Free The Brothers by Asko Sahlberg Page A

conspiring to acquire the whole municipality.
    He is good enough to let me have a mare and a cart. No doubt he expected me to burst into songs of praise. I could argue that household goods are not part of the property, but it would probably not be worth doing so; he seems to be in great favour with the Bailiff. I suppose we must be grateful that we do not have to leave in our birthday suits.
    The worst of it is, I can understand him. We have not treated him well. Pride comes before a fall indeed. We are paying now, by humbling ourselves.
    Who knows, maybe I will find a position in Turku and I will yet be able to lead a life with Anna that is fit for a human being. Whatever else Henrik may say, he may be right that these times require new men. Fortunately, my aunt’s husband is well connected. According to Mother, he has long hobnobbed with the Russians. I just have to conceal the fact that I enlisted off my own bat to get to slaughter Russkies. The existence of documentary evidence is unlikely, unless Mauri has it under his mattress.
    All in all, the more I think about this new turn of events, the more relieved I feel. Before long, I may be able to sleep at nights. Defeat came long ago; postponing its admission has only prolonged my agony. Now, finally facing up to my loss, I am freed.

ANNA
    I look at Erik’s sunken shoulders and I see in him an old man. Tomorrow he will look like the Farmhand. Grim thoughts will thin his hair, his lips will shrivel into dry lines, he will rub his aching loins surreptitiously. He will see the world through melancholy eyes and look away. I approach him from behind, I rest my hand on his shoulder and peer over it out of the window. The snowfall has ceased, the landscape stretches out, shivery and empty. Erik’s nape is cold bone. At times I would like to bury him as if he were a child who had died at my breast.
    ‘You didn’t have a woman, after all,’ I say.
    ‘I didn’t.’
    ‘And I thought you did.’
    ‘That’s not good.’
    He has said sorry this way before. I twist my other arm round his waist. He does not move. He is a tree, abandoned by a forest that has crawled off and left him behind to be battered by the winds.
    ‘When do we have to leave, then?’ I ask.
    ‘He said we should go in the morning.’
    ‘Can he be that cruel?’
    He turns; my hold on him loosens. ‘He’s come to an agreement with the Bailiff. Who knows what sort of a pact they have. If we don’t go voluntarily, soldiers might yet come to turf us out.’
    When I see his face I understand that he is not crushed by sorrow. He is thoughtful and exhausted, but not sad. Something resembling a smile even plays round his mouth as his eyes travel the drawing room, as if he were seeing it for the last time. He says, ‘Strange how some tend to cling to places and others don’t feel at home anywhere.’
    ‘How do we know that Henrik hasn’t missed the place?’
    His smile is cut deeper by an invisible knife. ‘I didn’t say anything about Henrik.’
    ‘But you meant him.’
    He tilts his head, as he does often when in a playful mood. ‘What if I was talking about myself?’
    ‘Are you saying you’re suddenly dying to see the world?’
    ‘Well, I’ve heard there are these women out there,’ he says, and slaps me on the buttock. But instantly, his voice grows serious. ‘We should start getting our belongings together. We won’t take anything big; all the furniture stays here.’
    ‘How on earth will we manage, then?’
    ‘We will, somehow. We’ll start with the small things and build up as time goes by.’
    ‘In Turku?’
    ‘There or elsewhere. There to start with, at least.’
    He leaves the room, lightly, speedily, prepared for the days to come. I am left to soak up this feeling. Soon I will leave these hostile rooms, which I have always roamed as if in a derelict church. Perhaps I will start combing my hair fifty times again, perhaps I will learn the habits of townspeople and take to sniffing