The Ice People 1 - Spellbound (The Legend of the Ice People) (14 page)

Chapter 10

Charlotte Meiden sat wistfully by the window, gazing towards the damaged Trondheim Cathedral. After the fire in 1531, it was as if nobody had the energy to begin the immense restoration work because Norway was so poor following the Reformation, the famine and the numerous attacks of the plague. It was only a part of the cathedral that was now in use. The rest was in ruins.

She could see a small section of the river that winded so beautifully around the city, making it virtually impregnable with its one approach road – the armed gate to the west.

“Tell me, mother,” she began pensively. What’s become of the convent on Bakke? Does it still exist?”

The mother looked up from her needlework. She was confused. “The Order of St. Benedict? I don’t think it exists any more. I should’ve thought that all that disappeared with the Reformation, wouldn’t you? I really don’t know.”

“What about the Cistercians at Rein then? Surely there were nuns there?”

“I can’t imagine that they exist any longer. Why? What makes you ask such strange questions?”

“I’ve considered joining this order.”

“You? Are you completely out of your mind? You’re not even a Catholic!”

“Is that important? Surely I can convert.”

“Good heavens, Charlotte. This is absolutely out of the question – what will people think? As you know, we’ve been invited to a New Year ball at the feudal overlord this Saturday. I’m sure you’ll feel better and will forget all these fancy ideas. They say that some debonair noblemen from Denmark will be present. There aren’t so many to choose between here.”

Charlotte was impatient and left the room. The mother followed her with a concerned look on her face.

Was it religious speculations that had bothered her of late? A Catholic monastery! This was quite out of the question. If only they could get her married …

How on earth had they managed to have a child who was not at all attractive? The long nose that seemed to run in quite a lot of Danish noble families – not least the Royal Family – “decorated” Charlotte’s face. The poor girl. She was certainly a problem.

Charlotte threw herself on her bed.

She knew that she was far from beautiful. When she was very young, she’d been engaged to the son of a count from Denmark – but following their first, formal rendezvous at a ball, he’d kept away with bad excuses. After a while the agreement which the parents had entered was cancelled. The shame had been unbearable at the time but she’d learned to suppress it as time went by.

When the charming Dane had squired her this time last year, she very much craved male admiration, and so she was easy prey for him. She’d always hidden her shyness behind a radiant smile and her carefree conversation. Nobody was to know how clumsy she felt.

The young man was experienced in the art of seduction. He was quick to take her virginity – and Charlotte had floated about in rapture. Until, that was, when she was told that he was married and until she discovered that she was pregnant.

But all that meant nothing now.

If only she could turn back the clock and hold the baby in her arms once more. This was the bleak, impossible thought that churned around in her head. Time and again, she felt anxiety and it was a nightmare to think of her newborn baby lying completely helpless out there in the forest. The days that passed – the food, the human warmth that never came.

No!

She tossed around and buried her face in the pillow.

If only she’d had somebody to talk to, somebody she could pour her despair on to.

The priest perhaps? No, he wouldn’t be able to understand her. … He’d only just condemn her. Everybody would condemn her.

But wasn’t that what she wanted, in actual fact? Somebody who would condemn her, force her to her knees, chastise and hit her?

Only this wouldn’t give back her child to her.

There was also another thought that bothered her.

The child was unholy. It was an unbaptized baby she’d placed in the forest. If only she could go out and read a …

No, she couldn’t go out there again, never, ever!

Could she ask the priest to do this for her?

No, she just couldn’t bring herself to do that.

Cowardice! She was scared of what he’d find out there.

She was condemned, damned, lost. What kind of life did she have in front of her?

***

Little Sol was growing tired of the continuous bumpy ride in the cart, and she was also hungry. Silje took out the lunch box which they’d been given and gave her two cakes.

“Give one of the cakes to the driver,” she said.

Sol was happy to do that. “Here, man!”

He accepted it solemnly. “Thank you. Want to sit by me for a little while, eh?”

Sol said yes. She had a way with men, Silje thought with a smile. She had been fondest of the foreman at home on the farm, and now the driver. She sat there, round as a ball, with layers of thick winter clothes, which Grete had put on her, and her little hand held on the reins. Now and then she would turn towards Silje to make sure that she could see how nicely she sat.

The countryside was wild and alien. Now when they no longer had a view over the village they had come to the black, vertical ridges. “The road” had vanished a long time ago but the driver seemed to know which way to take. Silje was worried about all the tracks they left in the snow because they would be easy to follow!

They followed a river. The rock walls had shielded against the worst snowfall and here there was only a thin layer of snow. It was not deeper than the horses and the cart could make it. However, the higher they got, the deeper the snow would become, which made sense to Silje.

How far would they actually be going?

There was bleak wilderness wherever she glanced. The wind howled through the mountain pass which the river squeezed through. The river was half covered with ice. It gurgled and splashed in the deep holes. The valley was so narrow in some places that it felt like driving in the streets of Trondheim, with tall houses on either side. Only here there was not a soul, not a single house. Only the eerie river, so close by, so close by. Now and then, Silje stiffened with anxiety, would hold tightly on to Dag when they were forced to drive right to the edge down towards the river. She could see that the horses were also scared.

Finally, they left the narrow valley and had open land ahead of them. The mountains had withdrawn on all sides – and now came the wind, the ice-cold wind that blew the snow so that it formed snow drifts. Silje hurried and dug out a blanket, and Sol had to leave the driver’s seat, very much against her will, in order to seek shelter. They sat as in a small tent, Silje in the middle with a child on either side.

“How are we going to manage this?” she shouted to the driver, who had lumps of ice in his beard.

“Everything’s fine,” he shouted as he huddle against the wind. “The wind will erase all signs after us.”

She could see that. Shortly afterwards he jumped down and came over to them.

“I have to change to runners,” he said. “The snow is too deep – the wheels cut too deep into the snow.”

Change to runners? That sounded strange. She looked on in surprise as the driver locked the wheels with straps and pulled down two runners that had been fastened along the cart.

“I’ll help,” said Sol and jumped down into the snow.

“No, Sol, the snow’s too deep for you.”

While the driver lifted, Silje pushed the runners under the wheels. They matched perfectly. It was quite obvious that this was something he’d done several times before.

While they were busy with this, Sol began to shout:”Horse, horse!”

They looked up in surprise.

Far behind them came two riders.

The driver relaxed: “No danger.”

Silje was so happy that her heart pounded. Tengel was on his way, and it was only now that she had the courage to admit that she’d feared he wouldn’t come. At the same time, it irritated her that he had such a strong effect on her.

He’d brought somebody along who had to be Heming. Indeed, as they came closer, Silje recognized the handsome, young man.

Then they were there. Sol jumped up and down in the cart with delight, and the first thing Tengel did was to give her a hug.

“Move over, Silje, we’ll take over here. I can tell that you’re just about ready to continue. ”

“The little girl is full of life,” said the driver.

“I know,” mumbled Tengel.

“Did you see any trace of the soldiers?”

“Yes, they tore past us on the road and continued southwards. So we’re still ahead of them. But the day is soon drawing to a close.”

This was when Silje realized that it was getting dark.

“Snow is also on the way,” said Heming as he lifted the cart.

Silje didn’t want to see him. Her blood was still boiling.

Tengel turned towards her. “Now listen, Silje,” he said sternly. “I know you have a good reason to be angry with Heming. But now we’ll be living together in a very small community for a long time. There isn’t room for more bad feeling than what already exists in the place. You can at least behave yourself more wisely than those fools who bear a grudge against to each other in there.”

Silje didn’t reply. This was the first time Tengel had glanced at here since they came and then he had to do so by telling her off!

“Got the message?”

“Yes. I’ll try to curb my anger. Only don’t ask me to love him!”

“No, I certainly hadn’t imagined
that
.”

Heming walked over to her. He tried to look remorseful, but it was obvious that he really couldn’t care less. He did nothing to hide the teasing twinkle in his eye.

“Silje, I ask for your forgiveness. You see, we were in dire need of money in the insurgency movement.”

Tengel mumbled: “Don’t rub it in!”

“Of course, I should’ve made love to you since you’re undoubtedly a virgin,” Heming blabbered. “I bet you were disappointed because I …”

Tengel had taken Heming by the collar and looked straight at him with narrow eyes. “Do you
absolutely
have to make matters worse?” he hissed between his teeth.

“No, no,” Heming replied timidly. It was obvious that he was now slightly scared.

He stretched out his hands in reconciliation and after a moment’s hesitation, Silje shook it. His charm was irresistible, making her smile. She had forgiven him the way you forgive a child who doesn’t know better.

“Back into the cart once more,” Tengel ordered and saw to it that all were properly wrapped up. Silje was immensely relieved to feel his cautious hands and see his compassionate eyes.

“Silje, you keep a lookout at the back,” he said as they got up to the horses again.

Then they were under way again with the riders at the front.

The wind cut their cheeks but the children were protected. Dag had begun to scream again so the only solution was for Silje to find his baby soother. Only this time it wasn’t enough to soothe him. He was so hungry that you could hear his screams far and wide.

They advanced slowly. In some places the snowdrifts were so tall that they had to make long detours and in other places they had to fight their way with Tengel and Heming on either side of the sledge so as to help the horses pull. This was when Silje felt she wasn’t of much use. But now somebody just
had
to be with the children. Finally, they put all four horses before the cart, which made things slightly easier.

At last they made their way over the vast wilderness and entered the mountains again. Silje tried to find her bearings but this proved to be impossible. She’d never known that the Outfarm Mountains were so extensive.

Shortly afterwards a glacier lay before them. It sent crude and ice-cold gusts of wind towards them, and it looked completely insurmountable.

With sure hands, the horses were led down a steep slope and into a narrow valley where the glacier arched across the river.

During the bumpy ride, Silje held desperately on to the edge of the cart. With eyes wide open, she stared into the ice masses above her.

They had arrived at the secret road of the Ice People.

***

The runners were removed from the wheels and the two extra horses were unharnessed.

It was quiet inside the tunnel but cold as in an underground world. The height to the ceiling varied and in between Silje would have to bend her head and now and then Dag’s screams echoed in the huge halls. It wasn’t quite dark because the ice gave the grotto a peculiar greenish glow. They drove close by the river where the water trickled and rushed under the ice of the glacier. Silje was surprised that it didn’t drip more from the roof than was the case. But she said to herself that it was probably too cold.

Sol looked surprised over the edge of the blanket. “Where are we?” she whispered.

“We’re on our way to our new home,” said Silje with a pompous voice, which this ice tunnel triggered in her.

Our new home
. Instinctively, she felt moved and somewhat tense. She was overwhelmed by many emotions the most dominant of which was probably sadness and insecurity.

“Won’t Marie be coming?”

“Not now. We’ll meet them later.”

“Will we ever do that?” she thought.

Suddenly the future seemed so dark and dismal. And all those wonderful people they’d left behind!

Perhaps she thought along these lines because she was hungry.

The glacier wasn’t as broad as she’d reckoned with, and just as she was about to be frozen through and through, it began to brighten up ahead of them. Soon small ice crystals began to drift through the air.

Well, alright. Brighten up might not be the right expression. Winter twilight had already set in over the place they’d reached, but at least now they were out.

Silje put down Dag and took off some of the clothes they were wrapped in. She and Sol stood up in the cart and looked about. Tengel had slowed down and now rode next to her. He waited for her reaction.

This is the native part of the country, she thought, which he’s bound to be attached to and very fond of.

Silje looked about in surprise.