Spring was in the air as Susan returned to Unicorn Island. She had rolled down the windows in daddy's car and sat with the head into the wind. It was almost dark, at it almost always was when they arrived at the island. Mom worked in a bank, and as it closed at 3 pm she was almost always free to leave at 4 pm, after balancing her till. Dad was an electrician, and more or less his own master, so he had been at home at half past three. But Mum did not show up. Actually she did not arrive until half past five, almost running, and out of breath.
"Some money was missing all the time," she said as soon as she had closed the door. "One of the ladies behind the counter had an accident, she fell down the stairs and broke her ankle. And of course the money and so on from her till did not balance. And not by a small amount either. Not until we found the wad of money she had held in her hands while slipping on the stairs did we get anywhere. And after those were counted, we still missed a 50 kroner note. We guessed it had flown off to somewhere and in the end we each paid a fiver to get home, and here I am. Give me half an hour and a cup of coffee, then we'll be off."
"We can stop somewhere on the road and pick up something to eat," Dad said. " We won't make it there until too late for dinner anyway."
"Oh, fine with me," Mum said, "I'll call Dina and tell her of our delay."
They had stopped at an hot dog stand at the market square in a sleepy provincial town a bit more than two thirds of the way there. Susan had ordered Croque Monsieur with cocoa milk, and Linda had a coke and a cowboy toast, essentially the same as Croque Monsieur, but with a hamburger instead of slices of ham. They each had two, while Mum and Dad ate big hot-dogs with lots of mustard and onions. Dad and Mum also had a beer each as well. The smell of mustard and onions in the car made Susan and Linda want to open their windows, But their parents complained of the draught, and in the end - after some fighting, scuffing and scolding - they took turns having their windows open for five minutes. And Susan was lucky. As they crossed the bridge to the island, her five minutes period was just about to start.
Ergo she was able to sit with her head into the wind, sniffing the new mown grass from the many summer houses being opened for Easter holidays, the salt spray from the sea, and an occasional whiff of coffee drifting in.
As they turned into the dirt road leading to the summer house, Dad stopped the car. A rabbit was caught in the headlights. It sat in the middle of the road, immobile, only its nose twitching. When they had all admired the little creature, Dad turned off the lights, and Susan could feel the rabbit's relief at being released as it jumped off in the dark. Then Dad turned on the car once again and drove the short distance to the summerhouse.
Over coffee and soft drinks Mum recounted the story of the cashier's accident. Mum never said so in plain words, but it was implicit from her telling, that she was the one to foster the idea of looking for the missing money in the stairwell.
***
Staying at Granny's place before going to the Island for easter Holidays.
***
As the temperature rose, so did the hope of Susan and her cousins. Each day they would follow Grandma to the roost and look into the nest where the hens were brooding. With her gentle hands Grandma touched the eggs, checking humidity and feeling for that subtle change. Susan so hoped the hatching would happen while she was still there.
And then, one rose-coloured morning Susan awoke and felt different. She found Grandma in the kitchen. "Grandma, will the chickens hatch today?" she asked.
"Why do you ask?" Grandma asked, "You know impatience is of no avail here. Chickens take 3 weeks, 3 days and 3 hours."
"I woke up feeling so sure today would be the day," Susan explained.
"And you might very well be right. I feel the same. Help me prepare breakfast, and then go and wake up those sleepyhead cousins of yours."
With the application of much care Susan woke up her three cousins. She was not sure she liked their companionship in the chicken coop with Granny. On the other hand she was not certain she would have liked to be alone with Granny either. It was as her father always said a nice pickle. One thing she knew. she was really happy to be with her grandmother today.
Outside they went, all five of them. the farm land across the waterway glowing emerald green in the early sun. They walked along the hedgerow, under the apple trees and finally arrived at the chicken coop. Usually Granny and Lena, the youngest of the cousins, tackled Rasmus, the big, beautiful and very aggressive rooster by locking him up inside the coop. But today extra precautions were needed. He could not stay in the chicken coop with a hatching going on, he would inevitably get on the wrong side of one or more of the girls, and his spurs were honed and well used tools. Granny asked the four girls to hold onto a big wooden construction. A big cube, made from old timber from the roof and covered in metal netting, only not the bottom part. They had to hold it far enough off the ground for Rasmus to get under it, but not so far that they could not quickly lower it over him, once he was in the centre of the contraption. Granny spread out some grains, and Rasmus went ahead to check them out, as any good rooster do for his flock. And was caught. On Granny's order they carefully raised the cage just a bit off the ground and carried it further away from the coop. He protested wildly, but to no avail, he had to follow along inside the cage. The rest of the hens gathered round the cage, only not the brooding one. Rasmus was a distinguished rooster, and many of the neighbours wanted one of his progeny to watch over their hens. The fox never had a chance with him nearby, and they took his aggressiveness in stride, grateful over his protectiveness.
While Granny sorted out the fences, slides and small hatches, giving access to different compartments of the coop, susan sat on a log, looking idly at the hens around Rasmus inside the cage.
And suddenly Rasmus made Susan think of lions, "Lions," she said aloud. "But why does Rasmus remind me of lions."
"I'm sure you'll find out eventually," Granny calledfrom inside the coop, "but now I need your resources to help with the eggs. Which one would be your choice for a prime rooster?"
Susan slowly walked to the hen house. Then she knelt. Slow and gentle movements were the wisest course of action.Susan thought of using the Nothing interesting here spell but decided against it. Slowly, cooing calming sounds, she put her hand under the brooding hen and systematically felt the rocking and chirping eggs. She thought of a predator, and felt a protective spark from the leftmost of the eggs under her hand. Gently her hand closed around this egg and slowly and with many an excusing and calming sound she pulled out the egg. "This one!" she said.
"Hold it in your hands to keep it warm," Granny instructed, "Turn it occasionally, and do not give in to the temptation of helping the chick break out. This might kill him, and I promised my next neighbour a fine rooster."
Susan went back to the log she just left and sat in the sun, warming and gently turning the egg; listening to the chirping sounds emanating from inside and encouraging the small one to break his shell.
Granny also felt the eggs, and gave one egg each to the three cousins with like orders. "She has too many eggs in there," Granny said. "There's not room or air for them all to hatch, and I have been inattentive, letting her incubate this many eggs. She is a sly one and bears watching."
Susan's thoughts strayed from the task at hand, her fingers still gently turning and warming the egg, but her thoughts were far away. Suddenly she remembered the connexion between Rasmus and lions. Elleore, the Lion island as they called it. Every time they went to visit Granny they passed that island, and something in the form and colour of Rasmus' head had reminded her of both lions and the contour of the island. Elleore was a fabled island in Susan's mind. Home to great and ferocious lions in Susan's mind, but in reality the two lions from The Lion Hunt - the film that was shot on that island - had been old, and had been shot by sharpshooters during the filming instead of being euthanised in a German zoo.*). Still the island to Susan at least was populated by lions, cows, hunters and a king and a queen. Yes Elleore was also a kingdom, a teeny tiny one, almost 4 acres of land in Roskilde Fjord. It was a far shot from an imposing sight, rising only slightly over the calm waters of the fjord. But Susan loved the stories connected to it. She owned several stamps issued by the micro-nation, and hoped that they would, as they had spoken off, be reproducing some of the scenes from The Lion Hunt to be used on new stamps. Normally no humans lived on Elleore, but one week a year the king, queen, government and all the people of Elleore met there to govern their island-kingdom. A violent chirp and a big piece of the shell, that broke from the egg in her hands let all thoughts of lions and royalty flee from Susan's mind as she focussed on the tiny creature slipping wet and slimy into her hands.
- - - - -
*) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/L%C3%B8vejagten
Susan dared not even twitch an eyebrow as the tiny chicken lying in her hand raised his head and looked around. His feathers were still wet, glued to his body with the moisture, and she could see the movement of his intestines through the skin. The chicken felt so small, so defenceless, that Susan started doubting she had chosen wisely. The head was almost too heavy for the small creature to raise, but he refused to give up. Slowly he dried in the sun and warmth from Susan's hand fluffing up nicely, finally looking how a chicken ought to in Susan's mind.
Granny came over an put a small amount of what she called grit, barley finely ground in a contraption on a nearby swine farm, in Susan's empty hand. Susan held the hands together as Granny showed her and with gratifying vigour the small chicken began pecking at the feed. When Susan's rooster chick had eaten its fill, it simply lay down and fell asleep in her hand. She shook the remaining grit from her hand and cupped both around the fluffy ball.
She watched her cousins. Lena's chicken had already hatched, and now lay drying in her hands, Myrtle, the oldest, sat still, wool-gathering, while her chicken chirped helplessly inside the shell. Helen coaxed it on, at the same time keeping an eye on her own vigorously rocking and chirping egg. Susan was suddenly reminded of a video that had been a part of their career planning in school, and shown a midwife assisting at a birth. Helen reminded Susan of that midwife. She looked up at Granny, who put a finger to her lips.
Myrtle's chicken broke free, and Helen caught it and placed it in Myrtle's hands. "Keep her warm, now, Myrtle," she spoke softly.
Myrtle looked as if she returned from far away and looked down at the wet, not very charming creature in her hands. "I always forget they start out so disgusting," she said. "But it will fluff up soon."
Now that the chicken was there, Myrtle took good care of it, and soon Granny placed a small mound of grit in Myrtle's hand as well.
Helen spoke and cooed to the tiny creature inside her egg. And when finally it emerged, she pulled off her woollen scarf, dried the chicken ever so gently and warmed it with hands and scarf.
Granny walked off and returned with a lamp and a long extension cord. "You can't stay her all day and night with these chicken," she said. "Myrtle, give your chicken over to Helen and help me hang this lamp."
Myrtle had done this together with Granny before, and soon a small enclosure inside the coop was bathed in warming, red light.
"This will help mama hen," Granny explained. "She has too many chicken for them all to fit under her wings, but the lamp will keep them warm, and she will be able to take care of them all. Let's see how they are doing, and if more of them need our help."
Granny helped the girls place the stuffed, sleeping chicken in the straw beneath the heat lamp and then she opened the other door into the hatching place with great care. The black and white hen looked at Granny with her beady eye and some chicken popped their heads out from under her wings. Granny clucked and cooed and mama hen arose and walked over to Granny, who lifted her up and over the barrier into the heated compartment. In the straw lay at least ten chicken, that rose, fell over their legs and generally tumbled around.
Susan stretched out her hand, then looked up at Granny.
Granny nodded. "Yes those small ones need to go into the heated compartment as well."
Susan picked up one fluffy chicken in each hand, gently placing them next to mama hen. She clucked satisfied with having her babies back and Susan and the three cousins picked up chicken after chicken until the stall was empty.
"There's still some eggs here in the corner," Helen said. "Will they hatch?"
"Pick them up, but carefully,"Granny said, "and give them to me, one at a time."
The girls did as instructed, and Granny held each egg up to the sun and looked at it. Some she placed at the ground, close to the coop, but most of them she handed to the girls, Each ended up with two eggs. "The chicken inside those eggs are still alive," she explained. "If you can warm and turn them well enough, they might survive and hatch."
The girls did their best, Helen and Susan each taking over one of Myrtle's eggs as she had to leave for an appointment later. It became boring, sitting there, turning the eggs at intervals. Auntie G joined them, bringing a guitar, and softly they sang long ballads, tear provoking folk songs and mirthful lays until finally all eggs were hatched and Granny came out and told them to put them under the heat lamp with mama hen.
"Don't we ned to feed them?" Susan asked.
"No," Granny answered, "that was a special treat for the special chicken to give them a headstart. Chicken do not need to eat for their first 24 ours. They are hatched with the remains of the yolk inside their tummy. This is also why you can send newly hatched chicken to breeders."
"Oh!" Susan said.
***
Next morning Susan was once again up early while the cousins slept in. Susan found sleep in the holidays to be a waste of time. She watched Granny knead the dough for bread for lunch, and after a prolonged silence she picked up her courage and asked: "Granny, why did you not want me to say anything to Helen yesterday? I am sure she would be a very good midwife."
"So am I, Susan. But she has set her mind on becoming an accountant with a big firm. She has even found a job there for the upcoming summer holidays. She has her head up in the air, and any suggestion would just make her stubborn streak surface."
Susan nodded vigorously. She knew that feeling; anything somebody, especially someone grown up, suggested was immediately not as fun or alluring as before, and it made the course no-one spoke off or better yet against seem even brighter.
"She has to follow her own journey." Granny continued. "But I hope her vocation will eventually be midwifery, she has the Gift for attracting babies. Her not being a midwife would be almost a crime. But promise me not to speak a word to her of this."
"I won't," Susan promised. "But why is she not on Unicorn Farm in the holidays like me?"
"I do not know how you were chosen," Granny said, "but I know, or at least suspect that you were chosen rather randomly, depending more on whom the teachers found than on any pre-planning. I also think that they mean for the school to expand ..."
Susan looked up at Granny with a confused look, and Granny explained: "To expand means to grow."
"Yes," Susan said slowly. " I think you are right. He said something about 'more apprentices to come'."
"And now," Granny said, "not a word more of that place. I won't know any more, because I can't tattle if I don't know anything."
* * *
***
In the morning, Mum said that today they would have no time for the pancakes. Grandma had invited them for a reunion.
"But I have to be at Unicorn Farm at three!" Susan said.
"You can make it," Ma said, "we'll be at Grandma's at 11, then Dad, Elin or Kurt can drive you to the Farm. Is it really that important?"
"Oh yes," Susan said emphatically. "Today is the Grand Opening of the Easter holidays. I have to be there!"
"Now get dressed," Mum said, "and you as well," she added, looking sternly at Linda who still lay in her bed with only half an eye open.
At Grandma's place everybody had already arrived when finally Mum, Dad, Linda and Susan got there. Mum hugged her brother and three sisters, said hello to their spouses and her father, Granddad, who as usual sat in the big armchair by the desk, then she went into the kitchen to help Grandma set the table. Linda was soon involved in a discussion about the latest fashion and music with Auntie G.s three girls, Susan felt left out. The two oldest cousins, two dour men, one long and thin, one squat and fat, sat discussing something monetary with Mum's brother, Frans, and the two smallest cousins, his daughters, were too young to really be any fun just yet, and clung to their mum's skirts. Granny came in, carrying a huge basket of bread. "Susan, have you ever seen my Autograph Album?"
"No," Susan answered, "I did not even know you had one."
"Oh yes, it was a total craze when I was young. These things seem to come and go. But I've misplaced it. Could you search for it, please?"
"Of course, Grandma!" Susan said and got up. Grandma did not have very many books, a smallish bookcase in the best room, where they were to eat, had ample space for all of them. The topmost shelf contained cookbooks, books on herbs and spices and illnesses in animals. Susan put them in order, after subject, and continued. The middle shelf held assorted books, penny dreadfuls, romances and novels, all badly printed and on cheap paper. The names in the books were those of Mum and her siblings, and the dates from their youth. Susan also placed them nicely in their shelf. The bottom shelf held newspapers, photo albums and a big, old Bible, Susan looked inside. The first page was filled up with names and dates, Susan could not read more than a letter here and there. She turned to the printed text. It looked strange as well. "Have I forgotten how to read, or did somebody cast a spell on this book?" Susan thought to herself. She glanced at the newspaper, It was readable as usual. "Phew, I have not forgotten how to read." Auntie G cam in, carrying a tray. "Oh you've found the old Bible. Unfortunately it' not our family's names written there. It was given to Granny by an old friend."
"Can you read this?" Susan asked. "Because I can't."
"Oh, yes I can. But I see why you can't. This is the way everybody wrote before turn of the century, but some places people continued to write like this. In rural communities the change to Latin was slow. You see that last line there and the date 1918, it's still written like that. It's called Deutshce Schrift or Current, It's not that hard when you know the letters. Wait a sec. I'll get a book from my place."
As Auntie G lived in a modern house on the same plot, it was only a matter of minutes before she returned. But in the meantime Susan had stacked the newspapers neatly and found the Album. It had slid down the newspapers, and wedged itself between shelf and backing. It was a slim, rose-coloured book, with slightly indented multi-coloured roses and forget-me-nots in the corners, and the word "Poesibog" printed in gold in the middle of the page, in big flowing letters, also indented to protect the gold. Susan was reminded of Laura Ingalls and her book in Little Town on the Prairie. It must have looked something like this. And it proved to Susan, that Granny's dad, a merchant on an island not far from where Grandma now lived, had been rather well off. But the book was a huge disappointment for Susan when she opened it. It was written in that very same scribble as the names in the Bible.
Auntie G returned, holding a slim, well worn schoolbook. "This is the original book," she said, "You can borrow it for today, but later on you'll have to buy your own, modern copy. These can - thanks to the rampant genealogy craze - be had very cheap in any book-store. It's called Hanebogen. (The Rooster Book) for the picture on the front page." She opened the book at the marker. "Here's the alphabet in Current and the printed version too, it's called Blackletters, Fraktur or normally Gothic. Earlier two different types of letters existed side by side. Gothic and what we now think of as normal letters, called Antiqua, or Latin type. And they fought for supremacy. In the end Antiqua won everywhere, last of all in Germany, where some old people even today use Deutshce Schrift. Now you can study the letters, and after dinner, I'll help you read some of the poems in that Album."
Susan sat down outside in the sunshine and copied the strange-looking letters from the book into her diary-cum-notebook, that she always carried with her. When Grandma called them all in to eat, she could read several of the learning verses in the schoolbook.
 |
| A page from Hanebogen. |
Dinner was nice, but Susan could not really enjoy it. She wanted to read Grandma's Album, and she wanted to be at Unicorn Farm in time for the opening.
Auntie G sensed her discomfiture, and rose and came over to her. "Let's get started on the reading," she said. And to Grandma: "Would you please excuse us. We have some learning to do!"
"Off you go!" Grandma said. I'll send someone for you when the coffee is ready."
Auntie G and Susan sat down at a bench in the garden in the sunny nook, Auntie G and her girls had built with all the stones from the garden. It was a lovely place on a cool spring day.
Susan and Auntie G slowly read the faded letters and found these poems on one of the first pages of the album.
Saturday 12 October 1918.
When widow's weed once you'll wear,
and in God's Acre sit and cry
Remember that I am not there
I wait for you in heaven's sky
Peter, forever yours
Monday 14 October 1918
When Death, ultimate larcener
Has taken all that you hold dear.
Remember we'll in Heaven meet
Though death is bitter, life is sweet.
Olrik, your friend forever
"Those two are rather morbid," Susan said.
"Look at the dates," Auntie G said. "Grandma was 14 years old, and it was written during WWI and the Spanish Flu. Those two boys maybe died. Grandma has told me of classmates and beaus, who never made it."
"What's the time?" Susan asked suddenly.
"Half past one." Auntie G answered.
"Oh!" Susan exclaimed. "I got to run. I wonder if I really can make dad take me there."
"Take you where?" Auntie G asked.
Susan told of the Unicorn Farm, the official part, that is, and of the festive opening planned for today.
"Know what, Susan?" Auntie G said. I'll drive you. I've borrowed a car from a friend of mine this week, because I'm working night shift at the hospital during the holidays. Go in and say your goodbyes while I get the keys."
***
"Welcome back for the Easter Holiday term at Unicorn Farm!" It was the gentle Thora, who stood up and welcomed Susan. She then turned to Heidi and her siblings, while Susan wended her way to the wardrobes. She greeted Helge in passing. He had become even taller, but he was not stooping, trying to look smaller, he looked more at ease, more sure of himself, than he had ever done. He smiled at Susan and told her a joke in Swedish. She laughed, and finally she reached the wardrobe. She hung her clothes on the pegs, pulled the green tunic over her head and buttoned the striped skirt. While she stood combing her unruly hair, she turned her back on Hilde, the squat, Norwegian girl, who always knew better. And then Knud arrived. He had grown too, The lanky boy from the first year had become almost handsome. He undressed, and Susan looked at his suntanned, handsome body. He looked healthy and happy. How had he turned that brown in the meager Danish spring sunshine?
"Hey Susan, stop looking at me like that. I feel like a calf in a show." Knud said.
"Oh, sorry," Susan replied quickly, "I was just woolgathering."
Kírstin and Rósa, the two Icelandic cousins suddenly appeared, they were small and slender still. Their light blonde hair was cut short, their pale skin were almost translucent, and Rósa's freckes stood out against her fair skin. They looked like the winter had been long and harsh for them.
"Hello, Rósa and Kirstin," Susan said. " How are you? You look worn thin"
"Now, we're fine," Rósa said, "but we were ill all winter. All our siblings and cousins, moms and dads and aunts and uncles were ill too. I got the impression, the doctor was expecting some of us to die, but we all survived, not least thanks to Thora, who almost moved in, cared and cooked for us, and nursed us all back to health - or at least life."
"Whoever poisoned us bit off more than they could chew with that Thora," Rosa said. One look at Kirstin's face made her shut her mouth and look around. "Oh bother. Mom told me silence was essential. But Susan is not bad, is she."
"No, Rósa, she's not. And now not one word more. We're not alone here," Kirstin said in quick Icelandic.
"I'm so happy that you are all healed and able to come here," Knud said a bit too loud, Susan and Kirstin smiled at him and Rósa nodded eagerly.
Veronika had arrived and was combing her long, brown hair as Susan turned around. She still wore the long velvet maxiskirt and multicoloured top with embroidered mirrors, but as soon as she too dressed in the school clothes and hung her flower power uniform on the hooks by the leaf, she was much less intimidating to Susan."Hi, Veronika, how are you doing?" Susan said. "Just fine, Veronika said, but Fiona, my crazy sister, almost broke every bone in her body trying out some trick while flying her broomstick."
"I still do not understand how you can be so alike, and yet so different, Knud said.
"That's because you do not have any sisters or brothers," Susan said. "My sister cannot even do magic. I would like her to be like Fiona, dreaming of broomsticks and monsters, instead of music bands and boys."
Veronika turned and looked at Rósa and Kirstin: "Wow, you look worn! Did you catch the Icelandic plague as well," she asked. As Rósa just nodded and Kirstin began repeating the story, Susan took care to put herself next to Knud and between Rósa, Kirstin, and Veronika on one side and Hilde, Josta and Marja on the other. Those two nosy Finnish sisters always picked on Rósa, and they needed only small things to trigger a new assault.
The towheaded Swedes, big brother Kalle, and sister Anna arrived, and also placed themselves between the two groups. Last to arrive was Terje from Norway. His face lit up in a smile as he saw Susan and Rósa, the big, friendly boy was not exactly an idiot, but he was slow. Only his being nice and always willing to lend a hand, and a strong one at that, made the rest of the green group tolerate him without teasing. Gilvi called him a Diamond in the rough, Susan thought to herself that he was not unintelligent, just not quite at the same place as the rest of the world. "I wonder what will happen when he wakes up," Susan thought to herself.
***
When all the apprentices on the green team had changed into their school wear, they crossed the narrow moss clad bridge at the far end of the school meadows. It was cool, actually it was cold. It was a clear, crisp Spring morning. The lilac bushes at the far side of the bridge was filled with buds in promise of the coming summer, and the skies were blue; but a wind was blowing in from the sea, and it was bitterly cold. Rosa and Kirstin began shivering in the wind. "Stop!" Thora said. "don't you remember your snow magic lessons. There's no reason to be cold, and maybe even ill again," she said with a stern glance at Kirstin and Rosa. With an embarrassed smile many of the apprentices drew their wands and soon steaming jets of green, red, golden, white and blue tinted swirls kept them all warm.
Inside the paddock on the far side of the bridge were some of the most beautiful horses Susan had ever seen. "Those are hippocampi," Thora said. "We have an exceptional breed of hippocampi here on this island. We're very lucky that this part of the island has been declared a nature reserve, and people are discouraged from going here with chains and official signs. This small part of the reserve does not contain any of the protected bird species. We have grasped the chance to have a breeding station for hippocampi and other magical beasts here. This is where your lessons in cryptozoology will take place whenever it's not raining.
"But," Veronika said speaking for more than one of them, "don't hippocampusses normally have fishtails and webbed hooves?"
"The correct plural is hippocampi, which you should have heard Thora using only a short while ago," Hilde said in her loud, grating voice.
"Yes, Hilde, they're correctly called hippocampi or hippocamps. And now to the far more interesting questions. Why do our friends here look almost like normal horses? Because they do indeed normally have fishtails, or tails like a whale or porpoise. That's what make this breed of hippocampi so very special, they are shape-shifters. Now try and make friends with them, you will find stacks of bamboo canes, a roll of string, scissors and small sacks of carrots by the fence, grab a sack and a cane and tie a carrot to it with some string. And then slowly come close to one of the seahorses. They are not wild, but not used to many people at once, so please keep your voices low and avoid sudden and jerky movements. And do not try to ride them!" She looked over the paddock and back at the apprentices and called in a low, soft voice: "As there's not enough sea horses you've got to pair off." She pulled out an old fashioned ledger and a fountain pen. "Anna and Helge, Hilde and Josta, Kalle and Kirstin, Knud and Marja, Rosa and Susan, and finally Terje and Veronika."
After a momentary, quiet confusion, the apprentices were equipped with either a sack or a carrot on a stick.
They placed themselves in pairs some distance apart and dangled the carrot close to the nearest sea horse. The one closest to Susan and Rosa was a big bay. Its black tail and mane blew in the wind and they could see its nostrils quivering as it smelled the carrot. Slowly it came closer. "Do you know anything of horses?" Susan quickly asked Rosa in a low voice.
"Not much," Rosa admitted, "of course we have lots of horses in Iceland, but we live in town. Kirstin's father, my uncle, breeds a few horses, but he always told me I was too small for riding them." The beautiful horse came closer and Susan slowly pulled the carrot closer and closer. Rosa held a carrot on the palm of her hand, and obviously that one smelt better, because the horse nimbly picked the carrot from Rosa's hand and started munching it with a very loud crunching sound. Both girls giggled softly at the surprisingly loud noise, The horse whinnied back, It sounded like it too laughed at them. The horse came closer still and started sniffing Rosa,s clothes and hands.
"Oh, horsie, you're tickling me," Rosa said quietly. Susan took another carrot from their small sack and emulating Rosa she presented the carrot on her extended palm.
"Yes!" Thora sad behind them, "That's the way to go. Rosa, I'm sure you can place a hand on his neck now. Nice and easy." Then she was gone again. Rosa gingerly extended her hand and placed it on the neck of the sea horse.
"Wow, it feels wet and seaweedy to my touch," Rosa said.
Susan fed the horse yet another carrot and placed her hand on its neck as well. The sea horse's mane fell over her hand, stiff and wet to the touch. "Yes, he feels like he has just come out of the sea, not at all the way he looks. I wonder if they are true shapeshifters, or only good at illusions?"
While Susan fed the horse even more carrots in small bites, Rosa went to the side of the horse, She patted its back and rump, all the while emitting soothing sounds. "Well his hind quarters feels like a normal horse's down here," Rosa said, "although all his skin has the same wet feel and his tail feels even more like seaweeds."
"Like the mane does also," Susan answered.
A commotion made them both look up. Hilde and Josta had lured their horse close to the fence, and now Hilde tried to mount it.
"Stop it. Now!" Thora called in a soft, yet penetrating voice, startling the sea horses nearest to her. Terje and Veronika's white mare reared, Terje ducked, but the dancing hooves hit his chest with enough force to push him over in the grass. Anna let go of the horse she and Helge had been examining. It turned around and cantered off to the left where the fence went down to the water. Susan, Rosa, Helge, Anna and some of the others saw the brown form ripple and flow like water and a tail grew where the hindquarters had been moments before. Then the sea horse took to the waves.
Susan had her hands entwined in the weedy mane of "their" horse, her mouth close to its ear, singing small crazy songs to it. It startled at the sound of Thora's voice, but did not flee. Rosa praised it, calling him a sensible, beautiful horse, and Susan handed him another carrot.
Thora stood, her wand in her hand, casting a spell at the hippocampus carrying Hilde away towards the water. It stopped, in it's tracks as hit by something heavy. Then Thora ran to the horse and pulled Hilde off its back with more force than seemed to be in her smallish form. "Hilde, you foolish girl. You are a terrible know-all. and then you do not even know the bare essentials on hippocampi. Didn't you listen when I told you not to mount them?" Hilde murmured something inaudible and Thora pulled her back to where Josta stood by the fence. You two go back to the Farm now and wait for us in the barn. As Hilde and Josta left, she freed the sea horse from the spell, and stroked its mane, speaking gentle words and feeding it sugared kelp bites from a pocket in her cloak. When it had quieted down, she sent it off with a gentle pat on the rump. The she went over to where Kalle and Kirstin stood. Kirstin still had a grasp on their grey stallion, it neighed and tossed its head, but it was obvious that Kirstin knew how to handle a horse.
"You're doing fine Kirstin. It looks as if sea horses are not that different from the ones your father breeds," Thora said in a kind voice.
"They do not look that different, but the feel of him is not as he looks."
The other apprentices drew closer, the pairs still tending a sea horse leading them with a hand in the mane or a dangling carrot. Knud looked extremely uncomfortable, Marja did not look much more happy with the situation, but luckily their hippocampus was a young, grey mare, docile and curious.
"And here we end this lesson," Thora said. Pat your sea horse gently, give it one last carrot, and then we gather in the green room. You have 15 minutes to get there, and bring writing materials and paper. You'll need it. And Terje, you come with me, you'll need some peroxide on those scratches. And I need some coffee, preferably an espresso before we meet again."
The big boy nodded, and followed Thora.
The other apprentices hurried over the bridge, through the meadows and inside the farm. Susan, Knud, Rosa, Helge and Kirstin walked together, talking.
***
Back on Unicorn Farm the green team met in their room, Hilde and Josta conspicuously absent. Thora came in with the two in tow. Wordlessly she pointed to the empty table in front and placed her coffee cup on the table. When everybody was seated she grasped her wand and still without a word turned to the blackboard where two 3D paintings of a hippocampus emerged. One in their land form, and one in their aquatic form."Veronika," she snapped, and she looked up, clearly expecting an attack of some kind, "you asked, whether hippocampi normally had fish tails. As you all can see, their aquatic form do indeed have a fish tail. Now I'll have you all draw these two forms in your notebook, and write down the differences you see. You may add any observations you did today, while feeding the live specimens carrots, stroking, examining and not least riding them." she said with a furious glance at Hilde. All twelve heads bowed over notebooks; pencils, crayons, pens, and other writing utensils were busy at work.
Thora meanwhile stood at the blackboard, emitting a cold, an iceberg would have been proud of; normally she would have been passing around, looking over the shoulders of the apprentices, correcting a detail here, praising a perfect line here or a good turn of phrase there. The atmosphere in the classroom was so quiet, cool and fiercely concentrated, that they all jumped when someone knock at the door.
Upon Thora's terse "Enter!" Torben came in, carrying an enormous square board with a big sheet of paper tacked to it.
Everybody looked at him. "We're having the traditional Easter Fire a week from now," he said, holding the board aloof. "Whomsoever wants to jump through the fire or stand in it, must write their names on this board which will be hung in the barn under the hayloft."
Susan, Knud, Terje and Veronika looked bewildered. Under normal circumstances they would have been asking their neighbours what an Easter fire was, and why someone would want to jump through it or stand in it; but they dared not face Thora's wrath.
"Class dismissed! Hilde and Josta, you are in the cellar by two o'clock!" Thora said, turned around and left.
"What's an Easter fire, and why would anybody want to stay inside it?" It was Veronika who voiced the question burning in their minds. Hilde began giggling, then shut her mouth and left.
All the apprentices whose families were wizards and witches began explaining at once.
"Don't you know .." Kalle began
"We do it every year ..." Marja said in a loud voice.
"It's a competition ..." Kirstin added.
"We celebrate the victory ..." Rosa said
"Stop it," Torben said. "Nobody's able to hear much less understand anything. You," he said pointing at Kalle, "you seem to know what you're talking about. You tell those of non-magic parentage what it's all about." Torben then hefted the sign and left.
***
Josta reluctantly left the room, Kalle rose, cleared his throat and begun: "Ever since ... well forever, we have been celebrating the victory of Light over Darkness at Easter night. We make a great, big bonfire, the oldest among us recite an ancient text and light the fire with flint and tinder. It has to be a new fire*.
We all are solemn and just stand looking until the fire burns brightly. Then people start dancing and singing. Most of us leap through the fire, it is supposed to clean the jumper from evil, illnesses and such, almost everybody do it. Only not the very small or very old. I still remember being allowed to leap for the first time. It was great.
Standing in the fire is something for the young, foolhardy or brave. You really stand inside the fire, the sport is to get out before your spellpower gives in, else you get burned. No, Knud, no one ever died. Some of the older witches and wizards stand by, ready to save your skin, if not your face."
"Let's go and read the poster," Marja said. "We'll learn no more from sitting here."
They poured into the barn, the other four teams were there as well. All milling around in front of the poster. Veronika found her sister, Fiona. Not a hard job as she had one leg in a cast and both arms in a sling. Veronika put an arm around Fiona's waist and gave it a squeeze. "Now, you're not doing any jumping this year are you?" "Not with these," Fiona answered with a wry grin, lifting her arms. "But maybe I could fly through the fire. Would that count, you think?" Fiona began giggling, and Veronika looked at the poster: Big letters stated:
Easter Fire ~ Saturday
The poster was split in two. The left part said
Jump through the fire
- If you wish to jump through the Easter fire, you must sign your name here below. Apprentices under 12 years of age as of Easter Sunday need their parents' written approval.
The right half said almost the same. Only the age limit was higher. They needed to be 14 or more to stand in the fire without their parents' consent.
"You can't do it, thank God: I was almost certain you would." Veronika said in a lighter mood.
"I can." Susan said.
"But do you want to?" Knud asked. "I can even stand in the fire if I want to. But I don't know how to do it, or if I should do it at all."
"You do not need to make up your mind right now." It was Martine, the Japanese-looking Norwegian witch. "This poster will stay here until Friday when the last school bell chimes. If you need a permission, you can hand it to any of the professors."
"Oh, I hope I cam have Mom's permission to jump through the fire," Heidi said as she, My, Rosa and Kirstin sat in a sunny nook between two strawbales eating their lunch. "I've done it for three years already, but only at home."
My, a redhead and the smallest of all the apprentices, looked at her with envy. "My parents always say I'm too small."
"So do mine," Rosa said. "What about you, Kirstin? Are you allowed to jump through the fire?"
"I will this year. Mom and Dad said that after the 'Icelandic plague' as you call it, we all need cleansing by the Easter Fire."
"Great!" Rosa said. "I'm off to write to my parents, maybe they did nor think of it!"
___________________________ Note ______________________________
We do not celebrate Easter with fires in Denmark (Wikipedia is wrong there). We celebrate the birth of St. John the Baptist - the vigil that is - on June 23th. Only almost nobody knows that's what we're celebrating.
_____________________________________________________________
***
Saturday as darkness fell, they were all gathered round the big stack of firewood, placed behind the farm, where it would be less visible both from the sea and from the highway on the mainland. Gilvi who were by far the oldest of the people at the Unicorn Farm, took a piece of wood from the stack and pared thin shavings with his pocket knife. Everybody formed a loose circle around the fire to be and looked while he struck the iron and flint together several times and the sparks flew. Finally the shavings caught, and soon the fire began growing.
"Tonight," Gilvi intoned, "in the night where darkness was subdued by light, we stand gladly by this fire, lit by simple means, by stone and steel and wood. This is the night that is bright as the day and full of gladness. The power of this night dispels wickedness, washes away faults, restores innocence to the fallen, and joy to the sorrowful. It drives out hatred, fosters unity, and brings down the mighty."
Gilvi fell silent, stood as lost in thoughts. Susan covertly looked around, all the other apprentices stood still and looked at the fire. Susan followed their example, and watched with a growing sense of wonder as the flames grew stronger and leapt skywards.
When the stack of wood was engulfed in flames, Gilvi raised his head and spoke again: " This is the Easter Fire, a new fire. Now that the Easter Fire is burning brightly, let us make a joyful noise unto the Lord." *
At this everybody began clapping, shouting and singing. And if those from non-magical families were a bit slow in responding, nobody noticed.
The happy noises were cut short by the arrival of the nisser** carrying trays laden with small cakes and chocolates and every delicacy imaginable. The last pair - the Icelandic ones - carried a large cauldron from which an enticing smell emerged, that lassoed the apprentices and professors alike and made them scrabble for a drink or two. It was refreshing, sweet, tangy and just a bit bubbly. "Is is an old, secret recipe from the deep wastes of Icelandic lava-fields," my lord, Susan overheard the female nisse say to Gilvi. She presumed it was an answer to his questioning the contents of the cauldron. "We brew it inside the volcanic mountain of Krafla near Mýwatn." More you'll not know." The nisser kept close watch on the contents and poured it into waiting cups with big, wooden ladles. Everybody could eat as much as they wanted from the brimming trays, and the soft drinks placed at regular intervals on the tables, but only the professors and the older apprentices were served more than once from the cauldron. Susan was sure she saw Gilvi, Thora and maybe even Sif and Elvin, the two oldest Icelandic apprentices, have a very small third cup.
As darkness fell, the flames grew
When the fire burned a bit lower, the jumping began. First all the teachers jumped through the fire. Gilvi first, he walked through the roaring flames just like he would have through a doorway. Susan was disappointed, that no actual jumping was involved, but when the Finnish Täthi bowed on by Taavi with an old fashioned flourish walked daintily through the flames, she saw the reason. Nobody could see through the curtain of flames, and an ill-timed jump could result in sprained ankles or worse. Taavi then stepped out. Thora was next, she was as elegant jumping through fire, as sitting on her broomstick or casting a spell. Then Torben jumped, holding onto his long beard and swinging cape with both hands. Jon and Birgitta began discussing who were to jump next, Finally Jon bowed to Birgitta and said: "Ladies first." That settled it, she was not liking the idea of having to admit that she was older than the black-skinned Jon, which actually she was.
Martine was the youngest and last of the teachers, she put aside her kimono before jumping, and had problems getting through the fire.
Everybody who needed it, had had permission from their parents to jump through the fire, even My, who were only 10 years old. and had to wait till everybody else had had their turn. The apprentices lined up, only a bit of jostling and elbowing taking place in the queue.
Sif and Elvin, the Icelandic sister and brother having had an extra cup from the bubbling cauldron, were the first in line. This confirmed Susan's suspicion that the two redheads were somewhat older than the other apprentices. Most of them were between 14 and 11 years old, with My at only 10 being the youngest and obviously Sif being the oldest, at 16 or most probably 17. She and Elvin, both still looking worn from their illness, walked through the fire smiling. Helge, the gangling, accident prone Swede was next. Susan held her breath while he walked through, and from the sounds of sudden intake of breath and sighs as Helge came unharmed out on the other side, she had not been the only one.
__________________ Notes __________________________________________
* If you think you recognize these words - you're right. they are a slightly altered version of the Paschal blessings. Only a small percentage of Danes are Catholic - estimates wary between ½ and 3 percent of the populace - so the chances of anybody recognizing them were slim.
** Nisser: singular nisse; plural nisser are the Nordic equivalent of elves, goblins, the little people and such. Wikipedia tells of them. It is NOT the modern, Christmassy tribe we're talking of here.
________________________________________________________________
The only real problem arose, as Knud and David found out that they were born on the same day and none of them wanted to jump first. In the end David solved the problem by unceremoniously giving Knud a push in the back, forcing him in the direction of the fire. Knud was, like Susan of non-magical parentage, but he had his wand ready and with a swish and the appropriate words - diligently studied by them all in the preceding hours - no mishap came to pass.
Tage and Lis kept to the strict chronological order of jumping; this meant that Tage as the firstborn of the twins were first, they had done it for several years at home, and Susan envied them their steady grasp on the wand and their even voice as they pronounced the Icelandic syllables with ease.
Hilde, the squat, Norwegian know-all with mouse coloured lank hair and slightly bulging eyes of course had to show off. She went towards the fire with a swagger, displaying her ample front and backside to the spectators. But then she seemed to falter, and Martine had to prompt her in the use of the words, making the heat of the fire a soft, tickling sensation instead of the terrible heat.
Then gentle Monica, only a few days her junior, and as different as could be, stepped daintily through the flames. She turned her head and smiled reassuringly at Susan, just before she was hidden behind the curtain of flames.
Susan was apprehensive. Even after so many wizards had walked through the fire without ill effects, she wondered if the spell would work, if she would forget to concentrate on it, if she would get far enough on the other side of the fire before her powers ran out, in short anything that could go wrong crossed Susan's brain. But she had placed herself in the line, ready to jump through the Easter Fire; now she had to go through with it. She drew her wand, walked as close as she was able to, she felt the heat on her skin, especially the nose and cheeks, the sound of the fire was loud in her ears. She stood still, concentrating. Then she passed her wand in front of her in the patterns they had practised all day and softly spoke the words to go with the gestures. Suddenly the almost singeing heat from the roaring fire sunk to a pleasant level, and she walked steadily into the flames. The roaring and crackling sounds of the fire battered against her ears, the updraft from the flames almost lifted her skirt, but she walked on, through a seemingly endless tunnel made of fire. Then the curtain of flames became thinner, she got a glimpse of the line of trees, black against the horizon, and she was through. Susan remembered to count ten steps before cancelling the spell. Breathing a sigh of relief she sunk down on one of the benches. She felt empty, happy, glad it was done, ready to do it again.
Veronika came through as well, looking as pale as Susan had felt and flopped down on the bench next to her. Sarah too looked strained as she sat down. She too walked the Fire for the first time.
Then came a slew of Icelandic and Swedish wizards' children, among those Kirstin and Kalle, then Olav and Björn, two Swedes also walking for the first time. They looked incredibly happy upon getting out. "I did it! I did it!" Björn shouted, before collapsing on the bench next to Veronika. Olav gave him a hug, "Me too!" he said in an awed voice.
After another bevel of Swedes and Norwegians, Nata, a Finnish girl from the yellow team, was the last of the 12 years old to walk through. After her the stream slowed down as the professors had to control the permissions. The first one through came as a big surprise for the girls siting on the bench. It was Fiona, Veronika's sister with the broken leg and arm. She obviously had been granted permission from her parents, and now she was carried through the Fire by gentle Taavi, the male twin-professor from the yellow team. Fiona was shaking as Taavi gently put her down on the bench between Susan and Fiona. "I could do it, she said triumphantly. "My spell held strong and true all the way through the Fire! I did it myself, and Taavi did not hurry or help me." Susan smiled at her. Fiona said: "You are absolutely hopeless!" and gave her a big hug.
Heidi came through the fire and sat on the end of the bench. "Fiona, that was great!" she said. "Yes it was!" Susan and Fiona said simultaneously. They all began laughing.
Rosa came through the fire, looking solemn. They moved closer together on the bench to make room for her as well. Anna and Marja, the youngest of the Finnish birch-sisters, came through and sat down on the ground in front of them. Then one last Finnish girl in yellow, whose name Susan had forgotten, came through. And then they all looked at the fire, now beginning to die down just a little. And yes, My came walking out of the fire; with a determined look on her small, pale face she counted ten steps before she crumbled in a quivering heap. Susan, Rosa and Veronika jumped up, and picked her off the ground. She was crying. "It's OK. I'm just so, so happy. I made it, I really did!" And the she stood, hugging her want-to-be helpers, and all of the green group came over hugging and laughing and shouting.
***
As told earlier, Susan lived in Elsinore and the Unicorn Farm was on an island situated almost two hours away by car. At least with the stops required by us children :) The Easter Fire had several repercussions on the Farm and in the magical households. Here's a story of one of them.
The first day in the Pentecostal mini-holidays, the green team was gathered in their room as Hilde arrived carrying a humongous load of freshly baked buns. She placed them on a central table, and continued to produce jars of homemade jams and honey from her bags. Even some freshly churned butter had found its way into her bags, swaddled in humid tea towels. An Thora came into the room, the table was laid out for a feast.
Hilde got up and spoke: "I made it all by myself from scratch, and I mean totally from scratch. I milked the cows, picked the berries, harvested the wheat, stole the honey from the bees, and so on. The only store bought thing in the whole lot is probably the yeast."
Thora and the other apprentices looked at her in astonishment.
"You know the old proverb: 'So many ways to say I'm sorry'. This is mine. I realize I have been a pompous ass. I am an only child of two magical parents and they home-schooled me, and taught me everything they knew both about magic and the world. We live far away in the country, and we're used to being self reliant and hard working. But I've been thinking .. a lot ... since the Easter holidays.
That Fire jumping, you all cheered My and Rosa on, but when I had to jump, I felt all your eyes on me, filled with despise, maybe even hatred. It filled me with a feeling, I do not know how to describe. It even made me forget the spell, and for the first time ever, I knew how it must be to not be able to make your homework with ease, not be able to remember the words or somatics.
No one congratulated me after my walk through the Fire, I have never felt so alone and useless in my life. I have been thinking ever since. Maybe it's better to be friends than to be right. Sorry ... friends?"
"Friends!" all the other apprentices agreed.
Together they ate all the delicious buns, discussed the jams and the honey and marvelled over how yellow the butter was. Hilde explained how she had done, whenever someone asked, but without bragging or showing off.
"Aren't you afraid of the bees?" Susan asked. "I live in a town, but whenever we go on a pick nick I'm always afraid of the bees."
"I'm dressed in protective gear from top to toe," Hilde explained. "And bees are generally nice insects, not bothering people - except when stealing their honey, or stepping on them by accident. It was probably not even bees you met. Bees are only interested in flowers or honey not in your pick nick, I think it might have been wasps. Thora, can you show us the difference?"
Thora nodded and broke two small pieces of the bun she was eating, swung the wand over one of them: "Alibýfluga!" she said. "This is a bee."
As if to prove her words, it went straight for the honey pot. Everybody laughed.
"Holugeitungur," she said, making the relevant gestures over the other piece of bun. "And this is a wasp. A black and yellow wasp flew from her hand, and with an angry buzzing went for one of the jars of jam. From there it flew to the window, making more than one frightened apprentice shrink from it. Thora went for it with a fly swatter.
"You're right," Susan said. "Wasps, not bees, have been ruining our pick nicks. I'll never mistake one for the other again."
The lesson developed into a general telling of tales abut insects, animals and other crazy or not so crazy happenings in town and on farm. Everybody had a good time, and Thora watched with secret appreciation how the green team grew to accept Hilde as a member and not as a stranger.
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