Shadows and Light

As soon as Mr. Hagen excused class, the girls rushed home to the Larsen house. When they arrived, Bente realized she had forgotten something. Her mother realized it, too.

“Where’s your brother?”

“Umm.”

“Come quick!” said Ingrid.

“No,” said Mrs. Larsen, “we’ll get him together.”

A little boy sat alone on the swings, without a care in the world. He had waited so long that every other child had gone home and he was the only one left on the playground. When Bente and Ingrid ran out to get him, they noticed his fat little fingers, nearly numb from frostbite. His cheeks were flushed and red, too. Ingird gave him her mittens and ski cap.

“Better?”

“I think so.”

Bente tugged on one arm and Ingrid tugged on the other as they helped Erik toward the car. There was no amount of co-operation between the three children as they pulled in three different directions. Erik finally pulled loose from both Bente and Ingrid’s grip. He hurried to the safety and warmth of the car.

“Are you okay?” Mrs. Larsen asked her son.

Erik nodded as he hopped into the back seat with Ingrid. Meanwhile, Bente jumped into the front seat next to her mother.

“I can’t believe you forgot about your brother.”

“I was thinking about the Krabbelag.”

“You should’ve been thinking about your responsibilities first.”

Bente remained quiet as she sat beside her mother. Mr. and Mrs. Larsen had been thinking about the crab party, too. Mr. Larsen visited several of Bryggen’s merchants, purchasing seafood from the fishmonger and produce from the farmer’s market. He packed them into the back of his truck and returned to the house. Mrs. Larsen stopped by the store and picked up party supplies.

When they got back to the Larsen house, everyone took a load of paper and plastic goods inside.

“Would you girls like to help me get ready?”

“We were thinking of spending the night at Ingrid’s house,” saud Bente.

Mrs. Larsen sighed.

“We could help for a bit,” said Ingrid.

“I’m sorry, Ingrid,,” said mother, “I don’t think Bente will be able to stay at your house tonight. I’m really disappointed in the both of you.”

Now, both girls were quiet. Mrs. Larsen dropped Ingrid at home and explained the situation to Mrs. Berg. Afterwards, the Larsens returned home and prepared for the Krabbelag.

Saturday brought a cold blast of fresh winter air through Bergen. Still, it was May, which meant this may be the last chance for Bente’s ski trip. Her timing couldn’t be worse.

On Saturday, Bente went with her father and brother to the shore. They prepared the beach, clearing rocks and debris from the shoreline. Then, they formed a fire pit, digging a deep hole in the sand.

“Erik, get down in the hole,” said father.

“What?”

“We’re going to bury you up to your neck,” said Bente.

“I’m not going in there.”

“Don’t listen to your sister, Erik. We’re building a fire pit and I need you to move the rocks around for me.”

“Why?”

“When the rocks get hot we can use them to cook our crab pot.”

Mr. Larsen handed large boulders to his little son. Erik carefully layered the rocks across the bottom. Then, he piled brush and twigs on the rocks followed by thick logs. Mr. Larsen pulled him out of the hole and they stacked large boulders around the edges of the fire pit.

Mr. Larsen stopped by the house for a late lunch before heading back to the beach. Early in the evening, he lit the fire. Soon afterward, a fishing boat idled alongside the pier. A large net hung from two tall masts. The net dragged in the water behind the boat. It was a shrimp trawler.

Mr. Larsen walked out to the edge of the pier and greeted the fishermen while his two kids tagged along. The signboard on the back of the boat said ‘Hansen and Son.’

“God abend, Jurgen!” greeted one of the deckhands. It was Lars Hansen, the youngest of Herr Hansen’s sons.

God abend Lars! Du komst til Krabbelag?”

“Ja, Ja!” said Lars, “Min pappa kommer agso.”

Mr. Hansen, who had been down in the cabin, came up to greet Mr. Larsen and his children. He invited Mr. Larsen and the children down onto the trawler’s deck. He stood over a bucket full of shrimp prawn and live crabs. He picked through the shrimp, quickly snapping off the heads and removing the legs and shell. He then de-veined the shrimp and split it into two pieces to give to the children.

“Go ahead,” urged their father.

Bente was quick to try the fresh shrimp. She had eaten prawn right at the pier before. Erik, however, was squeamish. Mr. Hansen tossed the shell into the water. Seagulls squawked as they swooped down and fought over the remains.

“It’s not going to bite,” said Lars.

Erik hesitantly placed the shrimp into his mouth. It tasted just like the shrimp he had at home, although it smelled like seawater. Maybe it was just the water around him. It didn’t matter. He spit it out into his hand.

“Ewww!” said Bente as she popped the bottom of his hand with her own, shooting the half-eaten prawn into the water. The seagulls fought extra hard for this morsel, diving into the water to grab it.

Bente and the men continued enjoying fresh prawn next to the pier while Erik watched. Afterwards, Mr. Larsen bought another bundle of shrimp and crabs from Mr. Hansen for the Krabbelag feast.

The Larsens fetched the cooking supplies from the truck and returned to the shore. Mr. Larsen lit the fire and prepared the crab pot. He filled it with alternating layers of rock, seaweed, shrimp, crabs, and vegetables.

As the crap pot simmered, people began to gather on the rocky shore. Just after noon, Mr. Hagen was among the first to arrive. He stood at the top of the beach, waving both hands in the air.

“God middag alle!”

“God middag, Herr Hagen!”

Bente ran to the spot where the rocks met the sandy beach while Mr. Hagen clambered down the rocks to the sandy shore.

“I am first?”

Bente nodded.

“Then maybe I can lend a hand.”

“Everything’s ready,” said Mr. Larsen, “we’re just waiting for people to arrive.”

Mr. Larsen pulled a wooden reclining chair next to the fire pit. Mr. Hagen sat down next to Mr. Larsen as Bente and Erik stood across from them.

“It’s beautiful out today, isn’t it?”

Mr. Larsen nodded.

“It reminds me of my history lesson next week.”

Bente groaned and Mr. Hagen paused.

“What are you teaching?”

“”World War II. These fjords were perfect safe harbors for the German U-boats. Anyone trying to attack had a very narrow point of attack. The mountain ranges also provided perfect cover for anti-aircraft guns when the British attacked, too.”

Everyone’s eyes followed the horizon, from mountain to sea. As Mr. Hagen continued speaking, Ingrid and her mother joined the party.

“What are we talking about?” asked Mrs. Berg.

“The Nazi invasion of Norway.”

“Ah,” said Mrs. Berg, “Norway was very important for the Nazis. My grandparents lived in Sweden and the Nazis invaded Norway to get to Sweden’s resources. War is a rich man’s game. Every war machine needs resources like iron and wood and petroleum to keep their Navy afloat and their Army afoot.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” said Mr. Hagen, “Both the Germans and British wanted to attack Norway.”

“What did Norway do to them?” asked Ingrid.

“Nothing,” said Mr. Hagen, “In fact, the Norwegians tried to stay Neutral. King Haakon took neither the side of the Germans or the Allies. King Haakon and the Norwegians tried to stay out of the war completely, but Norway was too important to both the British and the Nazis. The English Navy was going to invade Norway, but the Nazis beat them to it.”

“We just let the Nazis invade Norway?”

“Norway had been Neutral during both the first and second World Wars. They had a considerably smaller Navy than the Nazi Germany. Plus, when the Nazi ships sailed through the North Sea, the Norwegians weren’t sure whether the battleships were German or British, so many Norwegians did not put up a fight.”

“I thought we were on the side of the Allies,” said Bente.

“Yes and no. A famous Norwegian named Vidkun Quisling was the leader of the Norwegian Nazi party. He co-operated with the Germans during World War II.”

“Oh, I never liked Quisling,” said mother.

“Not many did. That’s why there was such a large resistance movement. Most Norwegians still supported Haakon. They were part of the Underground.”

“Why did they go underground?” said Erik.

“Not under the ground like a burrowing gopher, but in secret. The Norwegian Underground even used a special symbol of an H crossed by a 7. It stood for King Haakon VII. Unfortunately, the King had to go to exile, but his underground worked secretly against the Nazis.”

“Just like King Magnus of Sweden,” noted Bente.

“Exactly.”

Mr. Larsen used his camp shovel to clear the hot embers away from the fire pit. Then, he used a heavy hook to fish the crab pot from the fire. He removed the lid. The broth bubbled as the contents of the crab pot simmered. He carefully moved the Krabbelag from the cooking pot to a serving dish. After it cooled, people helped themselves to the feast.

As Mr. Larsen served the first helpings, a light dusting of snow began to fall. He tossed several large pine logs on the fire and continued dishing out the crab.

The resin inside the freshly cut pine logs cracked as the logs burned on the fire. A harsh wind gently blew the flames toward Bente and Ingrid, who were huddled around little Erik, doing their best to keep him warm.

Bente looked up at the falling snow and then over to Ingrid. She was pretty sure they were thinking the same thing: perfect skiing weather.

However, at least she got to attend the Krabbelag. And another thing, Erik was safe, too. Bente scruffed her little brother’s hair and kissed him on the cheek.

“Yuck!” said Erik as he wiped the kiss from his face.

“You’re lucky to have me,” said Bente with a smile.

After the Krabbelag, everyone helped clean up before they went their separate ways. Bente did, however, get to do one thing during her weekend of punishment; she stayed up late and watched Bergen Football with her brother and father.

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