Читать книгу The Ice People 09 - Without Roots - Margit Sandemo - Страница 7

Chapter 2

There was a gloomy atmosphere at Anette and Mikael’s wedding.

Outwardly, everything was done to make the ceremony elegant and dignified. It was held at the palace chapel, although Anette had insisted on a Catholic priest. Like most members of the Ice People, Mikael’s relationship with Christianity was one of indifference, so for him it didn’t matter who married them. If it was important to Anette that he become a Catholic, then that was fine with him.

The chapel was beautifully decorated with flowers of the season and many members of the Court were present. The dinner afterwards was superb.

It was the couple’s inner turmoil that caused the gloomy atmosphere. It was true that children tended to obey their parents’ wishes when choosing a spouse, and none of those present had objected, but things had happened much too fast. The couple didn’t know each other, or what the other felt.

Mikael was to leave with his regiment the following day. He went through the ceremony in a trance, trying to act as if it was somebody else standing there by the altar, promising to love for better and for worse. After all, Mikael was nothing but a terrified boy of seventeen, which was something everybody seemed to have forgotten.

Anette was deeply unhappy for many, confusing reasons. She tried to act superior but didn’t at all like the fact that Mikael was so withdrawn and absent-minded. But wasn’t this to her advantage? If it was, what was she so angry about? She had no idea what she felt for him. He was a handsome young man but what about his personality? He was kind and polite, which were the only things she knew about him.

But he was a man after all and thus a pig! If only she knew what he thought of her. Although he had said that this was something he’d wanted for some time, Anette doubted him. Did he merely want her so that he could pursue his carnal pleasures? Or did he want her because of her noble descent and wealth? Or maybe he had said yes to the marriage because he had his back to the wall?

Whatever his reasons might have been, she was unable to shake off the heavy feeling of despondency. Maybe also disappointment?

She would like to know whether other young newly-weds felt the same way. What did they think on the greatest day of their lives? Were they full of anticipation, eager to make their spouse’s life as happy as possible? Did they think of the material advantages they would get? Or did they think of the wedding night and what it would be like spending it with somebody they didn’t know?

Anette knew perfectly well what her duty was and she was prepared to sacrifice herself, something her mother had impressed on her. You were not supposed to offer resistance on your wedding night because that would give the depraved the right to abuse his wife. Anette had to be prepared to suffer and hush up. But later... later she would be the one to wear the trousers.

Suddenly Anette felt that perspiration had made her palms quite sticky. Thinking of the night that lay ahead of her made her feel dizzy with fear and discomfort. But she must be brave and endure!

Mikael Lind of the Ice People sat grimly next to her, enduring all the congratulations, all the kindly encouraging glances and various ‘witticisms‘ about the night ahead. He and Anette had not had time to exchange one single word, which he felt was a disaster. Maybe a conversation would have created a touch of confidentiality and kindness between them? He stole a glance at her. She sat looking horribly pale by his side, displaying a trembling smile at the many toasts proposed in their honour. But she didn’t dare lift her head and meet his glance.

Maybe Mikael should have tried to take her hand under the table and squeeze it calmly. Only, he couldn’t. There was nothing binding them together. Should he leave her in peace tonight and spare her the mental pain which his proximity seemed to trigger? How could he know that it wasn’t the spiritual pain that Anette feared?

He kept pondering the issue. If he removed himself from the festivities it would just make matters worse, ultimately making her forlorn, forsaken and humiliated.

How on earth was he to survive all this? This night, this marriage? This new life?

All the noisy guests finally left. Marca Christiana had kissed Mikael on the cheek and congratulated him. Gabriel Oxenstierna had shook his hand, muttering something about a good match, and urging him to take good care of her... And then he and Anette were alone in her quarters where they were to stay for the time being.

She had kneeled for a long time in front of the picture of the Virgin Mary in a murmuring prayer he had not understood. Maybe he should have joined her in her prayers, but in his view that would have been too hypocritical.

There was silence, and a heavy atmosphere between them. Anette sat on the edge of a chair in her exquisite wedding dress, fiddling with a lace cuff that had come apart at the seam. Her hair had been skilfully put up with a pearly ribbon and a beautiful veil. Her waist was so narrow that he believed that he could reach around it with his hands. But he felt no urge to try.

Mikael was standing in the middle of the floor without really knowing what to do with himself. He took a few steps and then stood still again. The girl said nothing.

‘Let’s get it over and done with,’ she thought.

A few minutes passed by. Mikael understood that he couldn’t expect any help from Anette. He was the one who would have to take the initiative. But how? He was furious at her, at his foster parents and at himself because he had agreed to this like a sheep that just follows the flock. Then he blurted out:

“The problem is that we haven’t had a chance to talk with one another.”

His words hung like icicles in the room.

“Yes,” she whispered, clutching the handkerchief she had been holding in her hand the whole day.

‘But would that have helped?’ she wondered. Men are not interested in talking with women. She certainly knew that. They have only one thing on their mind.

He flopped despondently in a chair next to hers. “Well, then, let’s talk now!”

A tiny flicker of disbelief and relief could be detected in her chalk-white face. “About what? What would you like to know?”

Mikael was still angry. “First and foremost, would you prefer me to leave? Would you rather be on your own tonight?”

She started. This was something she hadn’t expected.

‘What does he want?’ she thought. But it was difficult to interpret anything from the serious expression on his face. Was he irritated? What had she done wrong? She was trembling with fear.

“No. You’re welcome to stay here,” she answered flatly. “If you want to.”

He did not say anything to that. “Then we’ll continue our conversation. Why did you agree to this ... arrangement?”

She looked up, frightened by the passion in his voice.

“Well, surely that goes without saying? I had no choice!”

“Well, thank you!” said Mikael ironically.

“No, oh dear. I didn’t it mean it in that way-”

“I understand. You don’t have to explain. I could say the same about myself.” Those words made her eyes open wide. They were like deep, deep wells. Mikael had never seen anybody look so wounded. He was touched. He bent forward to take her hands but merely got hold of her handkerchief, throwing it on the floor with a controlled curse. She tried to pull back her hands but he had gripped them.

“Anette,” he began, trying to sound kind but could sense how stiff his smile must have seemed to her. “Anette, if we’re to get through this, we have to be honest and sincere with one another.”

“But you said-” she whispered.

“I know perfectly well what I said. I said that this was something I had wanted for a long time.”

“So that’s not the truth after all?”

He was about to say, “I hardly know who you are” but when he saw how she tensed because she feared the words that were about to come, his heart melted, and he could not bring himself to tell the truth to her face.

“Yes, it was in some way,” he lied, seeing the relief in her face. It warmed his charitable soul. “I suppose I dreamed of finding a girl that I could share my life with sometime in the future. And I’d seen you – caught a glimpse of you and I thought to myself, ‘This petite girl... she might be one I’d consider. I wonder what lies behind her devout and somewhat coy appearance.’ But those are the only feelings I have for you.”

She lowered her head so that her veil fell forward and covered her temples.

“And you?” continued Mikael. “What do you make of me?”

“I...”

“Now please be honest! Hypocrisy won’t get us anywhere.”

And those words came from him?! He felt ashamed.

‘Honestly?’ she thought. ‘You’re a monster in a human body, with greedy fingers that want to grab me, lecherously and longingly!’

“I think you’re a handsome young man,” she said flatly.

‘Had that sounded slightly shameless?’ she wondered. ‘Perhaps too brash?’

“So you don’t harbour... any special feelings for me?” he asked.

‘Special? What did he mean by that? Immoral feelings? No, that was probably not what he meant.

She held his gaze for a moment. His eyes were beautiful, far too beautiful!

“No,” she whispered, ashamed.

“Well, now at least we know where we stand. Is there someone else you’re fond of, perhaps?”

“No, certainly not!”

“Nor me. So we’ll have to make the most of it, Anette. We’re not the first ones in history who’ve been mated by outsiders.”

The word ‘mated’ made her shudder, but she pulled herself together. “I’ve also been thinking about that,” she said in a slightly childish intonation. “About what others have felt and thought.”

“Finally, you’re showing a bit of your personality, Anette. Otherwise you seem completely nondescript.”

She nodded. She didn’t dare to look at his strong shoulders and his attractive mouth.

“Do you have regrets?” he said.

Anette twisted in her seat. After a nervous hesitation, she said, “Regrets? We aren’t the ones who are responsible for what’s happened. I’m trembling because I don’t know you. But when I think of the alternative...” She pulled herself together. “I know very well what’s expected of me tonight, and I’m ready for it. We must place everything in the hands of the Holy Mother of God. Do you have regrets?”

“I don’t know,” answered Mikael as he let go of her hands. He got up and walked over to the window. Outside in the darkness of night, he could see glimmers of light here and there on the Brunkeberg Ridge, and a few oil lamps shone from some boats on the Strömmen.

“I don’t know, Anette. You’re right, this wasn’t our own idea – it was decided for us. But we both went ahead with the plan, didn’t we. Do I have regrets? I can’t feel them. You see, I’ve never really known what to do with my life. I live in a kind of haze, letting others steer me. Something is really wrong with my life but I don’t know what it is. I have a good life. A very good life, I often think to myself. I need to fight, confront obstacles, do something for a world that is suffering. I need to be challenged before I reach my goal, whatever that is. But everything’s been settled for me. Now my foster father wants to give us a house as a gift without my having done anything to deserve it. Everything functions without me having to work for it... And my foster father wants me to go to war. He wants to pave the way for me so that I can rise in the ranks. I don’t want that at all. But do I even dream of protesting? Do I object? Oh dear no. I have always been considerate, Anette. Throughout my whole life, I have considered others, tried not to hurt others. Especially my foster parents – I owe them immense gratitude.”

‘Mum, help me!’ Anette thought. ‘I’m totally confused. He talks so nicely to me, as if I’m his equal. What is it he wants? When will I have to face all the terrible and grotesque things you told me about?’

“And now you’re married, just because they asked you to do so,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Yes, I married a lady of noble descent who is far above me in rank. I hope you realise, Anette, that I’m not a rich man. I received an inheritance from my mother and even a small amount from my father, so that I can make ends meet, but that’s about all. However, whatever you might think of me, I want you to know that I haven’t married you because of your money.”

Anette was actually quite spontaneous by nature. For a brief moment she couldn’t feel her mother’s shadow over her. “I don’t think you did,” she exclaimed impulsively. “I think you married me because you’re a kind, God-fearing soul who wants to obey your benefactors and save yourself from a terrible fate.”

She had got up and was now standing next to him by the leaded window pane. Mikael turned towards her.

“Yes, I suppose that’s how it is. You must feel humiliated.”

“In a way, yes. But it’s just as bad for you. I said yes without any scruples. I clutched at a straw.”

She fell silent, shocked at her own openness. For the first time that day, Mikael gave her a very frank smile. He took her face in his hands, concealing the trembling that he felt.

“Then we’re equal. I’m happy about that. It would have been worse if one of us had been unhappily in love with the other. That would be truly debasing.”

She also smiled cautiously and her small, pale face expressed a tenderness which he had not thought it was capable of showing.

“The Virgin Mary will help us,” she said.

Mikael glanced at the silent virgin up on the wall, wondering whether she would also be present later that night. He wished he could take the picture down.

They turned towards the window once more and stood quietly while they looked in the direction of Brunkeberg, where the old place of execution was. It was at Brunkeberg that Sten Sture had defeated Denmark’s King Christian I in a decisive battle almost two hundred years ago. Now the ridge had been partially dug up and a lot of houses had mushroomed on the steep slopes of the ridge. The town between the bridges, where the palace was situated, was almost not big enough to cope with the burgeoning population. The few farms on Normalm were getting more and more neighbours.

They stood silently as they gazed out of the window for a while.

“I’m glad that we’ve had the chance to talk to each other for a while,” said Mikael quietly. “I’m sure you understand that I’m not the type to demand my right without being considerate.”

She gave a frightened nod and shuddered once more. He meant the abominations, whatever they consisted of. She eagerly welcomed every delay, but was at the same time prepared to endure the worst.

Mikael did not dare to mention how helpless he actually felt. “Tell me something about yourself, Anette.”

She shrugged her shoulders, making a childish, resigning grimace.

“You see,” he went on so as to hide his own insecurity. “From the little I know of you, I get the impression that you-”

He was silent. He had been about to say: “that you’re a little fool who whines whenever you’re forced even a little outside your own conventions.” But he had not said it because he sensed that Anette was a very sensitive girl.

Instead he said: “...that you keep within the conventions that the Church has laid down. The few times I’ve heard you speak, when you’re together with other members of the Court, you’ve said something along the lines of: ‘No, surely you can’t do that. Oh, dear. You mustn’t speak like that. You can’t dress like that!’ And most of all: ‘It’s not the proper thing to do.’”

Her cheeks gained a bit of colour for a change. “Those weren’t kind words!”

“Maybe it wasn’t the right thing for me to say?”

“No, it most certainly wasn’t!”

The corners of her mouth moved slightly. He smiled at her.

“There’s nothing wrong with knowing how one should behave, is there?” she asked defensively. However, it was her mother she had in mind, the shadow that hovered over her.

He didn’t answer.

“Yet, in spite of everything, you decided to marry me?” she asked bluntly.

“I thought we’d discussed that.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

They sat quietly for a while as Mikael looked expectantly at her.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I suppose I am conventional. I do like an orderly life and norms to stick to, including my religion and my good upbringing. We were well above everybody else in my French hometown. My Mum saw to it that all conventions were observed. I got a rap over the knuckles with a ruler if I was too exuberant when I was a young child. I had to wear starched dresses with high collars. Oh, those dresses chafed me all over. I was taught discipline, but I was a lively kid through and through.”

That was something Mikael could well imagine, judging from the giggling young women of the palace.

“My Mum was very strong,” she said dreamingly. “So incredibly strong-willed. She was...” She searched for the words.

Mikael was able to guess the rest of what Anette wanted to say. He thought that she had been subdued and castigated. Only he didn’t say that because it would seem that Anette looked upon her mother as something holy and inviolable.

Now that she had opened up, she spoke willingly about herself. Mikael wondered whether he should lead her towards the bed, but didn’t do so. He was still shrinking from doing what he, deep down, regarded as the worst test in this sudden list of obligations.

So they remained standing – he leaned up against the window sill while he looked at her, she with her hands against the window frame, gazing towards the Strömmen.

“I hardly remember my dad,” she continued. She began speaking more quickly, stumbling over the words, as the young girls at Court did, almost apologising for speaking seriously. “He passed away suddenly so my Mum was alone with me. She was a domineering woman. She managed the palace and the village single-handedly. When she died a few years ago, one of her relatives was made my guardian. But by then I was on my way here because my Dad’s cousin, Jacob de la Gardie, had visited us in France and brought me with him. And when my Mum died, I wanted to stay here, which made my guardian furious but Uncle Jacob was Rigsmarsk and could do as he pleased. I begged him earnestly not to send me back to that terrible man in France. Then Uncle Jacob also passed away, and suddenly I was all on my own. I would have languished if I didn’t have the Virgin Mary to watch over me.”

‘Languished?’ thought Mikael. ‘What a word to choose!’

“What about your palace? Your village?” he asked.

“The palace isn’t mine. Women can’t inherit it. It belongs to a three-year old boy who is a distant relative.”

“Not to your guardian?”

“No, he’s a relative on my Mum’s side.”

“I see.”

Mikael thought that it was actually quite nice that she didn’t own a palace in the south of France. Then they did not have to think about that obligation... Now and then he would wonder if he was lazy. No, it was the deep sorrow within him that made him indifferent about life.

“What about the Rigsmarsk’s widow, Ebba Brahe, and her offspring? Surely they’re a great comfort to you?” he asked.

“No, they have their own lives. The only one who took care of me was Uncle Jacob.”

“And now there’s me,” said Mikael, startled. It was only now that it had dawned on him.

“Yes,” she said, dropping him a curtsy.

He was touched. It made him feel shy. But also scared! Anette appeared to be quite a burden for a young man of seventeen. She seemed finicky, mercurial and accustomed to being waited upon.

“Now would you please... do me the honour of telling me about your life?” she asked. It would have sounded so charming if she had not finished the sentence with an embarrassed giggle.

Mikael didn’t allow his reaction to show. “Yes, of course!”

Then he began to speak about his life, about his chaotic childhood first with Marca Christiana’s parents at Löwenstein, and the war, which had been a painful part of their everyday lives. Of how he and Marca Christiana had been sent from one place to the next until they finally settled down in the home of Reich Admiral Oxenstierna. Marca Christiana’s marriage with the Admiral’s son, Gabriel...

“She’s been very loyal towards you,” asserted Anette.

“Marca Christiana’s a remarkable woman,” agreed Mikael. “I would have been lost without her.”

“I’m beginning to understand how you feel rootless,” said Anette pensively. “Oh, it’s so wonderful,” she added impulsively, “to be able to talk properly with someone. To be allowed to voice one’s opinion. Until now, the topics I’ve spoken about have been nothing but nonsense, I must agree with you there. Empty, superficial nonsense. Imagine that I’m able to talk about something so... deep.”

Actually, thought Mikael, they hadn’t exactly been delving deep into their souls. But they were getting closer to one another and that was the main thing. But he still didn’t have a clear sense that this woman was his wife. Thinking about it made him dizzy. He who had always imagined a deep feeling of belonging, of tenderness with his future wife, whoever she would be.

All of a sudden he felt that he had been tied up with invisible ribbons that he would never ever be able to free himself from. He had an unpleasant feeling that this was how she also felt. They were too different. They would never be able to reach one another.

The thought that he was to hold her in his arms tonight was unbearable. She was a nice girl, but she would always be a stranger!

Of course, they could stay up all night talking, and then he was to travel and be away indefinitely. Although she might feel relieved at not having to lie with him, later on she would feel ashamed. Her husband rejecting her on their wedding night was too horrible. It was something you just didn’t do! He took a deep breath and pulled himself together.

“I suppose it’s best that we go to bed.”

She blushed immediately. “Yes, of course.”

She seemed on the verge of bursting into tears, so he put his hands on her cheeks. Then tried to smile encouragingly, but it was a terribly nervous smile.

“I’ll leave the room while you undress,” he said. “Then maybe you can put out the light when you’re finished?”

She nodded eagerly.

‘Try not to look as if you’re being led to the scaffold,’ he thought and left.

Anette stood quietly for a moment, her hands tightly clutched together in order to steady her nerves. So all his talking was just a masquerade, she thought. Now his true nature would be revealed. The bloodthirsty monster that would throw himself upon her and... what? Actually, Anette didn’t really know. Her mother’s horror stories of what men were capable of had merely hinted at something awful, without any explanation. The giggles of the ladies-in-waiting had been mixed with horrible delight. Anette was prepared for anything, from having her body rubbed with manure to being stuck with a knife.

And then there was the fact that you could have children. She would like to have children. Oh, God. If only somebody would explain the facts to her! Why were men so attractive? What was a prostitute?

She kneeled before the Virgin Mary and said a silent prayer about courage and strength to help her endure the night. Then he would be going to war. Thank God for that!

When Mikael entered the room again, it was so dark that he had to fumble his way to the bed. ’She’s snuffed out the light in front of the Virgin Mary,’ he thought. That must have meant an inner, religious struggle, but he understood her. Her virtue prohibited her from having spectators, both on earth and in heaven.

She lay on the far side of the bed and he quickly undressed except for his night shirt and crept down to her. ‘God help us both,’ he prayed to himself.

Mikael was a good person. Gently and considerately, he gave her time, cautiously caressing her hair, waiting until her breathing no longer sounded like a frightened bird.

Anette silently prayed and prayed: ‘Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum ... Oh, God. What is he doing? What does he want? Benedicta tu in mulieribus, Mum, Mum! Why have you never told me about about this? It’s not at all like... et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Jesus. Oh, no.‘

She forgot her prayers for a while.

Mikael did his duty on their wedding night, but it was not a brilliant experience, certainly not for Anette. She was terribly frightened, shocked and... surprised? Yes, baffled and surprised. She did not offer resistance but even so the sealing of their marriage was not all that successful. Anette hardly dared touch him. Her hands were around his shoulders without touching them, and she pressed her lips together against the pain. Despondent, sad and miserably unsure of everything, not least Mikael.

‘Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribu, nunc et in bora mortis nostrae. Amen. Holy Mother. The Mother of God. Pray for us poor sinners now and in the hour of death! Amen.’

Afterwards, Mikael could hear her sobbing into her pillow. He stretched out his hand, trying awkwardly to comfort her, gently stroking her hair. But neither could say anything. They had no more words to say to one another. They were lonely, each trapped in their own despair, miles apart.