The Brothers by Asko Sahlberg Read Free Book Online

happen. People got killed.’
    ‘Yes, of course but I meant something else…’ His hands, dimly visible in the dark, seize the pipe lying on the table and begin filling it from a leather pouch. ‘See, I’ve got this feeling there’s something you’ve not said.’
    I feel it, here and now: cries of pain, smell of smoke, blood spurting in the air and bits of guts. I squeeze my thighs under the table and try to keep my voice calm. ‘Like what?’
    ‘You tell me. I get this sometimes – I start sensing things and then they won’t leave me be. And by now I’ve learnt that my gut feeling’s generally right. God knows why.’
    ‘Aha. Well, I don’t know what it could be.’
    He is busy now lighting his long-stemmed pipe. ‘Perhaps something happened that wasn’t really about the war. Something just as bad or worse.’
    Tall, thin pines. Heather. A hilltop. Distant shouts of command and the thunder of cannon. I am crawling among the heather, dragging the musket alongside me. Then I suddenly notice on the ridge the movement of a dark-green frock coat, almost imperceptible. ‘It was all bad. And you don’t want to think back on it.’
    ‘I imagine not. Don’t mind me, I’m just babbling away. When a man gets old, he starts spouting nonsense.’
    I do not reply. I am trying to return from crawling, from that slope. I am trying to come back and stay back. I hear snow crunching outside. Someone is walking towards the cattle sheds. The wind is howling in the field. Light, powdery snow sticks to the window. If a real snowstorm blows up, the labourers are bound to return from the woods. A puff of smoke billows from the fireplace into the room. The Farmhand twists round to the fire, discontented.
    ‘You’ve had a lot of business in town with Erik,’ he says.
    ‘Erik has. I’ve been the driver.’
    He lets smoke dribble down his lips. ‘People get suspicious. Anna especially.’
    I do not understand at first. Then I see. ‘It’s not that. Erik’s not seeing other women.’
    ‘I didn’t think he was. But something must be going on.’
    ‘No point asking me. There’s this one house he goes to, but I don’t even get to go inside. Or only as far as the porch.’
    ‘So he’s kept you right out of it.’
    ‘Yes. And I haven’t stuck my nose in.’
    He keeps nodding his head slowly. ‘But you must have found out who lives in the house.’
    ‘A gentleman. I don’t remember the name. And there are other men, too. You hear the voices.’
    ‘I hope they’re not hatching any evil plots.’
    As often, I find it hard to follow his thinking. ‘Erik? What could he be plotting?’
    ‘These are strange times. I’ve heard village talk. Not everyone wants to stop fighting. They’re still set on God knows what – don’t like the Russians.’
    I nearly sigh with relief. ‘I don’t think Erik would get into all that. He’s not that much of an idiot.’
    ‘Maybe not. But you can get into trouble if you’re curious enough to listen to idiots talk.’
    ‘Should we say something to him?’
    ‘Might be better to wait and see. He may yet come to his senses.’
    Matters tend to diminish when the Farmhand talks about them. He is that kind of man. Even if he were on the scaffold with the noose round his neck, he would remark on the mildness of the weather. He has seen much in his time. He was even in the Pomeranian War, fighting against hussars. If you ask him about it, he says he has forgotten almost everything. I bet he could still use a gun, though, and not just for shooting rabbits.
    ‘I’d better get going,’ I say, standing up. ‘Don’t know whether to try and look after them or make sure I don’t get under their feet.’
    ‘Do both. Look after them from a distance,’ the Farmhand advises. After I have opened the door, he adds, ‘But don’t learn their lesson. Rancour is a bad teacher.’
    The wind blows heavy snowflakes into my face. The forest is veiled, merely its outline visible. You can only sense