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The Treasure
By Selma Lagerlof
Contents
I. At Solberga Parsonage II. On the Quays III. The Messenger IV. In the Moonlight V. Haunted VI. In the Town Cellars VII. UnrestVIII. Sir Archie's Flight IX. Over the Ice X. The Roar of the Waves
Because the Foreword contains key elements about the end of the book,it is located at the end of the e-text.
CHAPTER I
AT SOLBERGA PARSONAGE
In the days when King Frederik the Second of Denmark ruled overBohuslen [FOOTNOTE: Frederik the Second reigned from 1544 to1588. At that time, Bohuslen, now a province of southwest Sweden,formed part of Norway and was under the Danish Crown.--Trans.]there dwelt at Marstrand a poor hawker of fish, whose name wasTorarin. This man was infirm and of humble condition; he had apalsied arm, which made him unfit to take his place in a boat forfishing or pulling an oar. As he could not earn his livelihood at sealike all the other men of the skerries, he went about selling saltedand dried fish among the people of the mainland. Not many daysin the year did he spend at home; he was constantly on the roadfrom one village to another with his load of fish.
One February day, as dusk was drawing on, Torarin came drivingalong the road which led from Kungshall up to the parish ofSolberga. The road was a lonely one, altogether deserted, but thiswas no reason for Torarin to hold his tongue. Beside him on thesledge he had a trusty friend with whom to chat. This was a littleblack dog with shaggy coat, and Torarin called him Grim. He laystill most of the time, with his head sunk between his feet, andanswered only by blinking to all his master said. But if his earcaught anything that displeased him, he stood up on the load, puthis nose in the air, and howled worse than a wolf.
"Now I must tell you, Grim, my dog," said Torarin, "that I haveheard great news today. They told me both at Kungshall and atKareby that the sea was frozen. Fair, calm weather it has beenthis long while, as you well know, who have been out in it everyday; and they say the sea is frozen fast not only in the creeksand sounds, but far out over the Cattegat. There is no fairway nowfor ship or boat among the islands, nothing but firm, hard ice, sothat a man may drive with horse and sledge as far as Marstrand andPaternoster Skerries."
To all this the dog listened, and it seemed not to displease him.He lay still and blinked at Torarin.
"We have no great store of fish left on our load," said Torarin,as though trying to talk him over. "What would you say to turningaside at the next crossways and going westward where the sea lies?We shall pass by Solberga church and down to Odsmalskil, and afterthat I think we have but seven or eight miles to Marstrand. Itwould be a fine thing if we could reach home for once withoutcalling for boat or ferry."
They drove on over the long moor of Kareby, and although theweather had been calm all day, a chill breeze came sweeping acrossthe moor, to the discomfort of the traveller.
"It may seem like softness to go home now when trade is at itsbest," said Torarin, flinging out his arms to warm them. "But wehave been on the road for many weeks, you and I, and have a claimto sit at home a day or two and thaw the cold out of our bodies."
As the dog continued to lie still, Torarin seemed to grow moresure of his ground, and he went on in a more cheerful tone:
"Mother has been left alone in the cottage these many days. Iwarrant she longs to see us. And Marstrand is a fine town inwinter-time, Grim, with streets and alleys full of foreignfishermen and chapmen. There will be dancing in the wharves everynight of the week. And all the ale that will be flowing in thetaverns! That is a thing beyond your understanding."
As Torarin said this he bent down over the dog to see whether hewas listening to what was said to him.
But as the dog lay there wide awake and made no sign ofdispleasure, Torarin turned off at the first road that ledwestward to the sea. He flicked the horse with the slack of thereins and made it quicken its pace.
"Since we shall pass by Solberga parsonage," said Torarin, "I willeven put in there and ask if it be true that the ice bears as faras to Marstrand. The folk there must know how it is."
Torarin had said these words in a low voice, without thinkingwhether the dog was listening or not. But scarcely were the wordsuttered when the dog stood up on the load and raised a terriblehowl.
The horse made a bound to one side, and Torarin himself wasstartled and looked about him to see whether wolves were inpursuit. But when he found it was Grim who was howling, he triedto calm him.
"What now?" he said to him. "How many times have you and I driveninto the parson's yard at Solberga! I know not whether Herr Arne[FOOTNOTE: At the time of this story "Herr" was a title roughlycorresponding to "Sir."--Trans.] can tell us how it is with the ice,but I will be bound he'll give us a good supper before we set outon our sea voyage."
But his words were not able to quiet the dog, who raised hismuzzle and howled more dismally than ever.
At this Torarin himself was not far from yielding to an uncannyfeeling. It had now grown almost dark, but still Torarin could seeSolberga church and the wide plain around it, which was shelteredby broad wooded heights to landward and by bare, rounded rockstoward the sea. As he drove on in solitude over the vast whiteplain, he felt he was a wretched little worm, while from the darkforests and the mountain wastes came troops of great monsters andtrolls of every kind venturing into the open country on the fallof darkness. And in the whole great plain there was none other forthem to fall upon than poor Torarin.
But at the same time he tried again to quiet the dog.
"Bless me, what is your quarrel with Herr Arne? He is the richestman in the country. He is of noble birth, and had he not been apriest there would have been a great lord of him."
But this could not avail to bring the dog to silence. Then Torarinlost patience, so that he took Grim by the scruff of the neck andthrew him off the sledge.
The dog did not follow him as he drove on, but stood still uponthe road and howled without ceasing until Torarin drove under adark archway into the yard of the parsonage, which was surroundedon its four sides by long, low wooden buildings.
II
At Solberga parsonage the priest, Herr Arne, sat at suppersurrounded by all his household. There was no stranger present butTorarin.
Herr Arne was an old white-haired man, but he was still powerfuland erect. His wife sat beside him. To her the years had beenunkind; her head and her hands trembled, and she was nearly deaf.On Herr Arne's other side sat his curate. He was a pale young manwith a look of trouble in his face, as though he was unable tosupport all the learning he had gathered in during his years ofstudy at Wittenberg.
These three sat at the head of the table, a little apart from therest. Below them sat Torarin, and then the servants, who were oldlike their master. There were three serving-men; their heads werebald, their backs bent, and their eyes blinked and watered. Ofwomen there were but two. They were somewhat younger and moreable-bodied than the men, yet they too had a fragile look and wereafflicted with the infirmities of age.
At the farthest end of the table sat two children. One of them wasHerr Arne's niece, a child of no more than fourteen years. She wasfair-haired and of delicate build; her face had not yet reachedits fullness, but had a promise of beauty in it. She had anotherlittle maid sitting beside her, a poor orphan without father ormother, who had been given a home at the parsonage. The two satclose together on the bench, and it could be seen that there wasgreat friendship between them.
All these folk sat at meat in the deepest silence. Torarin lookedfrom one to another, but none
was disposed to talk during themeal. All the old servants thought to themselves: "It is a goodlything to be given food and to be spared the sufferings of want andhunger, which we have known so often in our lives. While we areeating we ought to have no thought but of giving thanks to God forHis goodness."
Since Torarin found no one to talk to, his glance wandered up anddown the room. He turned his eyes from the great stove, built upin many stages beside the entrance door, to the lofty four-postbed which stood in the farthest corner of the room. He looked fromthe fixed benches that ran round the room to the hole in the roof,through which the smoke escaped and wintry air poured in.
As Torarin the fish hawker, who lived in the smallest and poorestcabin on the outer isles, looked upon all these things, hethought: "Were I a great man like Herr Arne I would not be contentto live in an ancient homestead with only one room. I should buildmyself a house with high gables and many chambers, like those ofthe burgomasters and aldermen of Marstrand."
But more often than not Torarin's eyes rested upon a great oakenchest which stood at the foot of the four-post bed. And he lookedat it so long because he knew that in it Herr Arne kept all hissilver moneys, and he had heard they were so many that they filledthe chest to the very lid.
And Torarin, who was so poor that he hardly ever had a silverpiece in his pocket, said to himself: "And yet I would not haveall that money. They say Herr Arne took it from the great conventsthat were in the land in former days, and that the old monksforetold that this money would bring him misfortune."
While yet these thoughts were in the mind of Torarin, he saw theold mistress of the house put her hand to her ear to listen. Andthen she turned to Herr Arne and asked him: "Why are they whettingknives at Branehog?"
So deep was the silence in the room that when the old lady askedthis question all gave a start and looked up in fright. When theysaw that she was listening for something, they kept their spoonsquiet and strained their ears.
For some moments there was dead stillness in the room, but whileit lasted the old woman became more and more uneasy. She laid herhand on Herr Arne's arm and asked him: "How can it be that theyare whetting such long knives at Branehog this evening?"
Torarin saw that Herr Arne stroked her hand to calm her. But hewas in no mind to answer and ate on calmly as before.
The old woman still sat listening. Tears came into her eyes fromterror, and her hands and her head trembled more and moreviolently.
Then the two little maids who sat at the end of the table began toweep with fear. "Can you not hear them scraping and filing?" askedthe old mistress. "Can you not hear them hissing and grating?"
Herr Arne sat still, stroking his wife's hand. As long as he keptsilence no other dared utter a word.
But they were all assured that their old mistress had heard athing that was terrifying and boded ill. All felt the bloodcurdling in their veins. No one at the table raised a bit of foodto his mouth, except old Herr Arne himself.
They were thinking of the old mistress, how it was she who for somany years had had charge of the household. She had always stayedat home and watched with wise and tender care over children andservants, goods and cattle, so that all had prospered. Now she wasworn out and stricken in years, but still it was likely that sheand none other should feel a danger that threatened the house.
The old lady grew more and more terrified. She clasped her handsin her helplessness and began to weep so sorely that the big tearsran down her shrunken cheeks.
"Is it nothing to you, Arne Arneson, that I am so sore afraid?"she complained.
Herr Arne bent his head to her and said: "I know not what it isthat affrights you."
"I am in fear of the long knives they are whetting at Branehog,"she said.
"How can you hear them whetting knives at Branehog?" said HerrArne, smiling. "The place lies two miles from here. Take up yourspoon again and let us finish our supper."
The old woman made an effort to overcome her terror. She took upher spoon and dipped it in the milk bowl, but in doing it her handshook so that all could hear the spoon rattle against the edge.She put it down again at once. "How can I eat?" she said. "Do Inot hear the whining of the whetstone, do I not hear it grating?"
At this Herr Arne thrust the milk bowl away from him and claspedhis hands. All the others did the same, and the curate began tosay grace.
When this was ended, Herr Arne looked down at those who sat alongthe table, and when he saw that they were pale and frightened, hewas angry.
He began to speak to them of the days when he had lately come toBohuslen to preach the Lutheran doctrine. Then he and his servantswere forced to fly from the Papists like wild beasts before thehunter. "Have we not seen our enemies lie in wait for us as wewere on our way to the house of God? Have we not been driven outof the parsonage, and have we not been compelled to take to thewoods like outlaws? Does it beseem us to play the coward and giveourselves up for lost on account of an evil omen?"
As Herr Arne said this he looked like a valiant champion, and theothers took heart anew on hearing him.
"Ay, it is true," they thought. "God has protected Herr Arnethrough the greatest perils. He holds His hand over him. He willnot let His servant perish."
III
As soon as Torarin drove out upon the road his dog Grim came up tohim and jumped up on to the load. When Torarin saw that the doghad been waiting outside the parsonage his uneasiness came back."What, Grim, why do you stay outside the gate all the evening? Whydid you not go into the house and have your supper?" he said tothe dog. "Can there be aught of ill awaiting Herr Arne? Maybe Ihave seen him for the last time. But even a strong man like himmust one day die, and he is near ninety years old."
He guided his horse into a road which led past the farm ofBranehog to Odsmalskil.
When he was come to Branehog he saw sledges standing in the yardand lights shining through the cracks of the closed shutters.
Then Torarin said to Grim: "These folks are still up. I will go inand ask if they have been sharpening knives here tonight."
He drove into the farmyard, but when he opened the door of thehouse he saw that a feast was being held. Upon the benches by thewall sat old men drinking ale, and in the middle of the room theyoung people played and sang.
Torarin saw at once that no man here thought of making his weaponready for a deed of blood. He slammed the door again and wouldhave gone his way, but the host came after him. He asked Torarinto stay, since he had come, and led him into the room.
Torarin sat for a good while enjoying himself and chatting withthe peasants. They were in high good humour, and Torarin was gladto be rid of all his gloomy thoughts.
But Torarin was not the only latecomer to the feast that evening.Long after him a man and a woman entered the door. They werepoorly clad and lingered bashfully in the corner between door andfireplace.
The host at once came forward to his two guests. He took the handof each and led them up the room. Then he said to the others: "Isit not truly said that the shorter the way the more the delay?These are our nearest neighbors. Branehog had no other tenantsbesides them and me."
"Say rather there are none but you," said the man. "You cannotcall me a tenant. I am only a poor charcoal-burner whom you haveallowed to settle on your land."
The man seated himself beside Torarin and they began to converse.The newcomer told Torarin how it was he came so late to the feast.It was because their cabin had been visited by three strangerswhom they durst not leave, three journeymen tanners who had beenwith them all day. When they came in the morning they were wornout and ailing; they said they had lost their way in the forestand had wandered about for a whole week. But after they had eatenand slept they soon recovered their strength, and when eveningcame they had asked which was the greatest and richest housethereabout, for thither they would go and seek for work. The wifehad answered that the parsonage, where Herr Arne dwelt, was thebest place. Then at once they had taken long knives out of theirpacks and begun to sharpen them. The
y were at this a good while,with such ferocious looks that the charcoal-burner and his wifedurst not leave their home. "I can still see them as they satgrinding their knives," said the man. "They looked terrible withtheir great beards that had not been cut or tended for many a day,and they were clad in rough coats of skin, which were tattered andbefouled. I thought I had three werewolves in the house with me,and I was glad when at last they took themselves off."
When Torarin heard this he told the charcoal-burner what hehimself had witnessed at the parsonage.
"So it was true enough that this night they whetted knives atBranehog," said Torarin, laughing. He had drunk deeply, because ofthe sorrow and heaviness that were upon him when he came, seekingto comfort himself as best he could. "Now I am of good cheeragain," said he, "since I am well assured it was no evil omen theparson's lady heard, but only these tanners making ready theirgear."
IV
Long after midnight a couple of men came out of the house atBranehog to harness their horses and drive home.
When they had come into the yard they saw a great fire flaring upagainst the sky in the north. They hastened back into the houseand cried out: "Come out! Come out! Solberga parsonage is onfire!"
There were many folks at the feast, and those who had a horseleapt upon his back and made haste to the parsonage; but those whohad to run with their own swift feet were there almost as soon.
When the people came to the parsonage nobody was to be seen, norwas there any sign of movement; all seemed to be asleep, thoughthe flames rose high into the air.
Yet it was none of the houses that burned, but a great pile ofwood and straw and faggots that had been stacked against the wallof the old dwelling. It had not been burning long. The flames haddone no more than blacken the sound timber of the wall and meltthe snow on the thatched roof. But now they had begun to take holdof the thatch.
Everyone saw at once that this was arson. They began to wonderwhether Herr Arne and his wife were really asleep, or whether someevil had befallen them.
But before the rescuers entered the house they took long poles andpulled away the burning faggots from the wall and clambered up tothe roof to tear off the thatch, which had begun to smoke and wasready to catch fire.
Then some of the men went to the door of the house to enter andcall Herr Arne; but when the first man came to the threshold heturned aside and made way for him who came next.
The second man took a step forward, but as he was about to graspthe door-handle he turned away and made room for those who stoodbehind him.
It seemed a ghastly door to open, for a broad stream of bloodtrickled over the threshold and the handle was besmeared withblood.
Then the door opened in their faces and Herr Arne's curate cameout. He staggered toward the men with a deep wound in his head,and he was drenched with blood. For an instant he stood uprightand raised his hand to command silence. Whereupon he spoke withthe death rattle in his voice: "This night Herr Arne and all hishousehold have been murdered by three men who climbed down throughthe smoke-hole in the roof and were clad in rough skins. Theythrew themselves upon us like wild beasts and slew us."
He could utter no more. He fell down at the men's feet and wasdead.
They then entered the room and found all as the curate had said.
The great oaken chest in which Herr Arne kept his money was gone,and Herr Arne's horse had been taken from the stable and hissledge from the shed.
Sledge tracks led from the yard across the glebe meadows down tothe sea, and twenty men hastened away to seize the murderers. Butthe women set themselves to laying out the dead and carried themfrom the bloody room out upon the pure snow.
Not all of Herr Arne's household could be found; there was onemissing. It was the poor little maid whom Herr Arne had taken intohis house. There was much wondering whether, perchance, she hadbeen able to escape, or whether the robbers had taken her withthem.
But when they made careful search through the room they found herhidden away between the great stove and the wall. She had keptherself concealed there throughout the struggle and had taken nohurt at all, but she was so sick with terror that she couldneither speak nor answer a question.
CHAPTER II
ON THE QUAYS