“Yes.”
“Do you know what that word means?”
“No,” Rune said. “No one seems to know the source of it. The word is not Norwegian. This place has always been called by that name.”
Geaxi turned to Nova and me. “The word is an old Meq word,” she said.
“What does it mean?” Nova asked.
Geaxi stared up at the steep cliffs as we passed through the narrow channel. The rock faces were streaked black and gray in the rain and they seemed to disappear into a fog hanging over the channel. She looked away and said, “The word means ‘final enclosure.’”
The cliffs ended abruptly and the channel opened onto a wide, tear-shaped cove and harbor, surrounded by two green valleys connected at the far end of the cove by a slim strip of land beneath a wall of rock. At least three waterfalls fell from the cliffs. Both valleys were dotted with firs, pines, paths, pastures, stone buildings, barns, and farmhouses. Mountains with snow-covered peaks encircled and towered over everything. The place was an idyll, a fortress—a naturally protected world within a world.
What happened next is difficult to explain to anyone but the Meq. Geaxi, Nova, and I all felt it at once. I can only liken it to a chill or shudder running up and down your spine simultaneously. However, it is not a chill or shudder and it runs through Time. It is a sudden recognition of an intense Meq experience. The memory of the experience inhabits a particular place or space. This one came from the Time of Ice and it was a warning or beacon of great danger. Something terrible had happened here.
“Geaxi, do you know of this place?” I whispered.
“No,” she said calmly. “Nor does Sailor or Trumoi-Meq or anyone else. The Fleur-du-Mal has discovered something…unusual.”
Rune made a turn toward a small dock on the shore of the southern valley. Nova asked him why he ever sold such a property. Rune explained there had been no choice. The family fortune had dwindled and Penelope’s husband had vanished, leaving behind a mountain of debt. About that time, the tall Indian man called Raza appeared and offered Rune enough money to ensure Penelope and Knut would be well taken care of for the rest of their lives. Rune took the offer without hesitation, but insisted his friend Svein be allowed to stay and live in his farmhouse. The Stigen family had lived in this cove for over two hundred years and Svein was the last of them. His terms were accepted and Rune soon left for Paris to work in Chartres. “You know the rest,” he added.
“Is there no other way in or out than through the channel?” Geaxi asked.
“No,” Rune answered. “A tunnel was begun once in the 1860s. It was never completed. Svein and I explored it together as children.”
He eased the fishing boat into position along the dock and we tied off, then hurried through the rain and up a steep path to a large, rambling old stone and timber farmhouse. Svein Stigen was standing in the open doorway with his arms spread wide. He wore a bright red and gold sweater and a big gap-toothed grin. He greeted Rune in Norwegian and the two men embraced warmly. Svein had the same wild gray hair and scraggly beard as Rune. It looked like a reunion of two unrepentant Vikings.
He seemed a little surprised to see Rune, but especially surprised to see us. “Who are these children?” he asked Rune in Norwegian.
“In English, Svein, old friend. Speak in English.”
“Ah! English it is then,” he said, and quickly led the way inside. “Come stand by the fire and warm yourselves.”
An hour later we were well fed, warm, dry, and sadly informed that we had missed the Fleur-du-Mal by three days. Using a speedboat, he and Raza had left in a hurry. They did not say where they were going or when they might return, only that it would be sometime before the end of the year. Svein was to watch over everything in their absence, especially the greenhouse and precious rose garden. We were disappointed but not dispirited. We still had the element of surprise in our favor. All we had to do was wait. We knew we could do that well.
Two and a half months passed. During that time we had ample opportunity to explore Askenfada and the surrounding landscape with Svein and Rune as our guides. The Fleur-du-Mal’s residence and most of the larger buildings lined the hillsides of the valley opposite to Svein’s farmstead. By water, the distance was less than a mile and the crossing took only a few minutes. Walking around the teardrop cove and across a narrow strip of soil and loose rock at the base of a wall of cliffs took half the morning. As the temperature dropped and the weather deteriorated, our journeys by land ceased completely. Snow came early and often. Firs and pines along both valleys were blanketed white for weeks at a time. Constantly, wind whipped at the mounting snow on the surrounding peaks. Svein said we must all be vigilant for avalanches. In the infinite silence of Askenfada, they were commonplace. And there was no sign of the Fleur-du-Mal.
Most of the buildings and structures were open and accessible to Svein, but even he was locked out of the Fleur-du-Mal’s private residence. The large stone and timber building attached directly to the greenhouse and rose garden. Its heavy wooden doors were locked securely and every window barred. Svein’s entrance to the greenhouse was completely separate. Rune said that once he sold the property to Raza, extensive reconstruction began all around Askenfada. Svein was not allowed to live here during this period. Nevertheless, the entire place had remained beautiful in its starkness and simplicity.
We rarely left the cove, except for supply trips to Voss. Occasionally, Rune would leave for Bergen to visit his sister and nephew. Geaxi, Nova, and I made no attempt to contact anyone, Meq or Giza. Silence was necessary to keep our presence at Askenfada completely unknown.
For the last seven days of November through the first five days in December, snow fell day and night. We were essentially snowbound. We played chess, watched the falling snow, and ate meal after meal of Svein’s cooking. On December 6, the storm finally broke. Rune announced a visit to his sister’s home and asked if anyone wanted to join him. I said I would love to go, but hesitated to say yes. The Fleur-du-Mal could appear at any moment. I think Geaxi saw the cabin fever in my eyes and told me to go along. “If the Fleur-du-Mal arrives, we shall wait for your return before taking action. Go, young Zezen, enjoy yourself.”
Rune and I left for Voss, then boarded a train for Bergen. As we looked for seats on the crowded train, Rune said, “In Bergen I will take you to the Fisketorget, the Fish Market. It is the best in Norway. We will find something special for my sister to cook tonight, eh!”
“Good idea,” I said. “Svein Stigen is a fine man and a true friend indeed, Rune. But he is a terrible cook.”
Suddenly our compartment went dark. We had entered the mouth of a tunnel, the first of many to come. In the darkness, Rune and I laughed all the way through.
Penelope did prepare a delicious meal that evening, a baked cod dish she said she first learned from a Basque fisherman. Afterward, we gathered around a well-used upright piano and Rune entertained us with Parisian cabaret tunes. He was off-key, his French was bad, and Knut continually begged him to stop, but Rune would have none of it and sang for two hours. Outside, the night sky was crystal clear and the lights of Bergen burned all around the harbor. Finally, after we had finished the last of the champagne and Rune’s voice began to fade, we said good night and I fell into a long, dreamless sleep.
When I woke in the morning it was a different world. Snow was falling thick and heavy. At least a foot and a half had already fallen. I dressed quickly and woke Rune with a rap on his door. “Time to go,” I said. A raspy voice inside asked, “Where?” “Look outside,” I said. “We don’t want to get snowbound in Bergen.” A few moments later the voice said, “Give me twenty minutes.”
With a basket of fresh rolls from Penelope, we caught the morning train for Voss, then settled into our seats. The train was crowded but quiet. We shared rolls and coffee and watched the snow through the window. The hour- long ride passed mostly in silence. My thoughts drifted and I daydreamed until we pulled to a stop at the station in Voss. Slightly unfocused, I gathered my cap and muffler and stepped from the train onto the platform. In the next second I felt the presence of Meq more intensely than I ever had in my life. My mind sharpened in an instant and I took in a shallow breath. It was overwhelming. I turned to Rune. “Wait for me,” I said and walked toward the source of what I felt.
Everyone in the noisy crowd wore big coats, caps, and boots. All were in a hurry to get home. I was bumped hard several times and never looked up or said a word. I walked in a straight line until I saw them, all of them, huddled together in a corner of the station on two benches. They looked like children waiting for their parents. They
