board therefore considered it appropriate that Svartman should be granted the leave he had requested. The precise date of his return to duty would be established in due course.After his visit to Skeppsholmen he went for a long walk in Djurgrden. He wiped the snow off one of the benches as far out on the promontory as you could get at Blockhusudden. A tug was labouring to keep the channel free of ice.He thought about Kristina Tacker and the child that was on its way, but most of all he thought about the woman he had decided never to see again.He remained sitting on the bench until he started to feel cold. The tug was still carving its pa.s.sage to the sea. The ice was dirty, grey. He worked out the distance to the stern of the tug. When it reached the hundred-metre mark, he stood up and started to walk back towards the city centre.

CHAPTER 120.

He stopped at the entrance to Handelsbanken in Kungstradgrden. He was surprised not to feel uneasy about his plan to make inroads into his capital. Hitherto he had always regarded himself as being thrifty, on the borderline of being miserly. Now he felt the need to start squandering money.He entered the bank. The man who looked after his financial affairs, Hkansson, was engaged. He was received by a clerk and invited to wait.He observed the people moving around inside the bank. They seemed to be deep down under the surface of the sea, with none of the noise they made rising to the surface. He held his breath for twenty seconds and allowed himself to sink down to the bottom of the bank. I'm playing, he thought. I'm playing with other people's depths.Hkansson had flickering eyes and sweaty hands. Tobia.s.son-Svartman followed him up some stairs to a room whose door closed silently behind them.'The war is worrying, of course,' said Hkansson. 'But thus far the stock exchange has reacted favourably to all the gunfire. Nothing seems to inspire the market more than the outbreak of war. The snag, of course, is that the market can be capricious. However, your shares are stable at the present time.''I need to turn some of those shares into cash.''I see. And what figure do you have in mind, Commander Svartman?'I do not have a double-barrelled name here either, he thought. As far as the bank is concerned I am simply Lars Svartman, without the protection that my mother's surname gives me.Annoyed, he said: 'Might I point out that my surname is Tobia.s.son-Svartman? It is several years now since I changed my name.'Hkansson looked at him in surprise. Then he started leafing through his papers.'I apologise for the fact that both the bank and I had overlooked your change of name. I shall put that right immediately.''Cash,' Tobia.s.son-Svartman said. 'Ten thousand kronor.'Hkansson was surprised again. 'That's a lot of money. It means that quite a lot of shares will have to be sold.''I realise that.'Hkansson thought for a moment. 'I would suggest in that case that we offload some forestry shares. When do you need access to the money?''Within a week.''And how would you like the money?''Hundreds, fifties, tens and fives. An equal amount of each denomination.'Hkansson made a note. 'Shall we say Wednesday next week?''That will suit me fine.'Tobia.s.son-Svartman left the bank. It is like getting drunk, he thought. Deciding to squander money. To be not like my father, all that d.a.m.ned saving all the time.He went to Kungstradgrden and watched the skaters on the outdoor rink. An elderly man in shabby clothes came up to him, begging. Tobia.s.son-Svartman dismissed him curtly. Then changed his mind and hurried after him. The man reacted as if he were about to be attacked. Tobia.s.son-Svartman gave him a one-krona coin and did not wait to be thanked.

CHAPTER 121.

That evening they talked about the mission to come. The silence in the room rose and fell. He closed the bra.s.s doors in the tiled stove with the poker. The room grew darker.'I'm always afraid when you go away,' she said.A mission can always be dangerous, he thought. Especially this time, when there is no mission.'There's no reason for you to be afraid,' he said. 'There might have been if we were involved in the war. But we're not.''The mines, all those terrible explosions. s.h.i.+ps sinking in only a few seconds.''I shall be a long way away from the war. My job is to make sure that as few s.h.i.+ps as possible are affected by the catastrophe.''What exactly are you doing?''I'm preserving a secret. And creating new secrets. I'm guarding the door.''What door?''The invisible door between what a few people know and what others ought not to know.'She was about to ask another question, but he raised his hand. 'I've already said too much. Now I'd like you to go to bed. By tomorrow you'll have forgotten everything I've said.''Is that an order?' she asked with a smile.'Yes,' he said. 'That's an order.'It is even an order that is secret.

CHAPTER 122.

March turned into one long wait. On several occasions he went to Naval Headquarters without being able to get an explanation for why it was taking so long for written confirmation of the length of his leave to come through. Lieutenant Berg was never in his office. Adjutant Jakobsson had also disappeared. n.o.body could tell him anything. But everybody insisted that nothing had happened to change the situation. It was simply a matter of excess bureaucracy as a result of the war.One cold, clear evening at the end of March he left his flat in Wallingatan, after saying goodbye to his wife, who was not feeling well. He walked to the top of Observatoriekullen and studied the night sky.Once a year, usually on a clear winter's night, he would make a pilgrimage to the stars. When he was a young cadet he had studied the star charts and read several astronomical textbooks.He stood next to the dark observatory building and gazed up at the stars.It seemed to him that the clear night sky and the sea were similar, like diffuse and not altogether reliable reflections of each other. The Milky Way was an archipelago, like a string of islands off the coast up there in s.p.a.ce. The stars gleamed like lanterns, and he thought he could discern both green and red lights and all the time he was searching for navigable channels, routes between the stars where the biggest of naval vessels would be able to proceed without the risk of running aground. It was a game involving charts that did not exist. There were no s.h.i.+ps sailing through s.p.a.ce, no shallows between the stars.But in s.p.a.ce there were bottomless depths. Perhaps what he was really looking for in the sea was an entrance into another world, a s.p.a.ce hidden far down below the surface where undiscovered fishes swam along their secret routes.He stayed there for an hour and was freezing by the time he got home. His wife was asleep. Silently he opened the door to the maid's room. She was snoring, her mouth wide open. The covers were pulled up to her chin.He sat in the warmest room in the flat, poked away at the embers in the tiled stove, drank a gla.s.s of brandy and wondered where Captain Rake was.It had been a hard winter, few harbours had been ice-free. The navy had concentrated its resources on the south and west coasts. Somewhere out there was Captain Rake. No doubt he was asleep. He was an early bird.Tobia.s.son-Svartman was impatient. Having to wait was getting him down. It was 29 March already, he wanted to set off south as soon as possible. Would Sara Fredrika still be there, waiting for him? Or had she already left the island? He poked the embers again. The image of Sara Fredrika came and went.

CHAPTER 123.

Late at night. He was sitting at his desk, the lamp with the green porcelain shade was on. He was making notes. What was he really measuring? Distances, depths, speeds. But also light, darkness, cold, heat. And weights. All the things external to himself, that made up the s.p.a.ce he occupied, s.h.i.+ps' decks, his night on Observatoriekullen. He was measuring something else inside himself. Perseverance, resistance. Truth and falsehood. Worry, happiness, introversion. What was meaningful, and what was meaningless.He stopped. He had made similar lists many times before. They were never complete. What did he always forget? What didn't he see? There was something he measured without being aware of it.He stayed at his desk for quite a while. Eventually he locked the sheet of paper away in a drawer, with all the other lists.He went to the bedroom. Kristina Tacker was still asleep. He gently touched her stomach.Sara Fredrika, he thought. Are you still there?

CHAPTER 124.

One day Kristina Tacker found the large sum of money he had collected from Handelsbanken. He had left the notes under a diary on his desk.'I don't let the maid touch your desk. I tidy it up myself. A note was sticking out. I saw all that money.''That's right. There is a large sum of money on the desk.''But why?''If we get involved in the war the banks might close. I took precautions against that.'She asked no more questions.'I've always expected my wife not to snoop around among my private papers.'She was shaking with emotion when she replied. 'I do not root around among your private papers. The only things I touch are your clothes when I pack your bags for you.''I've noticed before now that you've been going through my papers. It's just that I've chosen not to say anything until now.''I have never touched your papers. Why are you falsely accusing me?''Then we'll say no more about it.'She stood up and ran out of the room. He heard the bedroom door close with a bang. Of course his accusations were groundless. But he felt no regret at all.Soon the waiting will be over, he thought. One day, in the far distant future, I might be able to explain to her that she was married to a man who was never fully visible, not even to himself.

CHAPTER 125.

Not a word was spoken for two days. The maid crept round the flat, hugging the walls. Then everything returned to normal on the third day. Kristina Tacker smiled. Lars Tobia.s.son-Svartman smiled back. The snow had started to melt outside.On 3 April he was notified that his leave without pay would last until 15 June 1915. It would only be cancelled if Sweden were drawn into the war. His suitcases were already packed.

CHAPTER 126.

On 5 April he said goodbye to his wife. She went with him to the station. In his hand he had a ticket to Skovde and Karlsborg. She waved. He thought about how often her hand was cold.In Katrineholm he got off the train and bought a new ticket to Norrkoping. He emptied his cases and transferred the contents to his two rucksacks. After removing the luggage labels he stood the cases at the side of a luggage van.

CHAPTER 127.

The ice was softer now. But it was still there, all the way to the outer skerries. The sky was obscured by a thin mist. He walked fast.In one of the bays near Ha.s.selskaren he came upon a shoe frozen fast in the ice. The sole was facing upwards, as if the wearer had fallen through the ice while standing on his head. It was a man's lace-up boot, big, patched, a boot for a large foot. He paused and examined the ice all around it. Nothing but the boot. No footsteps, nothing.He continued his trek, walking so fast that he became short of breath. He would occasionally stop and scan the ice he had already traversed through his telescope. There was, of course, n.o.body following him.He stopped again at Armno: it would be the third time he had spent the night there. Somebody had been in the boathouse in the meantime. The herring drift nets had gone, and a newly tied pike net was in one corner. He ate his tinned meat and made a fire. He was impatient. The frozen-in boot puzzled him.The next day he rose early and continued his trek over the ice. A wind was getting up, gusting from the north-east.When he came to Uddskarsfiarden, the other side of Hoga Lundsholmen, he met two people coming the other way. They suddenly appeared from behind the skerry, as if out of nowhere. He slipped out of the harness he was using to pull his rucksacks over the ice. It was like laying down his guns.It was a man about the same age as himself and a boy, twelve or thirteen years old. The boy was deformed, with a misshapen head. His skull was far too big, and his skin was stretched tightly over his projecting cheekbones. He was also one-eyed, his left eye being no more than a shrivelled bag of skin. Their clothes were shabby, the man's face gaunt, his eyes flickering. They eyed him anxiously. The boy took hold of the man's hand.'It's not very often you come across anybody else walking over the ice,' Tobia.s.son-Svartman said."We're on our way to Kalmar,' the man said. 'We come from t' north. It's quicker to walk over f ice, when it's strong enough.'The man spoke a dialect he could not place.'From the north?' he said. 'How far north? Further than Soderkoping?''I nivver 'eard of Soderkoping. We come from Roslagen, near oregrund.''Then you have come a long way.'The boy said nothing. He made a snorting sound when he breathed. He suddenly burst out laughing and tossed his head about. His father took hold of him, gripping him tight like an animal you've just caught. The boy calmed down and sank back into silence.'His mother's dead,' the man said. 'There was nowt for us up there. He's got an aunt in Kalmar. Mebbe it's better there. She's religious, so I reckon she ought to be willing to take in young ones and ailin' folk.''What do you do to earn a living?''We wanders frae farm to farm. Folks are poor, but they share with us. Specially when they clap eyes on my lad. I reckon it's mainly so as to get shot of us quicker.'The father raised his shabby hat, took hold of his son's hand and started walking. Tobia.s.son-Svartman shouted to them to stop. He took some banknotes out of his inside pocket, at first low-value ones, but then he added a hundred-kronor note. He handed them to the father who stared at the money in amazement.'I can afford it,' Tobia.s.son-Svartman said. 'It's not only poor people who go trekking over the ice.'He set off again. He did not turn round until he was several hundred metres distant.The father and son were as if rooted to the ice, gaping after him.

CHAPTER 128.

He closed in on Halsskar in the afternoon of the following day.The ice was soft still. The rucksacks he was pulling behind him were sucking up the surface slush and getting heavier and heavier. He avoided going too close to the shallows, round the rocks and skerries. He stopped three times to check the thickness of the ice. The sea was getting closer, pus.h.i.+ng up from underneath.

CHAPTER 129.

He was trembling when he focused the telescope.There was smoke rising from the chimney. He had expected that to make him feel relieved. Instead he was nervous.I will turn back, he thought. I must put a stop to this madness, I will go back.Then he continued walking towards the skerry. The boat was beached, the sail furled tightly round the mast. The snow had melted away on the path to the cottage, he could see no footprints.He sat down on one of the large stones used as a sinker and took a bottle of aquavit from one of the soaking rucksacks. He took two deep swigs, and could feel the heat spreading through his body.He took another drink, then set off for the cottage.I'll knock on the door, he thought. I'll open it and go inside. When I've closed the door behind me I'll start looking for a way of escape right away.Before he had time to knock the door opened. Sara Fredrika flung it open. She was wearing different clothes, patched, worn, but clean. Her hair was not in a mess, she had put it up. She was shaking. He had never seen so much happiness.'I knew you'd come,' she said. 'I have had my doubts, but I had not given up.''I said I would come. It took time. But now I've trekked over the ice and here I am.'They went into the cottage. She had tidied. A lot had been taken away bits of rag, odd pieces of worn carpet but the skin of the mad fox was still there. He wriggled out of his rucksacks.She grabbed hold of him. It was as if she were sticking fish hooks into him. She started pulling and tugging at his clothes. They tumbled to the floor in front of the fire. He burned his back, but the hooks were so deeply embedded that he could not get away.Afterwards they got dressed in silence. He eyed her back furtively.When she turned round he saw that her expression was different. He recognised it, he'd seen it before, but on somebody else's face. He knew straight away. She had the same look in her eyes as when his wife told him she was pregnant.

CHAPTER 130.

Sara Fredrika told him the next day, as if it were the most straightforward thing in the world.They were walking along the sh.o.r.e, collecting driftwood for the fire.'I'm pregnant,' she said.'I thought as much,' he said.She eyed him expectantly.'Will you be disappearing again now?''Why should I want to do that?''A naval officer and a s.l.u.t from the sea. What sort of a future is there in that? We're on the edge of a precipice.''I came to fetch you.''You ought to know that I'd made up my mind. I'm pleased about the baby, even if you hadn't come back.''I'm here.'She was still looking at him. He had the feeling that a rope was being drawn taut around them.

CHAPTER 131.

The baby was surrounded by silence.Sara Fredrika said nothing that was not necessary. Lars Tobia.s.son-Svartman tried to understand what was happening. Nothing was clear any more. He could feel an unusual sense of peace, but it was misleading. It was frequently broken by a pain that seemed to encroach from all sides at the same time.He pushed aside all thoughts, put obstacles in their way. When he became too uneasy he clambered round and round the rocks, as if he were trying to erase some pursuers. He told Sara Fredrika that he needed to keep himself in good shape.They shared her bed at night. Their bodies asked no questions that made him feel ill at ease.

CHAPTER 132.

On 19 April a strong south-westerly wind blew up and dispersed the remains of the ice that was still covering the bays.They went to the highest point on the island and saw that they were now surrounded by open sea. Further in towards the mainland they could still see traces of the broken-up, greyish-white ice.The next day they launched the sailing dinghy. He was surprised by how strong she was. He stayed on sh.o.r.e while she rowed out to check that the boat was still water-tight, and that the sail smacking against the mast did not have any tears.'I'll sail around the island,' she shouted.He stretched out his arms. He did not want to go with her, he stayed on the skerry. He followed her progress through his telescope. She suddenly turned to look at him, smiled and waved. She was saying something, but he could not read her lips. Further out to sea he could see another sail. He could see through the telescope that it was a little cargo boat coming from the east, heading for Barosund.He was standing in the inlet waiting for her to round the headland. She was rowing now, with the sail furled round the mast.They beached the boat and he fastened a rope round one of the big stones.'She's completely dry. s.h.i.+pping no water at all. Did you see that I was talking to you?''Yes, but I couldn't understand what you were saying.''You will do next time.''What about that cargo boat?''It's on its way here.'They walked up the path to the cottage. Spring flowers were starting to appear, moss campion and sand couch.'It's a sailor from Aland,' she said. 'He always comes here in the spring. He says he knows when the sea is open. In fact, I think he hangs around in one of the pools where the ice never forms.''What do you mean, pools?''Holes in the ice. That never freeze over.'He had never heard of any such thing before. 'Have you seen them?''How on earth could I have seen them? But others have. They are like big gills in the ice. The sea has to breathe when it's covered in ice. This man who's on his way here, ask him, his name's Olaus, he usually rows over to the island and asks if I need anything from civilisation. Or if I have any letters he can post for me.''Letters?' He looked at her in surprise.'Olaus is a nice man. He thinks there might be somebody for me to write to. He thinks he's doing me a favour when he offers to post letters for me.'They went into the cottage.1 have a letter,' he said.'I haven't seen you writing anything.''I haven't written it yet. Now that I know there's somebody who could post it, I can write it.''Who do you have to write to?''The hydrographic engineers, my superiors in Stockholm. I have various observations to report.''What have you seen that I haven't seen?'That made him angry, but he did not show it. When she had gone outside he took writing paper and an envelope from one of the rucksacks and sat down at the table. He found it difficult to produce the words.The letter was one long prevarication. It was about why it had been posted on the east coast and not from the part of Sweden where he was supposed to be. Complications, sudden changes of plan, tasks that had been cancelled, all of them secret. He ought not really to send this letter, but he was writing it even so. He would soon be going back to the fortress in Karlsborg; no doubt by the time she received this letter he would have left the melting ice of the Baltic Sea.He finished by saying: 'I'll soon be home again. Nothing is fixed, but it will be before summer. I'm always thinking of you and the baby' 'I'll soon be home again. Nothing is fixed, but it will be before summer. I'm always thinking of you and the baby'* * *He went over to the window and looked at the woman outside.For one brief moment the faces fused, one half was Kristina Tacker's, the eyes, the hair and the forehead were Sara Fredrika's.She came in and sat down on the bed.'Read it to me.''Why?''I've always dreamed of receiving a letter one day.''It's secret.''Who is there I could tell it to?'He unfolded the paper and read aloud: '"The ice has melted away, the channels are navigable once more, meteorological forecasts suggest lower water levels and an increased risk of mines drifting into our waters. No sightings of foreign wars.h.i.+ps. Lars Tobia.s.son-Svartman."''Is that all?''I only write the bare minimum.''What's secret about that? Ice and water levels? I don't know what mines are.''Mines are a sort of iron driftwood that can explode. They blow s.h.i.+ps and people to pieces.''Can't you write a letter to me?''I shall write a letter to you. If you leave the room. I have to be alone when I write.'She left him alone. He sealed the letter to his wife and then wrote a couple of lines to Sara Fredrika.'I'm so happy at the thought of having a child, after the tragic loss of my daughter Laura. I'm dreaming of the day when we can go away together'.He did not sign the letter, but put it into the envelope and sealed it.To Sara Fredrika. Halsskar.

CHAPTER 133.