CHAPTER X.

KAJANEBORG.

Far away in the North roar the mighty waters of the sea under vaults of ice; the _fors_ never freezes, the green of the pine never withers, and the grey rocks, which confine the foaming floods in narrow ravines, never shake. Here the powers of nature have pursued their incessant warfare for centuries without rest, without reconciliation; the flood never tires of battling with the rocks, and these persist in resisting the stream; the hills never seem to grow old, and the immense morasses defy cultivation; the frosty transparent atmosphere quivers as of old in the northern light, and the winter sky looks down with its imperturbable, majestic calm upon the scattered huts on the banks of the streams.

This is the home of night and terror; this is the shadow of Finnish poetry's golden pictures. Here the light-shunning Black Art spins its webs around human beliefs; here are the graves of heroes; here the last giants spent their rude strength in the mountain wilderness; here stood Hüsis ancient fortress, of which the steps were each six feet in height; here the spirit of the middle ages brooded over its darkest thoughts; here it receded, step by step, before the light of a newer time, and here it has bled in its impotent rage; heathenism, fallen from its greatness, steals outlawed from place to place, in the sheep's clothing of Christendom, going restlessly around the country, and performing its miserable mummeries in churchyards at night.

Before the great northern waters, irritated by their battles in hundreds of _forssar_* go to seek a brief repose in Uleä Sea, they once more pour out their anger into the two mighty waterfalls of Koivukoski and Ämmä, near the little Kajana. Like two immense surfs the torrents throw themselves headlong down the narrow pass, and so violent is their fall that human daring, accustomed to struggle with nature and conquer in the end, has here stopped with dismay and acknowledged its powerlessness. Up to the latest times the boats which have steered down the _forssar_ in their course towards Uleäborg, have always been obliged to land here and be drawn by horses through the streets of Kajana.**

* Plural of fors.

** After the surgeon's time, a lock was completed here at each fall, and the boats now continue on their way without much delay.

In the stream, right between the two falls, Koivukoski and Ämmä, lies a flat rock, to which bridges are attached from both sides. Here stand the grey walls of an ancient fortress, now in ruins, and constantly bathed by the waves of the flood. This fortress of Kajaneborg was founded in 1607, during Carl IX.'s time, as a protection against Russian invasion. Perhaps the time may come in our stories when we shall speak more of it.

It is now 1635, and the castle stands in its original strength. Its form resembles an arrow with the point turned towards the stream. Unless famine occurs, or the enemy can bring heavy artillery to the heights, it is considered impregnable. But how can a hostile army find any road to Kajaneborg? In the immense wilderness all around there is not a single road where a wheel can run. In summer the traveller follows the narrow paths, and in winter the Laplander, with his reindeer and sleigh, drives over the frozen lakes.

It is winter; a thick crust of ice on the shores and over the walls of the castle shows that the cold has been severe, though it has not been able to bind the _fors_ in its rapid course.

Some soldiers, clad in sheep-skin jackets, with the fur side turned inwards, are busy drawing home wood from the adjacent forest. There is peace in the land, the drawbridge is down, and horses' feet thunder over the bridge. Then a violent squabble arises in the castle yard. An old woman, tall in stature, with rather disagreeable features, has taken possession of one of the loads of wood, and pushed away the soldiers, while she picks up as many pieces as she is able to carry, and commands another younger woman to do likewise.

The soldiers utter coarse oaths, but the woman with the keen eyes does not deign to reply.

A sub-officer, drawn there by the noise, informs himself of the cause, then addresses the woman with hard words, and orders her to return the wood she has taken. The woman refuses to obey; the sub-officer endeavours to use force; the woman plants herself back to the wall, raises a small log of wood in the air, and threatens to break the head of the first man who approaches her. The soldiers swear and laugh; the sub-officer hesitates; the old woman's courage holds them all in check.

Then an elderly man appears on the steps, to whom all give way with reverence. It is Governor Wernstedt. As soon as the old woman sees him, she leaves her hostile attitude, and relates with a torrent of words all the injustice she has suffered.

"Yes, gracious Excellency," she said, "that is the way they dare to treat a man who is the pride and ornament of Sweden. It is not sufficient to shut him up in this miserable out-of-the-way hole, but they let him freeze to death in the bargain. What wood have they given us? Great God! nothing but green and rotten chunks, which fill the room with smoke, and do not give out heat enough to thaw the ink on his table. But I tell you, Excellency, that I, Lucia Grothusen, do not intend to be imposed upon any longer. This wood is good, and I take it, as you see, Excellency, right before the face of these vagabonds, who deserve to all hang upon the highest pine in the Paldamo forest. Pack yourselves off, you lazy, good-for-nothing rascals, and look out how you act before me and the Governor. The wood is mine, and that is all to be said about it."

The Governor smiled.

"Let her keep the wood," he said to the soldiers, "or else there will be no peace in the castle. And you, Lucia, I warn you to hold your wicked tongue, which has already done so much mischief; otherwise it may happen that I shall again put you and your husband in that basement you know of, where Erik Hare kept you, and where the stream rolls right under the floor. Is this the thanks I get for the mild treatment I have bestowed upon you, that you are eternally exciting quarrels in the castle? The day before yesterday you gave rein to your tongue, because you did not receive enough soap for your washing; yesterday you took a leg of mutton by force from my kitchen, and to-day you make a noise about the wood. Take care, Lucia; my patience may be exhausted."

The woman looked the Governor right in the face.

"Your patience!" she repeated. "How long do you think that mine will last. I have stayed now nearly nineteen years in this owl's nest. For nineteen long years has it cast a stain upon Sweden that its greatest man is confined here like a criminal! ... Mark what I say: Sweden's greatest man; for the day will arrive when you, and I, and all these souls of lard, all these wandering ale-jugs, will be food for worms, and no more thought of than the hogs you killed to-day; but the glorious name of Johannes Messenius will shine for all time. Your patience! Have I, then, had none--I who in these long weary years have been fighting with you for a bit of bread, for firewood, for a pillow for this great man, whom you abuse? I, the only one who has kept his frail body alive, and strengthened his soul for the great work which he has now accomplished? Do you realise what it means to suffer as I have; to be snatched away from one's children, to go about with despair in the heart, and a smile on the lips, so as to seem to have a hope when none remains? ... Do you know, your Excellency, what all this means? And you stand there and talk about your patience!"

The soldiers' loud laughter all at once interrupted the voluble old woman. She now perceived for the first time that the Governor had chosen the wisest course, and gone his way. It was not the first time that Lucia Grothusen had put the commander of a fortress to flight. She felt able to drive a whole garrison to the woods. But it vexed her that she could not fully relieve her heart. She threw a stick of wood at the nearest and worst of her mockers, and then hurried with the wood in her arms, to reach a low back door. The soldier, struck in the leg, seized the stick with an oath, and flung it in his turn after the old woman. Lucia, hit in the heel, uttered a cry of pain and anger ... and then she disappeared through the door, followed by the soldiers' loud laughter.

During this scene of self-sacrifice on one side, and rudeness on the other, a group of strangers had arrived over the left castle bridge, and asked to be conducted to the Governor.

The soldiers regarded them with curiosity. They wore the common garb of peasants, but their whole appearance betrayed their foreign origin. An old man, with dark squinting eyes and sallow complexion, came first; his face partly hidden under a woolly cap of dog-skin, which with its ear-flaps covered the greater portion of the head. After him followed a young woman in a striped home-spun skirt, and a tight-fitting jacket of new and fine white sheep-skin. Her face, also, is almost entirely concealed under a hood of coarse felt, bordered with squirrel-skin, the fine fur of which is covered with frost. One only saw a pair of beautiful dark eyes of unusual brilliancy, which peeped forth from the hood. The third of the company was a little old woman, so wrapped up in furs that her short figure had widened out into the shape of a well-stuffed cushion.

All these persons were conducted to the Governor. The man in the dog-skin cap showed a passport, according to which, Albertus Simonis, in his royal Majesty's service, was appointed army physician to the troops which were to go to Germany the following spring, and was now, with his wife and daughter, on a journey from Dantzig to Stockholm, by way of the north road through Wiborg and Kajana. The Governor closely examined both the document and the man, and seemed to find a satisfactory conclusion to his survey. Then he sent the travellers to a room in the east wing of the castle, and gave orders for them to be provided with the necessary refreshments after such a long journey in the severe cold.