The Unlikely Allies (20 page)

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Einer said strongly. “She’s not that kind of woman.”

“I know that, but I still don’t like it!”

****

Mallory walked along self-consciously with Derek, aware that several civilians they had passed had glared at her. She thought of James’s concern about her fraternizing with the Nazis, but she still felt this was something she had to do. She stopped suddenly and asked, “Do you know this building?”

“It’s a museum, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Have you been through it?”

“No, I haven’t had time.”

“Come along. I want to show you something.”

The two entered the museum and stopped before a Viking ship and other ancient Nordic artifacts. “These were probably some of your ancestors, Derek.”

“I’ve always admired the Vikings.”

“They were a brutal race, though. Medieval prayers always ended with, ‘And God save us from the wrath of the northmen.’ ”

Derek inspected the magnificent restored ship and shook his head. “I guess people are still praying that prayer, only now they’re saying ‘Deliver us from the wrath of the Germans.’ ”

The statement shocked Mallory. It was not something the average Nazi would say. She turned to look at him and saw the strength of his jaw and the clear light of his blue eyes. She could not think of a proper answer, so she said, “Come along. There’s something else I want you to see.”

She took him to the back of the museum, where there was an African ethnographic exhibit. “There,” she said, pointing to a map of the continent. “That’s the country I grew up in—Kenya.”

Derek was fascinated by the exhibit. Mallory showed him a life-sized picture of a Masai warrior, complete with his shield and broad-headed spear. “You really knew people like this?”

“One of my best friends is a Masai. His name is Ubo.”

“What are they like, the Masai?”

“They are strange. Fierce yet gentle. They are very poetic people too.”

“Do you know any of their poems?”

“Oh yes.”

“You speak their language?”

“Of course. I learned it when I was a child growing up.”

“What does their poetry sound like? And their language? Say one of their poems for me.”

“All right. This is a song, but I’ll just say the words instead of singing them.” She began to speak, and Derek listened carefully, his eyes fixed on her.
“Abuaki emutu iyai endarona nab uaki alapa dleepo. Peemejo Engai nemejo engoop kalo ele lembwAak ebewaki.”
She continued on for a moment before stopping.

“It’s a strange-sounding language,” Derek said. “What does it mean?”

“It means ‘I pray to evening, and I pray to dawn, and I pray to the moonrise, so that God and earth may not say, “Who is this who never prays while others are praying?” I, whose misery weighs heavily on my neck with a herd of less than fifty. I want a bull.’ ”

“That’s beautiful, Mallory. I’d like to hear more about the Masai.”

“Well, some other time. I’m hungry now.”

“Come along. I’ve found a good place to eat.” They left the museum and he took her to a restaurant called Babette’s Jestehus, explaining as they were seated, “The food is Scandinavian here but with a French twist.”

“I’ll let you order, Derek.”

Derek ordered garlic-marinated rack of lamb in rosemary sauce, and for her he ordered pan-fried breast of duck with creamed spring cabbage.

At his insistence, Mallory told him about the Masai and her life in Africa as they ate. She took another bite of her
creamed cabbage and made an appreciative sound. “What kind of poetry do you like best, Derek?”

“It’s hard to say. I enjoy all kinds of poetry—German, French, and English mostly.”

“You speak Norwegian and English very well. Do you speak French too?” Mallory wondered.

“I studied Norwegian for about a year before I was stationed here. I lived in Paris long enough to get comfortable with French, and I’ve been reading and speaking English ever since I can remember. My father insisted on it as part of my education.” He cut a bite of lamb. “There’s an English poet named Housman that I like a lot. Have you heard of him?”

“Yes, I have. But his poetry is rather sad, I think.”

“Well, the world is sad.”

“What’s your favorite poem by Housman?”

Derek slowly quoted a poem that Mallory knew very well: “With rue my heart is laden for golden friends I had. . . .”

When he finished the first verse, Mallory said, “I know the second verse.” She smiled and quoted it softly, especially the parts about broad brooks and sleeping girls.

“I’ve always loved that poem,” he said.

“I think it’s beautiful, but it’s sad. Housman was that way, wasn’t he?”

“I think he was right that the world’s a sad place. Everywhere I look I see loss about me.”

They talked for some time about the nature of poetry as they finished eating, and finally he quoted a poem almost spontaneously:

“Why, that’s beautiful, Derek! Who wrote that?”

“Oh, a very mediocre poet.”

Derek’s expression gave him away. “You wrote it yourself, didn’t you?”

“I suppose I did.”

“It’s a beautiful poem,” Mallory said simply. He didn’t answer. It almost looked like he had dropped off into a deep reverie. Without thinking, she leaned forward and said quietly, “You must have loved her very much, Derek.”

He almost flinched at her shocking words. He had not intended to reveal so much of himself. “It’s just a little poem.” Quickly he changed the subject. “Now, you said earlier you were heading north later this week to join the Lapps.”

“Yes, I’m leaving the day after tomorrow. I finally got enough gas for Lars’s truck. Since the summer, the Lapps have been camping close to Narvik, so I want to make a trip up there to take them some books and Bibles, as well as some food that’s hard to come by up there.”

“I need to make a quick trip up to Trondheim,” Derek said. “If you would allow me to accompany you, I’d like to see your Lapps.”

Mallory heard the voice of Eva Klovstad urging her on.
“Go on. Take advantage of this.”
But along with this, Mallory realized she actually wanted him to accompany her. It surprised her to have to admit that she was enjoying her time with Derek Grüber.

“All right, Derek. I’d love for you to meet my little flock. But I’d like to leave nice and early so I can get a full day in.”

“Where do you stay on your trips up there?”

“I know of several hyttes along the way where we can stay very cheaply. You’ll have to share a room with several other men.”

“I guess I’m pretty used to that,” he said with a teasing smile. “What about the Lapps? Will they mind my coming?”

“Oh no,” Mallory said. “They’re very hospitable when they know you, and they will welcome any friend of mine.”
She smiled suddenly, thinking of what this tall, distinguished man was going to think crowding into one of the reindeer-skin tents along with a whole family of smelly Laplanders. But she kept this information to herself. “I think I can promise you an experience you won’t soon forget.”

“You’re laughing at me,” he said. “I can always tell when you’re doing that.”

“How can you tell?”

“That little dimple right here.” He touched his finger to her cheek. “It always shows when you’re up to some devilment. What are you planning for me?”

“Nothing. I’ll plan to see you the day after tomorrow at dawn.”

****

Derek found himself enjoying his trip north more than he had thought possible. Ever since he had come to Norway, a heavy curtain of gloom had fallen across his spirit. He still thought constantly of Rachel and slept poorly. He had lost weight, and the work he did had no meaning for him. Meeting Mallory had been a breath of fresh air and a chance to stop brooding over the love he had probably lost forever.

He had quickly made arrangements for his absence at headquarters, telling Lieutenant Stahl he would be gone several days. Stahl had been relieved that Derek was going to Trondheim. Stahl had been afraid he would have to make the trip himself but preferred to keep an eye on things in Oslo.

Derek and Mallory had loaded Lars’s truck with all of the cartons of books and food she wanted to take to the Lapps. He enjoyed the trip immensely, laughing more than he had in years, for he had discovered that Mallory Winslow was a very pleasant companion.

They had brought food along for the road, for there were few eating places on the way. They made their stop in Trondheim so Derek could take care of army business, and they
spent the nights in the simple rustic hyttes Mallory was used to staying in on her trips north.

When they got to Narvik, Mallory did not stop to see the Bjellands, for it would only confuse them to see her driving around the country with a German officer. They continued north from Narvik, and in about twenty miles, they found what they were seeking.

Derek stopped the truck in front of an enormous reindeer herd and watched as Mallory got out and ran to meet a family whose tent rose up out of the ground like a mushroom. Derek got out slowly and waited for Mallory to wave him over to meet her friends. He noticed that the Lapps were all very short and most of them were wiry, although some of the men were quite husky.

He first met Jagg and Remu and their younger daughter, Mayda, and their son, Lorge. Orva made her way over when she spotted the truck, and Derek was especially interested in meeting her, for Mallory had told him her story in some detail. As he greeted her, he noticed how intently she studied his uniform, which he had worn to allow them free access around the country, and she met his eyes with a veiled antagonism.

I suppose even these people hate us,
Derek thought. But he had no more time to worry about Orva, for Mallory had put her arm around the shoulders of the young man.

“I’m very proud of Lorge,” she said. “He’s going to be a fine minister and a great preacher.”

“I’m glad you’re back,” Lorge said. “Everyone’s been waiting for the Jesus woman to come.”

“I’m glad to be back too, but I’m afraid I need to head back to Oslo tomorrow.”

A short time later, when they had a few moments alone, Derek asked, “Did he call you the Jesus woman?”

Embarrassed by the title, Mallory shrugged her shoulders and gave him a half smile. “That’s what they call me.”

By the time Remu had fixed a meal of reindeer steaks, darkness had fallen. Derek sat down crossed-legged in
the circle around the fire and listened attentively as Mallory encouraged the others to tell her all that they had been doing. He watched her face by the flickering light of the fire. She had worn reindeer boots made by the Lapps and a reindeer jacket with the fur turned inside. Her eyes danced as she laughed at some of the misadventures that Lorge told her about, and several times she spoke to Orva in an affectionate manner.

The reindeer steak was surprisingly good, somewhat tough with a wild flavor, but Derek was hungry and ate well.

“Tomorrow we will have a service,” Lorge said, “and you must preach.”

“No, you must preach,” Mallory said. “I need to hear a good sermon.”

“You can both preach,” Orva said. She looked at Derek and said, “Are you a Jesus man?”

Derek was taken aback by the question. He saw that there was a little animosity behind it, and he felt the eyes of everyone as they turned to him. “I’m not a good Christian like Mallory,” he finally said. “But I hope to be someday.”

“Maybe tomorrow you will be saved,” Lorge said. “The Scripture says, ‘Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved.’ That’s in the book of Acts,” he said proudly.

“I brought you as many Bibles as I could lay my hands on,” Mallory said. She had also brought some food to break the monotony of the diet, and for dessert that night they had chocolate pastries Mallory had picked up at a small bakery in Narvik. Soon everyone was savoring the sweet desserts, and Derek laughed at the chocolate on his fingers.

“It’s not just your fingers—it’s in the corner of your mouth too! Here, wipe it off.” Mallory handed him her handkerchief and giggled as he cleaned his lips.

As the evening wore on, many of Mallory’s friends stopped by to enjoy some time
around the fire with the family. After the last visitor left, Mallory yawned and said, “I’m exhausted.”

“You must go to bed,” Orva said. “Come, everyone.”

Derek was startled. He had given little thought to where he would spend the night, and now he said awkwardly, “I’ll sleep in the truck.”

“It will be too cold,” Jagg said. “You will sleep with my family. Come.”

Derek turned to see that Mallory was laughing at him. “You didn’t tell me about this!” he said good-naturedly.

“It’ll be something for you to put in your memoirs, Derek.”

He felt lighthearted. Life had been so hard for so long that he suddenly felt a release in his spirit.

He entered the tent and found that a fire burned inside the tent. Some of the smoke escaped through the hole in the ceiling, but it was still thick inside. There was little ceremony about settling in for the night. “You can sleep here, Derek, next to me,” Lorge said.

Derek was startled when he saw the others simply lying on the ground between their blankets. Remu handed him one and he lay down, feeling incredibly awkward. Before he knew what was happening, he found himself wedged between Lorge and Mallory. It gave him an odd feeling of possession somehow as she pressed against him. The others were chattering, and he listened for a time. The smell of unwashed bodies was pungent.

Mallory suddenly reached out and touched his face, and when he turned quickly to face her, she whispered, “I’m sorry to put you through this. It was mean of me not to tell you.”

He was very aware of the pressure of her body against his, but he shook his head, saying, “It’s a night I’ll never forget.”

“Go to sleep now. You’ve got to listen to lots of preaching tomorrow.”