The Ice People 1 - Spellbound (The Legend of the Ice People) (15 page)

They had arrived at an oval-shaped valley, surrounded by mountains on all sides. In the middle there was a lake, the end of which they were now approaching. On the south side, many houses lay scattered in a birch wood. Strangely enough, there wasn’t very much snow where they were situated. The sun must be immensely strong in the valley.

“Tengel,” she exclaimed in surprised. “This is an entire city!”

He smiled gruffly. “The Ice people count more souls than people imagine.”

“You don’t count in
souls
when it comes to the Ice People,” Heming said gently. “They’re lost, bred of ice, darkness and evil.”

Silje was aware that Heming didn’t like being regarded as one of the Ice People, which came as no surprise to her. This remote village was hardly anything for a cosmopolitan like him.

But here he was in safety. Outside a price was placed on his head.

Tengel cleared his throat. “Some of those who live here now have fled from the suppression of the authorities. They’re not regarded as the original Ice People.”

She felt his eyes on her. Tengel waited for
her
verdict, and she was moved. The “inhuman” wanted her to like this place while at the same time fearing that she might be indifferent to it – or reject it.

Silje had a lump in her throat at the sight of the brooding mountains and the sense of loneliness in her heart.

“What a beautiful place,” she said quietly. “I’m a bit afraid because it’s alien but what an exceptionally beautiful view.”

He breathed out and smiled, and Silje was pleased that she’d expressed her anxiety for what intimidated her because then she could look him in the eyes while at the same time praising the beauty of the place.

She counted ten-fifteen houses. “Do you also keep animals?”

“Of course. We need to be self-sufficient. This place is like any other village in Trondelag, only more isolated.”

“Any other place,” snorted Heming. “This is the most godforsaken place on the entire planet, Silje.”

“Don’t you have a church then?” she asked in amazement.

“No, what makes you believe that?” asked Tengel. “But we’ve Sunday devotion in the homes. We take it in turns. The chief acts as the priest.”

He said it in a gruff tone. Silje wondered where a man like Tengel stood on religious issues.

A farm was situated right next to the ice gate, like a guardroom – which was probably what it actually was. A man came out and greeted them.

“Wonderful to see you,” he shouted. “We thought that you’d passed away. Your father will be happy, Heming, and so will your wife,” he said to the driver.

Obviously nobody seemed to recognize Tengel.

“Is everybody indoors now?” asked the man.

“Yes, everybody is indoors for the winter.”

“Right. Then we’ll block the entrance.”

“New arrivals?” said the man while he looked at Silje.

“Yes. The bailiff wants them.”

“Your woman, Heming?”

The young greenhorn sent Tengel a flickering glance.

“No, no,” he answered quickly.

The man didn’t ask whether she was Tengel’s woman. Somehow, this just didn’t seem to enter his mind. And she wasn’t that at all. He showed her some politeness and consideration – and Silje couldn’t ask for more. She was already very grateful to him.

She sighed very quietly.

Heming went to the horses together with the gatekeeper and the driver. One of the horses very nearly lost his shoe in the tunnel. Sol seemed to think that it was too cold so she crept under the blanket.

“Tengel, where do you live?” Silje asked shyly.

He pointed to a farm some distance up the mountain slope. “That over there was my home when I was a child.”

She smiled wistfully. It was so strange to imagine that Tengel had had a childhood. Somehow she couldn’t quite imagine it – it seemed as if he’d been born a grown-up, strong man.

“And … where can we … the children and I … live?”

“On my farm over there.”

Silje’s heart beat at extra time.

But he went on at once: “I intend to stay in my uncle’s cabin. It’s empty and is situated at the farthest distance in the valley. You can’t see it from here.”

“But surely it would’ve been better that
we
live there? Somehow, we are taking your home away from you.”

“The cabin isn’t suitable for children. It’s best this way.”

“Are you the only one left in your family? Apart from Sol, that is.”

“No, I’ve a cousin, a woman who lives in the house next to ours. I myself am pretty much away so she’s taken over the animals. She’s a good deal older than me.”

Silje remained seated, gazing at his profile in the growing darkness. Her incredible attraction to him was so strong that she really had to pull herself together.

Tengel sensed her glance and turned his head. The narrow eyes looked sorrowful and dreaming at her. They both had to smile. Silje’s heart pounded so hard that it almost hurt. She pulled her face away with a jerk.

“Well, aren’t you going to ask where
I
live?” asked Heming who’d suddenly appeared.

She smiled. “Yes. Where do you live then, Heming?”

“Surely that’s not so difficult to figure out?”

Down by the lake she’d already seen a farm which was bigger and nicer than the others. “Over there?”

“How could you
possibly
guess that?” Heming said, pretending that he was startled.

They were ready and the driver set the horses in motion. They began to move slowly forward once more.

Silje glanced around one more time.

The home of the Ice People …

She’d dreamed of it for so long, imagining them as mad creatures that bathed in the moonlight … mystical and cruel.

And then this! A quite ordinary village hidden among the mountains.

Nevertheless, she couldn’t quite extricate herself from an inexplicable anxiety – which felt almost like panic. What was it that made this peaceful village so eerie? Its reputation, perhaps? Or was it more than that, in the tranquility, something oppressive and threatening?

No. Silje knew exactly what it was. There was an element of infinite melancholy in the wind that swept over the valley. The vibrations from a past era seemed almost intrusive. What a lot was bound to have occurred in this village: Famine, poverty, incredibly cold winters, loneliness … The dramatic sceneries and tragedies that must’ve been played out here, diseases … But above all - that curse which one single man had placed as an onerous yoke some three hundred years ago.

***

Silje didn’t believe in Tengel’s evil rendezvous with Satan either. But surely it was enough that he’d spread insecurity and suspicion – and sowed horror among the unhappy people? Enough evil was bound to exist on this remote, damned spot.

She was overcome by an urge to give up. Instinctively, her hand sought Tengel’s. Only he didn’t see it as he was deep in thoughts, and they seemed to pretty gloomy thoughts by the look of it.

It was getting dark. The small, yellow light from a couple of the houses twinkled. The Ice People went to bed for the night.

A loud boom could be heard behind the slow procession, and which travelled to the roaring waves.

“Now the road to the surrounding world is closed,” said Tengel. “Only thaw can open it again.”

Silje got a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach but Tengel’s next words had a soothing effect on her.

“Now you’re in safety, Silje. Nobody can get you or the children here.”

She looked down at the two children who lay huddled up in blankets and skin, and felt very grateful.

They continued in silence. The wheels creaked in the snow and they seemed rather rickety following the strain they’d been exposed to.

All of a sudden, a shadow seemed to cover Silje. She felt a pressure on her heart.

“Tengel, what is it?”

He stretched his hand over the edge of the cart and took hers. He had an odd expression in his eyes.

“What d’you mean, Silje?”

“I was awfully scared. Something … something’s lurking, something evil somewhere. As if somebody’s staring at me.”

“So you could sense it, could you? You’re certainly far more receptive than I imagined.”

His hand felt strong. Silje followed his glance and turned her head. Below the road, deep below in a hollow was a house which she’d not caught sight of earlier. Low and very old, it was as if it wanted to remain invisible in the twilight.

“Never go there, Silje,” Tengel said slowly. “Never!”

“Is that …?”

“Yes, one of the descendants of Tengel the Evil. Two, to be precise. It’s my mother’s cousin – and the sister of my maternal grandfather.”

He whispered the last two words as if he was groping for the words.

“Your maternal grandfather’s sister,” she whispered in disbelief. “She is bound to be very old indeed?!

“Yes, she is.”

The simple answer made her feel sick.

“Please stay here with me, Tengel,” she whispered. “I daren’t be on my own, not tonight. I’m a newcomer here …”

“You’ll be alright, don’t worry.”

“Are there ….. many of … Tengel’s descendants?”

“No, not now. Only very few are direct descendants. The Black Death took many and the plague in 1565 practically took the rest. There’re those two down there – there’re not mother and son. Neither of them had children. You understand, don’t you, nobody wants to marry a direct descendant of Tengel the Evil. The men in the family just take the woman they want, forcing her to move in. The women in my family are raped by foreign men and left pregnant. My sister was the only one who was legally married – but then she never ever said where she came from. This way it’s limited how many children will come in the family – which is an advantage, of course.”

“Don’t be so bitter, Tengel! It makes me so sad.”

“Forgive me, dear Silje. But let me tell you a few more things about my family. There’re bound to be a couple of old bachelors more who are extremely peaceful. They don’t possess any dark powers, and then a horrible woman who lives in the small house right down by the lake. But she keeps to herself, so you’re not likely to bump into her. And then there’s Sol. So you see I was the last person to pass on the evil until
she
was discovered.”

“Surely you knew, didn’t you, that your sister in Trondheim had two daughters? So your family wouldn’t become extinct with you.”

“I didn’t know about the two daughters until last fall nor did I know that my brother-in-law, whom I’ve never met, died of the plague. I got on my horse immediately in search of my sister, Sunniva, because I wanted to try to help her. God help me, Silje, but I wanted that both the little girls had also died.”

Silje was silent for a while. Then she said: “Do you also wish so now?”

Tengel took a deep breath. “No, I know it’s all a tragedy but Sol fills me with so much tenderness that I can hardly put it into words. She’s my responsibility now.”

“I can well understand,” Silje said softly. “So it’s from your mother’s side of the family that you descend from the first Tengel?”

“Yes, my mother never married. My sister and I didn’t have the same father – both left my mother to her fate.”

“What became of you when she died? When you were born?”

“My maternal grandfather took care of us. It’s his farm that I’ve inherited.”

“Oh, Tengel, I feel so sorry for you. If only I could … help you! Give you all the warmth you never got.”

“You mustn’t say things like that,” Tengel exclaimed angrily. “I don’t want any compassion, and you know that!”

“Sorry,” she said humbly.

They’d come to a light plateau and Silje’s anxiety of the valley no longer gripped her. Nevertheless, she would like to hold his hand, and he didn’t pull it back. He steered the horse calmly next to the cart. Tengel seemed so confident. If she had been given the permission to do so, she would’ve placed her whole life in his hands.

Now she could feel how exhausted she was after the journey. She was dizzy from the bumpy cart and needed food, warmth and rest – and to be washed. She felt she needed to wash her hair. Her courage seemed to vanish because she didn’t know what she went in to.

Suddenly she let out a bitter laugh.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“Of the dreams for the future which I had as a child.”

“They’ve probably not been fulfilled.”

“No, because, you see, I had a yearning.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I will. On the estate where I lived – where my father worked – there was a painting hanging in the hall. It was of an avenue of lime blossom trees. It was the most beautiful picture I’d ever seen. There was a real avenue to the main building but it was of Norway maple. I used to follow the changing seasons on it. Light-green leaves in spring, close foliage in summer, and a lot of colours in fall. One day they cut down the maple trees. They said that they were too old and besides they sapped too much nourishment from the earth. Oh, how I grieved over those trees. But what I liked best in the painting were the lime blossom trees. And I promised myself that when I was a grown-up, I’d have an avenue of lime blossom trees leading up to my house. Of course, it was a childish dream for a girl of my straitened circumstances. And certainly because lime blossom trees can’t survive in Trondelag.”

Tengel was silent for a while. “No, here you’re not likely to have an avenue of lime blossom trees,” he said at last.

“No.”

She woke from her memories and sought his eyes in the twilight. “But I’ll have something far more valuable. Warmth and concern from a human being. Thank you, Tengel. I don’t know how I’ll ever tell you what I think of you. Such affectionate words don’t exist.”

Then Tengel extricated himself and rode in advance once more.

Chapter 11

Silje lay awake for a long time in the Valley of the Ice People, listening for signs from outside. All was quiet. Yet in her shocked state she also found this silence a threat. Didn’t something sinister lurk on the other side of the wall, something she couldn’t describe that just waited for her to fall asleep – in order to bang on the wall so that her heart would stop?

And all this in spite of the fact that she’d blessed the house in a whole lot of secret ways. She’d placed the wooden spoons on the bench crosswise; she’d drawn a cross over the door and made a cross of two pieces of wood at the fireplace – so that those who would enter that way would be blinded by a cross.

The children lay near her, satiated and dry from the warmth of the fire which still burned in the middle of the floor in the parlour. Listening to Sol’s breathing was easy. Dag, however, always slept so fearfully quiet that now and then she had to go over and check whether he was alive or not.

What did Silje know about this house? How many had died here and how many could haunt the place? She was scared. She was simply afraid of the dark because of everything that was hidden in the house and the valley. The unknown people – how would they welcome
her
, a stranger? And the cold from the mountains, the children’s future … All this whirled in her exhausted brain so that it was impossible to fall asleep.

She fervently wished that Tengel was with her now. He’d said that he would have to go for her sake. She didn’t care at all about people’s gossip. She needed his closeness and comfort as a child needs to feel its father’s arms about it.

Silje smiled shyly in her thoughts. It was probably right for him to leave after all. Now she knew how he affected her, and she knew that she couldn’t hide it from him if his arms were to arouse other emotions than those a daughter feels for her father.

But the loneliness was so oppressive. She yearned to be back on Benedikt’s farm the way it had been before Abelone arrived, and before Benedikt had entered her bedroom that night.

Heming had returned to his home, undoubtedly for a ticking off from his father, the chief. She believed that Tengel had made him return to his home because Heming hadn’t exactly displayed any great eagerness for his part. But the driver had stopped at their place for a while and he and Tengel had arranged things for them as best they could.

Silje kept standing in the middle of the floor, frozen stiff and confused and had just watched while they lighted the fire and made the beds. Then the children had kicked up a fuss, and then she finally began to lend a helping hand.

It was an old farm, not nearly as big as Benedikt’s but it appeared solid and warm. The house was built on one floor. In the one house end was the storeroom and in the other end the dairy and the laundry next to each other. There were two rooms in the other end. She and the children slept in the one room with the door open to the parlour. Of course, there were no windows here. Silje thought of her window pane. It was probably useless in this house.

She wondered how Tengel was doing right now. He had to light a fire in another house, which was bound to be older and draftier. And he was just as tired as she was! Silje wanted to suggest that he went home with the driver the first night but none of them had expressed anything in that direction, and it occurred to Silje that Tengel might not be welcome in the other’s house. Oh, dear. Now she felt sorrow in her heart once more!

Tengel had stayed with her for quite some time after the driver left for home. He’d looked about everywhere. He couldn’t really bring himself to leave. And Silje had talked feverishly in an attempt to make him stay a bit longer. She’d asked him to stay one more time – for his own sake because she didn’t want him to suffer. But he’d just shook his head, and finally there was no more to talk about it and nothing more to do.

Her arms felt so strangely empty, probably because she’d held Dag for so many hours.

Silje turned around in bed, trying to fall asleep very worried about tomorrow when she’d be standing face to face with the rest of the Ice People.

But she just couldn’t drop off to sleep. Instead, thoughts that were otherwise banned appeared. Thoughts about unbearable days when the plague had come to the estate.

The anxiety that had seized them when the first among the servants was struck. The silence at table, the cautious, mutual glances – one’s own symptoms. Her brother, feverishly warm on his forehead, her mother’s hysterical scream. The funeral … Where her sister had swayed until she also collapsed. Her funeral … there were many dead. The priest had read over four coffins – one of them was the farmer’s son, the boy whom Silje had taken care of and who was the reason why Silje could acquire the knowledge she now possessed. Silje also mourned him but the death of her siblings had made her so sad that she couldn’t fathom everything. But she remembered the farmer. His inquisitive cry: “Why am
I
to be struck?” as if he didn’t understand that the plague didn’t pay attention to the societal divides but struck high and low. To him, it was only natural that the servants passed away but
his
family …!

Then her father and mother were bedridden at the same time, and Silje had to take care of them on her own because nobody had the time any longer to go over to others and lend them a helping hand. She remembered how difficult it had been for her to see, how she had to grope her way because she had tears in her eyes the whole time. Her prayer to them never to leave was never answered.

Her younger brother … screaming and coughing … Silje alone with him. That had been the very worst day.

Three coffins at the same time. The last from the smith’s small cabin.

And the people from the estate, who’d stood in the doorway because they didn’t dare to step inside. “You must leave the farm, Silje.” The farmer was to use the house for the new smith. Nobody thought of asking her where she’d thought of going.

A sound from the other side of the lake awoke her from her thoughts. Was it a fox that howled? Or a spirit that moaned? No, there it was again. It sounded more like a fox after all. She hoped it was nothing worse.

At any rate, she was pleased to be interrupted. The suffocating sorrow in her chest was just about to break out. She mustn’t dwell on the past. This would sap her of energy that she so badly needed now.

She tried to relax, took a deep breath in and out. There was a smell of birch wood, dried hay from the beds and juniper twigs on the floor. Not an unpleasant smell at all.

Tengel had been so … strange when he left them, asking her to lock the door after him. He didn’t want to see the despairing prayer in her eyes, her horror at being left alone. Of course, he understood her anxiety but he’d stood in the doorway for a while. The words came slowly. “It’s a good thing that you’re here, Silje, you and the little ones. It’s easier for me.”

Then he’d closed the door almost completely but even so she heard his final words: “And also more difficult.”

“Tengel …”

Silje tried to see his face before her mind’s eye but she didn’t succeed. Instead she saw the contours of him as he had stood in the doorway. Bareheaded, with the wolf-skin cap in his hand, the straight, black hair reaching to his shoulders. The colossal body, so huge above the waist with broad and high shoulders that made him look like a male animal, an elk or a bear with a strong mane. The wolf-skin cloak didn’t make matters better. He was long-limbed and narrow over the hips, and the small glimpse she’d once had of his chest revealed that he was hairy – like an animal or beast. The Beast … This was the first name she’d given him and she wasn’t the only one who’d done so.

How was it possible to feel so attracted to somebody who was so frightening? She felt everything for him – affection, tenderness, warmth, rapport, compassion, shy admiration – and a painful, strong sexual appeal.

No, she mustn’t think about this again because she’d never fall asleep. This she knew from experience. She curled up and little by little she fell asleep.

***

The woman from the house next door, Tengel’s relative, was of great help during the first few days in this remote valley. Eldrid was an ordinary woman, completely without the demonic features and the beauty which Tengel’s deceased sister possessed. She was a peasant woman, hard-working, down-to-earth and, of course, a spinster as nobody dared to marry descendants of Tengel the Evil. But she knew a good deal more about how to run a home and look after small children than Silje did. And since Tengel had left all his animals to her and despite Silje’s protests, she would bring them milk every day. They could fetch them themselves but Eldrid wanted it that way.

Silje fought a desperate battle to keep the house nice and tidy. Now she had to do everything herself: Fetch water in a well, which was half frozen; chop wood and carry it inside; light the fire in the cold morning hours; bake bread; wash clothes for herself and the children; try to make sewing needles of fishbone …

One thing made Silje a great deal slower: On Benedikt’s farm, Marie and Grete had relieved the pressure on her an awful lot by taking care of the children, and to her indignation she had to admit that she felt inadequate. A newborn baby with a red bottom after the long journey and a very willful two-year old could drive Silje to distraction now and then. She felt totally hopeless.

Eldrid could see how she felt.

“Well, for goodness’ sake, you’re only a girl of seventeen and you’ve got two strange children to take care of. Besides, I don’t think you’re naturally fitted for housework. You’ve done a very good job here and you’ve worked for seven but there’s a thick of dust everywhere.”

Silje rubbed her eyes in despair. “I know. If nothing else, I believe I’d be able to manage the children but I don’t think I’ve got enough patience.”

Sol screamed like mad from inside the bedroom. She’d been given a smack because she’d poured burning coal all over the floor just because Silje had told her not to do so. And then there was Dag who cried all the time. The bread which Silje had tried to bake was burned.

“Let me take care of the children for a couple of days until you’ve settled in,” said Eldrid. “I haven’t had too many children in my house – and Sol happens to be my cousin’s daughter.”

Silje hesitated. It sounded quite tempting but on the other hand she was very fond of the children, and she wanted so much to have them with her.

“Thank you so much,” she said. “But I’d better ask Tengel first. He’s placed the responsibility for them in my hands, and so I think it’s best that first of all I ask for his advice.”

“I can well understand that. But you’re completely exhausted and you must take care of yourself. Even grown-up mothers sometimes despair over their own children, and many give up for less. Tengel’s told me what you’ve been through, about your compassion both for him and the children, and it’s something that
he’s
not exactly been treated with. You mean well, Silje, but you’re still only a half-grown girl.”

Silje smiled shyly and in gratitude. “I’m just so concerned about Dag,” she said. “His little bottom is a fiery red, and nothing of what I’ve done seems to help.”

“May I have a look?”

Eldrid’s tired peasant hands handled him with ease.

“Good heavens,” she said, shocked. “Why didn’t you mention this to Tengel? He normally fixes this sort of things in a matter of days.”

“Children’s red bottoms?” Silje couldn’t help laughing although she was in despair. “I find this difficult to believe.”

“What I meant was illness and general disabilities.”

“I haven’t seen Tengel since the evening we arrived, which is ten days ago.”

Eldrid look thoughtfully at her. “It’s very much like him! He comes to my place every day to hear how you’re doing, and he gives me new orders all the time. He feels immense compassion for you and the children, Silje. True, when he’s not at home he’s in the mountains to fetch wood for fuel. But I’ll have a word with him. Maybe he’ll drop by your place this evening. Otherwise, I planned to ask you whether you’ll come to devotion tomorrow. Then you can meet the other inhabitants in the valley – it’ll probably do you good to see other people.”

“Who’s going to look after the children then?”

“Well, Tengel. He’s not allowed to come to devotion anyway.”

“Why not?” asked Silje surprised.

Eldrid made a grimace. “They assert he brings along a shadow, of you-know-who. It’s so stupid, so unpleasant. They themselves show signs of the worst inbreeding, and yet they certainly very much frown at us.”

“Do they despise you?” Silje asked in disbelief.

“No, they don’t despise us. They fear us.”

“But you’re the ones that are the ‘purest’ family here, right?”

“Yes, yes. They other families are completely mixed together, which is no wonder after several hundred years’ isolation. This isn’t always such a good thing.”

“But you’ve most graciously been given permission to take part in your devotions?”

“Yes. I’m not struck by the legacy of the first Tengel – I’m a so-called normal.

Silje cast a thoughtful glance on the children in the room next door. “I’d love to join you because I’ve felt like an awful pagan of late. But can we really put Tengel in charge of the children? The boy screams like mad.”

“He’ll have to accept that. Now let me help you a little with the baking.”

***

When Eldrid had left, Silje ran into the children and lifted Sol from the floor.

“Tengel’s coming, Tengel’s coming,” she sang while she danced happily around with the girl. Sol laughed, and it was obvious that she understood.

“We must make it look nice here,” Silje said eagerly. “You sweep the floor and I’ll wash the cups.”

“Fine dress?” asked Sol.

“Yes, you’ll be wearing your fine dress. But wait until evening because we have to work first.”

They’d tidied the place as best they could and sat all dressed up at table when Tengel finally turned up. Sol embraced his knees. Tengel lifted her up and said a few admiring words about her dress while he met Silje’s glance.