Read Fear Not for Free Online

always remain a matter between her, Erik and the Saviour.
    Now she was here, on her way.
    The rain blew in off Vågen, tasting of salt. Behind many of the windows in the picturesque development of small houses a soft light was still visible; Christmas Eve was not over for most people. She tripped on a paving stone as she turned the corner, but quickly regained her balance. Her glasses were wet and misted over, and it was difficult to see clearly. It didn’t matter. This was her path, and she had walked this way so many times before.
    Taken by surprise, she stopped for a moment.
    She could hear footsteps behind her.
    She had already been walking for over twenty minutes and hadn’tseen another living soul apart from a stray cat and the sea birds, screaming so faintly above Vågen.
    ‘Bishop Lysgaard?’
    She turned towards the voice.
    ‘Yes?’ she said in an enquiring tone, and smiled.
    There was something about his voice, something strange. Harsh, perhaps. Different, anyway.
    ‘Who are you? Is there something I can help you with?’
    When he struck her with the knife she realized she had been wrong. During the sixteen seconds it took her from the moment of realizing that she was going to die until she was no longer alive, she offered no resistance. She said nothing, and allowed herself to fall to the ground with the strange man leaning over her, the man with the knife; he was of no relevance to her. She was the one who had been wrong. During all these years, when she had thought Jesus was by her side in her vain belief that He had forgiven and accepted, she had been living a lie that was impossible to live with in the future. It was too big.
    And at the moment of her death, when there was no longer anything to see and all perception of existence was gone, she wondered what He who has eternal life had been unable to accept. Had it been the lie or the sin?
    It all came down to the same thing, she thought.
    And died.
    *
     
    ‘Baby Jesus can’t possibly be two thousand and eight years old,’ said Ragnhild with a yawn. ‘Nobody lives for ever!’
    ‘No,’ said Adam. ‘He actually died when he was quite young. We celebrate Christmas because that’s when he was born.’
    ‘In that case we should have balloons. It’s not a proper birthday without balloons. Do you think baby Jesus liked balloons?’
    ‘I don’t think they had balloons in those days. But it’s time you got some sleep, my girl. It’s almost one o’clock in the morning! It’s already Christmas Day, in fact.’
    ‘My personal best,’ Ragnhild rejoiced. ‘Is one o’clock later than eleven o’clock?’
    Adam nodded and tucked her in for the fourth time in two hours.
    ‘Time to sleep.’
    ‘Why is one later than eleven when one is a little number and eleven is a big number? Can I stay up this late on New Year’s Eve?’
    ‘We’ll see. Now go to sleep.’
    He kissed her on the nose and headed for the door.
    ‘Daddy …’
    ‘Go to sleep. Daddy’s going to get cross if you don’t try. Do you understand?’
    He flicked the switch and the room was filled with a reddish glow from a string of small red hearts around one window.
    ‘But Daddy, just one more thing.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘I think it’s a bit stupid for Kristiane to have that microscope. She’ll only break it.’
    ‘Perhaps. But that was what she wanted.’
    ‘Why didn’t I get a micro—?’
    ‘Ragnhild! I’m getting really cross now! Settle down at once …’
    The rustling of the duvet made him break off.
    ‘Night night, Daddy. Love you.’
    Adam smiled and pulled the door to.
    ‘I love you, too. See you in the morning.’
    He crept along the corridor. Kristiane had fallen asleep long ago, but the sound of a feather falling on the floor could wake her. As he passed her door he held his breath. Then he gave a start.
    The telephone? At one o’clock on Christmas morning?
    In two steps he had reached the living-room door in order to silence the ringing as quickly as possible.