Читать книгу The Ice People 14 - The Knight - Margit Sandemo - Страница 8

Chapter 3

However hard young Marina tried to screw up her eyes, she just couldn’t forget the horrible experience in the armoury.

He was probably downstairs in the ballroom. Oh, God, please let him stay there all evening! Please let him not come up here!

The armoury ... Was it a week ago now? Maybe longer, she couldn’t remember.

“It’s dark in here,” she had said. “I can’t see any...”

“Wait a moment and then you’ll see,” he had whispered back.

A few of the weapons clanked as they walked past. “Look where you’re going,” Ruckelberg had whispered.

“Uncle Paul ... Wouldn’t it be better if we went back? They’re bound to be looking for me.”

He had stopped. She could smell the warm reek from his body; she accidently touched his silk waistcoat and could feel his fat body inside. She quickly drew back her hand; she felt nauseous and scared.

“Wait,” he had whispered, aroused, impatient, and then she could hear how he was busy with his clothing and now he was breathing in that intense, heavy way once more.

Marina didn’t want to think about it; she swallowed and trembled, feeling the tears drip over her nose as she lay on her side, but the memory about it was stronger than everything else.

He had searched for her hand.

“Put your hand here,” he had whispered in a quavering voice, and his hands, which were shaking and smooth with warm sweat, had led her hand in the right direction. Marina was forced to take hold of something that was warm and big, and she didn’t understand it. She tried to pull her hand away, but he had it in a firm grip, almost desperate. “This is what a man is like. Can you feel it? Isn’t it nice and big?”

Marina had felt the nausea rise in her; she moaned and tried to break loose, but he had her hand in his, forcing it to move the way he wanted. He moaned and hissed so that Marina thought he would die – and finally she had managed to break loose; she heard his disappointed exclamation as she ran out of the armoury. She almost stumbled in her eagerness to get away. But he hadn’t followed her, he had just stood there, as if he was unable to move. All she heard was his heavy breathing, then she was out in the corridor.

She was too scared to go to bed that evening. She had sat by the window and had fallen asleep there. She hadn’t said a word to anybody, because Uncle Paul had said that Mum had done something that he would tell the King about, and then Mum would lose her head if Marina wasn’t nice to him. So how could she tell?

He hadn’t come to her room the following night. And no matter how much Marina asked her mother if she could sleep in her bedroom, she wasn’t allowed to because it might make her father cross. Dad had smacked Marina several times and Mum wouldn’t run the risk again, so she asked Marina to please understand.

But the armoury was just the beginning. A few evenings later he came to Marina’s bedroom again.

“No, no,” she cried in despair.

“Be quiet. Do you want the executioner to come and take your mother away? But I can keep quiet,” the count had whispered. “Don’t be afraid. You don’t have to touch me if you don’t want to. All you have to do is lie still.”

“I want to go to my Mum.”

“She’s asleep. The whole castle is asleep. Just lie still; nothing will happen. Uncle Paul just wants to pat you a bit.”

Marina lay there, stiff as a board, trembling all over and with a sense of having been let down by life while he put his hand down under the blanket and touched her breasts. He groaned with delight.

“Please stop it,” she asked quietly.

“I shan’t put my hand there if you don’t like it,” he said in a velvety voice. “Everything for the little doll!”

Then he moved his sweaty hands farther down. They glided over her skin, down to the most secret place in the world! And Marina had screamed heartrendingly from humiliation and anxiety ... Then he had slapped her hand and left.

The memory was too horrible for her and she put her hands to her ears to keep it out, but she was unable to do so.

Hildegard woke to many people buzzing around her, trying to get close. The heat, the humidity, the stickiness in the air with so many people around her ... where was she and what had happened?

A voice said a few words that cut through her. It came from the back of the crowd:

“She won’t live long.”

A soft, kind voice answered: “Please don’t speak about things you know nothing about in the presence of the invalid.”

It was a man’s voice. Hildegard liked what she heard, so that the tears that had been about to fall after the first, cold words were replaced by tears of gratitude.

The strong arms of several people lifted her. She wanted to protest and say that her skirts were riding up so that she looked ridiculous, but she wasn’t up to it.

Now it had happened; she had fainted in public.

“Where’s her husband, where’s Prince Jochum?” another voice shouted; she recognized it as the Queen’s voice.

The cold voice replied: “He disappeared with Miss Lottie, of course.”

Now the kind voice was irritated. “Can’t you see that she’s come round? Was that really necessary?”

The cold woman’s voice became shrill. “I won’t be chastised by a halberdier!”

A halberdier? Her halberdier?

Hildegard wasn’t concerned to find out the owner of the cold voice. There were so many of them at court.

They laid her on a sofa. It was quieter here. Cooler.

Servants came running with a stretcher. The Queen gave orders.

“Carry the princess to her room! No, not through the ballroom. Use your common sense!”

They had to walk a long way. The stretcher swung. She still didn’t have the strength to open her eyes.

Somebody walked next to the stretcher all the way. Quiet and soothing. Heavy, firm steps, the creaking of boots.

“The shame ...”

“This is no shame, Princess!”

Her face showed fatigue and bitter despondency; she could feel it. Her tears were stuck on her eyelashes in this terrible, grotesque face that she couldn’t accept. She managed to lift her arm to cover her horrible face. A deep sob of despair about everything escaped her. She hadn’t wished it, but she wasn’t able to hold it back.

A strong hand was placed on her shoulder for a moment. Hildegard searched for the hand and found it – or rather, it found hers. She clung desperately to the big, strong, comforting hand.

“Please don’t leave me,” she whispered, ashamed of being so weak but unable to take any more; she just couldn’t cope any longer. “Do please stay with me! I don’t know you; I don’t know what you look like, but your heart is in the right place. That’s a rarity here.”

He was silent for a little while, then he said slowly: “You know very well who I am. We caught sight of each other in the hall.”

“The halberdier?” she said nervously.

“That’s right. Margrave Tristan Paladin at your service.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you for your help!”

It was difficult to define what this help had consisted of. But Hildegard and Tristan Paladin knew quite well what it was about.

Margrave! That wasn’t so bad, Hildegard thought to herself. So he was a true nobleman then.

The draught in the corridor died away; they had reached her room.

The servants placed her on the bed and summoned the chambermaid. The chambermaid said: “What now! Again?” She didn’t realize that Hildegard was awake. “She does nothing but faint!” Tristan’s voice wasn’t sharp, but nevertheless the rebuke was stronger than if he had shouted: “First, you are not to refer to the princess as ‘she’ but as ‘Her Highness’. Second, how dare you adopt such a disrespectful tone? The princess is very sick – are there no others who can attend on her?”

Hildegard could almost hear the chambermaid’s surprise, when she saw the handsome halberdier in the room. And to be rebuked by him!

“There are two of us who take it in turns,” the girl said in a far nicer tone than she had ever used when speaking to Hildegard. “Of course, I’ll attend to Her Highness as well as I possibly can.”

“That’s not necessary,” the noble helper said. “Just stay in the outer room with the door open so that no evil gossip reaches Her Highness. I’ll stay with her this evening.”

Thank you, Hildegard thought. From my heart! His slightly archaic and formal language touched her. It was as if she had been taken back to the era of chivalry.

The chambermaid left after showing him what he might need while nursing Hildegard.

It was so wonderful to feel the comforting hands place the blanket over her. To feel the way he lifted her head to give her a cup of water to drink.

“You’re much too kind, Margrave Paladin,” she whispered weakly. “I shouldn’t have fainted like that ...”

“Now, now,” he said in a soothing, almost humming, voice. “What does the physician say about these dizzy spells?”

“He doesn’t know what causes them. He just talks about my sick blood. But bleeding doesn’t help at all – on the contrary, it just makes me weaker. I normally don’t look like this,” she added quickly. “Actually, I’m quite slim ...”

“I understand. I was wondering ...”

He was silent.

“What are you wondering about, Margrave?”

“Oh, nothing. I know too little about you.”

Hildegard could feel that she was beginning to feel better. “And I know nothing about you. Her Majesty said that you’ve lost all your family?”

“My family is here in Denmark. But I have a sister and her small family in Scania. Beside them, a crazy cousin in Stockholm – but the rest of my relatives live in Norway. They’re known as the Ice People, and they were the ones I was thinking about a moment ago.”

Finally, Hildegard felt able to open her eyes. Tristan Paladin sat on a chair, at a fitting distance from her bed, but near enough for him to obey her smallest request. Close up, he was even more charming. A fine face, gentle without being effeminate, deeply sad, even when he smiled. No, gentle was the wrong expression. Sensitive. Yes, sensitive was the right word, because his features were definitely masculine, though without seeming coarse. His hair was thick and curly and probably his own, at a time when most men wore thick wigs. His dark eyes were very beautiful.

“What was it you wanted to say about your relatives in Norway?”

They were interrupted as Prince Jochum entered the outer chamber. Tristan rose immediately.

But Prince Jochum didn’t come into the room. “What are you doing here, my little girl?” he chatted to the chambermaid. “What’s this I hear about my wife fainting again?”

“Yes, Your Highness. Right in the ballroom.”

“That’s what I heard,” the Prince grunted. “There’s no end to her exhibitions. She loves to humiliate me. But why are you out here?”

The chambermaid lowered her voice so all they heard was his answer:

“What? A halberdier in her room? Well, I never ...

Who is it?”

The chambermaid said something else.

The Prince snorted. “What, that poor impotent soul! Well, I’m happy for him to be at her beck and call as much as he pleases,” he finished with a laugh. “Nobody can be offended by him visiting her! Greet my wife and tell her that I’m retiring to my own room now.”

His steps retreated. He slammed the door as he left.

Tristan Paladin had turned very pale.

“Please forgive my husband,” the princess said, ill at ease. “He’s been drinking heavily all evening.”

Everything was quiet.

A little later, she said cautiously: “So what he implied is true then?”

Tristan came to his senses, drawing a deep breath. “Yes, I’m afraid so. But I don’t understand how anybody ... The physician who treated me long ago must have been indiscreet. That wasn’t pleasant to hear.”

“That everyone in the castle knows about it? I can well understand. Was it a ... war wound?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Tristan answered yes.

The princess, who had recovered by now, said lightly: “Do you know, I wouldn’t take that gossip so much to heart. I think it adds an aura of mystique and excitement. There must be many women who’d like to see whether they’re sufficiently attractive to make you get over your slight infirmity.”

Tristan smiled. “You’re much too kind. But it wasn’t me we were speaking about.”

“No. You were about to tell me about your relatives.”

“That’s right. I’d hate to give you false hope; that would be awful, which is why I hesitated to speak about it.”

She raised herself on her elbows. “Now you are making me curious.”

“The thing is that the Ice People are a peculiar lot. I myself am perfectly normal; I haven’t inherited their peculiar traits ... I fear you won’t believe me if I tell you about them, but I’ll do so nevertheless. There’s a strong vein of medical knowledge and healing powers in my clan.”

The princess leaned closer. Her face wore an almost yearning expression now.

“No, no,” Tristan said dismissively. “I don’t want to raise your hopes. Those of my relatives who have these abilities live in Norway. There’s also my crazy cousin, Villemo, in Sweden, but she’s not a medical expert; she has a different expertise, and heaven knows what that is. But I do have a cousin who has healing hands ...”

“Oh, please bring her here, for heaven’s sake!”

“Him, it’s a man! That might not be possible, but I’ve thought of something else ...”

“What?” Princess Hildegard’s eagerness almost frightened him.

“I learned a lot, almost involuntarily, during the times I visited my family in Norway. And I’ve a vague recollection of some herbs they spoke of.”

Princess Hildegard had seized his arm with an intensity that couldn’t be good for her. “Herbs? For heaven’s sake, Margrave, please try to remember what they are! I ask you not for my own sake, because my life isn’t such a bed of roses that I wish to hang on to it at all costs. But I have a young daughter whom I’ve been forced to neglect quite a lot, which has hurt me enormously. I want to survive for her and see to it that she is all right. Do you understand me?”

Tristan Paladin looked down on her moon face. Her desperation showed vividly in her eyes, which were narrowed like two slits. Her face was a grotesque sight, and he understood only too well, what it must feel like to present herself in public like that.

“I don’t know much about your illness,” he said hesitantly. “But I might be able to do something about all the excess water in your body ...”

“Yes,” she moaned. “Please, do! What my physician says is my sick blood.”

“I can’t see that it has anything to do with your blood,” Tristan said, wrinkling his brow. “I’m not a medical scholar. All I remember is what my Uncle Mattias – he’s not the one with the healing hands; Uncle Mattias is just an ordinary physician – what he did for an old man with swollen feet.”

“Do you think you can find those herbs?”

“It shouldn’t be too difficult. But we must be careful not to offend the court physician.”

“Perhaps the best thing would be not to tell him?”

“That was exactly what I was thinking, Princess,” Tristan said.

“I suppose he’ll take the credit for it then?”

“That’s fine with me. But you’re not yet cured, Princess. I haven’t even found the herbs yet, so we shouldn’t anticipate our triumph. You shouldn’t even begin to hope!”

“I’ll do so anyway,” she said, leaning happily back on her pillows. “No, I’ll try not to. Anyway: I’ll pay you whatever it costs provided you’ll make the attempt!”

Tristan got up. He smiled. “If you start to talk about money or payment, I’m leaving!”

She looked at him dreamily. “What a strange man you are, Margrave! I’d no idea there were any idealists left at the Danish court!”

He held out his hand to say goodbye and she took it. “I’ll begin the search tomorrow,” he promised, kissing her hand.

Then he left. The princess followed him for a long time with her eyes. A new light now flickered in her tired eyes. I mustn’t hope, she thought over and over again. I mustn’t hope!

She folded her hands in prayer. “But God ... Nevertheless!”

Marina was in bed, still awake, listening anxiously. She knew that it was late. So maybe she would escape this evening. Her hope, her wish, was just as fervent as her mother’s, even if they prayed for entirely different things.

Uncle Paul had been there several times and she had been forced to promise not to say anything. The executioner was waiting for her mother if she gossiped.

Nevertheless, in her despair she had tried to make the grown-ups understand. That she needed their help. That she needed someone close by.

But they wouldn’t understand. She was a big girl now and she didn’t need anyone to keep watch over her at night!

Mum was the only one who understood her loneliness. But she couldn’t do anything without Dad intervening. Hildegard didn’t want Dad to slap Marina and Marina didn’t want him to hit Mum.

She saw him as nothing but a big bully.

But worst of all was Marina’s own bully, Count Paul Ruckelberg ...

Each time he had come to her bedroom he had gone one step further, and each time she had hated him with a strength that was increasingly dangerous. She was quite scared of herself when she considered what an enormous hatred she was capable of feeling.

During the day, she felt guilty. Could other people see that horrible, fat hands had been lying on her breasts; could they see that he had touched her unmentionable places? That she had put her hands around that horrible object, that one hand was barely capable of reaching around? That he ... No, she didn’t want to think of that! That stuff he wiped on her sheet.

Marina remembered with disgust and horror when he had touched a spot, so that a warm ticklish sensation radiated to her hips, and she almost seemed to like this horrible thing. She was filled with so much shame that she almost died, and she had slapped his horrible hand. This made Uncle Paul very cross, and he had said that he would tell the executioner. That she had slapped her nice uncle, who just wanted to make her happy.

Yesterday had been the worst of all. He had forced her to kneel on the bed. And he had snorted and moaned, but he had clearly not succeeded; he had muttered something about her being too small, and then he had given up trying whatever that was. Then he had forced her to do something else, which was so terrible that she would rather die if she ever had to try it again. She unconsciously grimaced, spitting out her objection. The evil memory. Never, never again!

Dry sobs, no tears, made her tremble. Who could she confide in? Without the executioner coming for her mother? She had seen him fetch a man in one of the corridors once. The man was so scared that he screamed, begging for his life, and Marina had been so small at the time that she hadn’t grasped the danger, and she had run over and tugged at the executioner’s clothes. “You mustn’t take him,” she had shouted, and then the executioner had turned towards her and she had seen his horrible eyes behind his mask, as he threatened her with his weapon. And Mum had come running and clasped her to her and said: “Are you crazy, Marina? You mustn’t defy the executioner!” Afterwards she had heard courtiers talking delightedly about how the man had lost his head and the blood had gushed, and Marina had been sick and Dad had rebuked her for doing so.

Marina lifted her head.

The castle was calm. The moon had wandered a long distance since she had gone to bed.

But perhaps ...? Perhaps he wouldn’t come tonight? God, have mercy upon me! God, let me sleep!

She couldn’t understand what Mum could have done wrong. Mum, who was so sweet! Anyway, Marina would certainly try to protect her!

If only she knew what time it was. She felt intuitively that it must be nearly morning because she had been awake for so long. There was a clock farther down the hall on the top floor. If only she dared to walk to it ...

But shouldn’t she be able to do that? It was in her bedroom that he was dangerous.

Resolute but so scared that she could hardly breathe, Marina crept out of bed and tiptoed to the door. She listened for a moment with her ear to the beautifully carved oak door, but everything was calm. She opened the door carefully and sneaked out.

The corridor was empty, dimly lit by lanterns.

She tiptoed towards the clock, but at that very moment it struck two.

Marina stopped. She need not walk right up to the clock. Two in the morning. Then he wouldn’t come. He couldn’t do that now.

She turned around feeling calmer, and started.

A man was walking from the other end of the corridor. For a shocking moment she thought that it was him, but then she saw the white halberdier’s cross over the man’s chest. He was much thinner than Uncle Paul and walked faster, and she thought that he was much younger.

“Oh, it’s a little night angel,” a kind voice said.

Marina stood still. Could it be that he ...? Were all men like that? Would he ...?

Although her father had taught her that she needed to curtsey only for kings and queens and that her rank was higher than everyone else’s – well almost, and certainly higher than the King’s halberdiers – she dropped a frightened curtsey.

He had walked right up to her. He seemed kind. So did Uncle Paul, but he was obsequiously kind and not genuine. This man standing before her wasn’t like that.

“Did you have a nightmare?” he asked compassionately.

“No,” Marina whispered. “I was just so frightened that somebody might come.”

“But surely you could have locked your door?”

“I haven’t got a key.”

She had to be careful and not say too much. You never knew. Maybe he was the executioner who had dressed up as a halberdier? No, the executioner had cruel eyes. This one had eyes that looked sad. Kind.

He looked about. “Which is your room?”

Marina pointed at her door.

The man immediately walked up to the door and felt with his hand over the doorframe. Marina had a burning desire to throw herself into his arms and tell him everything at dizzying speed, ask him to slap Uncle Paul, ask him to stay by her side all through the night, ask him to say that everything she had experienced so far was just an evil dream.

But she stood quietly beside him.

“They did that when I was a little boy,” he explained. “The servant girls. They hid the key so that I couldn’t sneak in to Mum and Dad. I was so terribly frightened of the dark, you see. But I knew where they normally hid the key. They locked me in. But tell me: do they forbid you to lock your door? See, I thought so.”

He held a wonderful, comforting sight in the shape of a key before her eyes. “You have a perfect right to lock the door if you’re scared. They ought to be able to understand that. What is it you’re afraid of? Ghosts?”“No,” Marina whispered with her head bent. “A man.”

Oh, she was just so frightened! She shouldn’t have said that!

“A man?” the kind man said in surprise. “Someone you’ve seen? And who you thought looked horrible?”

She pressed her lips tight because she was afraid of saying more. With a quick “Thank you” she snatched the key and disappeared into her room.

Tristan listened to hear her turn the key in the lock.

Twice, three times she tried the door, but it didn’t open.

He shook his head in dismay and walked on. These lonely children, he thought to himself. These thousands of children living in castles and on grand estates! Brought up with an iron discipline that the grown-ups would never dream of exposing themselves to!