The Ice People 1 - Spellbound (The Legend of the Ice People) (3 page)

BOOK: The Ice People 1 - Spellbound (The Legend of the Ice People)
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One tool stood out from the rest. It was the ladder with the wheel on which the bodies of the unfortunate people were broken and …

“Oh no,” she groaned quietly. No, no.”

She could see his features in the light from the pyre. He was so young and seductively handsome. Silje’s heart cringed with pain. It was as if
his
pain was transposed to
her
.

There they stood with the instruments that could crush every single bone in his body.

The executioner paced around with heavy, determined steps while he carried a large broad-bladed axe in his hand. So the prisoner was to be tortured before he was to die?

Silje just wanted it all to stop. She hadn’t known many young men in her life but this one was something special. What could he be? A thief, perhaps? No, he couldn’t be because otherwise there wouldn’t be such a crowd of people of young men and guards. He must be a very important person.

All thoughts of the young man stopped suddenly and she started in fear as a deep voice from the forest behind her said: “What are you doing her, woman?”

Silje and the little girl turned round immediately, and the little girl let out a loud scream. Silje just managed to stop herself from doing the same.

There among the trees was the shape of a figure that looked part human and part animal. Then she saw that he only wore a cloak of wolf skin, which wasn’t long enough to cover his legs. The shaggy hood resembled the head of an animal. Nevertheless, she felt that there was something wrong with his shoulders – they were broad like an ox. Two narrow eyes gleamed towards her in a face filled with drama, exquisite and yet sinister at the same time. His white teeth shone in a wolf-like grin. She could only see him when the flickering glow from the fire shone on his features at one moment and left him in utter darkness the next. He stood motionless.

She answered in a trembling voice: “We just wanted to warm ourselves by the fire, Sir.”

“Are these your children?” he asked in the same, deep tone of voice.

“Mine?” she said, smiling nervously, as she shivered in the cold. “I’m only sixteen, Sir. I found these two this evening. They were left alone.”

He let his eyes rest thoughtfully on her for a long time, and Silje had to lower her gaze in her primitive fear of this sight. The little girl was frightened. She hid herself in Silje’s skirts.

“So you saved them, did you?” he said. Then he asked: “So you want to save one more life tonight?”

His burning eyes made her shudder. She felt an anxiety which she couldn’t explain. She was shy and confused. “One more life? I don’t know … I don’t understand …”

“Your face shows that you’re hungry and undernourished so you could easily pass for two or three years older than sixteen. You can save my brother’s life. Will you do that?”

The thought rushed through her mind that she had never seen two such different brothers. The handsome, fair-haired young man over there and this creature with his dark, straight wisp of hair hanging over his eyes.

“I don’t want to see him die,” she said hesitantly. “How would
I
be able to help him?”

“I can’t do it by myself,” said the man. “They’re too many and they’re after me. They also want to capture me, which wouldn’t help my brother at all. But
you
…”

He took a piece of paper, which was folded many times, from his pocket. “Here. Take this letter with you. It bears the royal seal! Tell them that you’re his wife, and that these are his two children. You live in this part of the country. His name is Niels Stierne, and he’s the King’s Messenger. What’s your name by the way?”

“Silje.”

He made an expression that showed that he was irritated. “Cecilie, you stupid girl! You can’t have a peasant girl’s name like Silje! You’re a countess, remember? You must slip this letter into his clothes without anybody noticing it and then pretend that you’ve found it.”

“This sounds daring,” she thought to herself. “How can I pass for a countess?” she asked. Nobody will believe it.”

“Haven’t you looked at the baby you’re cradling in your arms?” he snapped.

She looked down, startled.

“No, but …”

The fire began to burn more brightly, and she could see everything clearly. The baby was wrapped in a shawl of the finest wool, beautiful and as light as gossamer. Silje had never seen anything like it. Silver threads were woven into it, and the thin woolen blanket underneath had a beautiful pattern that she just couldn’t describe. It was probably white lace. And finally there was a shining white blanket, which was the one she had dipped the milk in.

The man took one step closer to Silje. She instinctively pulled back. There was an aura of pagan prehistoric times about him, a mystical animal attraction mixed with an irresistible air of authority.

“The child’s face is covered in blood,” he said, wiping away the blood with a corner of the blanket. “It’s newly born. Are you sure it isn’t yours?”

Silje felt deeply humiliated. “I’m a virtuous girl, Sir.”

His mouth curled into a little smile while at the same time casting a worried glance at the execution site. They weren’t ready yet. A priest was still in the middle of something that looked like an attempt at persuading his brother to confess his sins.

“Where did you find the baby?”

“In the forest where it had been left to die.”

He raised his black eyebrows. “Was that where you found the girl too?” he asked.

“No, not at all. I found the girl in town over her mother’s dead body.”

He looked from her to the child. “You’re certainly brave,” he said in a slow tone of voice.

“I’m not afraid of the plague. It’s been my companion for many days. It strikes around me – but never
inside
.”

Something that resembled a smile showed on his awesome face. “It doesn’t strike
inside
me either,” he said. “So will you go down there?”

She hesitated, so he continued: “The children will keep you safe. They wouldn’t dare to take a mother with two children. But they must each have a name.”

“Oh, I don’t know whether the newborn baby is a boy or a girl. I’ve baptized it Liv or Dag. I thought it was a
myling
, and so therefore I protected myself with an emergency baptism.”

“I can well understand. And what about the little girl?”

She paused to think and then said: “They’re both children of the night. When I found them, they were surrounded by night, darkness and death. I think I’ll call her Sol.”

Those strange eyes looked at her once more. “Your young head thinks in a way that not many others do. Will you go down there, then?”

Such praise made her blush, and she felt a warm glow inside. “I must admit that I’m scared, Sir.”

“You’ll be rewarded.

She shook her head. “Money is of no use to me. But …”

“Yes?” he prompted.

The children gave her courage. Looking him straight in the eye, she said: “Nobody will open their door to strangers these days. The children are
my
responsibility now, and I’m freezing cold. If you could give us some food, somewhere to stay where it is warm, I’m willing to risk my life for the young count.”

The light from the fire had died down somewhat, leaving the stranger’s face in shadow once more. He thought for a moment:

“Don’t worry. I’ll see to it,” he promised.

“Good! Then I’ll be on my way. But what about my clothes? No countess would be seen wearing rags the way I do.”

“I’ve thought about it. Look, take this.”

From beneath the wolf skin coat, he pulled out a deep-blue silk cloak. It reached him to the hips – and easily to Silje’s feet.

“There. It will hide the worst. Wrap it closely around you. And take those rags off your shoes!”

Silje did as she was told. “What about my accent?”

“Well,” he said hesitantly. “It surprises me because it doesn’t sound as if you come from a poor background. You might even pass for a countess. Just do your best!”

She took a deep breath. “Wish me luck, Sir.”

He nodded sternly.

Then she closed her eyes for one moment, taking a deep breath as if to concentrate. She took a firmer grip of the little girl’s hand, and cradling the baby, she walked down to the place where they had begun to tie the young man’s hands.

She sensed the piercing glaze of the wolf man on her back. It was as if his glance burned through her.

What a magical and peculiar night, she thought. And this was just the beginning!

Chapter 2

When Silje entered the open place, she began to walk faster so that the little girl could hardly keep pace. From a distance she shouted in an agitated tone of voice:

“What on earth are you doing?”

She didn’t even
have
to pretend that she was appalled because this was precisely what she was. She was prepared to risk her young life for the doomed count. And to think he was a royal messenger at that! She had certainly sensed that he was more high ranking than the others.

The men turned and faced her. The executioner was startled, tightening his grip on the axe. Perhaps he was afraid of losing his victim?

“Are you all completely out of your mind, you miserable oafs?” she cried. “How dare you treat my husband like this?”

She glanced quickly at the man who was bound to the rack. His pale face showed determination but beneath it all it seemed inevitable that his spirit would break. Never before had she ever seen anybody hide his horror so well.

He was just as surprised at her appearance as they were, but he quickly regained his composure.

“No,” he shouted. “You shouldn’t have come, and certainly not with the children!”

The guard commander cut a face of utter disdain as he tried to push her aside. “If this is your husband, madam, then I feel really sorry for you.”

“Don’t you know who he is?” she asked, still very agitated. Despite her horror, she found it quite exciting to play the role of the count’s young wife.

“Who he is? We know only too well who
he
is!”

“So you think you do, do you? And yet to treat the King’s Messenger in this appalling manner?”

The man on the rack shouted furiously: “You’ve absolutely no right to reveal my identity!”

She turned towards him and was struck at how elegant and handsome he was at close range although she could see that his eyes couldn’t hide the fear of death within them.

“I suppose you’d rather sacrifice your life than say something,” she replied just as angrily, “instead of thinking of us, your wife and children. But I don’t intend to lose you. She turned to the commander and said, “I’m Countess Cecilie Atierne, and this man is His Majesty’s Messenger, Niels Stierne. As my husband comes from this part of the country, he’s always the one who’s sent here.”

“Cecilie,” her husband shouted.

“Now you be quiet. Here I’m sitting at home on the farm awaiting word from you and then I hear that some idiot among the King’s own men have arrested you and brought you here. I left home immediately and what do I find?”

She stepping closer to the commander and mumbled in a low tone of voice: “He’s here on a secret mission.”

“Don’t believe a word of what she says,” the prisoner yelled. “She’s lying.”

The commander was no longer
quite
so sure – but only slightly. “How come he hasn’t said anything then?” he asked haughtily.

“Surely you know that a King’s Messenger would never, ever dream of revealing his mission? He would rather die instead.”

The foul, stifling stench from the pyres lay over the entire area. The guards’ helmets reflected the flames and the executioner swung his axe impatiently in the air.

Since Silje’s story seemed so true, the commander was beginning to lose some of his confidence, so he said brusquely: “We know perfectly well who this man is. He’s Heming, the Bailiff-Killer, and there’s a ransom on his head.”

The torture instruments were next to Silje, all with unmistakably brownish-red spots. She just managed to avoid an attack of nausea, placing herself right in front of the commander. Now she was really living the role – and it was probably also helpful for her to know that those beastly, yellow eyes followed her from the forest.

“Does he look like someone who would kill the bailiff? He’s certainly dirty and unkempt but so would you be after a tough ride over the mountains. Look at his features. Look at his children, his daughters! Are these the children of a murderer?”

She used the word “daughters” deliberately because if they didn’t believe her, they might kill the young baby as well. It wouldn’t be wise to allow the son of a criminal to live. She hoped they wouldn’t take a closer look at the newborn baby. And if they did, she hoped that it really
was
a girl. Otherwise she would be in a peculiar situation and it would arouse their suspicions.

She went on: “Are you about to turn my two young daughters, Sol and Liv, into orphans? What do you suppose King Frederik will say to that?”

The commander looked at her with an expression of disdain. “And what is this important mission all about, if I may ask?”

“Good grief! Do you imagine that my husband would reveal that, even to me? He’s so immensely loyal towards his King that he would rather die than show me the letter. Don’t tell me that you want to kill him for that?”

“The letter?” laughed the commander. “He’s not carrying a letter on him. And how do
you
know that he’s carrying a letter?”

“Because he always carries one. And I have myself sewn the hidden pockets in his clothes.”

“We’ve searched him.”

“Not well enough, Sir.”

Silje turned swiftly away from the men, towards the man strapped to the rack, and with the letter hidden in the palm of her hand, she searched inside his clothes until she managed to hide it in the man’s waistband. She fumbled slightly with the letter because the little baby on her arm was in the way. But she didn’t have much time so the poor, little baby had to accept being squashed a bit.

The prisoner protested wildly. “Cecilie, I’ll never forgive you for this!”

The men were upon her like a flock of hawks but with a jerk she pulled the trouser lining and “found” the letter.

The commander tore it from her hand.

“Don’t you dare to break His Majesty’s seal!” the count and Silje shouted.

“We would never dream of doing that” replied the commander icily.

He examined the letter carefully, turning it this way and then that way. “It’s genuine,” he said icily, barely able to conceal his disappointment.

Then he turned towards his men. “Which of you insisted that he was Heming the Bailiff-Killer?”

The men pushed one of them in front.

“I could have sworn,” he stammered.

“How well did you know Heming the Bailiff-Killer?”

“I saw him once.”

“From what distance? Did you speak with him?”

N-no, Sir. I saw him from above when he was riding through a mountain pass at the time. I saw the blond hair – and the face. He looked like this man, Sir.”


Looked like
? Is that
all
you have to go by?”

The young soldier seemed to cringe on the spot. He couldn’t give an answer.

For some time and from the corner of her eye, Silje had detected a large shadow standing next to her but she was too afraid to look sideways. Now she cast a quick glance – and the sight very nearly made her faint. It was yet a gallows and it was occupied. A body was turning slowly on the end of a rope, and at that moment its face turned and looked directly at Silje. She tried instinctively to place herself in such a way so that the little girl wouldn’t be able to see it. – But the child looked innocently straight up at the grisly figure in the gallows. She even chuckled a little as if she found it amusing to see a grown-up man dangling there. Silje thought to herself that the little girl didn’t grasp the seriousness of the moment and was relieved.

The commander, in full uniform, turned towards the count. “We’re also the King’s men. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Spies and traitors are everywhere. Making certain that this letter doesn’t fall into the wrong hands is more important than my life. And would you now please untie my hands …”

“Sure.”

The count was now released from the ropes and straightened himself with a proud look on his face. “And now will you please allow me to take my wife and children with me and continue with my duties?”

The commander awoke from his train of thoughts and with a slight bow handed him the letter.

“We accept your apologies, sir. It was all a misunderstanding.”

The count didn’t spare them a glance. “Come, Cecilie. I’m
most
displeased with you! You’ve revealed my identity, which is a heavy blow to my honour.”

“Your wife did the right thing, Sir,” the commander said with some deference. “This was a beautiful gesture as befits a wife. And you can rely on our full discretion. Your children are gorgeous,” he added, patting the little girl on the head. It was obvious that he was determined to find favour with the young count.

The young man joined his family and turned in the direction of the forest. “I must be on my journey straightaway! This delay has been costly for the country,” he said over his shoulder in an irritated tone of voice.

Silje heard muttering behind her and turned round. The executioner stared at her, his eyes full of hatred. He didn’t do anything to hide his disappointment.

But Silje heaved a sigh of relief. The commander had believed her.

It was her fortune that the bailiff’s men didn’t have such a terribly good grip of what went on at the Danish Court. Otherwise it was bound to be a puzzle that the King’s trusted messenger was Norwegian and one who spoke the local Trondheim dialect.

Although King Frederik II was a just ruler, he wasn’t terribly interested in Norway. He hadn’t visited the country since 1548 when he was Crown Prince at the time – but never since he had become King. His administrators, the bailiffs, sometimes known as lord lieutenants, governed the land in his absence. This had been the practice ever since Norway came under the Danish crown in 1537. The present bailiff was one Jacob Huitfeldt and if he got to hear of Silje’s act and the commander’s actions, he would be absolutely furious with rage. No commander could afford to be so ignorant!

Silje was even more ignorant of matters of the state. She was just proud at having saved such an important messenger.

Since the Danes had left most of the governing of Norway to local bailiffs, they were the object of people’s bitter hatred. The taxes were terrible, and the rents risen all the time. The peasants’ produce was weighed on weights that had been rigged scales and so they were forced to sell their goods at far below the market price, as “gifts” so to speak. The extra money from corruption went straight into the pockets of the bailiffs.

Of course, such a state of affairs made the people rebel. Unfortunately, these revolts were often localized so that they never gained momentum. Six years earlier, in Trondheim County, the peasants had had a leader, Rolf Lynge. This was because the bailiff at the time, Ludvig Munk, put too much pressure on them. As far as Silje knew, there was now calm in the County. But Silje didn’t know much about such things.

Her heart beat with delight at having saved this outstanding man. She stole sideways glances at him in silent admiration.

As soon as they reached the edge of the forest, the handsome young man dashed in among the trees. They hadn’t come very far before a huge shadow approached them.

“You big idiot,” the man in a wolf skin cloak hissed, slapping the count in the face. The young man ran quickly further into the forest.

“Are you slapping your brother?” Silje was absolutely horrified.

“He’s not my brother.”

“But you said … “

“What was I to do?” he said icily. “Give you the whole explanation? I didn’t have the time for that.”

“I don’t like that you lie to me,” Silje said in a stern tone of voice while she took back the pieces of hide and wrapped them around her legs once more. She had placed the newborn baby on the ground because she couldn’t bring herself to allow the wolf man to touch it.

His voice was hoarse and harsh. “I
had
to lie to you. We
had
to save the man because otherwise he would have betrayed us all. He just
can’t
endure pain. He’s scared stiff of it. Besides, we
need
him.”

Silje wondered for a moment who “we” were.

“So, you’re not a count, then, since you’re not brothers?”

“He’s no more a count than I am,” he chuckled quietly in the dark.

“What? But I believed every word you said! I thought I’d saved one of the King’s messengers.”

“That was also what you were supposed to believe. For goodness sake, Silje, don’t be so naïve! This might cost you your virtue and your honour – not to mention your life.”

She didn’t like him saying so because he had an aura of sensuality and power that seemed to overwhelm her. “I’m not afraid of losing my virtue,” she retorted as she stood up. “I’ve had to fight to preserve it many times, and I’ve always won.”

Her words seemed to calm her. She could tell by the tone of his voice when she wanted to return the silk cloak again. He wouldn’t take it back.

“No, you’ve more need for it than me. And the little baby’s clothes … take good care of them, Silje! They may prove to be useful. Now let’s go.

“He probably meant that I could sell the clothes if I’m short of money,” she thought, while she followed him. He seemed so incredibly large in front of her in the darkness, but perhaps it was because of his wolf skin cloak. She couldn’t understand how he moved so quickly in the darkness of the forest, but she was not surprised. She would expect almost everything from this man, even that he was able to see in the dark – just like an animal.

“Please don’t walk so fast,” she shouted in a low tone of voice. “The little girl can’t keep up with you.”

He stopped and waited. Silje could tell that he was impatient.

When they had caught up with him, he said to Silje: “I heard you speak to those blood-thirsty louts down there, and I must say I was really impressed at how well you were at acting the countess. Now you sound more like a peasant girl.
Who
are you, and
what
are you in actual fact?

“I am what I am – just Silje. You’d be wiser to judge me by my clothes than my dialect. The fact that I can talk “posh” when it suits me is a long story, but it’ll take me too much time to explain,” she said precociously.

BOOK: The Ice People 1 - Spellbound (The Legend of the Ice People)
8.8Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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