Stig listens to him, thinking that what he is saying is very probable. It hasn’t struck him before, but now the thought is here. A silence falls.

What is it, this oppressive silence they are sharing? Neither of them wishes to break it. They do not want to discuss what they are fighting for. But shouldn’t they do so? They have been fated to accept what people must normally reject. But are they to be debarred because of it?

Finally Stig gets to his feet. ‘I must go. There are so many things to be done.’

‘Yes, I expect so.’

Stig remains standing all the same. There is something that holds him in this room. He draws strength from it, and he needs it sorely. No one knows how wretched he feels at times. And here is a man who shares the same feeling.

‘Try to make time to call in again soon. Will you?’

‘I’m sure I’m only a nuisance,’ answers Stig. ‘I would think so if I were you.’

‘Yes and no.’

‘Well, I’ll try,’ says Stig. ‘I would very much like to, of course. I wish you well.’

There is a knock on the door before he reaches it. The clergyman calls ‘Come in!’ A woman enters, dressed in black. It does not seem to have occurred to her that there might be someone here already, for when she catches sight of Stig she pauses, blocking the doorway. She is pale and quiet. ‘Excuse me,’ she says, without moving.

‘Come in and sit down.’

But she remains standing. She has clearly lost her composure. Stig knows her slightly. He knows something has happened to her son, and now it must be over, to judge by her appearance. She is blocking the door so that Stig cannot slip past her. Both men dread hearing what this woman has to say. Her dress tells them that death has visited her. She says brokenly, ‘My son. They’ve killed him. And he was so young. He couldn’t have known what he was doing.’

This is hard for the two men. It is part of what they have to bear responsibility for. When it comes as close to them as it does now, it reveals itself in all its horror.

‘Is that what you have come to talk to me about?’

She nods.

Stig goes up to her. ‘I knew your son,’ he says. ‘We worked together for a while.’

She glances at him, startled. He has expressed gratitude, but she is too upset to understand.

‘If you would come in, I’ll leave you,’ says Stig as kindly as he can.

She starts nervously to one side. ‘Excuse me.’

‘We are all grateful to your son,’ says Stig.

‘Yes,’ echoes his companion. ‘We are all grateful. And always will be.’

She still stands there, white-faced.

‘Good-bye, then,’ says Stig. ‘And thank you.’

‘Thank you. I wish you could stay a little longer,’ says the servant of the Lord abruptly.

He is thinking of what he has to face in the next few minutes. What is he going to say to her? What questions will she ask him? What accusations will she fasten on him and his calling?