The Ice People 1 - Spellbound (The Legend of the Ice People) (10 page)

Silje hesitated a bit. “May I … hold on to you, sir?”

“Yes, that’s probably a good idea,” he laughed. “Otherwise you might fall off.”

Carefully and anxiously she put her arm around him and held on to his shirt at the back. She could feel that he had a well-proportioned body. His big shoulders, which were unnaturally broad, rested over her hand. She tried to keep some distance between them but it was impossible like that so with a sigh of relief and confidence she leaned her head against his chest. She could feel his cheek bones against her temple and the warmth from his neck.

“Are things so bad for him that he’s forced to steal a child’s clothes?” she said suddenly.

“But don’t you understand, Silje?” his low voice vibrating against her cheek. “Benedikt has told me about the letters C.M. and the crown of a baron. The infant was found right by the city gates. It wouldn’t have been difficult for Heming to track down who Dag’s mother is and then he would have blackmailed her. He could’ve done that for quite a long time because you don’t imagine that he would’ve given the clothes away – which after all are worth terribly much.”

“How mean!” exclaimed Silje, “taking advantage of a woman’s troubles like that! Did he know about the letters and what they meant?”

“Not exactly, but he knew that there was a mark in some of the clothes. I suppose he wanted to take a closer look at the clothes when he was all by himself, I imagine.”

Silje tried to sit more comfortably on the horse because she could easily glide down. “I must admit that I’ve often denounced Dag’s mother for abandoning her innocent baby. But are we actually allowed to condemn? What do we know of her motives?”

The man didn’t answer. It was nice and comfortable inside the wolf-skin coat. All that peeped out was the tip of her nose. She was horrified to discover that something was beginning to happen with her body. She could feel that she felt warm and she pulled back a bit. The man seemed not to notice anything but was silent for quite a long time. She could feel his heartbeat against her shoulder. Heavy, rapid heartbeats.

“How did you find him?” she asked. “What I mean to say is did he tell you that he had Dag’s things?”

“This doesn’t matter now, Silje. I’d much rather know how you are.”

Silje suddenly realized that her arm was around his chest, and the rocking movement of the horse’s trot had a strong impact on her. But then she pulled herself and said truthfully that she was very happy at Benedikt’s farm.

“But you’d like to paint with him again, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes. How do you know?”

“He told me so.”

“So you’ve talked with him?”

“Yes, now and then.”

Silje was silent for a while. “May I put a question to you? Where do you actually live? When you don’t have to hide, that is.”

He laughed. “When I
do
have to hide, I live in an empty house in the forest.”

He pointed.

Silje wrinkled her eyebrows. “I walked there not so long ago. I must’ve been close to your home.”

“Yes, I know. I saw you and the little girl.”

“Oh,” said Silje. “Were you the one … who was close by and who observed us?”

“Did you sense it? I saw you stop somehow and look around.”

“Yes. Why didn’t you make yourself known?”

“I didn’t want to frighten you unduly.”

“That would’ve made me happy,” Silje said honestly.

He gasped for breath. It was as if he had to pull himself enormously together.

“You seemed agitated that day?”

“Yes, the slaughtering. I didn’t like it for the sake of the animals.”

She could feel that he nodded and that he seemed to understand her. Then he said in a low tone of voice: “You’re not afraid of me then?”

“No, why should I be afraid of you?”

“Has anybody told you …?”

“Of course, I’ve seen their stupid reactions. They’re just ignorant as if there’s something wrong in you being a medical expert.”

He tossed his head impatiently. “Good heavens! Me a medical expert? Silje, no matter what you do you mustn’t tell anybody that you know me! This may mean your death. It’s a highly dangerous acquaintance, believe me! No, nobody must know of me. What’s more, your skills are too great compared to the circumstances you come from. Benedikt has told me why. Don’t let anybody on to your knowledge. A few years ago, they burned a woman here just because she was more book-learned than most.”

“There’s so much evil in the world,” Silje said thoughtfully.

“I agree, and the worst thing is that much of this evil of ignorance stems from those who ought to show mercy, namely the clergy. Their determination in abolishing the work of Satan hasn’t been much better than the deeds of those they’ve tormented and killed.”

Indeed, he was far more masculine and grown-up than Heming! And far more disturbing!

“Heming was certainly elegant today,” Silje said, her voice betraying a hint of bitterness.

Her companion snorted. “One of his mistresses has been kind enough to give him some of her husband’s clothes.”

Silje shook her head. “Why on earth did I find him so attractive? I must’ve been blind.”

“He
is
attractive,” the man said calmly. “It’s his greatest asset – and he uses it till the very last drop. And you’re very unworldly,” he added compassionately. “I hope he hasn’t …” He found it difficult to get it across his lips. “That he hasn’t exploited
you
?”

“Not apart from what I’ve already said. I wouldn’t have gone along with it.”

The rider was silent but she could feel against her temple that he smiled. At her being so naïve? No, the sigh that followed was more a sigh of relief.

Or perhaps he wasn’t sitting properly on the horse?

The horse stopped suddenly. They’d reached the farm without Silje noticing it. The foreman came out but he kept at a respectful distance.

Silje was disappointed. There was so much she hadn’t had time to ask about. The man jumped down, stretching out his hands to help her off the horse. She leaned confidently forward, and for a moment his face was so close to hers that she could look into his green eyes.

She was quite appalled at what she saw. What she read in his eyes was very clear indeed. It was the deepest sorrow. She tried to hide the compassion that was pressing her.

He let go of her and handed her Dag’s clothes.

“Thanks for the confidence you show me,” he whispered hurriedly and so softly that she could hardly hear it.

Then he waved and got on his horse.

She followed him with her eyes until he was out of sight. The strange sensation in her body wouldn’t leave her.

“Have you been away?” the foreman asked gently.

“Yes, somebody stole these clothes items, and I’ve tried to run after him. Dyre Alvsson helped me.”

The farmland raised his eyebrows. “Dyre Alvsson?”

At that moment, Benedikt’s cart approached the farm and they got something else to think about. Silje had to repeat the story as they unharnessed.

“Dyre Alvsson?” said Benedikt when Silje had told them the story. “This doesn’t make sense because he isn’t here now. Was he actually here?”

The foreman shook his head in an attempt to explain. Benedikt understood this and turned towards Silje.

“You saw Dyre in the church then. He hid in the tower together with Heming. Has he been here?”

Silje looked in surprise at them both. “Was
that
Dyre Alvsson?”

“Yes.”

“She stood still for some time while she thought about what she’d just been told. “But I thought … Who was that person then who was here now? The one I painted as the devil? The one who always appears when I need him?”

“I know who you’re thinking of. I met him on the road just now. He looked quite dejected, and that’s not a good sign.”

Benedikt breathed heavily. He exchanged a glance with the foreman. Then he said:

“How much can you take, Silje?”

“I don’t know. I just want to know who he is because I’m sick and tired of all the evasive answers and all the frightened glances.”

“You mustn’t condemn anybody just because they’re scared! Do you really want to know who your awesome protector is?”

“Yes, for goodness’ sake!”

“His name’s Tengel,” said Benedikt as he cleared his throat. “Tengel of the Ice People.”

Chapter 7

Tengel of the Ice People? Silje felt a shiver down her spine, and little by little her whole body felt cold.

Scattered sentences rushed through her head:
Tengel has no grave. He has all ages – according to what suits him on the spur of the moment. He seldom appears. Appears. Sold his soul to Satan
.

“No,” she screamed. “It’s just not
possible
.”

“Of course, he’s not the
old
Tengel.” Nevertheless, Silje could hear the uncertainty in his trembling voice. “Only superstitious fools think like that.”

The foreman showed a scared face to his master’s brave word. His voice was unnaturally high-pitched. “In that case, everybody’s a fool, Mr. Benedikt. Surely you know that that … being has supernatural powers?”

The man’s ability to come to her assistance each time she needed it. His sensitivity towards her mood – he always knew when she was sad, depressed or agitated. He just
had
to be extremely receptive. Medical expertise, his burning hands …

And what was it like the first time they’d met? She was close to death from exhaustion, slow on the uptake, had suddenly shone in front of the bailiff’s men – solving the almost inhuman task of liberating the prisoner as easily as anything. Afterwards when the wolf-skin dressed being had left her, her willpower had been extinguished like a burnt-out light. Perhaps it hadn’t been
her
willpower?

But especially – her immensely vivid dream of him as an abysmal spirit from the Land of Shadows.

Silje buried her face in her hands and dashed to her room. She threw herself on the bed, crept underneath the blanket and pulled it over her head. She lay crouched like a frightened mouse as Benedikt and the foreman entered her room.

The painter hesitated: “Silje,” he said. “Surely you can understand that it isn’t him himself! It’s just one of his obnoxious descendants.”

“No, no, please don’t say that,” she said in a low whisper. She had a pain in the pit of her stomach and just wanted to scream.

Benedikt shrugged his shoulders.

“Where does he live then?” she asked in a fiery tone of voice.

Benedikt shrugged his shoulders once more. “Nobody knows. Just as he shows up among human beings, he vanishes once more. Without any trace.”

She cried loudly in order not to hear any more. Benedikt
thinks
my helper is the old Tengel, she thought. She was shocked. No matter what he says, it’s what he believes. Among
human beings
! Could he have expressed himself more concisely?

“But isn’t he in the insurgency army?” she asked in a quick attempt at defending him.

“Yes, perhaps.”

“He rescued Heming that night I met him.”

“I don’t know whether Tengel has any connection with Heming.”

“And who’s Heming in actual fact?” She was relieved to be given a chance to turn the conversation to something else.

Benedikt sent the foreman a helpless look. “We really don’t know. He appeared in Trondelag a few years ago, and since then he’s been pretty active among the women …”

That remark didn’t affect Silje the least bit now. She was absolutely cold as far as Heming was concerned. An exceptionally handsome face – that was all he had. All told, that was the only reason why he’d had any impact on her.

“I can see that he’s out of your mind, which is a good thing,” Benedikt said. Young girls often confuse infatuation with love. They are very fond of a handsome appearance but later on it dawns on them that the handsome face they see arises from their own infatuation – and not the other way round.”

He returned to the subject once more. “Heming stayed for a while with a peasant in this parish but he hasn’t had any permanent address since he joined the insurgents. He’s just an adventurer. Has no backbone whatsoever. Totally spineless if you want my honest opinion. I don’t think he focuses much on the objective of the insurgents. He simply uses them as a springboard to play macho. Quite frankly, he’s more of a nuisance than of any use to them. But you’ll have to ask him himself where he lives.”

“No way! I don’t want to have anything at all to do with him. He’s a thief!”

Benedikt seemed relieved.

Silje was unable to regain her peace of mind. The puzzle as to who Tengel actually was occupied her mind day and night. She woke up because she was screaming in her sleep, and she forced herself to think rationally – without succeeding entirely. But what bothered her most was the restlessness in her soul. Her eyes would gaze across the ridge in secret yearning. Occasionally, she could see smoke up there and at other times not a sign of life whatsoever. Then she feared that he’d left and that she would never see him again. But when she saw the clouds of smoke once more, she fervently wished that he’d disappear out of her life or even better – that she’d never met him.

Christmas was drawing near. They would be quiet, sad days. Nobody was able to express any joy, no eagerness to celebrate anything at all because this feast was the family’s feast – and everybody had lost their loved ones over the past year. Their losses, which each tried to suppress every day of the year, had now intensified. Memories of previous Christmas parties, the warmth, the cozy atmosphere and the joy around the laid table … smiling faces which had since passed away … Benedikt, Silje, everybody went about their chores often with tears in the corner of their eyes. If it hadn’t been for Sol, no preparations for Christmas would’ve been made at all.

***

Three days before Christmas, their lives were turned upside down. This was when they became acutely aware of what a fantastic time they’d had together over the past months.

A wagon drove up in front of the main building and out stepped an authoritative lady with an air of extreme self-confidence about her. She was dressed in the latest fashion with a ruff, moss-stitched bonnet and a dress with a pleated skirt and puff sleeves. Behind her came a young boy of fifteen, grumpy and in a bad mood.

“Good gawd!” Benedikt mumbled. “My nephew’s widow! What the hell is she doing here?”

A third person got out of the wagon. A young girl, who looked just as displeased as the young boy. She probably has every reason to be, Silje thought, because she was ever so fat.

“Abelone!” said Benedikt. “This is certainly a surprise. What brings you here?”

“Dear Benedikt, I heard of your misfortune, that your dear brother and all his family succumbed to the plague. And so I felt that it was my
duty
to come to your assistance. Now we’ve only got each other, you and I and my dear children.”

“Was food becoming too scarce in Trondheim?” mumbled Benedikt. He said loudly: “Of course you’re welcome to spend Christmas here. You mustn’t doubt that for a moment.”

The welcome didn’t seem quite so cordial although it seemed that Benedikt made an effort to pull himself together.

“Christmas?” laughed Abelone. “My children need fresh country air, and you need a woman to run the house for you. We’ve decided to move in here, dear Benedikt. You’re an elderly man now, and you deserve to spend your last years in peace and quiet.

Benedikt was speechless.

They began to walk up the stairs.

“Hello, Grete, hello Marie,” Abelone said graciously and nodded abruptly to the farm-hand. “But who’s that little girl?”

Sol hid behind Marie’s dress.

Benedikt was proud and said: “That’s Sol. And here’s Silje. These two and little Dag live here now.”

Abelone’s eyes turned narrow. “Are they relatives?”

“No, but we’re very fond of them although they aren’t relatives.”

The foreman and the old women nodded in agreement.

“I see,” said Abelone. She was confused. “I’d better look more closely into that.”

The house was quite changed now. Abelone didn’t want to know of any grief during Christmas. “The dead are gone and they’re not supposed to cast shadows and bad feelings over Christmas!” She bossed and bullied the servants and especially Silje, whom she instinctively loathed. She didn’t want Dag in the house and Sol wasn’t allowed to show herself either. Benedikt was furious, cursing and drinking more than ever before.

Abelone had a firm opinion about everything. “My son is the only heir to this farm, you know. And a lot needs to be done about many things here. My son’s not supposed to take over the farm in just any kind of state.”

“I’ll tell you one thing Abelone. Silje and the children are my guests.
They
live here as well. That’s all I want to say about that matter!”

There was an uneasy atmosphere at the farm. Nobody was happy any longer.

On Christmas morning, Silje scanned the mountain ridge as she’d done so many times before. She saw the thin column of smoke rise from the snow-clad trees.

“Did she dare to? She’d often thought of going into the mountains but anxiety and a feeling that it wouldn’t be the right thing to do held her back. But now she felt that she
had
to. Something within her forced her to do so.

Abelone and the children were upstairs, trying on clothes that had belonged to the dead. Silje went into the kitchen, which was where “her” people would sit, glum and despondent.

“Is it alright for me to go on a visit?” she asked carefully. “There’s somebody I’d like to bring some food to for Christmas.”

They looked at her in surprise. Many poor people starved but they weren’t aware that Silje knew any of them.

Of course she could leave! Grete and Marie saw to it that she was given a lunch box with lots of good food: Sausage, ham, fish, bread and apples. The servants also arranged a small jug of Benedikt’s brandy to bring with her.

At that moment, Abelone entered. She stopped abruptly in front of the table.

“What’s all this about?” she asked sharply.

“Silje is on her way to visit somebody,” said Grete.

Abelone began immediately to take up all the things in the lunch box. “No, nothing is to be taken from this farm. We’ve only got enough to keep ourselves going. And that girl, Silje, has absolutely no right to …”

Although it was early in the day, Benedikt was pretty tight but not so bad that he wasn’t able to get on his feet. “We’ve more than plenty.
We
have given all this food to Silje – and don’t you try to go against my will because then your rotten offspring will disinherit!”

“That’s impossible.”

“I’m sure there’s a way.”

Abelone understood perfectly well what Benedikt hinted at. The glance she cast Silje was so full of hatred that even Benedikt turned pale. But she loosened her grip of the lunch box without further remarks and walked upstairs once more.

Everybody knew that the last word in this matter hadn’t been spoken.

“Just you be on your way, Silje,” Benedikt said gently. “You and the children will come to no harm, I promise.”

Touched and with a smile on her face, Silje thanked them all before she left.

It was a clear day. The sun didn’t shine but the white snow lighted for her. She had to guess her way up to the mountain ridge because when she had walked there in the past, she’d just roamed about aimlessly. The snow wasn’t very deep. It only reached her to the ankles and she was wearing tall boots of skin. After a while she was quite right and came to walk on a narrow forest road, and then it was easier to make her way.

There were no tracks on the road but this didn’t have to mean anything since it snowed here only two days ago.

The road was steep and after a while she had to stop and catch her breath. The village lay down below, the church, the river where the foreman would catch salmon, Benedikt’s farm – she could see Marie run across the yard – and the other farms scattered round about …

Now she had the Land of Shadows right in front of her. It looked different from up here. At long last, she remembered the names of the pointed summits. They were known as the Outside Farm Mountains, which was a fitting name.

She turned round and wanted to continue when she stopped abruptly with a shocked gasp. She almost bumped into him as he stood there, his one arm leaning against a pine tree. The snow must have deadened the sound of his steps.

She looked up at him with frightened eyes. Her heart pounded. This was approximately how they’d met the first time. He looked just as distinguished, just as strange and bestial now – with eyes that shone towards her, but, somehow, this time they seemed dismissive.

So this was the skin-dressed being she’d had such outrageously intimate dreams about! She must be crazy!

Silje tried to fight the anxiety that overwhelmed her. Had he been of flesh and blood,
he
would also need food – and compassion.

She was confused as he handed the lunch box over to him. “I’ve brought some food for you, sir. After all, it’s Christmas so … Happy Christmas,” she said.

He stretched out his arm and took the lunch box. “You shouldn’t have come up her, Silje,” he said firmly. His face looked as if it was cut in stone, but his dark eyes showed a wish to keep a distance.

She turned abruptly. “This is all I wanted to do,” she said, disappointed.

He caught her arm. “Now you’re here and you look cold. I’d better see to it that you get a spot of warmth. Come,” he said brusquely. He signaled that they were to continue up towards his cabin.

They followed the trail without a word, now with his footprints in the snow. A crazy thought entered her mind: Suppose he hadn’t left any traces in the snow? If so, she’d probably run away, screaming at the top of her voice.

Silje didn’t dare to look at him. It was terrible, humiliating and debasing – that she felt an attraction for him, that she could feel how her nipples seem to stiffen as he brushed her with the arm. And he who’d been so cross because she’d come! This was hurtful!

“Do you have guests?”

What a relief. Now at least he spoke to her. “Yes,” she sighed. “Things aren’t working out so well.”

He obviously expected to hear more, so she stammered as she told him about Abelone and her children and all the changes in the house. About the conversation in the kitchen.