The Ice People 1 - Spellbound (The Legend of the Ice People) (4 page)

He slackened his step so that they could keep up. The little girl was getting tired.

Silje began to think of the handsome young man. “He was just so good-looking,” she said, captivated, without realizing whom she was speaking to.

The man sniffed loudly. “Well, that’s what the girls think. It was because of a woman that he risked his life. He forgot to be careful.”

Silje felt uneasy. “I suppose he’s got many girl friends?”

“He’s definitely not one for you.”

She stopped for a moment. As he walked, he walked even more slowly. “Incidentally, he could do with somebody like you,” he said dryly.

“Someone like me?”

“Yes, a strong, plucky and quick-witted woman with her heart in the right place. Perhaps that would give him the backbone he lacks.”

“I’m neither strong nor anything of the things you just said.”

He turned abruptly towards her in the darkness and stood so close to her that she could feel the warmth of his body and the fascination of his exceptional personality.

“You take care of a little girl who most likely has the plague and then another child whom you thought was a
myling
. Without hesitating for a moment whatsoever, you risk your life for a stranger, acting like his wife as if you’d been one for years. Either you’re exceptionally strong or you’re so stupid that you’re unable to grasp danger. I’m beginning to believe the latter.”

They didn’t walk in the direction of the town but further into the forest. They came to a road where a cart was waiting with two snorting horses. A handful of riders also waited quietly nearby. Here, in the open, the Moon cast a pale glow and she could see the prisoner’s shining, blond hair. He had no horse but waited next to the cart. Her heart began to beat quicker as she caught sight of him. The thought of never seeing this handsome creature again had already begun to worry her.

The animal man, for this was how she had come to think of the being dressed in the wolf-skin cloak, walked over to the driver and had a long conversation with him. Then he mounted a waiting horse and rode off, followed by the other riders.

The driver helped her and the children into the cart, and the handsome, young man whom she had saved also gave them a helping hand and then jumped into the cart. Then they were on their way.

Now it was as if Silje’s willpower had been “switched off.” – It was as if it didn’t get nurture from the outside world any longer. Although she sat not very far from the young “prisoner,” it was as if the magic spell had lost its grip on her, and she was, once again, the lonely and helpless Silje – tired, frozen and so desperately hungry that she felt a virtual hole inside her. At the moment, she wouldn’t have had the courage to go against the bailiff’s men.

She fought resolutely against the apathy which was now overpowering her. She sat upright, her back straight and with the newborn baby wrapped inside her own clothes so that it could get as much as possible of her only warmth. It didn’t seem to be the case. The little girl had fallen asleep with her head in Silje’s lap with a sheepskin over and under her. Silje had wrapped herself in the beautiful silk cloak, and it was big enough to also cover the two children. She felt quite numb in the arm which cradled the infant, but she couldn’t give up. She was so tired that it was as if she had sand in her eyes, and her body was so frozen that it felt like a block of ice.

The cart rolled quickly and bumped from side to side. She had to brace her legs against the other side of the cart to stop from being thrown around. Moonlight shimmered through the trees as they left the area around Trondheim and headed south.

“Where are we going?” Silje asked after they had been on their way for a while. Her lips were so frozen that it made her speech slurred.

He replied: “You’re going to a farm where the plague has taken all it wanted to this time. I’m going somewhere else.”

“Excuse me for asking,” she said shyly. “But there’s something I don’t understand …”

“Only one thing? That’s certainly well done.”

She didn’t like that he mocked her as if she were an ignorant child! “The letter with the King’s Seal … They said that it was genuine, didn’t they?”

“Yes, that’s right. But it’s very old. It’s been of great help to us many times.”

“But how did you get hold of it?”

“Now you’re asking too many questions,” he said with a mocking laugh. “I suppose I ought to thank you for your assistance.”

“That was about time,” she thought although she hadn’t really expected any thanks.

She watched him from the corner of her eye. He sat almost opposite her and had placed his legs on the bench next to her. They were in open country now and in the moonlight she could see his young, handsome face with the round, firm cheeks and perfect nose. His mouth smiled pleasantly but his smile died with the next question.

“Who was he?”

He stiffened. “Who? The commander?”

“No, no. Surely you know who I mean. The person who helped us.”

He stared at her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.

“The man at the edge of the forest. Dressed in wolf skin so that he looked very much like an animal. The one who slapped you.”

The released “prisoner” leaned closer to her. “There was nobody there,” he said. “There was nobody there.” He was agitated. “Nobody! Do you understand? Nobody … nobody!”

Silje pulled back. “But …”

“You’ve had a dream. You haven’t seen
anything
tonight. Remember that! Do you honestly believe that I would allow somebody to hit me without revenge? No way!”

He had spoken in a low tone of voice so that the driver couldn’t hear them. Silje gave up. She understood him. It wasn’t easy feeling so humiliated as he was bound to feel right now. First of all, he was on the verge of being executed, then saved by a young girl only to be slapped in the face by that wolf man.

“I understand,” she said in a subdued tone of voice.

His tone became milder immediately. “You must be terribly exhausted. Here, let me hold the baby for a while. Is it yours”?

Silje gave him a dejected look. “No, it isn’t mine for heaven’s sake! I just took care of them both. There was nobody else.”

She looked down at the little baby and expressed the concern which she had had for quite some time. “I don’t know whether it’s dead or alive,” she said anxiously. “It’s been so quiet ever since we left … that place.”

She imagined that she could sense the stench from the pyre once more. It seemed that this was something she would never be able to forget.

“The baby is probably sleeping,” he said casually, taking it from Silje’s outstretched arms.

Oh, how wonderful it was to be able to move her arms without the weight of the baby! She tucked the wolf skin more closely around the little girl, and then she curled herself up under her skirts, shawl and the silk cloak, resting her head against the side of the cart.

The Moon was right above the horses’ heads. This was a good sign. The future would be bright, she thought. Then, as the cart took a curve in the road, she looked up and saw a twinkling star, which was even better. Everybody knew that the stars were holes in the firmament. And through them one could see into God’s shining heaven. God had now shown her that He was peeping down on Silje and the two children she had taken care of … and the noble man that she had been chosen to save.

Silje thought to herself that it just wasn’t fair that she was so exhausted now that she was here with this fantastic man right opposite her. But she was unable to keep her eyes open. She was so tired and frozen that she couldn’t fall asleep either. So she just sat there, neither asleep nor fully awake – while her whole body ached.

Once she woke up half awake. She had a vague idea that the cart had stopped, that she heard voices, and that something was being placed in her arms. Then she dropped off to sleep again.

The next thing she registered was that the driver was standing over her, shaking her shoulder.

“Where are we?” Silje asked.

“We’ve arrived. I’ve spoken to Mr. Benedikt. You may stay in the workers’ cottage.

She could just about notice some figures who took the children away from her. The Moon had set so she reckoned that it was close to dawn. The little girl cried and called for her mother. The driver helped Silje down. She couldn’t stand on her legs because she was so tired so he had to help her.

“Who’s Benedikt?”

“He’s a church painter and a strange person. But he’ll offer you a place to stay.”

“Also the children?”

Yes, also the children.”

They stood at the cart for a moment. “What happened to the young man?” Silje asked.

“Heming? He left us half an hour ago. He took another road.

Heming … Heming the Bailiff-Killer? It was him after all! A deep feeling of shame filled Silje at the thought that she had helped a murderer. But he’d been so young and good-looking …

“There are bound to be many good Norwegians … who fight for the freedom of our country,” Silje said hurriedly.

“There probably are, Miss. Silje.”

“Perhaps he belongs to such a group up here?”

“Now you’re asking too many questions.”

That meant that he probably was, which calmed her. To fight for one’s country was forgivable.

The wagon-driver was very polite. Miss Silje! This was bound to be because of the silk cloak!

“And the other person? Was he also one of them?”

“Who would that be?”

“The one who spoke to you. The one who asked you to take us to this Mr. Benedikt.”

The wagoner bent down, adjusting something on the cart. “There wasn’t anybody else, Miss. Silje. Only young Heming. I got my orders from him.”

Silje could feel the obstinacy rise in her. But then she remembered Heming’s words.

“No, I’m probably mistaken. I seem to have forgotten much of what happened last night.”

“That’s probably just as well, Miss Silje.”

A paraffin lamp burned in the small hut and a foreman was lighting a fire in the hearth as she entered the room. She heard kind voices chatting with the young children. Two of the elderly women took care of them, put them to bed and fed them some warm food.

“She’s ever so sweet,” one of the women said. “It doesn’t seem to bother her to be wakened in the middle of the night. What’s her name?”

“I don’t know,” Silje said. “I call her Sol. But how’s the little baby doing? I’ve been so scared. Is it alive?”

“Yes, there’s nothing wrong with him although his umbilical hasn’t been removed.”

“Him? Oh dear, things could have gone terribly wrong. I told some evil men that the child’s name was Liv because I wanted to save it from death. But I’ll call him Dag instead. He wouldn’t have anything to eat before and … “

“No, it doesn’t matter since he’s a newborn baby. He’s still drawing nourishment on what he brought into this life. We’ll wash him and cut the cord and then wrap him so that he’s nice and comfortable. Don’t worry. We’ll see to it that he comes to no harm although he entered this world in such an ungodly manner. We’ll bathe him in water blessed hot coals and we’ve already placed a piece of steel in his bed. We’ll bless him with bread, as is proper, and I’ll place my family silver on loan to him so that he can place it on his chest. The little girl, however, seems very tired so we’d better take her to our quarters so that she can get a good night’s sleep. Here’s some soup. It’ll do you good.”

Silje was too tired to reply. The girl, Sol, had crawled into the other bed, and she was already fast asleep. The warmth from the hearth filled the room with such a good feeling that she hadn’t experienced for several weeks. She accepted the bowl of soup and drank it. She didn’t bother to use a spoon. It was a thin oatmeal broth with small pieces of pork and it was delicious. She could feel that its warmth began to spread though her body.

Before the others had left the room, she lay back on the bed and fell asleep. She could feel that the women helped to get her undressed, tucking blankets over her. But she was too tired to open her eyes. Her body felt as heavy as lead.

Then the door was closed and Silje fell into a deep sleep.

Chapter 3

Silje had fallen asleep before dawn and she didn’t wake up until evening. She never saw daylight that day. Or did she?

It was evening … or twilight, to be more precise, as she gazed at a low ceiling with dark walls of raw timber. There was a window. Just imagine, a window! Silje was only used to peepholes, which you opened and closed with a wooden stick. The window pane was greenish and uneven but allowed the evening light to fill the room.

“The children,” she suddenly thought. The little girl wasn’t lying in the other bed. If she listened carefully, she could hear the sound of a child’s laughter. And even farther away, she could hear the little baby crying.

Now the crying stopped. Perhaps the baby was being fed?

The room was very warm. There was still a fire in the hearth. Somebody must’ve …

Silje felt the blush in her cheeks. Something began to dawn on her.

She
had
been awake once … and had pulled the blankets back over her.

“Now, now,” a voice had said. “There’s no need to worry, my dear. We’re old men. The fire of youth left us a long time ago.”

Silje had opened her eyes. Two elderly men were standing over her. Silje was relieved to find that she was still wearing her shift.

“This is the parish barber,” a tall man with a grey full beard and long, grey hair said to her. He was dressed in colourful clothes. “He has a great knowledge of medicine. And I’m Benedikt the Painter.”

He pronounced the words in a way that made her think she ought to stand up and curtsy.

The barber, who also cared for the sick, was a short, tubby man with kind eyes.

“How long have your feet been like this, young lady?” he asked.

“Probably since she was born, I would imagine,” Benedikt said with a loud laughter.

Silje, who hadn’t taken her shoes off for a couple of weeks, lifted her head and looked down on her feet. She couldn’t recognize them because they were so swollen, bruised and full of blisters. They were pretty filthy but that was a problem that could easily be solved. The skin was another matter entirely.

“We’ll prepare hot compresses,” the barber said calmly. “Your hands aren’t much better than your feet, but I’ve seen worse frost-bite so not to worry. I’ve excellent recommendations from those in high places, such as the baron …”

He mentioned a lot of fine names in order to impress. Benedikt waved his hand, brushing aside the man’s boasts. Then he sat down on her bed and Silje pulled the blanket over her in a hurry.

“Now tell me,” he said in a fatherly voice, “what kind of an unusual stranger are you? I’ve been told that you’ve saved two children and Heming and that you’re worth taking care of. But your clothes give the impression that you’re very poor.”

“They’re not my clothes,” she said quietly. “I gave my clothes to somebody that needed them more than I do. An old woman who remained on the farm. She only had a thin shift.”

“And these?” he asked, holding the sack-like rags between his forefinger and thumb. Then he hurriedly dropped them again.

“I made them of things I found in the barn.”

The painter shook his head in despair. “I’ve never heard such rubbish. Fancy giving your clothes away! By the way, you sound as if you’re well educated. What’s your background?”

Now she was embarrassed. “I’m nobody special. Just the smith’s unruly daughter, Silje, daughter of Arngrim. I was driven from the farm when the plague took all my relatives. The reason for my pronunciation is a different one.”

“Well, I for one believe that you
are
somebody special,” Benedikt said with a twinkle in his eyes. “You have a good heart, which is rare in hard times as these where most people seem to think of themselves. And the fact that you seem to be under
this
kind of protection also means a lot.”

All the while, the barber had been attending to Silje’s feet while he prepared some evil-smelling brew in a pot. Silje wanted to ask what Benedikt meant by “this kind of protection” but she knew from experience that that was of no use. They spoke about young Heming but didn’t say a word about the one who was behind him.

Benedikt continued: “You have described yourself as an unruly child. Tell me about your life on the farm. What did you do there?”

She looked away with an embarrassed smile.

“I’m afraid that at times I drove them to distraction. Of course, I did the chores they asked me to – in the fields, in the big house – but I suppose I was a bit … What’s the word? Absent-minded. I always day-dreamed. And spent a lot of time making small decorations and such things.”

Benedikt’s eyes lit up. “Did you hear that, barber? Perhaps Silje is someone who’ll appreciate my art! Such persons are in very short supply! Tomorrow you can come with me to church, Silje. Then you’ll see decorations!”

She gave a broad smile. “Thank you, I’d love to join you.”

“Not on those feet,” mumbled the barber, mostly to himself.

“May I get up now?” Silje asked

“No,” the barber said, dipping the hot compress in the pot before he placed it on her feet. It was so hot that it very nearly burned, and it had a strong smell of herbs.

“No, now you must rest with this compress on your feet for a couple of hours. And I think you can do with a bit more sleep, right?”

“Yes, you’re right,” she smiled. “What about the children?”

“My little ladies have taken care of them,” Benedikt said. “Don’t worry.”

Then they left and Silje dropped off to sleep again, warm in her heart and at peace in her mind.

Silje could tell by the light through the window that it was evening. She sat up and carefully tried to stand on her feet. It hurt but no more than she had suffered during her dreary wanderings in recent days.

Hopefully, it was over now! Hopefully, she and the children could stay with these kind people!

She hadn’t even thanked them properly. Heaven knows what the distinguished church painter thought of her?

Her clothes had been taken away and been replaced with a blouse made of a coarse and natural-coloured cloth, a dark, waisted dress and a pair of slippers, big enough to put her feet in, compresses and all.

Silje put on her clothes and ran a comb through her hair. She didn’t have bandages on her hands but they had been treated with an ointment that smelled of mint. She desperately longed to soak her whole body, head, hair, everything, sink into a warm, scented bath. Just to drown herself in cleanliness.

“Now I’m beginning to be unreasonable,” she thought to herself. “It’s easy to get spoiled. Yesterday, I was perfectly happy to eat a crust of dry bread!”

Her clothes were just about the right size. Perhaps a bit too big but then she tightened the belt a bit more. She couldn’t be bothered to plait her hair. She just left it as it was. There was also a close-fitting jacket with puffed sleeves, tight cuffs, stiff collar and a very short skirt in the waist. These clothes must have belonged to the servant girl.

She hobbled her way to the door. The wide floor boards creaked. Fancy the place having a wooden floor! She was used to the bare earth or a stone floor at home. She stepped over the high threshold and onto a flagstone step.

She screwed her eyes against the sun, which lay low on the horizon. She had not realized that it was still so bright outside. The green window panes didn’t let much light in. She could just about make out a courtyard which was covered by a light dusting of snow and surrounded by dark outlines of buildings, a large main building next to the one she was staying in and a beautifully decorated building on the other side of it with a loft and an external gallery with beautiful carvings.

There was nobody to be seen. She shivered now that she had left the warmth in the room. She raised her head to look around.

It was as if all the blood had drained from her face.

“Oh, my God,” she groaned.

She reached out for the doorframe so that she had something to lean on to. Then, cautiously, she took another look.

The tallest of the mountains rose high above the roofs of the buildings. But there was an opening between the houses at the spot where the road ran up to the house. And beyond that … beyond that, the mountains rose with compelling closeness. She recognized every peak, every valley and every crevice.

“The Land of Shadows,” The Land of Evening.”

She discovered that she was now even closer to the threat from her childhood, the Ice People’s awesome, secret settlements. As a matter of fact, she was right at the foot of the mountains. Only a desolate meadow lay between her and the mountains. On the other side of the meadow, the massif rose straight up, impregnable, seemingly piercing the sky in defiance of God the Almighthy in His heaven. “I must get away from here,” was her first inclination.

But then she came to her senses. She wasn’t a child any longer. All her fantasies about demons that floated through the air were just – fantasies. She had dreamt them up because they didn’t exist in actual fact. As for the stories people had told about the dreaded Ice People, surely the best thing would be just to stay away from the mountains? She didn’t
have
to go there. She could just keep away. Would she really consider leaving the only place where she had found protection simply because of some childish fantasies?

One of the old women appeared from the main building and waved at her. Without looking any further at the blue-black, snow-covered mountains, she hobbled across the yard and went inside.

“Come in,” the woman said pleasantly. “We’re having a meal in the kitchen. I suppose you could use something to eat now, right?”

“Yes, please, but first of all I would like to have your permission to wash and tidy myself up a bit.”

So she went into a large, cozy kitchen with its huge open hearth and a long, narrow table where all the people on the farm were eating. Greeting them shyly, she dropped a polite curtsy to each of them.

They weren’t very many. The plague must have taken many lives here, she thought. Benedikt sat at the head of the table and there were the two women, each with a child, and the foreman.

That was all.

The women were so alike that they were bound to be sisters. They were dressed in long, black garments and smiled all the time. It was obvious that they did all they could to make everybody feel at home and at ease. Silje sensed that she would come to like them a lot.

She was very happy to see that the small baby, Dag, had begun to eat. He was given small pieces of bread dipped in milk, which he could suck on. Little Sol greeted her with a smile of recognition and then quickly turned to the foreman, who played with her and made her giggle.

“Come in, dear,” Benedikt said pleasantly. “Sit here next to me.”

She thanked him with a curtsey, said grace quietly, and sat down. The painter seemed to be a man of simple tastes – supper only consisted of three dishes – salt beef, meat, pork followed by cabbage. There were also big mugs of beer on the table.

This could not be compared with the average table in the country. Country people would serve six dishes as a minimum, and the very wealthy would serve up to fourteen dishes at one meal. Adults would usually drink six mugs of beer per day, and many would drink twice that amount.

But to Silje, the amount of so much food was like a dream. While she ate, she glanced at the children.

“This is the first time that I’ve seen them in daylight,” she said shyly. “They’re beautiful, both of them. But they’re very different.”

“The little girl is a daredevil,” one of the women said. “”The one moment she’s all smiles and the next moment she shows her temper! Sweet and cheerful, but if she doesn’t get it
her
way, my word: What rage!”

Silje nodded. “I noticed some of it yesterday.”

“She’ll probably be a big hit among the boys when she grows up,” Benedikt growled. “Those green eyes and her jet-black hair!”

“Only if she’s allowed to live,” Silje sadly thought. The next few days will tell. Once again, she thought of the little girl’s dead mother.

She tried to rid herself of such grim thoughts. “The little boy is unusually handsome for a newborn, don’t you agree?” She gazed at the tiny face and the fine down on his head.

“Yes,” Benedikt said. “Makes you wonder where
he
comes from. I noticed the blankets he was wrapped in, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I saw them in the moonlight yesterday evening. Strange.”

“Scandals also occur in the best circles,” he mumbled.

“I was asked to take good care of the blankets,” Silje said.

Benedikt nodded but his expression was serious. “Yes, you must. But did young Heming really have so much foresight?”

Oh dear, why did she blush and her heart beat stronger as soon as they mentioned Heming’s name? The truth was, however, that she yearned to see his handsome face again.

“No, it was somebody else,” she replied in a confused tone of voice. “A strange type … almost part man, part animal. But I feel tremendous gratitude towards him because he was the one who sent me to this place – and now we’re on the subject, I would like to thank you all for the kindness you’ve shown me. Imagine taking care of me and the children without any objections whatsoever. You’ve been so generous!”

“You accept
that sort of request
,” the painter mumbled. Something in his demeanor told Silje that he didn’t want her to ask questions about this subject. He was very quick to ask a question: “I had an inkling that young Heming wasn’t that sensible. But Silje, what are we do with you? As you can see, there aren’t that many left of us here. And we could certainly do with an extra pair of hands. Will you stay? We can only offer food and lodging.”

“Yes, thank you so much,” she said, looking down at her bowl. This time I’ll try and concentrate about my work.”

“And stop yourself from daydreaming,” Benedikt said jokingly. “We humans need to dream, you know, and people like you and me more than everybody else. You’ve seen that everybody who lived in this house has died. They were my brother and his family. I must ask you not to ask questions about them – it’s such a great sorrow for us that we’re just unable to talk about it. And we, who are left, will have to live on.”