The boulder had always been there, close to the farm, and it was always necessary to plough around it. For generations, that stone had been a source of irritation to all farmers. Everybody, ever since Tengel the Good, had hit it with hammer or maul and chisel, and had reduced it somewhat, but there was still a lot left to frustrate new farmers in the family.
Jonathan was cocksure. “All it would take is some dynamite, and the problem would be solved.”
The old patriarch looked directly at Jonathan. “If you’re considering using dynamite, you haven’t understood a thing,” he said tartly.
Jonathan looked at him inquisitively, so he explained. “My father Viljar worked on the stone every time he had an opportunity. He would sit out there with his chisel, and under his hands, the boulder was reduced in size by a few cubic centimetres. My grandfather Eskil did the same, and Heike before him. I did my bit, just like all our ancestors who have owned Linden Avenue. André goes out there and struggles with it from time to time, and so did Rikard when he was young. Do you understand?”
Jonathan nodded shamefacedly. “The family’s struggle against the boulder. I understand. It was bigger before, wasn’t it?”
“Huge! They say that in Are’s time it was as tall as two men.”
“Wow! And now people are looking down at it!”
“Yes. Now do you understand the struggle, the challenge?”
“Where’s the sledgehammer, Uncle Henning?”
“That’s the way,” said the old man with a smile. Then he went out to see whether Hanne’s famous sea of crocuses planned to flower this year.
Mari came down with her head full of her future meetings with the One and Only. She was humming a tune:
Oh, I know a spot
Where goats flock.
Jonathan, who was always teasing her, immediately answered her with a parody:
Oh, I know Peter
Who's waiting to meet her with his stick.
“Jonathan!” Mari yelled, trying to hit him.
Nobody saw Karine slip out, eager to leave. The topic had bothered her.
But she didn’t get any farther than the door. There she met Benedikte, with Henning and the children’s father, Vetle, who was serious for once.
“Come here, children,” said Benedikte. “I need to talk to you. Where are the others?”
Jonathan quickly fetched Hanne, Christoffer and Mari. It was Sunday, and everybody was at home.
Benedikte was very serious. She said: “I’ve had a visit. In the churchyard. From our ancestors.”
The young ones started. They knew that now and then Benedikte was in touch with their ancestors. All three of them would have liked to have Benedikte’s ability, but they were just ordinary people.
“The first to appear was Imre,” she said, “And it was his final visit. His task now is to guard young Tova, and he’ll send somebody else next time.”
“What a shame,” said Christoffer. “Imre was so immensely handsome, and so pleasant to talk to.”
“Yes, it’s a pity. He asked me to stay in the churchyard, and when everybody else had left, our ancestors appeared.”
There was a solemn sigh from the younger members of the little group.
“The situation is very grave,” said Benedikte. “Tengel the Evil has vanished from his resting place.”
“No!” gasped Jonathan.
“Yes. The Wanderer is searching for him. But he seems to have disappeared without a trace.”
“Ugh!” exclaimed Mari.
The grown-ups were visibly pale.
Benedikte said: “He doesn’t seem to be on his way to Linden Avenue, he appears to have other plans. Nevertheless, we need to take precautions. Nataniel and Tova mustn’t come here anymore, because Tengel the Evil will be keeping a close eye on Linden Avenue. They each now have a special guard. Tova’s is Imre, as I said, and young Nataniel has Linde-Lou. However, each of us also has his own helper among our ancestors. This is necessary now because the situation is critical.”
Mari was curious: “Who’s my helper?”
Benedikte turned to her. “I don’t know. I know that my helper is Heike, but I don’t know who is helping the rest of you.”
“What a shame,” said Mari. “I would have loved to have the incredibly handsome Imre. But he’ll be Tova’s helper.”
“Yes. You know that Imre isn’t one of our ancestors as such. He’s still alive. But nobody could have a stronger guard than him.”
“Then Nataniel ought to have had him,” said Jonathan.
“Tova is one of the stricken and is therefore vulnerable. We don’t know what her task will be. I think Linde-Lou has been chosen to protect Nataniel for a special reason. Linde-Lou is an important counterpart to Tengel the Evil. Linde-Lou was a member of the Black Angel’s family, and his heart was full of benevolence and concern for the young ones. That makes him extra strong.”
“Linde-Lou killed several people after he died,” Mari objected.
“I don’t think you’ve understood it correctly,” said Benedikte. “It’s true that people died of shock when they saw him. But all he wanted so desperately to do was to get in touch with the living, because he had so much to tell them. Christa was the only one who saw him as he had once been. The others only saw the shocking ghost.”
“Ah, so that is how it was,” said Jonathan.
“Yes. Linde-Lou’s tragedy was immense. But he’s happy now. He adored Christa, and to be allowed to guard and protect her child means a great deal to him. However, our ancestors would like to have you young ones taken to a safe place.”
Mari began to feel slightly uneasy.
“We have decided where to move you,” said Benedikte. “I’ve spoken to Christa. She could do with some help at home – she has eight boys to take care of, after all. She wouldn’t mind having Mari and Karine to stay.”
“No!” blurted Mari.
Benedikte looked at her. “Don’t you like Christa and Abel?”
“Yes, yes, I do. Very much,” Mari stammered. “But I would very much like to be here just now. We won’t be leaving immediately, will we?”
“You must leave by tomorrow morning.”
Oh, dear, Mari thought. No, I want to meet him!
She realized that it was hopeless, because she didn’t know the boy at all well so she couldn’t tell him that she was leaving. Her One and Only Love wouldn’t even have time to begin and develop.
Mari heard a small voice inside her tell her that because she would never have that boy, their “love” would have a chance of survival. “Only what is lost is owned forever,” wrote Henrik Ibsen: in a moment of serenity, Mari thought those words were beautiful.
Moving to Christa’s house wasn’t such a big deal for Karine. In fact, it might be quite nice to get away from these surroundings that held so many bitter memories. She got along well with Christa and her large all-male family.
As she thought about it more closely, the idea appealed to Karine. After all, it was only for a short while. Until they found Tengel the Evil and induced him to sleep once more.
That was her innocent thought.
“What