London was our first stop after ferrying from Le Havre. Geaxi wanted to check our deposit box at Lloyd’s for messages. There were none. I telephoned Caitlin’s Ruby and spoke with Arrosa and Willie. Neither had heard from anyone. It was as if every Meq except Geaxi, Nova, and me had disappeared. Geaxi assured me it was nothing unusual, there had been centuries of absence and silence in the past. It was common for the Meq. That was true; however, it failed to relieve the anxiety of not knowing. She then reminded me there were other Meq in the world I had never met. Did I ever wonder where they were or worry about them? I had no answer.
“Aside from that, young Zezen, I suspect there is only one you are truly concerned about, no?”
I said nothing because we both knew the answer.
We caught a late train for Newcastle, where we spent the night and then early the next morning boarded a ferry for Bergen. Halfway across the North Sea, we encountered rough seas, which gave Nova a bout of seasickness. It was highly unusual. Geaxi said she had never heard of one of the Meq experiencing seasickness. Nova recovered quickly, but she seemed bewildered and alarmed by what had happened. She said she had never been seasick before and it might portend some ill will for us. Geaxi tried to assure her there was nothing to be concerned about. But once we reached the outer islands and approached the Vagen harbor of Bergen, all our spirits lifted, including Nova’s.
Bergen is a thousand-year-old port city. Surrounded by mountains, the city has long been called “the town between seven mountains.” As we entered the inner harbor, the sun was setting behind us. Two of the peaks, Floyen and Ulriken, were golden in the last rays of light. Green pines covered the hillsides and ships and sailboats were everywhere. I had never seen a more beautiful town and harbor. Geaxi remarked that she had first visited Bergen in 1350 on a Hansa ship, only a year after the Black Plague had appeared and spread throughout Norway. She said at that time the harbor was equally beautiful, but a miserable destination.
Rune told me to enjoy the clear air and colorful sunset because in the past he had seen it rain in Bergen for twenty days in a row on several occasions. I replied that rain could not dampen the beauty of Bergen. Rune grunted and said I might make a good Norwegian.
After disembarking with the other passengers, Rune escorted Geaxi, Nova, and me through customs. We walked along the quay, then up narrow streets and steep hills to Rune’s family home. With the sun down, the air cooled dramatically and by the time we arrived, I could see my breath. It was the middle of September. The days were getting shorter and colder. The Fleur-du-Mal might or might not stay the winter in Norway. I hoped silently we were not too late.
Penelope and Knut welcomed us inside the large entry hall. She was a stunning woman, probably in her mid-forties, with coal black hair and ice blue eyes. She made me think of how Caitlin Fadle must have looked. Knut was a young man in his early twenties and had the same features as Penelope. They were both clearly ecstatic to see Rune. I could tell Knut idolized his uncle. Rune then asked if someone named Svein was still alive. Knut said he was. Rune looked relieved, glancing at Geaxi and saying, “Roses…Svein takes care of the roses.”
Rune was right about the weather. The next morning we not only had to buy rain gear, but sweaters, wool caps, boots, jackets, and gloves. Rain fell cold and steady and the temperature dropped twenty degrees. By midday we were finally outfitted properly and on our way to Voss, an ancient town on the northern edge of Vangs Lake, and only an hour by train from Bergen. In Voss, we leased a small fishing boat from a man Rune knew and trusted. We launched immediately, with Rune behind the wheel. Our destination was the farmstead of Rune’s old friend and confidant since childhood, Svein Stigen, gardener and caretaker for the Fleur-du-Mal.
When Geaxi first told me the Fleur-du-Mal had purchased a home in Norway, I thought it was a joke. This would be the last place, I thought, where he would consider living. Norway was too remote for his international tastes and habits. Why had he chosen it?
Rune slowed the engines and veered to our starboard side. Suddenly, an almost invisible inlet appeared between two headlands, two promontories of sheer rock, rising 150 feet above the lake.
“Through this channel lies Askenfada,” Rune said. “It used to be uninhabited during the winter months because of heavy snowfall and the danger of avalanches.”
“Askenfada?” Geaxi asked.
“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.