Читать книгу The Ice People 16 - The Mandrake - Margit Sandemo - Страница 6

Chapter 1

She sat at the very top of the small rectangular tower on the roof of Graastensholm, her glowing gaze fixed on the thunderclouds. Each time a lightning flash tore through the sky her face would light up euphorically, practically in ecstasy, and her eyes would flash with a burning sulphur-yellow colour in response.

She heard her parents shouting: “Ingrid! Ingrid, where are you?”

She didn’t feel like answering. They were insignificant now. This was her moment. Her world.

Latent energies were awakening within her. I am one of them, she thought proudly to herself, because those of the Ice People who were touched by the curse always had a characteristically strong sense of self-awareness. I have always known that, but until now it has never meant that much to me. I have had so many other things to think about.

Alv Lind of the Ice People, son of Niklas and Irmelin, had married a girl from the village. Her name was Berit and she was, as most girls are, hardworking and robust, romantic and terribly proud of the fact that the big landowner at Graastensholm and Linden Avenue had wanted her as his wife. For Alv was a big landowner now, though he was still young. Actually, he was also supposed to have had Elistrand, but a completely unexpected heir had turned up and taken it over. Alv was actually relieved by this. It would have been a little too much having to run three farms.

Before he married Berit he needed to have a serious discussion with her. Of course, everyone in the village knew about the curse on the Ice People and that at least one born in each generation was afflicted by it, and that might cost the mother her life during childbirth. And Alv’s case was particularly serious, because he was the last in his generation to marry. Christiana had given birth to a son whom she named Vendel, and there was nothing wrong with him. Ulvhedin and Elisa had a boy, Jon, a real little treasure, and a letter from Sweden had arrived with the news that Tengel the Young now had a fine son by the name of Dan. They were not going to have more children.

So that left only Alv and his future offspring.

Did Berit dare take the chance? There was a great risk that they might have a child who was cursed, in which case she herself risked dying in childbirth.

But Berit loved the young, fawn-like Alv. She faced the danger wholeheartedly.

Everything went well. Berit gave birth to a little daughter, Ingrid, who had flaming copper-red hair, sparkling yellow eyes and a delightful face. What was more, Ingrid did not have the deformed shoulders that might otherwise have cost the life of her mother. Little Ingrid was a magnificent child, except for the fact that she was, to a great degree, cursed. The only thing that gave it away in her outward appearance was the colour of her eyes. They were the most sulphurous yellow anyone had ever seen. And then there was her temper! Now that was really something! She was a troll, a daredevil, who was practically impossible to bring up. If Tengel and Silje had had problems with Sol, it was nothing compared with the problems Ingrid’s parents faced. Added to this was the fact that Ingrid’s intelligence was so great that even the most learned men would be on their guard before starting a conversation with the gifted child. And she respected no one, not even the priest. Him perhaps least of all. Ingrid shunned the church like the plague, which made Alv and Berit tremendously uneasy. They knew that those who were most afflicted by the curse had a particularly difficult time persuading themselves to cross the threshold of a church.

It became apparent that her distant cousin, Jon Paladin of the Ice People at Elistrand, also had a bright mind, so he was allowed to study seriously with the priest. Ingrid was far more intelligent than Jon, and Alv sought permission for her to be tutored with him. But that was never going to happen! Both the priest and Ingrid put a stop to the idea. The priest refused because he could not imagine having a girl as a student – it was completely unheard of! Perhaps a little bird had also told him about Ingrid’s sharp mind and he did not want to risk being humiliated by an impudent little wench ... Furthermore, he had a hard time accepting her aversion to the church, and he had many times wondered how to knock some discipline into her: by public whipping, perhaps. The only problem was that she was of noble descent. One never laid a hand on members of the Ice People, that much at least the priest knew.

For her part, Ingrid resisted studying with the priest because she did not want to have anything to do with him and ten wild horses would not have dragged her to do so. Instead it was decided that Jon was to visit after each day’s lessons and pass on whatever he had learned to Ingrid. It had been a good arrangement – for a couple of years. Then there was suddenly nothing more that the priest could teach Ingrid. It ended with her staring gloomily and angrily down at the textbooks and, with a single movement of her hand, sweeping them all onto the floor.

“What a load of rubbish!” she hissed. “He can take them back and use them to wipe himself in the privy!”

“Ingrid!” Alv said sharply. But he couldn’t punish her. No one ever raised a hand to Ingrid, just as they had never raised a hand to Sol when she was alive. If they tried, Ingrid would take revenge when they least expected it. Berit had tried it once and the next day had found one of her delicate pieces of weaving torn down the middle. Ingrid was punished again. She responded by standing in a corner during dinner muttering some strange words under her breath – and suddenly it was as though Berit’s porridge was filled with disgusting maggots right before her frightened eyes. After that day she never again laid a hand on her daughter.

Alv sighed. “We gave her as ordinary a Norwegian name as we could in the hope that it would have an effect on her character. Alas!”

A letter came from Sweden telling them that young Dan Lind of the Ice People was so intelligent that he had been granted permission to study under the Swedish Professor Olof Rudbeck the Younger, who was a linguist and botanist; Dan had also come into contact with other great Swedish scientists like Urban Hjärne and Emanuel Swedenborg.

Meanwhile, Ingrid’s childhood became a time of concern and bewilderment for her parents, because they loved her so boundlessly and wanted only the best for her. And she most certainly returned their love – in sudden, intense embraces or by creeping into their bed at night in order to avoid all the vile creatures in her room. Not that she was afraid of them, she would tell Alv and Berit, but they made such a noise and racket that she was unable to sleep. It was always quiet and peaceful in her parents’ bed. Many times Alv had gone with Ingrid back to her room in order to chase out the ghosts. But, of course, there were never any to be found. There would only be the moonlight, casting a silvery blue rectangle on the floor.

Ulvhedin was a great consolation to all of them during those years. He knew what it meant to grow up with the devil inside one and he was able to support and advise the little girl. Ulvhedin and Ingrid became great friends, and Ingrid many a time trudged down to Elistrand to ask Ulvhedin, who was twenty-four years her senior, for advice. It was not that she wanted to be nasty or bad, she would explain, it was just that every now and then all the evil in the world would roam around inside her. And whenever that happened it was good to get some reassurance from Ulvhedin that it was possible to fight off the evil with time.

Many of the elders talked a great deal about Sol – and Alv had to go down to Linden Avenue and make comparisons with the portraits there. There was no trace of Sol’s little cat-shaped face in Ingrid’s. Ingrid had enormous, amber-coloured eyes and dark brown eyelashes, a small nose and a wide mouth with exceptionally nice teeth. The little fawn-like feature that made the corners of her mouth turn upward was something she had inherited from her father, Alv. There was a streak of recklessness in her wild eyes and about her lips, but on the whole, her face was more classic than Sol’s. They were both very beautiful to look at.

It was the inner similarity between the two that Alv feared the most. It was alarmingly close.

Behind Sol’s cheerful madness, she had been deeply unhappy. Oh, how Alv wished with all his heart that his only child, Ingrid, would not suffer the same fate as Sol.

But the danger was there.

What frightened them most were all the stories of how Sol would so unscrupulously take the lives of anyone who stood in the way of the Ice People. Alv and Berit put all their energy into bringing up their little girl. They tried to teach Ingrid the difference between right and wrong, yours and mine; they tried to make her understand that other people had feelings just as she did. If she treated someone unfairly, that person would get just as upset about it as she would if it had been done to her. Both parents based their upbringing of Ingrid on the biblical command, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you!” and they hoped that she would gain the ability to identify with the feelings of others.

Whether or not they had succeeded was, in the beginning, difficult to determine. Ingrid would do the most awful things. Like letting all the horses loose on the oat fields to give them a better life, or announcing to one of the area’s most distinguished ladies when she called that her mother, Berit, was not at home, because Ingrid knew her mother could not bear the lady in question. It was a little embarrassing, then, when Berit suddenly appeared in the hallway.

But with time it dawned on Ingrid’s parents that their daughter’s mad behaviour derived purely from love. She glowed with love for all the animals and humans she cared about. What they called naughtiness was an expression of sorrow and disappointment, a kind of defence. If she was slapped in the face for doing something she wanted revenge because she couldn’t fathom how those she cared for so ardently could actually strike or punish her.

Exactly why she conjured up those detestable things in her mother’s porridge, she did not quite understand herself. Maybe she was just giving her mother a taste of her own medicine? Or else she was so deeply hurt that she wanted to draw attention to herself, but it had come out in an awkward way. That she had torn her mother’s fabric to shreds was an expression of her childish impudence but also a fierce jealousy towards the weaving that took up so much of her mother’s time. That and many similar actions showed that she really didn’t understand what her parents meant about there always being a human context and human feelings connected to material things. She had simply been gripped by a wild urge to destroy her rival, which was the weaving. The extreme consequences of her actions, her mother’s sorrow and bitterness over the fact that a meticulously handmade piece of material had been ruined, was not something Ingrid had taken into consideration.

Whenever her troll-like mood got too wild, she would usually take one of the horses from the barn and ride around the fields as if under a thundercloud. Then people would say, “It looks as if the young lady from Graastensholm is riding out the storm again.”

At other times, Ingrid could be infinitely sweet, which would make her parents really proud of her: they would tell one another that now she had surely got over her need to use witchcraft.

Until the next incident.

She was the spitting image of Sol, but they didn’t realize it because they had never met Sol.

Villemo, who closely resembled both Sol and Ingrid, had been more fortunate. She was not cursed, but she had been chosen. She had been granted the gift of logical thought. Sol’s and Ingrid’s way of thinking was often very irrational.

The servants at Graastensholm quickly learned to stay friendly with Ingrid. And she responded to their friendliness through gentle and sweet devotion, so her upbringing ended up being more or less harmonious. (Of course, there were a few minor incidents hardly worth mentioning, like the time the new farmhand ventured to pat the pretty young girl on her behind. The next moment he found himself in the pigsty covered with mud. How he had landed there he never quite understood, even though he wondered about it for the rest of his life. He was, by the way, kicked out of Graastensholm two days later.)

But then there was the issue of Ingrid’s great intelligence going to waste. Jon at Elistrand was happy to study with her, but he was unable to keep up with the speed of her progress. She would read and pore over all the books and maps at Graastensholm through and through. The same thing happened at Elistrand. The only learned person in the village, the priest, now gave Ingrid a wide berth because he told himself she asked so many stupid things. That is to say, the priest was not always sure how to answer her, which was not something he cared to admit!

By the time Ingrid turned seventeen she was impatient and dissatisfied with her education. Were all other people equally stupid? Was there really no one who could answer all her questions? Her dissatisfaction made her irritable and temperamental, and her development was going in the wrong direction. She started experimenting with witchcraft on her own as an outlet for her great mental capacity.

And then Alv took the drastic step of mentioning the old treasure of the Ice People. However, he did it with great trepidation because he knew of the fire that could be ignited in the heart of those who were cursed once they heard about it.

“Ever since my father, Niklas, died, the treasure has been buried and hidden,” he told Ingrid, in a very serious tone. “It was actually Ulvhedin who was supposed to have held it after Niklas, but Ulvhedin was strong enough to say no. He knew of the enormous temptation that these magical resources present to those who are cursed, and he wanted to continue his quiet, peaceful life with Elisa and his family.”

Alv looked on with horror as he saw his daughter’s eyes start to shine like small greedy flames. “Where is the treasure now?”

“I am not going to tell you. But according to the laws of lineage, you are the one who is to inherit it. Up until now, if it has been determined that an individual who is cursed is not worthy of having the treasure in his or her possession, he or she has been stripped of their right to own it.”

“But, I want it, I want it!” Ingrid shouted, terrified. “I promise I will be good. I will show you that I am worthy of having the treasure.”

And so that is how it went. For a full, long year, Ingrid was a little angel whom everyone fervently loved. She never even mentioned her desire for more lessons. She was exemplary.

In the meantime, Dan Lind of the Ice People was having a much better time in Sweden. He too was gifted with an exceptional brain, but he was allowed to use it. He was eighteen years old and could hold his own easily with Sweden’s greatest scientists. He was down-to-earth and logical, sharp and clear, though without much understanding of the emotional world. His parents had selected a girl for him and he had accepted that. He would take anyone, as long as she was sweet and proper and domestic, and not too loud in her manner.

It so happened that Olof Rudbeck the Younger asked Dan to make a study of mountain flora, because the great man had so many other projects and did not have time to do it himself. On a sudden impulse, Dan asked whether he might just as well study the Norwegian flora as the Swedish, because he had roots in Norway and wanted to visit his distant relatives. Olof Rudbeck agreed to that, so young Dan was supplied with an impressive list of the plants he was to gather. He was also welcome to find new and unknown ones. His marriage plans were put on ice. Dan left his parents, Tengel the Young and Sigrid, and his grandmother and grandfather, Villemo and Dominic.

The year was 1715, and no one in the family yet knew of Vendel Grip’s fate. He had disappeared in Russia many years before, and no one expected to see him again, but in fact at that very moment he was in the land of the Yurak-Samoyeds in the coldest part of Siberia, where he was fighting a mental battle with the strong-willed shaman woman, Tun-sij.

Dan Lind of the Ice People took his time getting to Norway. He took the opportunity to visit other researchers on the way so it was a long time before he reached Graastensholm. He thought about his farewell with his indomitable grandmother, Villemo, with much amusement. She was no longer young and he had playfully asked her to stay alive until he returned. She had just laughed and answered that she and Dominic intended to grow very old together. And when they thought that they were no longer of any use in this life, they would die at the same time. That was what they had decided. Because if one died, the other one would not be able to go on living. A deep bond like the one his grandparents had was something Dan also hoped to experience some day, he thought. But for the moment he was fully focused on the world of science.

It took him an entire winter to work his way though Sweden. There were so many people who wanted to talk with him, and he wanted to talk with as many of the great men he met as he possibly could. He took a detour by way of Skara in order to greet his friend, Emanuel Swedenborg, or Swedberg, as he was still called back then. Emanuel’s father was Jesper Swedburg, Bishop of Skara and a very pious and strict man of the church. Emanuel was more liberal and had ideas about the spiritual world that interested Dan. He claimed that he was able to have long conversations with angels and spirits and thus interpreted the Bible in a way that not everyone approved of. He studied maths, astronomy and medicine and was a very intelligent man; unfortunately he also had a lot of jealous colleagues who talked about him behind his back and threw mud at him.

“I am sitting here writing a letter to one of my best friends,” he confided with bitterness to young Dan. “May I read to you some of what I have written?”

“Please do,” Dan answered.

Emanuel began: “The man who is free and independent and who has a name that is known abroad, nonetheless remains up here in the dark where, on top of the darkness, it is also freezing cold, where the Furies and the envious and Pluto live and administer all the awards and prizes of distinction.”

Dan had to admit that Emanuel’s fate was unfair. However, Emanuel would gain advancement in time, although that would be far into the future.

Dan’s expedition to the Norwegian mountains to collect plants appealed greatly to Emanuel and they had long talks about it, both being men of science. But finally Dan managed to get away.

When he at long last reached Graastensholm he had turned nineteen, and it was summer again.

It was on that day that Ingrid was standing at the top of the tower enjoying the lightning flashes from the thunderstorm. She was eighteen years old and had already had her first suitor. This was not something that really interested her that much, but she was grateful for the fact that men wanted her and she, in turn, would draw them into her all-embracing love. Though not to the extent that she actually intended to marry any of them. Except for one. He was the youngest son on a farm south of Graastensholm Parish. Ingrid had left the possibility open. She would think about it, she said, and her parents had hoped for the best. He was a good boy and they wanted to see Ingrid happily married, and since she had been behaving herself so well of late they felt it would be safe to leave her in the care of a man.

But then Dan came along ...

He came galloping on his horse into the courtyard, hurrying to avoid the thunderstorm and the threat of pouring rain. Suddenly he caught sight of a strange figure up on the tower. She was wearing white garments, and against the background of the blue-grey thundercloud he could clearly see that she was stretching her arms up towards the sky.

“She’s mad,” Dan thought. “It’s completely crazy for anyone to be standing out there now!”

At the same time, he could not help a sneaking feeling of admiration for such a reckless act of courage. He quickly handed his reins to a servant who came running out, grabbed hold of his bulky packs and ran inside. He was given a warm greeting by Alv and Berit.

“How wonderful it is to see you again, Dan! Your father Tengel wrote to tell us that you were on your way but it is quite a long time since we received his letter.”

“Yes, I took my time getting here.”

“How big you have grown! You were nothing but a little boy last time we saw each other. But we recognized you easily. You look like your grandfather, Dominic.”

They did not say what they were actually thinking: that Dan had grown into an immensely handsome man, big, tall and strong in physique. His face was perhaps a little too distinctive to be called handsome, but it was very masculine with its dark colouring and look of strict seriousness.

Berit interjected, “Oh, Ingrid should have been here to bid you welcome. We are worried, you see. She’s vanished and we’re afraid that she might have been frightened of the thunderstorm and gone off to hide somewhere.”

“Your daughter is standing at the top of the tower, worshipping the thunder gods,” Dan said dryly. “She seems to be enjoying it to the full.”

“Yes, we should have guessed as much,” Alv murmured as he rushed up the stairs.

He came back down again with a gruff, fatherly grip on Ingrid’s upper arm. Her eyes were glowing with excitement and joy.

Good God, Dan thought. She looks fantastic! How fascinating.

“Hello, Dan,” Ingrid cooed with a rather shameless smile. “Father said you had arrived. You’ve managed to bring the storm with you, I see.”

“Well, at the moment it is not so much a storm as it is pouring rain,” he smiled back. “I suppose it’s not so easy to frighten you if you can bear to stand up there in this kind of weather.”

A crash of thunder practically made the whole house shake.

“I was only trying to understand what thunder is,” she explained when the noise had subsided. “I don’t believe that rubbish about it being God’s punishment for all the sins committed by the people of this parish.”

Dan grew excited. “Actually I have learned a great deal about thunder ...”

“You have? Such as what?”

They went on talking eagerly as they entered the living room. Dan’s scientific explanations were perhaps not entirely accurate – humanity had not yet solved the riddle of electric power – but they were more logical than the traditional superstition that reigned in the area. Ingrid was enchanted by his words and had no problem following his train of thought. He had tears in his eyes from sheer joy at having the opportunity to share his ideas on these topics with another person. Alv and Berit looked at one another as they followed them. Finally, Ingrid had found her equal.

“It’s a shame that they live so far away from one another,” Alv said.

“Yes, it is too bad that –” Berit stopped herself and her husband concluded the sentence, “– that they are both of the Ice People? And that all four grandparents on their fathers’ sides were of the Ice People. That is much too big a concentration of them.”

“Yes, and Ingrid has, strictly speaking, been promised to someone else.”

“I have heard that the same is true of Dan. He is to marry as soon as he returns home. Well, it would never have worked out anyway. But think of the children they would have had, if things had been more normal, I mean. At any rate, it’s nice that Ingrid has a friend to talk to. The rest of us are simply too inadequate to keep up with her.”

The two young geniuses of the Ice People did not hear them. They were completely absorbed in their own conversation. Dan was greatly surprised by all the intelligence to be found behind Ingrid’s beautiful forehead.

And Ingrid? She glowed like the sun.

That evening the entire family set out for Elistrand along with their guest.

After an evening meal that had been put together very quickly, they all sat in front of the fire and talked. It was still raining, which meant that it was cold enough to light the fire even though it was early summer.

“Can I be allowed to join Dan on his expedition in the mountains?” Ingrid asked.

“Have you entirely lost your mind, child?” her mother Berit exclaimed. “That would be a pretty sight, would it not? Just what do you think your future husband would think of a girl who travels around studying plants?”

Dan leaned forward and looked into Ingrid’s eyes, which reflected the yellow glow coming from the fire.

“You see, Ingrid, I have another plan, too. That’s why I wanted to go to the Norwegian mountains. An utterly dangerous plan ...”

“Please tell us more about it,” said Tristan, who was sitting next to his considerably younger wife, Marina. They were an unlikely couple yet apparently happy, each on their own terms.

Dan became excited. Even though he had not seen these people since his childhood, being with them made him feel at home. Their blood was his blood, too.

“You see, I have studied my grandfather Mikael’s books about the Ice People. And there was something that struck me ...”

By this time everyone had grown interested. Tristan, who was the oldest of those present, said, “You must bear in mind that those stories are somewhat incomplete. There is hardly any mention of the first period in the Valley of the Ice People.”

“I know that,” Dan nodded. “But I intend to pick up a loose thread that it seems no one else has thought of before.”

“And what is that?” asked young Jon, the son of Elisa and Ulvhedin. He and Bronja seemed inseparable. They sat so close together that sticking a knife blade in between them would have been impossible.

“Have none of you ever given any thought to what has happened since? With Tengel the Evil, I mean.”

Now Ulvhedin’s eyes began to glow in the semi-darkness. His terrible face grew even more grotesque in the glow of the fire, and the fact that he had a beard did not make him look any less demonic. Slowly, he said, “You mean, after Tengel the Evil had raised the Prince of Darkness?”

“Well, we actually know a lot about that. But his death is not mentioned anywhere. Where is his grave?”

There was silence.

“Well,” said Jon, “I assume it is in the cemetery in the Valley of the Ice People.”

“At the cemetery,” Tristan snorted. “Not Tengel the Evil! And not at the place where he buried the pot.”

“We can’t be sure of that,” Ingrid said with relentless logic. “Because that place remains unknown to us all.”

“That’s right,” Dan nodded. “At least until Kolgrim, and before him possibly Sol, stumbled upon it. Believe me, there was no one in Tengel the Evil’s time who was familiar with it. So where is he buried?”

“Maybe he went to the place where the pot was buried in order to die there,” Ulvhedin suggested.

Dan agreed. “I have also considered that possibility. So I intend to find it and see if that was the case.”

“You’re mad!” Alv exclaimed. “You mustn’t do it! You would be exposing yourself to mortal danger! Particularly since you are not one of the cursed.”

“I am not so convinced of that. On the contrary, I think it would provide a certain amount of protection because only those who are cursed are actually able to see Tengel the Evil. But of course I could take Ingrid and Ulvhedin with me.”

“Yes!” Ingrid shouted.

“You can just forget that,” Alv interjected.

Tristan stirred a little. “Why do you want to find his grave, Dan?”

The young scientist grew serious. “Because I desperately want to make sure that he does, in fact, actually have one.”

“You mustn’t say that!” Elisa gasped.

Dan turned towards her. Elisa’s big, childish eyes were pitch black in sheer horror.

“I think he has a grave, Elisa, but I just want to be absolutely certain. And to read him the Lord’s blessing.”

Several of the others in the room took a deep breath. Dan had touched on a subject from which they all tended to recoil. They all knew that there were at least two among them who did not accept the Christian Church.

“I didn’t think you were religious, Dan,” Ingrid said curtly, with a touch of disappointment in her voice.

A quick smile spread across Dan’s face. “As a scientist I must confess that every now and then I ask myself a number of blasphemous questions. And Grandma Villemo was not the right person to bring me up in that regard. But my mother, Sigrid, has a faith that is deep and warm and that has influenced me. Let’s just say I am an agnostic. I neither believe nor deny as long as nothing has been proven.”

Ingrid, who loved to discuss things, leaned forward and said with eagerness, “So what you mean is that you at least intend to make an attempt to say God’s word over Tengel the Evil.”

“Well, it certainly can’t do any harm.”

“I am not so sure of that,” Tristan said with scepticism. “You must bear in mind that you are not dealing with secular powers. Tengel the Evil has access to a tremendous force – if it’s true, that is, that he entered a pact with the Devil.”

“Oh my,” Berit said. “It seems to me you are talking about solely imaginary things as though they were real.”

Tristan gave her a serious look. “They are real, Berit! I have seen figures from the mythological world being conjured into life. Ulvhedin knows it too. He was the one who conjured the bogmen to life in Denmark. After that experience I believe wholeheartedly in all the myths about Tengel the Evil.”

Ingrid jumped up eagerly, “I know what we’ll do! We’ll take the magic treasure of the Ice People with us, Dan, Ulvhedin and me, and we will abolish the curse once and for all!”

Frantic exclamations of “Stop! Stop!” flew around the room. Ingrid’s suggestion was cut down so decisively that she sank back down onto the bench, crestfallen.

Only from one corner did her suggestion receive any interest. Ulvhedin’s eyes shone with a thoughtful lustre, and a smile played about the corners of his mouth, which made her shudder slightly.

“Enough of that,” Alv said. “We all wish to be free of our inherited curse, but not under any circumstance is my only daughter going to dig that pot up! We have already lost far too many youthful lives in the lineage.”

The others fell silent. Their thoughts went out to Vendel Grip, who had vanished in the vast country of Russia. They did not know that at that very moment he was in Arkhangelsk, suffering in a dungeon. But his experiences have already been related, and some years were still to pass before the clan would receive word of him.

The only thing they knew was that his mother, Christiana, was alone in Scania, grieving over the unknown fate of her son. His grandmother Lene shared in that grief.

Tristan was probably the person in the room who took Vendel’s disappearance most to heart. Lene was his sister and Christiana his niece.

The conversation turned to more everyday matters, but there were two in the group who did not partake in the conversation. Two brains had started to devise plans.