The Ice People 1 - Spellbound (The Legend of the Ice People) (5 page)

BOOK: The Ice People 1 - Spellbound (The Legend of the Ice People)
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She nodded. “I’ve experienced the very same thing, so I think I understand. We’ve all lost loved ones.”

The servants nodded to her.

“I myself live in the ornate building next to this farm, Benedikt continued, “and
I
for one don’t take part in the activities on the farm.”

He seemed immensely proud of his work.

“But you’re not drinking anything,” he said. We’ve got plenty of beer. If you want seven mugs instead of six, then you can certainly have that.”

“No, thank you. I can hardly manage to drink three mugs of beer a day.

“What? Don’t tell me that you drink beer like a bird? Nevertheless, I agree with you. As you can see, I only drink wine, which is a beverage fit for an artist.”

Silje sat with her face turned towards the window, which was of a better quality here in the main building. She had tried to avoid looking out until now, but managed to pluck up some courage. Benedikt’s friendly tone made her bolder, and she said: “Those mountains … I got a shock when I discovered how close they are.”

She had the courage to continue the topic so she began to speak of when as a child she was scared of the mountains, that she had lived farther towards the north-east but that even so she could see the mountains and had been afraid of them. She only hinted at the swirling creatures that lived there. All she said was that the mountains had made her see things that she was terrified of.

Benedikt nodded. “I’m not surprised to hear that. I’m also afraid of them. They hang over you as some sort of constant threat. And all those horrible stories about the Ice People! I suppose you’ve heard
your
share of them as you grew up?”

“I suppose so, but who are the Ice People actually?” she asked nervously.

She wondered how strange it was that the landlord and the foremans could actually sit down and talk like this. But things had changed. People had become more lonely and sought companionship wherever they could in this time of the plague. Besides, Benedikt was no ordinary man. He was a highly respected artist and so he did as he pleased.

There was no doubt that he had taken a liking to Silje, and she herself felt that she had found a soul mate.

“The Ice People,” he said slowly while everybody looked at him. They had finished their meal but they remained at the table as if they were reluctant to leave the company of others.

“The Ice People are a legend. They’re said to possess magic powers and spawned by evil. I suppose you’ve all heard of Tengel, the evil spirit of the Ice People?”

“Mr. Benedikt,” one of the women exclaimed while the other made the sign of the cross. The foreman walked over to the wall where he stabbed his knife into the wall above the door.

“Superstitions,” Benedikt mumbled. “Have you heard of Tengel, Silje?”

“Only in vague references,” she replied. “Nobody ever wanted to tell me anything.”

“Well, in that case I’ll do so now because I’m not afraid of the Devil or of witchcraft. Young Tengel fled to the mountains three or four centuries ago. A king and the king’s new decrees drove Tengel away from his lands and possessions together with several other peasants. Tengel swore revenge. He sold his soul to the Devil, Silje, and became chieftain of the Ice People. The word, Tengel, means chieftain. I suppose you didn’t know that, did you? They got the name Ice People … because it was believed to be impossible to reach their settlements. It was said that you have to travel beneath the ice, through a tunnel, next to a great river in order to arrive at their settlements.”

“Did Tengel know about witchcraft when he arrived there?”

“I don’t know. They say that he was an ordinary sort of man, but his pact with the Devil left him with amazing powers. The notoriety of the Ice People spread over the centuries because the children he fathered possessed his magic powers. And. …” Benedikt lowered his voice “… they say that Tengel has no grave!”

Silje was wide-eyed. “Do you mean to say … that the Devil took him … at once?”

Benedikt looked down. “I didn’t say that. I never said that.” He lifted his head again and said: “There was no end to what the Ice People were capable of. But it’s all just talk, Silje. Nothing else but silly, foolish superstition.”

“Don’t the Ice People exist then?” she asked.

“I’ve never seen them and I’ve lived here all my life. But I’ll readily admit that I wouldn’t willingly walk in the mountains, but that’s a different matter. The mountains frighten me.”

The woman, who was holding Sol on her lap, put her hands over the little girl’s ears. “Mr. Benedikt, you really
must
be careful what you’re saying,” she said in an offended tone of voice. “You shouldn’t
talk
about … them.”

The foreman was more brave. “
If
they exist, that is! This might have been the case two hundred years ago but not today. The Black Death probably took all of them along with so many others two hundred years ago. I’ve been up in the mountains many times but I’ve never seen people or settlements there.”

So it was nothing but shear imagination, Silje thought, which made her feel calm. At last, she would stop thinking about and being scared of them.

Just imagine! Now she was able to have a full stomach, feel warm again and wear clean clothes! She couldn’t help feeling elated.

“I feel so very happy,” she exclaimed. “I don’t think that even Heaven can compare to this!”

The others all laughed, sharing Silje’s joy.

Then all those happy thoughts made her think of the plague once more, and she looked worriedly at Sol. How long would it be before she would fall ill? She’d seen enough of the plague to be able to recognize the symptoms, but the little girl was bright and cheerful. Only once while they were eating had she looked a bit strange, her lips trembling slightly.

“Mummy,” she had said with an unsteady voice. “Mummy!”

Then one of the ladies had cradled her in her arms, saying softly until she fell asleep. “She’s so young, she’ll soon forget,” the women had said.

Then Silje had to tell them about her grim journey and especially about the last day and night when so much had happened. But she got no explanation as to who it was that had helped her. She just saw the women exchange telling glances, heard one of them mumble something that sounded like “mess” and noticed that the foreman looked down in order to hide the expression on his face.

Suddenly they all jerked. Horses were galloping up the road and they could hear the rattling of weapons and armour.

“The bailiff’s soldiers,” Benedikt explained and looked out on the yard where a crowd of riders had begun to dismount. “Were they the ones you spoke to last night at the gallows, Silje?”

Dusk was falling and it was difficult to see anything through the window, but nevertheless she was certain. “No, I don’t recognize any of them.”

“Good because then you don’t need to hide. He paused and then said to one of the women: “Grete, you must take away the little one at least, perhaps even both of the children.”

Benedikt got up and went over to the riders. The others sat behind and waited, trying to listen as best they could.

The commander walked up the stairs.

“Have you seen any strangers here last night or today?”

“No, we haven’t. Who’re you looking for?”

“You know perfectly well, painter Benedikt. That rebellious troublemaker Dyre Alvsson and his men were out last night. They burned a house where one of the King’s men lives. This has got to end. May we take a look in your stable?”

“Of course, if you think my old jades are worth looking at. Surely you don’t believe that I …?”


Believe
?” The commander snorted and turned on his heel.

All the soldiers started heading towards the same building. It was obvious that they’d been here before, searching for strangers’ horses. After a while they came back outside.

“And Heming the Bailiff Killer?” the commander asked.

“Haven’t seen him for years,” Benedikt replied so convincingly that Silje would have believed him had she not known otherwise. “I stay clear of that rascal.”

“Right you are!”

Some of the soldiers also searched a few of the other buildings. Perhaps they thought that somebody’s horse had been taken in and was hiding among the cows?

Then the riders mounted their horses and were off.

“You better be careful, Benedikt!” the commander shouted over his shoulder. “Splashing paint on church ceilings doesn’t give you a free passage to Heaven.”

“Neither does disturbing the homes of honest people,” Benedikt retorted.

So now she knew who the man in the wolf-skin was. He was Dyre Alvsson … Hadn’t she heard about him before? He was the greatest enemy of the Danes in Trondelag. They just couldn’t track him down no matter how hard the bailiffs tried, which was because the local population protected and sheltered him.

There was no obvious hatred towards the King. The peasants tended not to give a damn as to who was in power. When the Swedes conquered the area fifteen years ago, they had been kind to their new rulers. When they left Trondelag again, the population had accepted the rule of the Danes without much fuss. Copenhagen or Stockholm. Everything was so far away and others had to take care of ruling the country. As long as they got their daily bread, they didn’t care much about the name of the King. What the peasants complained about were the taxes and other daily matters.

There were always a small number of active insurgents. At the moment, the most important, the bravest and the most admired was Dyre Alvsson.

Silje had never seen him until now. She had no idea how old he was and knew nothing about his background. But now at least she knew what he looked like.

Anyway, she wouldn’t be the one to inform on him. No wonder nobody wanted to mention his name when she asked.

And Heming … She felt a warm feeling inside. She had already gathered that he was an insurgent. Benedikt obviously was on
their
side. Then there might be a chance that she would see Heming again. She could see that teasing glimpse in his eye, the straight nose, the mount, which always looked as if it was about to smile – and then the blonde hair that shone in the moonlight...

Silje’s innocent heart was filled with new emotions. Of course, it was an infatuation in which she’d merely paid attention to his looks – this was something that was to be expected from a person in the spring of youth. Consequently ignoring all shortcomings and inventing virtues, interests and emotions which he ought to possess.

That day wasn’t a long one for Silje. People on the farm would soon go to bed and the women asked to be allowed to keeping the children with them for another night. Of course they could. They were just so nice. Silje thought that it would be difficult for her to drop off to sleep so soon again, but she was wrong.

The dreams came and went.

Silje moaned quietly in her sleep. Her arms and legs twitched slightly, as if she tried to escape from something.

She was lying in the field below the farm where she grew up. The Land of Evening was visible in the far distance, the peaks, and the valleys behind them. The sky was a golden crimson.

Something rose above the mountains. Ghost-like images with great wings spread out. Her demons. Silje tried to protect herself from them in her sleep.

There weren’t that many, six to eight perhaps. But they were dangerous. They glided through the air. They were clearly seeking something and she knew that their eyes had already found her although she pretended that this wasn’t the case.

With a start, she realized that she was naked.

But it didn’t matter. It meant nothing because nobody could see her except these spirits from beyond. This was good to know.

She stretched out in the grass.

They were closer now. Her heart started to pound and now she could see them more clearly. They were naked and they were men. Their demonic faces had a magnetic attraction. Their hands had long claws, and their bodies half animal, half human.

They saw her and they desired her.

But they didn’t come down to her. They circled around her at a respectable distance, as if something was holding them back, as if they were waiting for something.

She saw the face of one of them. Its features were handsome and noble despite being grotesquely twisted. The face of a young man with golden, curly hair and antlers like a stag.

She knew him and trembled with joy at seeing him again. But even he didn’t dare descend. The lower half of his body was that of a stag, and the arms had become wings with a colossal span.

For some reason she wished that he wasn’t naked because this made her feel ill at ease. It was his face that she adored. She wanted nothing more than that. Then the spirits began to move away from her.

A new spirit, bigger and more dangerous than the others glided from the Land of Shadows. He stopped at some distance, silhouetted against the fiery sky. Although there was a great distance between them, Silje was able to detect who he was in her dream. She recognized his face. Attractive yet repulsive, attractive, attractive …

However, no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t see his body. She wanted to see it but it remained in the shadow. All she could see was a contoured outline that reminded her of a faun or satyr …

Her body felt exhausted and heavy. She breathed heavily because she was strangely ecstatic. She moved very slowly in the grass, drawing up her legs slightly, anxious, afraid, fascinated. Then he quietly moved his wings, gliding closer towards her.

Then she awoke with a scream.

She lay there in a haze, relieved and disappointed that the dream had ended so abruptly. She could feel that her body still burned in a way that she’d never experienced before. She was shocked and shaken and she tried to cover herself with her hands from the shame she felt. But her hands ignited a spark, now there was no way back.

Exhausted, she lay there, nearly dying of shame from the intense rapture she had just experienced.

Yet it was so simple and natural. Silje was no longer a child but a young woman.

BOOK: The Ice People 1 - Spellbound (The Legend of the Ice People)
11.54Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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