Again the days flew by; harvest-time came round, and in the clearing
danced a crop, bounteous and magnificent, the like of which had
scarcely been seen before. In the heat of a blazing sun the brothers
reaped their field; and soon the gleaming stalks had been gathered
into sheaves. And soon the sheaves too disappeared as they were
removed into the cabin. There in the heat of the platform the grain
was dried, threshed against the wall below and winnowed. And in the
end the clearing lay quite naked, despoiled of its grain, of which
the greater part was at once taken to Viertola, twenty barrels being
retained by the brothers for their own use. With this grain about half
of the brothers’ debt was paid; but the master of Viertola promised to
wipe off the whole of it if the brothers would allow him to use their
clearing for one crop of oats, give him the logs for a big new barn
from the Jukola forests and return the forty oxhides. And the brothers
agreed to the bargain.
They were now released from an awkward situation, which had helped,
however, to store their granary with more grain than they needed for
the coming winter. But it had other and graver consequences for them.
This same grain, fine first-crop grain, suggested to Juhani the idea of
distilling spirits, an idea that was soon approved by Timo. The others
were against the enterprise in the beginning, but finally the will of
Juhani and Timo prevailed. Juhani preached how even spirits, enjoyed
with skill and in moderation, brings joy and happiness, especially to
them, young ravens in the dismal forests. And they set to work and
fashioned a small distillery in the ditch by the wolf-trap and to it
brought the old Jukola still; for the tanner lacked means to distil
spirits for himself. And now smoke began to rise towards the heavens
from Impivaara ditch; and richly the still yielded clear spirits.
And now the brothers began to enjoy themselves, tippling from morning
to eve, and their time went by like the flow of a river. And already
after the lapse of two or three days a ceaseless, humming music, like
the sound of a distant bassoon, echoed in their ears, and the world
span merrily round before their eyes. Attired only in their shirts,
they lolled in the cabin, whence a fearful din and singing was now
constantly heard, broken now and again by the dull thuds of a wrestling
bout or the clamour and banging of a fight. Often, at such times, the
stout door of the cabin would suddenly fly open and a man gallop out as
fast as he could with another hard at his heels. Round and round the
cabin they would scud, short, homespun shirts waving and brown limbs
twinkling. So they would run until a collision occurred or the rest of
the brothers stepped between to restore peace and harmony. Then they
would enter the cabin in a body, friendship would be drunk again and a
merry song sung together.
Lauri alone kept apart from such sprees. Remembering his wild spree on
the Devil’s Rock, he had taken a noble and sacred decision never to let
intoxicating liquor pass his lips again, and this vow he kept. Now he
strode the forests in silence, studying the twists in three-trunks and
seeking useful timber for household purposes. He also worked steadily
with his traps in the clearing and would often return from his outings
carrying a young hare in his distended bag. Once, having gone out to
examine his traps, he chanced to see a brown animal in a snare. Highly
satisfied, he said to himself: ‘Thanks be to God that I have caught a
fox!’ but soon a rough, snarling cry was heard from him: ‘Viertola’s
tabby cat and the Devil!’ With this shout he cast the cat angrily
into the forest, set the snare again and went on to his other traps
and gins. Thus he spent his days in the cool woods, while the others
gambolled with shrunken eyes in the scorching cabin.
Michaelmas drew nigh, and the brothers felt like enjoying this holiday
in high fashion. A rich load was haled together to be taken to town,
and with the proceeds titbits were to be bought for the coming feast:
rum, bottled beer, eels, salt herrings and wheaten bread. Great was the
bustle around the cart one fresh autumn morning. Sacks were lifted and
stored, ropes bound and strong slip-knots tied. Everything was done
lightly, done at fiery speed; for each of them, with the exception of
Lauri, had poured a mighty morning drink down his throat. Soon the load
stood ready in the yard, and Simeoni and Eero began their journey to
Hämeenlinna, with a barrel of rye and ten cans of spirits on the cart
and old Valko between the shafts.
But in the cabin the merrily roaring life continued; spirits were drunk
out of a tankard, and day followed day. A week went by and part of the
next, but there was no sign of the travellers from town, and finally
the brothers began to speculate hither and thither as to the cause of
this delay. And while they still speculated the tenth day dawned, and
still on unknown paths Simeoni and Eero lingered.
The sun rose and in the cabin merriment was at its height; mighty words
were used as each boasted of his powers. Lauri alone sat silent in his
corner, whittling a gun-stock of curly birch-wood. Big phrases filled
the air. ‘A lad like the corner of a house!’ ‘Feet skyward when a
real man hit out!’ ‘Do you remember, brothers, how sweetly Kolistin’s
Antti got it from this hand, there under his jaw? It was a man’s blow,
and the ground shook and Heaven echoed when the big fellow fell’. So
they competed in boasting, ever and anon pouring the pearly liquid
in the tankard down their throats. But suddenly a violent quarrel
arose between Juhani and Timo, and the eldest brother was soon highly
embittered. For this time Timo did not seem in the least inclined to
give way, but supported his argument firmly with proverbs, quotations
from the Bible and badly-limping metaphors. And at this Juhani’s gorge
rose, his eyes flashed fire, and at last, suddenly refraining from
speech, he dashed like a baited bear at his pig-headed brother. But
Timo fled; out on to the clearing he ran in his shirt, and after him
Juhani, similarly clad. A few paces from the threshold, however, Juhani
came to a halt; but Timo, in the belief that his enraged brother was
at his heels, ran dodging along the stump-filled clearing. And then,
feeling his pursuer’s fingers at his neck, he opened his mouth and
emitted a hoarse squawk, looking stiffly behind him. But his eyes grew
round when he saw Juhani standing far away from him, near the cabin
step, scratching his neck and staring at two wretched travellers,
who with lagging footsteps approached the house from the edge of the
forest. The other brothers came rushing out, flushed as though they had
come from the bath-house steam, hastening to patch up matters between
the quarrellers. But soon their eyes too were fixed upon Simeoni and
Eero, who returned at last from their journey in miserable condition.
Valko, now only skin and bone, walked unspeakably slowly; his head
hung down almost between his fore-legs, his mournfully drooping lower
lip brushed the ground. The men too were a sorry sight. With filthy
faces and garments they sat on the cart like two crows in the rain.
Simeoni had had his cap stolen, Eero his stockings and top-boots;
all that was left of the money was six kopeks, which had remained
unnoticed in Eero’s vest pocket, and with this money was a crumbled
biscuit. Where and how had they wasted the price of the load? It had
been spent in Hämeenlinna on gin and wheat-cakes; and thus with empty
hands and aching heads they drew near to their home. Dumb, struck with
astonishment, the others viewed the sight which had burst upon them,
and in that gaze Simeoni and Eero read their awful doom. And Simeoni
deemed it best to make off while there was still time. He sprang down
from the cart, leaving both his brother and the horse to their fate,
and disappeared into the forest. Eero thought of imitating him, but he
hoped to be able to absolve himself from all blame and prove his own
innocence. And with this idea he decided to keep on to the end.
Reaching at last the home-yard, he took on a deeply rejected air and
without a greeting, without saying a word, began to unharness Valko.
But now came a furious questioning about how the journey had succeeded
and the fate of the money received. Eero confessed everything,
reminding them that Simeoni had had the care of the money; that Simeoni
had commanded and he as the youngest had had to obey; that Simeoni
was older than he and therefore more experienced and wiser than he, a
young thoughtless lad. Thus he defended himself, but the others knew
well that he too was not guiltless, his debauched appearance bearing
witness to his guilt. They deemed it right, therefore, to punish him,
and that without delay. Tuomas now seized him by the collar, set him,
lightly as a doll, outstretched on the ground, while Juhani took a
pine-branch from the dung-heap and laid on with it across Eero’s
thighs; heavily the blows fell, and the lad under him squealed shrilly.
When this was done, Juhani cast the rod angrily away, saying: ‘God
grant that this be the last time I need punish thee, and may this
thrashing awaken a new heart in thee! That’s what I hope, but I’m
afraid my hopes are vain, for a good child chastiseth itself, but a
bad one even punishment can’t help.’ So saying, he walked moodily into
the cabin and made for his bed of straw. But as he passed the oven
he noticed the cat, which sat sleepily on the oven-top, and taking a
piece of bread, he chewed it to a pulp and gave it to old Matti, who,
purring and with half-closed eyes, enjoyed the gift. Then, still with
bitterness in his glance, he climbed on to the platform, rubbed his
stomach once, laid himself down on the straw and covered himself with a
warm rug.
Eero’s thrashing had been watched by Simeoni from the darkness of the
forest with dread; he well knew that his own lot would have been worse
at the hands of his enraged brothers. So thanking his stars for the
protection afforded him by the spruce, he withdrew farther away from
the light of the clearing and disappeared in the forest’s sheltering
bosom. But dark and desolate as the gloomy woods around him was his
heart. For long he walked the mossy backwoods, until he came at last
to a rocky, bilberry-covered neighbourhood, and mournfully the yellow
birches sighed in the dismal wind. Whither was he to wander in the
bewildering halls of the forest? Whither could a man betake himself
when life was cheerless and dark, and dark the night of death?
But in the yard, near the cabin door, the brothers laboured, feeding
the weary Valko with bread-crumb, and rubbing down and grooming him.
Furious, even in his misery, Eero sat on the step, grinding his teeth,
and up on the platform Juhani lay under his rug. But when Valko had
been fed and let out to pasture and the cart pushed aside against the
wall, the brothers entered the cabin, thinking with aching hearts of
the vainly-awaited titbits. Eero too, came in at last, silent and
with glowering eyes. Whereat Juhani, lifting his head from the rug
and peeping over the edge of the platform, delivered himself of the
following speech: ‘Dost thou still glower, thou bullock? Wast not
beaten according to thy deserts, he-goat? Devil! if we had given thee
what thou deservest, thou wouldst scarcely crawl into the cabin on
thy own paws. Believe that; and thank thy luck that thou gottest off
so lightly. It will be different with Simeoni. Ah! may he anoint his
back with bear-grease before he dares to open our door. He deserves
it, truly he does! Sell the spirits, and then when the tavern-keeper
has had good time to brew rotten punch of it buy it back many times
dearer; and then to soak all the rye down to the last grain, in a word,
all he could pry loose from the cart, in this same chicory-water and
such very dear syrups, squander it on brandy, syrups and wheat-cakes
and biscuits. Who would have believed it of Simeoni? Was this his
piousness? Was this the end of all his devout prayers? Yet we needn’t
be over much surprised at all this. Godly men, more’s the pity, usually
have the same strong longing for liquor, especially for dram-drinking
behind the cupboard door. This in all my stupidity I have noticed.
Think, for instance, of the master of Härkämäki, who is looked upon as
a religious man; yet this same nabob walks his days drunk as a king,
flushed like a glowing coal from morning to eve. See him as he goes
out of his room, from his book of homilies and hymnbook. First he’ll
steer his way to the cupboard, where a little trick takes place, a
movement of the arm. And now we step out, toddle towards the stable,
and the groom, poor lad, knows he is in for a sermon, long enough and
good enough. But even the worst parson’s sermon ends at last; the
door creaks, and sideways like a crab, the old boy now marches to
the cowshed. And there the poor rag of a maid is on hot coals, while
the master scolds, scolds, clucks and cackles. Ah thee old fellow!
Ay, but even a famine year has an end, so on we go to the house.
But here’s where a row arises, a sermon hotter than the hottest for
the mistress and daughter, one that lasts an hour or two. Even the
mistress sometimes snaps back, snaps and scolds, but the poor girl is
dumb and a tear drops from the poor body. Oh thou crosspatch! At last,
however, the preacher’s throat seems to get dry and hoarse, so off we
go to wet it at the cupboard; and then hymnbook in hand we sing till
the door-posts shake. So passes the man’s day, ay, his week, until on
Sunday he jogs off with his daughter to church, jogs along in that
trap of his, a skull-cap on his head and his coat-collar sticking
out behind. There he now sits in the Lord’s temple, with pursed-up
lips and eyebrows half way up his forehead; he sits there, clearing
his throat like the most godly, as solemn, grave and unwinking as a
newly-gelded ox. He squats there like a boundary-stone in the forest;
but when he comes home from church and reaches his own yard, he rushes
like a tempest, a fire-spitting tempest, straight to the cupboard in
his room; and now the old man drinks until the bottom of the bottle
shows. So hard can a man drink who is known as a pillar of the world;
in such lust does a converted man walk down here. And that’s what I
believe will happen to Simeoni too, if luck should at any time set
him in Härkämäki’s shoes. True, a better spirit has worked without
cease on Simeoni for years, that can’t be denied, even if he has often
fluttered the wings of his soul a bit too much. Ay, ay, but in many
things he is still altogether a child of this world, as big a sack of
sin as I or many another, and plays tricks for which a good hiding is
the only remedy. And now he’s played us a real fiendish trick. Obeying
the whispering of Satan, he drank up our fine load and left us without
a crumb of relish for our feast. Hrrh! it makes me grind my teeth.
Well, his back will warm for this, until the cabin rattles.’ Thus
spoke Juhani, peeping over the platform’s edge; then he sank down on
his couch and slept. The others too lay down to rest, and they slept
soundly until the morning.
But of Simeoni there was no sign, not even after several days and
nights had passed. And this caused the others some anxiety, anxiety
mixed with grief, especially after Eero had at last told them of his
real condition. For when Eero’s sulkiness had abated a little, after
the elapse of two or three days, he grumblingly told them of the state
Simeoni had been in on their return from town. He had frequently spoken
of certain little, inch-high beings, who, as he had said, swarmed
around him in thousands. This Eero now told them in a low and grumbling
voice, and his tale altered the brothers’ feelings towards Simeoni.
Filled with gloom, Juhani set out to seek his lost brother, wandering
far afield and calling him by name. Under a hill he met Tinder-Matti,
who sought, axe in hand, for fungoids, with which he had already
filled the bosom of his shirt. Matti recalled how on the previous
evening he had heard mournful sounds and wailings from the forests,
and the voice had reminded him of Simeoni’s. This pricked painfully at
Juhani’s heart: he hastened home, weeping tears over the unhappy fate
of his brother. A search-party was now organized. Each of the brothers
was to set out alone and in a different direction; the one who found
the fugitive was to take him home, and then, mounting to the top of
Impivaara, inform the others of the find by blasts on a birch-bark
horn. Eero brought out his horn from its hiding-place in a dense
thicket, a mighty horn of birch-bark, two yards long and audible afar,
and sank it for the night in the purling brook in the wolf-trap. Having
been made in the spring when the sap was at its richest, the hooter was
now badly shrunken and dry.
Early the next morning they set out on their search. The cabin formed
the centre from which six men set out in different directions like the
spokes of a wheel. And now a din arose in which shout was merged in
shout and echo pursued echo in the measureless depths of the forest.
Farther and farther the din receded as the circle grew apace. And this
circle thou couldst have drawn if, standing on the summit of Impivaara
and listening to the shouts around thee, thou hadst drawn a line from
shout to shout. They fared on in every direction, each along his own
radius; and the weather was clear and calm, the September sun shone
mildly. Shouting loudly, Juhani marched crashing up hill and down. But
his ear caught no answer from the lost one; and midday drew nigh. At
last, however, his throat tiring not, but roaring incessantly like a
brazen trumpet, he heard a strangely weak and hoarse answer. And this
voice seemed to come from a gap between two mossy crags, shadowed by a
tall spruce. To this spot Juhani hastened and there found the missing
man; found him in pitiable condition. Like a ghastly phantom, with arms
crossed and eyes wide open like an owl’s, his hair sticking up, he sat
under the thick spruce. There he sat, swaying his body, while from
his lips issued the soft and trembling notes of a hymn-tune. Juhani
began to question him about his condition, but receiving only muddled
and fantastical answers, he hurried his precious find home as fast he
could. And when he had got his brother safely into the cabin and had
fastened the door, he quickly climbed the fell, the mighty horn in his
hand. Calm, blue in the distance, the wooded earth spread around him,
and on the edge of the west the sun bathed the old shaggy spruce on the
fellside in its gold. Juhani lifted the great trumpet to his lips, but
no blast issued forth; from the yawning maw only a few hoarse croaks
came. He blew once again, yet the clear notes still clung to their
prison. Then swelling out his chest once more, he blew a third time,
his cheeks bulging terrifically, and now the birch horn shrieked and
brayed with solemn voice. Far out in all directions the echoes rolled,
and soon merry answers began to be heard from the east, west, north
and south, faint and dying in the eternally distant blue haze. And now
an hour went by, a second, and a third, and then the brothers began to
appear in the yard, entering the house one by one. And at last they all
stood round Simeoni, eyeing him with pitying glances as he sat on his
stool like an owl on the roof of a barn, staring stolidly back at them.
JUHANI. Simeoni, brother!
TUOMAS. How art thou?
TIMO. Dost know me?--not a created word! Dost thou know me?
SIMEONI. Ay, I know thee.
TIMO. Who am I then?
SIMEONI. Ha! Jukola’s Timo. Ay, shouldn’t I know him?
TIMO. Right! I am Timo, thy own brother. The danger’s not as
big as it could be, boys.
SIMEONI. Great and awful is the day that approacheth, and its
name is the terror of destruction.
AAPO. Why dost thou prophesy so?
SIMEONI. He said so.
JUHANI. Who?
SIMEONI. He, he, my comrade on the journey.
EERO. What, I?
SIMEONI. Not thou, but the horror who hath led me. Oh
brothers! I could tell you things that would raise your hair on end
like the bristles of an angry boar. But give me a little drink first to
strengthen my heart; and let this be the last drink I ever swallow down
my throat.
JUHANI. Take a drop. God’s creation; here, darling brother.
SIMEONI. Thank ye kindly! Now I will try to tell you what I
have seen and heard, as a warning to us all. Listen: I have seen him.
JUHANI. Whom in wonder hast thou seen?
SIMEONI. The Master himself, Lucifer himself.
AAPO. That was only in a dream or a fever of the mind brought
upon thee by overmuch strong drink.
SIMEONI. Truly I have seen him.
TIMO. What shape was he?
SIMEONI. The image of foolishness, but, look you, a fox’s tail
wagged behind him.
TIMO. Was he big?
SIMEONI. About my height, though he could change himself at
will. When he first appeared, he entered the thicket in which I sat as
a gust of wind. ‘Who’s that?’ I shrieked; ‘friend!’ he answered, and
taking me by the arm, told me to follow him. Not daring to kick against
him, I followed, believing it best to do as he said. And then we went
on together a long time over a thorny, stony path; and he changed into
all kinds of things on the way. Now he would run before me in the
shape of a little kitten, mewing and looking back at me so stupidly.
At times he grew into a fearfully tall man, his head reaching right
into the clouds. From there he shouted to me: ‘Canst see my head?’ and
I, speaking the whole time to please him, greatly admired his length
saying that I could hardly make out his middle. Whereupon he twisted
his mouth into a triumphant grin and looked searchingly at me. He
played many other tricks and finally led me up a high mountain; there
he bowed down before me and said ‘Get up on my back.’ I was terrified,
but dared not refuse, and climbed obediently on to his back. I asked
him, anyhow: ‘Where are we going?’ and he answered: ‘We’re going up.’
Then he began puffing mightily, sweating and wriggling his body, while
I danced hither and thither on his back, up and down, like the monkey
I saw dancing a few days ago on a dog’s back in Hämeenlinna Market. At
last two speckled wings burst from his shoulders and when he had waved
these a few times we began shooting up into the sky, towards the moon
which shone over us like the bottom of a copper cauldron. Towards this
we shot, and the poor earth was left behind in swooning depths. At last
we reached the moon, which, as our blind uncle told us, is a great,
round and shining rock island in the air, and there I saw wonders and
marvels, wonders and marvels! Ah! a sinful tongue cannot relate them.
TUOMAS. Do the best thou canst.
JUHANI. The best thou canst, brother, even if not as well as
the great importance of the matter calls for.
SIMEONI. I will try. Ay, we came to the moon, and Satan took
me to its farthest edge, to a high hill with a still higher tower
standing on it, built of leather, boot-leather. Up into this tower
we marched, he ahead and I behind, and we climbed those twisting
stairs for a good long time. At last we stood at the very top of the
boot-leather tower, and then I saw many countries and seas, great
cities and marvellous buildings in the depths below. I made bold
to nudge Satan in the ribs and ask him: ‘What is that down there?’
Snapping and looking fiercely at me he answered: ‘Sacramento, lad!
what have I to do with thee? That’s the world from which we set out.
Look and search.’ That’s what he said, and with a sigh I began to look
and search carefully; and I saw the whole circle of the earth, the
Kingdom of England, Turkey, the town of Paris and the land of America.
Then I saw the Grand Turk rise and work terrible havoc; and in his
tracks walked the great horned Mammon, driving the race of man from
end to end of the earth like a wolf does a flock of sheep. He went on
driving and sweeping them before him until at last he had choked the
whole world and the land of America. Seeing this I asked again, nudging
Satan in the ribs: ‘Is the world destroyed now, where I come from?’ He
answered fiercely: ‘Sacramento, lad! what have I to do with thee? This
a prophecy of what is to come. Look and search.’ And sighing deeply I
looked and searched. But once more I made bold to ask: ‘When is this to
happen?’ And with a horrible roar he answered again: ‘It will happen
just as soon as these two leather trumpets appear to us through the
wall, right in front of us.’ And then he whistled long and hard. Ah! if
I could only tell you.
JUHANI. Do it, if thou but canst. Oh what marvels and wonders
thou hast seen! This means something, and I suppose our doom. God’s
wrath, if not the end of the world, is upon us. Is this in reason: walk
with the Devil in the moon?
SIMEONI. And in a leather tower!
JUHANI. A boot-leather tower. What a thing!
TIMO. A boot-leather tower!
JUHANI. Ay, a tower of boot-leather. Ah! But tell us
everything; for even if I do feel a shuddering in my spine, this
shaking must surely do my sinful heart good, that is so hardened, so
tough, that nothing less than the wooden mallet of Hell or the fiery
bolt of Heaven could move it. Let it thunder and rain, brother, let it
rain even scorpions: for that’s what we need. Ay, what happened then?
SIMEONI. Listen, listen! Satan whistled shrilly, and as he had
said, two leather trumpets appeared, two fearful horns came bursting
through the wall. They began to bray horribly and shriek like maddened
lions, began to pour out smoke, the smell of pitch and sulphur gas. And
soon we both fell to coughing, Satan as well as I, coughing, retching
and holding our ears, while the two trumpets blared on. And still the
noise grew, the tower shook, the great boot-leather shook and at last
fell to pieces with a great crash, and we followed in its fall, lost
in a cloud of strips of leather. Where Satan got to, I don’t know, but
I fell head over heels downward, down from the rock, down at last from
the last ledge of the moon, and then began falling towards the earth on
a piece of leather about two yards wide. But the leather, which was of
the moon, drew moonward, while I, being of the earth, drew earthward;
so it was said; and as the weight of my body was bigger than the pull
of the leather, I floated downward, though slowly, as though sailing
on an old crow’s back. All to my good; for without this leather boat
of mine, my airship, I’d have fallen like a bag of offal to the earth,
now that I no longer had Satan’s wings under me. Slowly, slowly, I now
sailed down towards my dear earthly home, and at last came down at the
foot of a spruce near to the place whence I had set off with Satan.
I still held the piece of leather in my hands, and now noticed these
words on it, written in red letters: ‘To the Jukola brothers, with a
fistful of greetings! And when a fiery sign, or like the glowing tail
of an eagle is seen on high on the edge of a cloud, lo! the end is nigh
unto the day on which this shall happen. Given in Boot-leather Tower
on nearly the last day of what is almost surely the last year.’ So it
stood on the leather table, which I now loosened from my hand, when it
started shooting up towards the moon again. This way my journey, awful
and of a truth true.
JUHANI. Marvellous, strange and terrible all at the same time.
TIMO. Thou hast learned to read on these strayings of thine,
anyway.
SIMEONI. Don’t think it. I am just as stupid as ever.
TIMO. Perhaps thou hast caught the trick of it. Try, here’s my
a-b-c book.
SIMEONI. Ay, what else. It’s as though I were looking on
Russian or Hebrew. Then I knew much owing to the power of the spirit
that is now dark to me again, and I am once more the same poor human,
the same sinner, a great sinner. And my head goes round, for the day
has come! My head goes round, for my eyes have beheld Lucifer himself.
Ah, how hairy he was!
JUHANI. Oh we poor lads, oh!
SIMEONI. A thousand times oh! My head spins, spins! I have
seen Lucifer. It spins!
JUHANI. Pray to God, brother, pray to God!
SIMEONI. Let’s all pray together. I have seen the hairy might
of Lucifer! Let us all pray!
TIMO. Why not, if it’s needed? Why shouldn’t we pray?
JUHANI. Pitiful this is, ah! oh!
TIMO. Don’t cry, Juhani.
JUHANI. I would weep blood if I could; here we have lived like
Kalmucks, drunk spirits like Mahomets and Turks. But now may a new
chapter follow that verse, a different life, or soon the awful anger of
Heaven will fall on us like a mountain and press us down to Hell. Ay,
we lads have been warned by signs and miracles, and it’s the worst of
devils for us if we don’t heed these signs in time.
LAURI. It’s the very worst we have to expect; for I too have
something to relate. Listen: once while you were hitting the disc on
the clearing, I walked in the forest, looking for useful bits of wood
for tools, and while I slept on yonder heath I had a marvellous dream.
I watched as though from the top of a tall pine you playing fast and
furiously with the disc on the clearing here along fresh oxhides. And
guess with whom? Brothers, it was with our own hot-tempered rector you
hammered away. But what happened? The rector noticed at last that it
was no ordinary disc, but a red-backed a-b-c book you were hitting.
This made him fearfully angry, and waving his sword he shouted in a
loud voice: ‘Iiyah, iiyah!’ and at once a terrible hurricane arose
which sucked you up like chaff into the power of the winds. This I
dreamed and this dream must mean something too.
JUHANI. Surely it means something, foretells some Hell’s polka
for us; that we needn’t doubt. We have been warned from two quarters,
and now if we give no heed, fire, pitch and little stones will soon
rain down on us as they once did on the towns of Sodom and Gomorrah.
AAPO. Don’t let us be too terrified, all the same.
TUOMAS. I won’t say for certain, but what Simeoni has seen is
perhaps all sprung from a drink-ridden brain.
JUHANI. What art thou saying, man? Wouldst thou bring Heaven’s
great works to nought?
TIMO. Don’t speak against God’s works and miracles.
SIMEONI. Ah! I have been in the moon and seen Lucifer, of
which my soul is now in great dread. Woe is me and woe is us all!
TUOMAS. Woe, indeed! But take another drink and then go to bed.
SIMEONI. Ay, do you think it would help?
TIMO. There’s no spirit left.
TUOMAS. That alters things.
SIMEONI. Thanks be to God that it has all gone, that horrible
poison. And now may never another drop of that drink pass my lips, this
I promise and swear.
JUHANI. A curse on this Hell’s ale!
TIMO. It was perhaps a bad thing that we began to distil the
stuff.
AAPO. Whose wish was it that we should do so? Answer me,
Juhani and Timo.
JUHANI. The spirits tasted well enough to thee too, brother,
that they did. And secondly, what’s done is done, and moaning and
lamenting won’t bring it back. Ay, what’s gone is in the wolf’s mouth;
but let there be a new law from now onward. Now to the brook! with the
back of my axe I’ll knock that devil’s copper bull, that accursed vat
into a thousand dents, and scatter the still like a rook’s nest.
SIMEONI. Do that, brother, and Heaven will rejoice.
JUHANI. I’ll do it.
AAPO. Why should we smash property that we might honourably
sell?
JUHANI. But see this point: the man to whom I sold my still,
what would he make with it, what kind of water of health, eh? The same
sort, the same sort, the same Hell’s lawyer that has dashed us to the
very brink of ruin; with this still of mine I could bring the same
misery on many others. But from this sin let me be far, when I come at
last to the judgment of the Lord. Let’s squash the vat and upset the
still.
AAPO. Let’s sell it to the Crown for them to mint money of.
JUHANI. It’ll do for coin just as well if it is knocked
flat. Here’s my axe; take thy axe too, Timo, and come with me to the
wolf-trap. And tomorrow being Sunday, we’ll all go to church. To church
we’ll go, to pray on our bended knees for the deathless, miserable and
only soul of us; it is necessary enough. To church, the lot of us, else
the devil’ll baste us. To the wolf-trap, Timo!
Juhani and Timo now marched down to the brook, and soon they had
battered the vat to a shapeless mass and destroyed the still. And that
night they rested in deepest sleep and, awakening early on the morrow,
began to prepare themselves for church. They set out: Aapo with their
father’s old hymn-book under his arm, Simeoni carrying ‘The Voice in
the Wilderness’, Juhani and Timo with their a-b-c books in their hands.
And as they walked they conversed as follows:
SIMEONI. Ah! the nearer I come to the Lord’s temple, the more
does the storm in my mind calm down and my heart seem refreshed. A wise
man walketh in the counsel of the righteous, but fools and the blind
wallow in the filth of sin. Oh, when I look backward, like a terrible
Hell, ringed by the blue flames of alcohol, does that unhappy trip to
town seem to me.
TIMO. Therefore, brother, never do it again. I beseech thee.
Is this a right thing to do? Pour dear tavern gin into thy face night
and day, night and day, and on top of that soak hot syrups like fine
gentlemen. Well, well, let this be no blame, only a brotherly warning.
SIMEONI. I did wrong, and we all did wrong in starting to brew
spirits and drink them. But now, let us all decide never to touch such
drink that can change a man into a beast.
JUHANI. Into a real pig; it brings its man even lower in the
end than a grunting pig. On this very spot we shake the hand of liquor
in firm farewell and beg him to depart from us for ever and a day in
the name of our Lord. Ay, Aapo, tell us the tale of the pig that we
once heard from our blind uncle; tell it as we walk along.
AAPO. I’ll do that willingly. Oh! may it awaken in us a still
fiercer disgust for that confounded brawl-water.
And Aapo spun them this tale:
It was Sunday morning; in a mud-pool a pig wallowed in the rays
of the summer sun, watching the folk go past him to church. With
envious, aching heart it looked upon the noble, beautiful form of
Man, remembering its own bristly body. And what more, a light so
stern shone from the brow of some passers-by, that the pig’s glance
recoiled from them in astonishment; and great was its anger against
God for not having created it a man. And when at last it had grumbled
and complained to its fill, it stretched out its trotters, closed its
little viper’s eyes and slept. When it awoke, a companion lay by its
side, a drunkard who had rolled in his cups into the puddle and was on
the point of choking in the mud. The pig saw his danger, and taking
mercy upon him, dug its sharp teeth into the man’s collar and dragged
him on to firm ground. But having done this work of mercy, it stared at
the man, grinned horribly to itself and said: ‘Thou miserable man, thy
appearance is so disgusting that I cannot bear to look upon thee.’ So
saying, the pig went away grunting and began rooting in the earth.
JUHANI. That’s a fine tale. Over yonder lies Jukola Farm,
and well for us that our road leads so far aside of it, or else the
sight of our former home might crush our hearts. A good thing too that
Toukola village and our enemies there are far behind. Otherwise, I’m
afraid that if we were to meet them and they grinned the tiniest bit,
I’d be at their throats at once like a cat. I haven’t forgotten the
beating they gave me, or my vow of a terrible revenge.
TUOMAS. Two things have not left my memory either.
SIMEONI. We must forgive and forget.
JUHANI. All right; if they are humble and come to pray for
forgiveness from me, bearing witness that they have done wrong, why,
I’ll forget everything willingly. I’ll even shake paws with them, with
tears in my eyes. But as long as they are unminded to give way in this,
and still nag, then I too will clench my teeth, clench them till the
sparks fly.
Thus speaking, they approached Tammisto Farm. A crowd stood in the
yard, both men and women, and a voice was heard afar that counted:
‘For the first, second and third time’, and went on: ‘Does no one else
want to bid?’ It was an auction held by the Sheriff himself. He sat
beside a little table near the porch, entering in his book the names
and addresses of purchasers and the prices obtained: and just at that
moment the farm cattle were under the hammer. The brothers were highly
astonished and wondered why this work was being done on Sunday. But,
in the giddy toils of intoxication, which make a man’s time fly, they
had lost count of the days of the week. It was actually a Monday, an
ordinary week-day, on which the brothers, believing it to be Sunday,
had gone marching to church.
They looked around then for Kyösti, their faithful friend. But he was
not there; he walked far away in the fields, staring gravely at the
soil in silent meditation. At last Juhani asked the man nearest to
them, why a public auction was being held on Sunday, the Lord’s holy
Sabbath. At that, laughter and giggling spread like a forest fire
through the whole crowd, and now the brothers guessed how matters
stood. Bewildered, silent and blushing, they stood for long, listening
to the taunts and mockery of the crowd. A group of Toukola lads then
approached them, asking them about the new religion of Impivaara, about
its calendar and what this eighth day of the week was called there. The
brothers listened to all this, but suddenly their anger flared up and
the storm was loose. Like unleashed hounds they sprang yelling upon the
Toukola men, and a terrible struggle broke out in Tammisto yard.
Simeoni was loth to join in the game, and so the books were left in his
care; holding firmly to these he watched with agonized countenance and
pitiably restless glance the varying phases of the battle. But seeing
Aapo sorely pressed by three lusty foes, noting with aching heart his
wretched brother turn pale and his glance rove vacuously amongst the
tree-tops, while blows, stinging blows rained on him from every side,
Simeoni laid down the books on a near-by rock, hastened to Aapo’s
assistance, and was soon lost to sight in the billowing waves of the
fight.
The auctioneer tried at first to stem the onrush of this angry flood,
but realizing his powerlessness, he stepped aside in time and watched
in amazement the unbounded strength shown by the brothers. Strength
so herculean, such whirlwind-like speed in its application, had never
before been shown by the brothers. A secret and long-nourished lust
for revenge felt the breath of a sudden wind and was fanned by it to a
raging, terrific holocaust; and an unheard-of din and thundering was
the result. Women fled, pale and trembling, from the field, carrying
or leading by the hand their little panic-stricken children. Mad with
fright the farm cattle, the big bull and the solemn cows, rushed hither
and thither, while all around echoed shouts, bellows and lamentations,
as the Jukola brothers smote, and the men of Toukola smote back, the
men of Toukola and their many friends. Clenching his teeth, ashen-grey
of face, Juhani struck out right and left, hammered lustily at the
host of his foes, his jaw quaking in an ecstasy of fury. But like a
rock sturdy Tuomas charged, and wherever his mighty fist fell, a man
was sure to collapse, even two at one blow. It was seen that when he
struck out, the man hit fell with such force that in falling he knocked
down the man beside him. Timo hewed away like a brawny wood-cutter;
and his coarse, brown cheeks, blazing with rage, shone afar. Nor was
Eero an easy task for a man in this fight. True, he rolled with some
frequency under the others’ feet, but was ever quick to struggle up
from the heaps of the fallen, had blows rained from him like stars from
a revolving fireworks. Maddest of them all was Lauri; pale as an angel
of death he lashed out, and before him all fled or were broken.
People watched this fight with terror. Everywhere ghastly, livid faces
were to be seen, faces with fearfully working nostrils, here bleeding,
there bespattered with earth. Behold the sombre glow of anger in their
eyes, the passion which rushes heedless upon its prey, undismayed
though the heavens rained fire and brimstone. All this they saw, and
heard a howling and clamour as terrible as when a pack of wolves fight
murderously in the dark woods on an autumn night.
So they fought in Tammisto yard, and ever hotter grew the struggle.
Already a man lay here, another there, shedding his blood on the sandy
ground. The brothers’ dark-red blood flowed too, for the men of Toukola
were striking now with their knives; but the brothers had no knives
at their belts, for this was to have been their trip to church, to
God’s holy temple. Now, feeling their hot blood flow, they seized the
poles on the hillside for weapons, or broke off rails from the nearest
fence, and with these charged madly at their foes; soon, however, they
were met by similar weapons on the enemy’s side; and now staves and
cudgels began to fly crashing round the men’s heads. And even now it
was uncertain who would win, who would have to give way, vanquished.
Although they battled nobly, the brothers had an overwhelming foe to
meet, and furiously their blows were returned.
But then a man drew nigh who at once turned the scales in the brothers’
favour. From the fields, running, scrambling and bellowing as he came,
stout Kyösti Tammisto drew nigh. With a mighty staff in his hand, he
dashed into view like a grey phantom of terror, his hair sticking up
in a goblin-like crest; like a thunder-bolt he fell on the Toukola
men in the rear, throwing their ranks into confusion, and causing the
brothers’ ardour to rise. Bellowing and rolling his eyes he struck out
wickedly, struck like a witless fellow; the brothers laid on from the
other side with redoubled strength, and at last their enemies fled
wildly, those whom the staves had not already stretched out on the
ground.
The brothers, too, then hastened away, beginning to run towards their
home and shouting to Kyösti to follow them. But he recked nothing of
their cries, only raged ceaselessly in his yard, raged and yelled;
and dreadful was his appearance. The brothers sped already along the
dry, smoking surface of a lane; and when they reached a little bridge
between the fields, they heard Kyösti’s voice behind them. Halting
and looking back, they saw a wild figure with a staff on its shoulder
approach them at a run, bellowing and waving its hand at them; and
soon Kyösti, terrible to behold, stood beside them. He sweated and
panted, and what with defiance and fury his eyes squinted in his head.
In vain they tried to make out his muddled speech, in which a loud
and long-drawn cry of ‘Alamulloo, ai alamulloo!’ frequently recurred.
They entreated him to come on with them to Impivaara and not to return
into the wolves’ jaws, but he stood moveless, muttering to himself
and staring. Suddenly, however, he looked sharply at the brothers and
said: ‘Go home now!’ after which he turned away from them. The brothers
turned round too, and began to make off in the opposite direction. But
a moment later they heard Kyösti’s thickened voice again, and looking
round, saw him stand in the lane, shaking his hand and his head. Once
more he shouted in a high-pitched voice: ‘Go home now!’ Whereafter
he hurried off the way he had come, and the brothers hurried in turn
to their cabin in the woods, many of them with great bumps on their
foreheads and blood-dripping wounds in their arms. Looking straight
before them, they stepped furiously out, in their minds the freezing
gloom of death. So ended the fight in Tammisto yards, from which many
were carried swooning away, and many received wounds that were to
disfigure them for ever afterwards.