Читать книгу The Ice People 39 - Silent Voices - Margit Sandemo - Страница 9

Chapter 3

She gave the men time to chat a little before she went downstairs. After hearing all those things about Nataniel, she needed to pluck up the little courage she had. And despite the stories she had heard about him, she didn’t know anything about how he looked or how old he was. Only that he had melancholy eyes. Which meant that they were probably as dark as wells. That sounded a little too romantic, Ellen didn’t really like it. Or maybe he was just an old psychic after all.

Well, she couldn’t procrastinate much longer. She quickly glanced in the mirror and saw that she had big, frightened eyes and that her hair was dishevelled. And how pale she looked! Suddenly the corners of her mouth pulled up in a self-deprecating smile. She looked as if she was on her way to the dentist’s – or like a heroine in a novel who is about to see her young man.

Good gracious, she thought to herself, laughing.

But when she had reached the bottom of the stairs she was gripped by that sense of nervousness again. Their murmuring voices could be heard coming from the office. She wiped the palms of her hands on her trousers and went in.

The sheriff was the first to speak: “And here she is!”

The newly arrived guest stood with his back to her. At the sheriff’s words, he turned around.

Nataniel was surprisingly young – he might have been about twenty-five. Long-limbed with broad shoulders, strong yet sensitive hands and very dark hair, that would soon need a trim. Later, Ellen would notice the details of his face, such as his sensitive yet determined mouth, the width of his forehead and the pronounced lines of his cheekbones. But in the sheriff’s office she only noticed his eyes. They were melancholy, it was true, but that wasn’t what captivated her: they were yellow. Never in her life had she thought such yellow eyes existed! And they had a peculiar sort of intensity that frightened her somewhat. He looked at her with an undisguised interest, with a certain sense of wonderment, as no one else had ever done before. Ellen responded to his critical examination with an uneasy smile.

The guy is so cool, she thought, succumbing to the jargon of her school days.

“My dear Nataniel,” said Rikard cheerfully. “Although she is certainly pleasing, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you study a girl so intensely before.”

“I’m not interested in appearances,” Nataniel said, somewhat impatiently, in a low and gentle voice. “This is so unusual. I’ve never encountered anything like it before.”

“And that’s coming from you,” Ellen murmured. “That was the very same thought I had about you.”

Nataniel shook himself out of his momentary trance and walked towards her with his hand extended.

“My goodness, Nataniel,” said Rikard, awe-stricken.

Ellen understood that he wanted physical contact with her. She took his hand.

The next thing that happened was incredible. She couldn’t withhold her gasp, but it was nothing compared to Nataniel’s reaction. He pulled his hand away and covered his face with both hands. A tormented moan came from his lips.

No one said anything. After a moment he removed his hands and looked at Ellen with gleaming eyes.

“You reacted,” he said urgently. “I saw that you reacted as well! Tell me how! This is important if we are to clear up the whole matter of whether or not there are ghosts involved. Think carefully! What did you feel? Explain it as clearly as you can!”

Ellen didn’t need to think for long. She looked up into his magnificent yellow eyes. “I became scared,” she said firmly. “It ... it was ... like a ... what should I call it ... a warning of some kind?”

The light in his eyes grew even brighter. “Exactly! Thank you, Ellen. Could you expand a little more on your fear?”

They had both used the informal “you” with one another immediately and without hesitation. In a way that strengthened the connection between them.

“No, it was just a violent feeling that quickly passed. I have no explanation for it. And what did you feel?” she asked shyly.

A veil of pain covered his eyes. “A lot more. I saw ...” he interrupted himself. “That’s a pity,” he concluded with disappointment.

Ellen felt hurt, stupidly. It had become so terribly important to her to mean something to this incredibly strong individual.

“Wasn’t it up to the mark?” she asked pitifully.

He woke up as from a dream. “What did you say? Oh, no. I was just thinking about something else. Something completely different.”

Nataniel gave her an enquiring look. Then he said, puzzled: “Who are you, Ellen?”

“Me? I’m just Ellen Knutsen. I live in Oslo with my parents but am ready to live on my own, I just need to find a place. There’s nothing special about me. Except for ... no.”

“Yes! What were you about to say?”

“No, I don’t want to involve anyone else.”

He nodded, as though he fully respected her loyalty to others. “But let’s talk about last night’s episode. May I speak with Ellen alone for a little while?”

Since the sheriff needed to use his office, he sent them into the small detention cell. Considering how strange things had become in the last twenty-four hours, this didn’t surprise Ellen in the least.

Nataniel brought a chair with him, which he offered to her while he himself sat on the plank bed. In the cramped room they ended up having to sit very close to one another, but he didn’t take her hands.

Up close, he was far from handsome in the classical sense, but his face was attractive in an almost magical way, as is often the case with people who have strong souls. And Ellen felt that she could practically have died just to receive a small sign of friendship or acknowledgement from him.

“We’ve decided that we are all three to be in your room at the inn tonight,” he said. “I want you to be there too.

“No!” she said intensely.

Alas! That was as far as her devotion went. She was willing to die for his friendship ... but it was just words ... She wasn’t even willing to sacrifice her night’s sleep for his sake.

“I’m afraid it’s going to be necessary,” he said quietly.

“Why?”

“I’d rather not say right now. You’ll be informed once it’s all over. We don’t want to expose you to an unpleasant experiment; the only thing I ask of you is that you stay in your room. You must remain completely passive and you won’t be alone. One of us will be with you the whole time.”

She looked for a long time into his bewitching yellow eyes. They were expectant in a kindly way. Then she nodded somewhat hesitantly.

“Good!” he said.

“Nataniel?”

“Yes? “

“Do you think it was a ... a ...?”

“A ghost? That’s what I’m here to find out. Rikard and the sheriff think it was a real live human. They have their reasons for believing that. But there are certain parts of your story that confuse me ...”

“Yes, that’s what Rikard said. Two things, he said. What are they?”

“One of them we can’t talk about right now, but that was why I took your hand out there just now. I wanted confirmation of something.”

“Did you get it?”

His gaze grew distant. “In a way, but another frightening factor came up that I hadn’t foreseen. It hit me like a bombshell. Ellen, once we’ve solved this case – which I think we will tonight – we’ll have to go our separate ways. It’s absolutely necessary that we do.”

“What a shame,” Ellen blurted out. Then something suddenly occurred to her. “Was that why you said ‘That’s a pity’ earlier?”

A smile spread across his face and the room grew much brighter. It was the first time he had smiled and she liked seeing it.

“That was why.”

“Thank you!” said Ellen.

For a moment they were filled with light and warmth and exchanged friendly smiles. There was a connection between them that Ellen had never before experienced with anyone. Then she turned serious again.

“But what about the other thing that confused you?”

“Yes, I’d like to solve that! There was this recurring suggestion in the report regarding an event in your childhood. Or is that what you would prefer not to talk about because it involves another person?”

“No, it’s something completely different.”

“So you have two mysteries?”

“You might say so, but the other is a family scandal.”

“I understand. We’ll skip that one. But that event in your childhood ... I’d like to know what you experienced back then.”

Her sense of fear felt like a strangling rope. She instinctively extended her hands towards him. He took them in his.

“But goodness!” he said in horror. “Such fear you have! What is it? Tell me!”

“I can’t,” she said quickly. “It’s too vague! It’s shaken me far too much. Perhaps later. Not now. I have more than enough to contend with after last night.”

He gently squeezed her hand and then let it go. “I understand,” he said gently.

And Ellen knew that he really did.

“Are you going to open the ... door?” she asked uneasily.

“That depends on ...”

“On what?”

“On whether there is truly any danger in opening it.”

“Will you be able to find out?”

“It won’t be long before I do. Objects have their own atmosphere and mood, like living things.”

Then he got up and suddenly he looked so long-legged and supple, like a cat, that it made Ellen blush.

“Should we go out to the others?” he asked.

“Yes,” Ellen stammered, but she had had a real shock. She hadn’t before thought of Nataniel as a real man. She wanted him to be the master and she the child who came to learn from him – she didn’t want him to be so intensely masculine that it knocked her off balance. Ellen determined to continue to admire him in a childish way. That was much more comfortable, especially since they only had a few hours left together.

“Oh, there you are,” said the sheriff when they returned to his office. “Well, what’ll it be then? Is Ellen going to join us?”

“Yes,” said Nataniel.

“Fine,” said the sheriff. “I’ve spoken to Mrs Sinclair and told her that you were scared out of your wits and will stay here until tomorrow. Then you’ll go back to work. No, don’t worry! It won’t happen. If Chief Constable Brink and I are correct in our evaluation, there’ll be such a scandal at the inn that it will have to close down for a while. And if we’re not right ... if what happened was ... yes, well, then no power on earth can make you go back.”

“Isn’t there a third alternative?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, there is,” the sheriff answered. “There is yet another explanation for what you experienced last night. But no matter what, we will solve the riddle tonight.”

Ellen didn’t find the sheriff’s enthusiasm all that infectious.

Rikard and Nataniel went to a hotel and Ellen was ordered back to bed. Everyone needed to be well rested for the night ahead of them.

When all the workmen and everyone else had left the inn for the night, four figures tip-toed out into the twilight. Ellen took out her key and let them in through the back door. Without turning on the lights they went through the kitchen and up the narrow staircase in the old building. Even on the staircase Ellen began to tremble.

“Try to get a grip on your nerves,” Nataniel whispered to her. “Nothing can happen to you as long as we’re here.”

He always knew what she was feeling.

Her little room was overcrowded by those big men. Someone had hastily repaired the window and removed the sheet from its ignominious spot on the crossbar. The sheriff had apparently explained her getaway last night by saying that she had been frightened by intruders – some young men who had tried to break in.

The sign on the wall outside whined mournfully.

“Please sit down,” she said in a slightly desperate tone, for there wasn’t much to sit on in her little room.

“Later,” said Rikard.

That sounded ominous. She didn’t know what their plans were for the evening.

“Are we allowed to speak out loud?” Ellen wanted to know.

“I ... I think we should avoid it,” the sheriff said a little awkwardly. “As I said, there are three possibilities ... But perhaps we should take a look at the door first?”

“But what if the two of you were to die?” said Ellen with a naive sort of terror in her voice.

“That would be Nataniel’s problem. Come, let’s go!”

“But ...” Ellen protested.

“Oh, you’re right,” sighed Rikard. “Someone is supposed to stay with you while we’re gone.”

Silence ensued. The sheriff stood by the door, looking perfectly secure and solid and slightly impatient with his hand on the door handle. Rikard and Nataniel looked hesitant and expectant. They were all looking at her. It was only too clear that all three of them wanted to examine the old door more closely.

“I suppose I ought to take offence now,” Ellen said with a forced laugh. “But I understand you! Go! I’ll go with you to the turn in the hallway, because I don’t want to be left alone in here. But if anything happens, don’t count on me for anything, because I’ll be down in the village before you have time to turn around!”

Her words sounded brave enough as she stood there in the room among the three sturdy men. But when they went out into the hallway and the others walked ahead of her, her muscles froze into tense knots as she anxiously looked over her shoulder towards the dark void of the staircase. To be on the safe side she positioned herself right at the corner, with a hand on each of the roughly plastered walls, ready to run in whichever direction she needed to.

It was actually wrong to call Nataniel sturdy. Although he possessed a paralysing authority, there was something ethereal and unworldly about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Sometimes his hands would move as fast as birds’ wings, so she got the impression that he really was like a caged bird – that at any moment he might take off from the ground, leaving the slack, heavy inhabitants of earth to their own devices.

It was an absurd thought, but there was no getting around the fact that there was something strange and alien about Nataniel. Something that demanded special treatment.

They didn’t dare turn on any lights, so the hallway lay in the grey half-light that seeped in through the deeply recessed windows. She could make out the other doors, which were painted white, but the last door was barely visible. Ellen tried not to look in that direction but her gaze was reluctantly drawn towards the end of the hallway. The men had stopped in front of the low door – at a respectful distance from it.

Everyone was waiting for Nataniel to make a move.

He hesitantly walked up to the door, stopping half a metre from it as his gaze moved across the old, unpolished woodwork. Ellen forgot to breathe.

The memory of the noise she had heard the night before suddenly washed over her. The soft sound of something resignedly slumping against her door. The despairing sigh. Had it just been her imagination, or had someone been trying to frighten her for fun, or ...?

Nataniel slowly lifted his hands with his palms facing the door. Ellen strained in order to see. She didn’t think he had touched it. He moved his hands in circular motions over the entire surface of the door.

Then he stood completely still. The next moment he made a quick decision and placed his hands against the door.

Ellen let out a whimper.

But Nataniel didn’t drop down dead, and she gave a hesitant sigh. She suddenly realized just how closely she and the other two had been following Nataniel’s venture.

His hands fumbled for a long time very thoroughly over the door. Then he lowered them and turned to the others.

“There is no danger,” he said. “The door has no power of its own.”

The most frightening thing about that was that he had actually considered it to be a possibility. Ellen started to wonder about the sort of things that Nataniel had seen and experienced in his life. The thought wasn’t very comforting.

The sheriff’s voice sounded as if he was sucking on something very sour. “And there isn’t any possibility that it might be under the influence of ... another force?”

Nataniel thought for a moment. “No, there is nothing to indicate that. No one has died in any supernatural way here. Neither on account of the door nor any other occult influence.”

“But the German captain?” said Ellen.

“He probably died exactly as you presumed: from bawling too loudly. It doesn’t take much if, let’s say, you have high blood pressure.”

“But what about all the others that attempted to open the door before him?”

“The mood here is not one of an evil, abrupt death, nothing unnatural. People have often associated strange instances of death with the supernatural, especially in earlier times. Most of the stories of what’s gone on here would seem to be no more than mere gossip that’s been exaggerated.”

“So you sense no indication of death here?” Rikard asked.

“I never said that,” Nataniel said quickly – much too quickly. “On the contrary, I felt a strong ... Well, it doesn’t really matter. The main thing is that the deaths that have occurred haven’t been mysterious in any way.”

“So you believe that it is ... safe to open the door?”

“Most certainly.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” said the sheriff resolutely.

“But there’s no key,” Ellen objected.

Rikard rummaged around in his pocket. “My dear friend! Coaxing a lock open is an easy task for a policeman!”

They went over to the door. Even Ellen dared to go closer now that she knew that the door was nothing more than an ordinary piece of wood.

She had never imagined that she would be such a coward in a situation like this. She had always stubbornly perceived herself to be a courageous and clear-thinking girl. How terribly shameful!

Before they began, the sheriff went around opening and closing all the other doors.

“It couldn’t have been one of these you heard?”

“No,” said Ellen, “They’re all noiseless. The one I heard creaked and groaned as if it was old and haunted; I heard it two nights in a row. And I am convinced that the sound came from just here at the end of the hall.”

“Very well. Let’s get started, Brink!”

Ellen wouldn’t have minded being able to hold someone’s hand at that moment, but Rikard was preoccupied with the lock and Nataniel – the deity himself – she didn’t dare to disturb. She discreetly grabbed hold of the back of the sheriff’s coat. Rikard chose a skeleton key from his bundle and fumbled for the lock, which he found and ...

“That’s strange,” he muttered. “Does anyone have a torch?”

The sheriff turned on a small, flimsy light. Ellen’s curiosity grew bigger than her fear and she let go of his jacket. The men bent over as they shone the light on the lock. They gave a shout of surprise.

Then they straightened up.

“There is no keyhole,” Rikard said curtly. “It’s impossible to open the door.”

The rushing sound from the river became intrusively loud now in the amazed silence. The evening light fell in through the little square niche down the hallway.

“What sort of nonsense is that?” asked the sheriff. “Is it a blind door?”

“I don’t think so,” the chief constable answered, feeling along the edges of the door. “It looks genuine enough and it gives way a little when you press on it. But there is no keyhole. Only the woodwork under the lock plate. It feels more as if there’s a bolt on the inside.”

“Now you’re trying to be funny,” the sheriff said with disapproval.

“Could the lock have been moved?” Nataniel wanted to know. “So that the keyhole is now under the bolt?”

His gentle voice had a soothing effect on Ellen’s frayed nerves.

They shone the torch at the door again.

“No, there’s no trace of it having been moved,” said Rikard.

All three of them slowly turned with accusing scepticism towards Ellen.

She looked perplexedly from one to the other. Their faces shone indistinctly, their eye sockets dark, as they gazed at her.

“But I assure you ...” she began.

The sheriff looked gruff in the gloom. “Your story becomes increasingly hazy and impossible, young lady. You wouldn’t happen to be a fantasist, would you?”

“Me ... a fantasist?”

“Yes. The kind who thinks up a story and believes it afterwards.”

She shook her head helplessly. She was just as perplexed as they were.

“Ellen isn’t a fantasist,” Nataniel said sharply. “What she experienced last night really happened.”

“How do you know?” Rikard asked softly. “Is there an atmosphere here after all?”

“As thick as porridge,” said Nataniel.

“But you just said that the door was insignificant,” the sheriff noted angrily.

“Yes, the door,” said Nataniel.

“What kind of an ... atmosphere?” Rikard asked in a respectful voice.

Nataniel stroked his forehead. “I don’t know. But it’s unpleasant. There are so many emotions here: despair, loneliness, evil, revenge, greed, poison, longing and hopelessness, all mixed together. But the most dominant of them is low, simple betrayal.”

“That’s quite intense,” the sheriff muttered. “Is there nothing pleasant here at all?”

“No!” Nataniel’s voice was as sharp as the crack of a whip. “There is nothing pleasant here!”

Rikard coughed discreetly. “Are you talking about us, or the surroundings?”

“I’m talking about what is behind that door. Filth is oozing through it.”

“You forgot something on your list, Nataniel,” said Rikard. “Do you sense anything about death?”

Nataniel turned away from them abruptly. “That’s irrelevant here,” he said, almost angrily.

The sheriff sighed. “My legs are getting tired. Let’s go back to Ellen’s room, where we can see each other and speak out loud. I’m tired of standing here whispering to shadowy figures.”

It was wonderful to be back in the little room again. The sheriff took up most of the space on the bed. Nataniel sat on the floor with his back to the wall, and in a kind of act of sympathy between kindred souls Ellen sat next to him, leaving the chair for Rikard. Suddenly a perplexed thought flickered through her. She was still wearing her nightgown under her clothes. When was she ever going to have the chance to change into something more suitable?

“Well, what do we do now?” she asked randomly.

“Break the door open as soon as daylight comes,” said the sheriff. “Cut it down with an axe.”

“Is it really necessary to vandalize it?” asked Rikard.

“Most certainly,” said Nataniel.

“I myself am somewhat sceptical,” muttered the sheriff. “I’m afraid we might end up scaring some scoundrel away by doing that.”

They tried to follow his train of thought.

“Nataniel, you still haven’t said whether what Ellen experienced was a police case or something more ... otherworldly,” said Rikard.

Ellen waited for Nataniel’s response with great anticipation. If she was honest, she was mortally afraid of it.

Nataniel, whom she thought of as ‘one touched by the gods’ – which was much closer to the truth than she could ever have known – took his time answering.

Finally he said: “I wish I could answer that. But everything is so confusing. There was such a medley of impressions out there that it was impossible for me to find its essence.”

“So a great many things have happened here?”

“There’s no doubt about that.”

“Were you able to see what it is that’s behind the door?” the policeman asked.

Nataniel rested his arms on his knees and looked up at the ceiling with a restless expression on his face.

“I saw a small room. Small and dark. Beams criss-crossing the walls. Of course, that was how the walls were constructed before the panelling was put over them. I saw something I didn’t understand. Something that doesn’t belong there.”

“What did this something look like?”

“Big, round ... there were many of them; I couldn’t understand it.”

He was frightening Ellen more and more, this Nataniel. It was clear that Rikard understood his area of expertise, because he always asked the right questions. The sheriff sat staring at Nataniel in awe.

“Is there more?”

“N–no.”

There was a slight hesitation in his answer as he gave Ellen a sideways glance. But Rikard didn’t inquire further. They must know each other very well, those two.

The noise of a truck outside disrupted the silence for a moment. Then it grew quiet again.

“Tell me,” Ellen said carefully to the man sitting next to her. “You told me that it was necessary for me to come here. But I haven’t been of much use.”

His response didn’t help to enlighten her. “What time is it?”

“Midnight.”

“What time did you hear that creature last night?”

“It was later. I don’t know.”

“She came to my office at around four,” said the sheriff.

“Then we’ll wait.”

“But what am I to do?” Ellen asked anxiously.

“You’re not to do anything,” Nataniel answered agitatedly. “Don’t you understand anything? Don’t you understand that I have to figure out whether you have a special talent that I’ve been looking ... No, forget it,” he said remorsefully. “Forgive me for being so unbalanced in my behaviour. It tends to happen when I’m dealing with complicated and difficult cases like this one.”

Ellen nodded. She was unhappy that he had become so irritated with her, but in a way she could almost understand him. And he genuinely regretted the way he had spoken.

“Riddles like this are tremendously exhausting for him,” Rikard explained in a low voice. “Once he’s figured out what it’s all about, he’ll be back to his normal self.”

“So you don’t know what this is all about?” the sheriff growled.

Nataniel seemed pale and fatigued. “No. It’s all so conflicting. This is why I need Ellen’s help.”

She recalled with concern Rikard’s account of the time the police had had a case that was full of conflicting elements, and how Nataniel had insisted that there was nothing supernatural involved in it.

He wasn’t insisting anything now.

Her lower lip was trembling. Nataniel couldn’t possibly have seen it in the darkness, but he immediately placed his hand on hers and gave it a squeeze, which helped her tremendously. She liked his hands so much. Powerful and well-formed, with a strange kind of strength. And it wasn’t just physical strength she was thinking of. They transmitted warmth and calmness and a sense of safety. She would later discover that they were able to transmit a lot more than that, but they had only just met and she didn’t know all the resources he possessed.

All she knew was that there was a primordial force in the room and that it derived from him.

Suddenly his hand resting on hers froze, and the sheriff said, “Shh!”

From the floor below they heard the sound of quiet, slow footsteps.