Читать книгу The Ice People 14 - The Knight - Margit Sandemo - Страница 6

Chapter 1

“And don’t just stand there, looking miserable,” Prince Jochum of Riesenstein barked at his wife, slamming the door as he stalked out.

Princess Hildegard tried to calm down after the uproar. She heard her husband’s steps fading away through the halls of the Danish royal palace. Although he hadn’t said so, of course, she knew that he was on his way to his latest mistress.

Plenty of girls were willing. Prince Jochum could be very charming when he wanted to be.

He was a younger brother of the reigning prince of the small kingdom of Riesenstein; as his country’s ambassador to the Danish royal court he was very much aware of his privileged position. Hildegard, who had been born in the Balkans, wasn’t happy in cold Denmark, where chilly winds whistled around the street corners for more than half the year.

However, the main reason why she was unhappy was the inner frost she suffered from. She didn’t understand the language; she couldn’t show off by means of her youth, beauty or quickness of wit ... And she knew perfectly well what kind of shadow awaited her in the darkest corner. The court physician didn’t have to tell her; she could read it in his evasive glance. True, he had carried out quite a lot of blood-letting, but it hadn’t led to any improvement in her sick blood, as he called it.

Hildegard walked over to the mirror, looking miserably at her own reflection. She hated her own body so much! She had never been more than quite attractive, at best, but now everything seemed so bleak that all she wanted to do was weep.

What was the point of dressing according to the ever more diaphanous current fashions, with a low-cut dress and pretty, short silk sleeves and a delicate tulle veil, when she looked the way she did? She was 43, but had quite literally already finished with her life. She had to appear at the gala dinner this evening, but she didn’t know how she was to manage it. She made another attempt to tie the emerald green dress at the waist. In vain. Her whole body had swollen up with oedema. “Your sick blood ...” The horrible bags under her eyes almost seemed to make her eyes disappear. Her feet were sore and her limbs stiff. If she pressed the skin at her wrist, the finger would sink in, leaving a dimple that wouldn’t go away.

She had become unshapely, grotesque. None of her clothes fitted her any longer. Most of all, she just wanted to sleep, to be alone with her pain, but she had to stand by Jochum’s side. His Majesty King Christian V would be very offended if anyone didn’t attend on his birthday, so she had to sit there and receive the mocking, knowing looks from the ladies-in-waiting, the indifferent glances from the men, which merely swept lightly over her with pity and disgust. “This princess eats too much,” one of them had once said when he thought that she wouldn’t overhear. “She stuffs herself like a pig. But then, she has to comfort herself somehow while her husband has his flings behind the ladies’ silk curtain.”

And she who hardly ate anything!

And her husband? Most of the time, he acted as if she wasn’t sitting next to him at the table. If he spoke to her at all, it was usually to make mocking asides. He humiliated her openly – and all she could do was give a weak smile in response while her heart was bleeding from grief and powerlessness.

The door opened and her young daughter, Marina, came in. What a dishevelled little creature! Thirteen years old, with thin, wispy, tangled hair that defied any hairstyle, huge eyes and a mouth that always seemed frightened.

Marina, my dear little child, what’s to become of you when I’m no longer here? she thought, as she stooped to embrace the girl. Your father, who doesn’t want to acknowledge you because you’re not the son he had been wanting, what will he do with you? There isn’t room for you in his life.

“Well, little Marina,” she said as she stood up. “What have you been given for homework today?”

“Nothing.”

The young girl looked more frightened than ever. What had happened to her recently? She had been walking around like a shadow of herself. Did she know that soon she would be all alone in the world?

God, have mercy on my only child! Let her not live in loneliness in a foreign country as I do! Don’t let her father marry her off in such a calculated way as my parents married me to the brother of a hereditary prince!

While the girl sat down quietly on the window seat, asking for permission to be allowed to stay in the room, Hildegard thought back to the first time Jochum had courted her.

She had been so much in love with the elegant Prince Jochum of Riesenstein, and he had adored her. Maybe this was what hurt her the most now – the fact that he had once loved her.

It hadn’t been entirely a marriage of convenience in which no love was to be expected; in some ways that would have been easier. But seeing the passionate love in the eyes of the beloved die, turning to frosty cold and disgust in the humdrum of everyday life, was crueller than anyone could endure. It didn’t make matters easier to think, that this was a fate she probably shared with many of his discarded mistresses. She was the one he was married to, she the one he shared his life with. She was the one who had to accept this humiliation for a whole lifetime.

Anyway, it seemed her life would not be such a long one, and maybe she should regard this fact as a comfort.

No! Marina, she mustn’t forget Marina! For the sake of her daughter, Hildegard would have to live for as long as possible.

Hildegard knitted her brow as she changed into her very roomiest dress. Jochum’s latest affair had lasted a long time now. The young, self-centred Miss Kruusedige. Unlike most of his previous mistresses, she was single and she seemed to have got her claws into him.

Good heavens, she thought, when she saw herself in the mirror. I look like a haystack! Or a soldier’s tent. No, I can’t be seen like this!

She resolutely rang for the chambermaid for advice and assistance – from a girl who didn’t have the slightest respect for her, but simply smirked behind her back. Jochum had chosen her chambermaid. She was sweet and pretty. His hands had undoubtedly fondled her round derriere.

A fresh attack of dizziness was on the way. Hildegard quickly sat down on the bed, looking calmly at her daughter.

“I’m just a little tired. I just want to rest for a moment. Look in the top drawer over there! Maybe you’ll find some toffees.”

When the chambermaid entered, Hildegard just about managed to stammer out, that she had knocked the bell by mistake. The girl left again with a stifled snort. Then Hildegard fainted.

She was in the middle of it once more. Hell, as she called it: the noise all around her, the royal court holding a party, celebrating His Majesty. Oh, this language that was impossible to learn! Fortunately it was fashionable to speak French, in which Hildegard was fairly fluent. Except that nobody spoke to her.

She knew quite well why not: it was because she looked worse than ever. Her face was swollen so that no one could avoid noticing it, so people ignored her instead of trying to speak about something else.

They stood in groups in the great hall, cackling and laughing. Jochum had disappeared from her side, so she was by herself. People walked towards her and then turned away with shifty glances.

Tonight it was more obvious than ever before, this business of Miss Kruusedige. Jochum no longer made any attempt to keep the affair a secret. Now he bent over the lady’s hand, kissing it without taking his eyes off her. That was how he had kissed Hildegard’s hand once ...

The ladies-in-waiting looked at her out of the corners of their eyes, smiling to one another.

Oh, loneliness! Oh, terrible dance floor, so unreasonable large and intimidating even if it was full of people! Young Marina, her only friend in the world, had insisted on coming with her this evening; she had begged and begged with a strange anxiety in her eyes. But Hildegard had had to refuse, even if it hurt her greatly. There was no place for children at the banquet, nor at the ball afterwards.

She didn’t feel well. Could she go up to her room? No that would be a terrible insult to the royal couple, and she didn’t dare walk up to them and ask for permission to leave because she felt sick. Hildegard had never been keen to draw attention to herself.

Actually, her name wasn’t Hildegard at all. However, her real name had been too difficult to pronounce in Riesenstein, so she had been baptized Hildegard instead, just like that. She had quite liked the name at the time, because Jochum had chosen it, but now she would have liked to take back her own name, if only she had had the courage to object.

Jochum walked past her and hissed: “Do you have to stand there like a cow, watching my every move? Your dress is so tight, that it shows off the four or five rolls of fat around your waist. You look like something the cat dragged in! Couldn’t you at least cover yourself up with a shawl?”

Then he was off, addressing a witty remark to the Queen.

When Hildegard finally dared to look up again, she caught sight of someone looking at her. She started. She hadn’t seen such a gaze at court for many years. Compassion, empathy, a feeling of comfort and ease was being directed at her. It told her she shouldn’t feel so alone and let down. Someone was there for her. A friend, even if he couldn’t speak with her.

Hildegard felt warm and happy inside; her eyes brimmed with tears because she was just so surprised and pleased. She didn’t know the young man; he was one of the King’s life guards, a select group of strapping noblemen, who wore light blue uniforms, capes with red fronts and white epaulettes and paraded along the walls to provide security for the great feast.

He was a handsome young man, about thirty years old, dark and with sad eyes. He had a refined air about him, without appearing weak. Hildegard liked him straight away. But she never looked in his direction – it wasn’t a proper thing for a princess to do.

Now he was like an oasis in the desert for a lonely wanderer.

There was no more than that swift glance; their eyes met for only a second. But now Hildegard knew that he was there. That was enough. She felt strong again.

Young Marina had crept into her bed, listening with a pounding heart. She could vaguely hear the chambermaid snoring through the wall.

If only she could lock the door that led into the corridor. But this was something she wasn’t permitted to do. There was no key, and the chambermaid, the deaf old soul, had orders to come in and see to her, if necessary.

If it was necessary? Not once during the two years that she had been Marina’s chambermaid had she woken up from her noisy sleep to see to the girl. And Marina no longer dared to walk into the chambermaid’s room.

She had got the message. To begin with, she hadn’t understood why the old woman smelt so peculiar at night. But as she grew older, she realized that the chambermaid drank like a fish, after which she would snore all night long.

Marina had to put her chin over the edge of the blanket in order to breathe fresh air. She was still listening for the soft steps, when she remembered there was a party this evening. Everybody had to attend. Now she could sleep peacefully for a change.

Oh, God, please don’t let those soft steps drop by tonight. Please don’t let it happen again, I can’t take it!

For the past fourteen days, she had heard the steps. Then the door opened ever so carefully. The steps walked over to her bed.

The first night she had sat up in bed, puzzled. “Mum?”

“Quiet,” a voice had answered. “It’s only me, Uncle Paul.”

Uncle Paul? Oh, that old, fat Count Ruckelberg. What did he want here? With his greasy wig and his many chins, which wobbled when he turned his head. The protruding eyes, staring so horribly at her, the fat fingers that always rested on her knee.

“Here, Marina. Look what I’ve brought you. Chocolates made by the King himself!”

He wasn’t so terribly old. About the same age as Dad. Only he looked much older, fat and haggard as he was.

Marina had received the chocolates, saying a nice thank you, but he hadn’t left. He had sat himself at her bedside, whispering a lot of nonsense about what a sweet little girl she was, and how much he’d have loved to have a doll like her to play with, because he was so terribly lonely. He had patted her hair and her cheek, and she didn’t like that, and then he had finally left.

But the following night he appeared with more chocolates and said she wasn’t to tell anybody that he’d been there, because he was supposed to be on guard duty, and if anyone discovered that he had visited his little friend, he would be put in prison, and surely she didn’t want that, did she? That evening, he had poked his hand under the blanket, touching her shoulders and chest, and said that her skin was so nice and soft.

The following evening, he had placed his hand on one of her breasts and said that she was a grown-up girl now, gasping for breath so strangely that he sounded like a sawmill. Although she had been brought up always to obey what the grown-ups said without asking any questions, she had had the courage to ask him to stop it because she was scared, and then he had left.

The night after that, she didn’t want to go to bed; she had tried to stay with her mother, but she had been ordered to leave when Dad arrived. Then she had tiptoed along the corridors, while she could hear that her chambermaid was searching for her and calling her name. Then she had bumped into Uncle Paul, and she had tried to hide, but he had already seen her. He had lured her into the armoury; he said that there was something he wanted to show her. Marina wanted desperately to say no, but her father’s stern parenting weighed on her. You were always to do as the grown-ups told you, and be a nice, good-mannered girl. This had never been difficult before, because she had turned into a frightened child who never dared to say no. So all she could do was to enter the dark armoury.

No, she mustn’t think of the armoury and what happened in there! Think of Mum, who is downstairs in the hall; she is probably having a lovely time.

But deep inside, Marina didn’t think she was.

Poor Mum, who suffered so much pain! And Dad, who was so cruel to her, chastizing her, calling her a cow and a fat pig. Mum, who had been the prettiest lady in the whole world! This was before her face became so strange. Quite recently, Marina had heard her father bark something horrible at Mum: “I thought the King’s personal physician had told you that it was too late? Why cling to a useless hope? Surely it would be better to speed everything up, so that I can also have some joy in life. Lottie can’t wait forever.” Lottie was Miss Kruusedige, who sat looking in the mirror all the time. Marina knew that. Then Mum had said something about Marina in a low voice, and he answered: “I’ll take care of her, trust me.” Marina thought that it sounded so threatening, and she made herself as small as possible, so that they wouldn’t see her. “Don’t you understand that I’m the laughing stock of the entire Court?” Dad had shouted at Mum. “Having such a pig for my wife, who faints over nothing.”

Marina remembered that her mother had wept, although she had tried to conceal her tears. But Dad had heard anyway, which made him even more furious.

Poor Mum. Marina hoped that she was enjoying the ball.

Hildegard had managed to move back to the wall, where there weren’t so many people to look at her. She stood with her back against the wall, so that no one could see the roll of fat around her waist. Her dress squeezed and strained; a cold sweat seized her, and she wished that she could go upstairs and lie down. At the other end of the hall, Jochum was standing in a circle of admiring ladies. Hildegard saw that Kruusedige was there as well. Hildegard felt ashamed, and closed her eyes in complete despair.

“Well, Princess,” a voice said in French. “You seem to be in deep thought?”

She quickly opened her eyes and dropped a humble curtsey. The Queen stood next to her. The pretty, kind Queen Charlotte Amalie.“Come, let’s sit on my sofa for a while.”

Hildegard obeyed gratefully. She knew that the Queen would never mention her illness or Jochum’s string of affairs. These two women shared the same fate. Although King Christian had undoubtedly fulfilled his marital obligation, producing seven children, he also had five children with Sophie Amalie Moth, his long-time mistress. However, just like Hildegard, the Queen was outwardly discreet, never making a scene. The men counted on their wives’ total loyalty, which was why they could behave as they wished.

Apart from any of this, it was wonderful for Hildegard to have somebody to support her and not have to be on show, as if she were in the pillory.

“How is young Marina?” the Queen asked as they sat down.

“She’s well, thank you,” Hildegard replied. “But she’s such a shy girl, that I never know what’s on her mind.”

“Her father has taught her to be seen and not heard,” said the Queen. “I must admit that I think men are too hard on their children, but this was how we were brought up, and it didn’t harm us, did it?”

Really? Hildegard was already thinking back to her own severe childhood, which had seemed an uninterrupted succession of frosty days in the castle halls of her native country. Hadn’t it damaged her? Do this! Don’t do that! Surely it had damaged her?

But she muttered something in agreement.

They chatted a little about this and that at court. Hildegard enquired about the Queens children, which was a topic that they could talk about for a long time.

But as they talked Hildegard’s eyes searched through the hall ...

“Who’s that man over there by the door?” she asked during a pause when she feared that the Queen was about to leave her. “The halberdier with the sad, kind eyes? I seem to have seen him before, but I can’t place him.”

This was a lie but she couldn’t show that she was interested.

“You probably haven’t seen him, Princess Hildegard,” Charlotte Amalie said. “He’s been away from court for a long time. He lost his whole family and he had to manage his estate. Besides, you know how my husband’s reforms have affected the nobility. The old families had gained far too much power, so that most of them have had their privileges taken away ...”

The Queen fell silent and Hildegard didn’t dare to press on. All she could do was wait encouragingly.

She waited while the Queen followed His Majesty with her eyes. He was talking to a hefty, fat man with shining eyes like balls.

To her relief, the Queen resumed the conversation. “That is Count Ruckelberg, one of my husband’s new noblemen. I wouldn’t say that I care for him; he seems rather smooth, don’t you agree, Princess?”

Hildegard agreed.

The Queen continued lightly: “One shouldn’t speak ill of him. His morals are untarnished. Ruckelberg has never been involved in any scandal, his name has never been linked to any woman. All he is interested in are matters of state. An invaluable assistant, so my husband says.”

At length she returned to her point of departure: “But young Tristan Paladin has been allowed to keep his estate, Gabrielshus. Yes, he’s the halberdier you thought you recognized.”

“Yes, of course it’s Tristan Paladin,” Hildegard said, who had never heard his name mentioned before. “I thought I’d seen him somewhere before.”

The young man didn’t look in her direction, and Hildegard didn’t want him to either. She just wanted to remember his warm, compassionate glance. The glance that understood.

Tristan Paladin ... What a name. But it suited him. Hildegard suddenly felt that he couldn’t be called anything else.

The Queen apologized because she had other duties and Hildegard tried to get up and leave. She felt heavy like a hippopotamus ...

“No, do just sit down. You look tired, Princess! Do sit down for as long as you want. Have you had a physician come to examine you?”

“Yes, the court physician examines me regularly ...”

The Queen hesitated and Hildegard understood. She wanted to offer the King’s private physician, but she could not bring herself to say so. Because the court physician was the father of Sophie Amalie Moth, who had even been ennobled as Countess of Samsø. It couldn’t be easy for the Queen to mention the court physician’s name.

Hildegard came to the Queen’s assistance: “I’ll be fine, Your Majesty, but if I may sit here for a little while, I will gratefully accept your offer.”

“Fine, just sit there for as long as you wish,” Charlotte Amalie said. Her smile showed that she knew the two of them were in the same predicament.

Once the Queen had left, Hildegard thought how shoddy everything seemed. The dancing had begun at the other end of the hall, but Jochum was nowhere to be seen. Nor Miss Kruusedige, but this was only to be expected.

Jochum’s nervousness, his hectic restlessness and his furious attacks on her in recent days ...? Could Miss Kruusedige be pregnant?

A half-sister or half-brother for young Marina? Undoubtedly a half-brother because Miss Kruusedige would probably have sons. Only Hildegard would have a daughter.

Her heart was bursting with love for the little girl.

Was this why his need to give his mistress decent status was urgent?

Oh, bitterness. Your sobs are so unbearable!

The king ... Jochum ... The elegant noblemen who danced over there ... She recognized several of them and it wasn’t their wives they bowed so seductively towards.

Sleaze and indecency wherever you looked!

Her eyes briefly rested on Count Ruckelberg. Although he was repulsive to look at with his wobbly chins and stomach, he had at least one redeeming feature: his name had never been linked to any kind of immorality.

A few chambermaids, little more than children, whose job it was to light the fires in the morning, might have said something different if only they had had the courage to do so ...

At that moment Hildegard happened to turn round and caught the purest and saddest glance in the world.

Only for a brief second. But once more it was enough to make her calm and feel something that might be called happiness.

Tristan Paladin. The knight of sorrow. Hildegard began to imagine how he came to be so sad; she didn’t know anything of him, so she could only guess.

In the noisy, steamy hall that reeked of perfume and sweat, Hildegard felt calm at last. She leaned against the high back of the sofa and closed her eyes. Without realizing it, she sank into deep unconsciousness, and at first nobody noticed the state of the clumsy, unimpressive woman.