Читать книгу The Ice People 24 - Deep in the Ground - Margit Sandemo - Страница 6

Chapter 1

Deep in the ground dark water runs.

Deep in the souls of people run rivers of longing and yearning, love, hate and despair.

No one knows of the hidden waters of the earth. No one can read the lonely thoughts of another person.

Yet still they are there. Deep, deep down, veiled in secrecy.

There was a godforsaken place in Sweden called Ytterheden. It is now most likely incorporated into a larger district, and its old name is long forgotten. Much has changed in two centuries, and the wilderness that once flourished there has been destroyed. But in the year 1815, Ytterheden really lived up to its name, which meant “Outer Moor”.

There, at the outermost edge of the land, completely unprotected from the raging sea, lay the bare moor. A few stunted pines resisted the wind, leaning practically horizontally across the land. And the moor grass, of course, short and stiff, intermingled with bristly heather.

Farther inland, cold, barren cliffs lifted the landscape and beyond them a beautiful range of gentle hills rose up to the forest, which was majestic and inscrutable.

At that point lay the small community of Ytterheden. It was a tiny mining community. Most of the houses were concealed among the cliffs and hills, where they were sheltered from the eternal wind blowing off the sea. But there were also one or two houses out on the moor, where the curtains fluttered unceasingly in the draughts from loose window frames and where any tar or paint on the outside walls would soon peel off.

There were no fishermen in Ytterheden. The ocean was far too turbulent and full of rocks lurking just below the surface. The nearest fishing villages were situated miles down the coast.

In springtime the moor was a splendid sight, a place where one would long to go again and again. Amid the intense spring green of the grass, the coastal flowers sunned themselves under the light sky, and the birds flew low across the wide expanses. And for a brief period in late summer it was as though the heath was on fire. That was when the heather bloomed. But late in the autumn, when the heather was blanched to an ash-grey colour, storms whipped the ocean into white foam and semidarkness reigned everywhere, Ytterheden seemed more like an evil place. Then people would huddle together in their little houses tucked behind the cliffs and pray to the Lord to protect them from the raging elements surrounding them.

It was here, between the ocean and the great forest, that a descendant of the Ice People came that year.

This was Anna Maria, Ola Olovsson’s daughter, Ingela’s only grandchild.

She was born in September 1796, on Skenäs Farm in the Parish of Vingåker.

Her father, Ola, anxiously examined her face for signs that she was one of the stricken, but found none. Her features were even and delicate, and when, a little later, she opened her eyes, they looked perfectly normal, just like those of any other newborn. Perhaps they were a bit larger, a bit more astonished by the big, bright world surrounding her.

Her hair consisted of a fine little tuft on the top of her head and it wasn’t particularly dark. Her hands, feet, shoulders ... everything was perfectly shaped.

Her father gave a sigh of relief.

But you can never be entirely certain. His own uncle, Sölve Lind of the Ice People, had also seemed normal at first. The same had been true of Trond, a distant ancestor of the Ice People. But later in life both had developed the characteristics typical of the cursed ones.

They christened the girl Anna Maria, after a relative who had forgotten her real name and instead was called Gunilla.

This Gunilla had recently lost an unborn child. It was everyone’s hope that that child had been the stricken one of that generation.

Anna Maria grew up to become a lovable child. She didn’t have the dauntlessness of her relative Vinga, but there was a calm, omniscient strength in her smile. She was quiet and played by herself, but from time to time she would go to her mother, Sara, and place her head in her lap – a small, spontaneous declaration of love. Anna Maria never seemed at all unhappy. She was loved by everybody and easy to bring up, and she lived her young life the way she wanted.

The whole family attended her confirmation, both on her mother’s and her father’s sides. On her mother’s side of the family there was only one who would have an influence on her later life – Sara’s cousin, Birgitta. So we will pass over that side of the family and merely mention that they were friendly people who admired the fourteen-year-old and brought her fine presents.

On her father’s side there was, of course, Grandmother Ingela. She was very close to the girl and did her utmost to spoil her. But Anna Maria wasn’t the type of child to be ruined by such an obvious expression of love and compassion. She always maintained her calm smile and polite bearing.

Then the guests from Småland arrived. Old Arv Grip of the Ice People and his wife, Siri. The children had a lot of fun with the names of Siri and Anna Maria’s mother, who was called Sara. Siri–Sara. Arv had also brought his daughter Gunilla with him, and she gave Anna Maria an extra-special present because the girl had been given her original name. Gunilla’s husband, Erland of Backa, had become a distinguished man, a plump and somewhat boastful blusterer. A braggart can be rather charming if he is also naive, which Erland was.

They had a daughter, Tula, who was some years younger than Anna Maria. She was a small, chubby, good-natured girl with an irresistible, bubbling laugh.

Then there were the three relations from Norway. They had had difficulty getting into Sweden because something was brewing in the Kingdom of Norway. The year was 1810, and a feeling of nationalism was on the rise. The Norwegians were in the process of seceding from Denmark, so the Danes were preparing to defend themselves and were guarding their borders jealously.

Despite the difficulties, Heike and Vinga arrived in Skenäs with their scoundrel of a son, Eskil. Eskil was a year younger than Anna Maria but he was an overgrown oaf – he had too much of Vinga’s pep in him and too little of Heike’s pensiveness.

However, once the confirmation was successfully accomplished, the three children, with some of their cousins from Anna Maria’s mother’s side, had a delightful time together. Eskil was full of fun and mischief, which made the girls gasp and livened up the quiet Anna Maria.

They had some wonderful days, and the adults also had a chance to talk to each other.

One topic in particular was brought up at this family gathering: the Swedish branch, headed by Ingela and Arv, was having problems with the Ice People name. In a land where the nobility was so significant, many people had been irritated by the fact that they used an “of” in their name. So all the Swedish descendants of the Ice People decided that, starting with the youngest generation – that of Anna Maria and Tula – the surname “of the Ice People” would be dropped.

Heike and Vinga thought it was a shame; they had not had any problems in Norway and had no intention of omitting their surname.

Ingela said: “It’s not that we’re cutting our ties with you; I sincerely hope you understand that. Inside all of us the name of the Ice People will live on, and I ask you three children, Eskil, Anna Maria and Tula, never to forget your family roots! And should you encounter any difficulties, come to your family for help! You must never sever your connection with us!”

The children nodded solemnly. They were old enough to know about the story of the Ice People and to be proud of belonging to the family.

Then the party broke up and everyday life began again for Anna Maria.

She had the best education a young girl could possibly receive: ordinary schooling, of course, but also private lessons that Axel Frederik Oxenstierna arranged for her. For Ingela’s family was still strongly attached to the Oxenstierna lineage, just as they had been ever since Marca Christiana’s time.

Since Anna Maria learned fast, her parents were very proud of her, and everything indicated that she had a great future ahead of her. They would undoubtedly find a good husband for her when the time came. The little girl’s future looked bright in every way.

And then – all at once – everything changed.

There was a family tradition that the descendants of the Ice People always accompanied members of the Oxenstierna family onto the battlefield in times of war. Ola Olovsson was no exception to the rule. He accompanied Axel Frederik’s son, Erik Oxenstierna, one of the family’s greatest officers. In the years 1813 and 1814, Erik was an aide-de-camp to the great General Sandels during military campaigns in Germany, Brabant and Norway. His fame spread after he participated in battles against Napoleon’s army at Grossbeeren, Dennewitz, Roslau and Leipzig. He took part in the blockade at Maastricht and in the Battle of Issebro.

But Ola Olovsson was not given the chance to accompany Erik all the way. In the Battle of Leipzig in the late autumn of 1813, this son of the Ice People was killed, and Sara was suddenly a widow. Anna Maria was then seventeen years old.

Sara was completely unable to cope with her fate. She slowly sank into a deep and bitter depression. By that time the Oxenstierna family had left Skenäs, since Axel Frederik, Erik’s father, had become a member of the Supreme Court so had moved closer to the capital. Sara forbade her daughter to visit the Oxenstierna family ever again. She believed that it was their fault that she had lost her husband. The bitterness she felt towards them was extreme. The ties between the Ice People and that family were now severed, she said.

But Ingela accompanied Axel Frederik Oxenstierna and his wife. So Anna Maria was left living at Skenäs with her increasingly disillusioned mother and could do nothing to cheer her up.

Then one day in the year 1815 Anna Maria found her mother dead. Sara hadn’t been able to cope any more and had taken her own life.

As the girl stood by her mother’s grave while the priest read the last rites, everything felt dead inside her. All that had been beautiful to her was now gone. Her mother and father’s love for her. Both now lay buried in the cold ground. Gone. Gone forever.

Deep in the ground.

Anna Maria obeyed her mother’s wish that she should not contact the Oxenstierna family. Grandmother Ingela lived in such a small apartment that there wouldn’t have been room for the girl anyway, much as Ingela would have wanted Anna Maria to come and live with her.

She received letters from Småland and Gråstensholm, all containing more or the less the same message: Come and live with us, there’s plenty of room!

But Anna Maria sat down at her desk and wrote a response to them all:

Thank you so much, all of you, for your exceptional kindness.

But I have been considering what to do with my life and have reached the following conclusion: I have been given such an excellent upbringing and education that I think it should be put to use, instead of living a life of idleness and depending on the kindness of my family. My dear mother’s cousin, Birgitta, has made a suggestion that I find very tempting.

She has a friend, Kerstin Brandt, whose brother owns a mine on the coast of the Bothnian Sea, at a place called Ytterheden. His foreman asked him to find a teacher for the miners’ children because they seem to be completely neglected in that regard. Kerstin has recommended me to her brother and the position is mine if I want it. I have decided to accept the offer.

So I am going to hand over the house at Skenäs to the overseer at the manor, so that he can keep an eye on it while I am gone. As you know, the house belongs to Grandmother Ingela and she would love to hand it on to me one day. So it won’t be sold. I just want to go away and get some experience and feel that I am doing something useful with my life. I hope you all understand me.

They did. Anna Maria, was, after all, one of the Ice People. They weren’t the types to sponge off others. They wanted to make a difference in life. Although everybody knew that Anna Maria wasn’t the richest person in the world, it wasn’t really necessary for her to go out and teach in order to make ends meet. But it was something she wanted to do. It was typical of her!

She wrote another letter, this time in strict confidence.

At first she had pondered whom she should confide in. The subject was of such a private nature that she didn’t feel she could inform just anyone about it. Certainly none of the men of the family: that would be unthinkable. Not Tula, who was, after all, still a child. Not Vinga: she and Anna Maria were too different. And certainly not Grandmother, despite all her kindness and sweetness. It would have to be Gunilla, with whom she had always felt a strong kinship.

Dearest Gunilla,

I’m confiding in you because I feel that you and I are very close to one another. Perhaps because we share the same name?

You see, I have a special reason for wanting to accept the teaching position. Do you remember Adrian Brandt, Kerstin Brandt’s brother, the one who owns the mine? You met him once when you happened to be here at the same time as Birgitta and her friend Kerstin and her brother. Do you remember how infatuated I was with him? It was my first love, and I kept it very secret. Didn’t you think he was handsome, too? A little dreamy, melancholic and very romantic? Later on I heard that he was in love with someone else, and that was the reason for his melancholy demeanour. He married her, but he is now a widower. Oh, how stupid I was back then: I was terribly young and it was my very first love. I cried when I heard that he had got married! But stupid as I was, I’ve never been able to forget him. I haven’t had any opportunities to meet other young men, so Adrian has remained in my mind as something unspeakably beautiful and bittersweet. I really think that I still love him!

That is why I want to go to Ytterheden. Please don’t laugh at me – I had to tell someone!

Gunilla understood her and didn’t laugh. She wrote a short, friendly reply and wished Anna Maria the best of luck.

But Anna Maria might have been a little more hesitant with regard to her bold decision had she read the letter that her Aunt Birgitta sent to her friend Kerstin Brandt. Among other things, she wrote:

I am certain that your brother Adrian will find Anna Maria absolutely enchanting! Do you remember that she had a crush on him when she was little? Now she has grown up and is exactly the right one for him. Gentle, understanding and accommodating. Just what a widower needs. And something else to take into careful consideration: she has inherited a fortune! The house near Skenäs Farm will be hers, and it’s a wonderful house with quiet a lot of land. Furthermore, her grandmother is supposedly worth several thousand rigsdaler, beside what the girl has at her disposal in various accounts!

Anna Maria arrived at Ytterheden in the autumn, when the heather was still aflame on the moors and a few late migrating birds were heading south in V-shaped formations, lamenting plaintively.

The mail coach had dropped her off where the heather began. It would have been a long detour for the coach to drive into the village, so Anna Maria had offered to walk the rest of the way. She was carrying a travelling bag and walked confidently along the path that wound through the heather. For a brief moment she stopped to look around, gazing up at the sky as she took a deep breath. The air was so clean, so salty and fresh; the foaming ocean was a greyish-blue colour out there across the reefs, but the moor looked like a vividly coloured painting.

I’m certain to thrive here, she thought, because she had not yet experienced the rigours of autumn and winter and knew nothing about the insignificance of humans when they come face to face with the forces of nature. She had lived inland all her life.

There were some small houses on the moor. They were situated far from one another. I’d like to live here, she thought, not knowing any better. But of course she could clearly see that the houses were poor and terribly dilapidated. What she didn’t see were the people inside, watching her slyly from behind the tattered curtains.

The travelling bag began to feel heavy, because the path across the moor was longer than she had anticipated. The handle dug into her fingers, leaving bluish white marks on her skin, and she had to switch hands frequently to carry it. Her travelling bag, which she had so diligently packed before leaving, now felt as though it was her only security. Everything that she could ever possibly need was in it. How thorough she had been in selecting the right things, in making sure that the little that she brought with her would be sufficient. She had examined every single garment, weighing it tentatively in her hand, selecting it and then changing her mind. She had smoothed the clothes out and packed them in the bag as neatly as she could. The textbooks weighed the most. Her shoes were somewhat worn but she hadn’t had time to get new ones. She had forgotten her headache powder and her drops, and that vexed her.

And then the coachman had just hurled her bag carelessly up into the carriage! She had had to change coaches many times. She just hoped that the little jar of strawberry and blueberry preserve was still in one piece. If not, there was bound to be a terrible mess inside the bag!

From a distance she could see a crevice in the cliffs through which the path twisted and turned. Behind that was where the village lay, the coachman had said.

She took a firmer grip of the travelling bag with her aching fingers. There was still quite a way to go!

Anna Maria was, of course, in mourning. She wore a black dress with a matching cloak and a cap that almost completely covered her face. Her silk and velvet bonnet was also black, just as her boots were. At the age of nineteen, she had grown into a slight, dark-haired girl, with serious, grey-blue eyes and a sensitive mouth. The fact that she was intelligent could be seen in her fixed, calm gaze, which was now more blurred by her sorrow than by fear of all the new things she was experiencing. It is always hard to arrive in an unfamiliar place and meet strangers who will come to play an important role in one’s life, and Anna Maria was not unusual in having such feelings. True, she had attended school for many years, but she had not been exposed to ordinary people – workers and their families. She couldn’t deny that she was starting to regret her decision a little.

But no, it was something that had to be done. She had to feel that she was making an effort – that she was worth something as a human being.

And then there was Adrian ... Adrian Brandt. Over the years her memory of him had faded to a vague, hazy notion of ... well, almost of a saint.

So many years had passed. But she still carried the picture of him in her heart. Which was only natural since she hadn’t met any other men and because he had been like a revelation to the little thirteen-year-old girl. Anna Maria pictured him dressed in white like a knight; he also had a white horse and his face was fair, with blond hair falling over his shoulders. The picture didn’t have much to do with reality, she knew. But she wanted to have the right to dream. Reality had been much too harsh for the last two years. Adrian Brandt was the one to whom she fled as a means of escape on those lonely nights when she would cry herself to sleep. She had to be permitted to dream a little.

And now he needed her. Well, he didn’t know that, of course, but he had sent word for her! Unhappy widower that he was ...

So she had merely responded to his wish.

While she had been pondering these things she had got closer to her destination, and had now reached the small opening between the cliffs. She had had to climb quite a bit, then the path wound between some bare rocks – and then she stopped. Before her lay the mining village of Ytterheden, well concealed in the valley between the cliffs and the beautiful hills in the background.

“So small,” she whispered to herself. “It’s not so strange that they couldn’t get any teachers to come all the way out here!”

She counted five small houses and a big ugly building that must be the mining company’s offices. Halfway up the hill there was something that might be called a manor house or a mansion, which probably belonged to Adrian Brandt. And between the hills in the direction of the forest she could see a broad road that presumably led to the mine.

Her mother’s cousin, Birgitta, had told her something about Ytterheden, but Anna Maria didn’t know all that much. It seemed that Adrian Brandt didn’t live there all the time. Rather it was a place of recreation for him, as far as she understood. His father-in law had started the mining company and Adrian had taken it over, fully determined to get rich from it.

Anna Maria thought the whole thing looked a little pathetic.

With an anxious sigh she began to make her way down the path into the valley. It would probably be best for her to go to the mining office or whatever that big, ugly building was called. The administration building?

That was much too fine a word for the grey-brown monstrosity standing in the middle of everything.

There was no church, she noticed. In general it seemed that the place lacked many things.

But now at least they were going to have a school. She wondered where it was going to be – there was nothing here but houses. And where was she to live?

At that very moment she spotted them. Until now they had been hidden by the cliffs. Now they were visible in all their abomination: two long blocks like barracks, in which the miners probably lived. She had never seen anything so ugly or depressing. Outside the doors lay rubbish and piles of something indefinable. She got the impression that there wasn’t much room inside. And alongside the houses stood what must be pedlars’ barrows. It all seemed fairly miserable.

What was it Birgitta had said? “If you wish to make a profit from a company you ought not to throw it away on charities or things that are unnecessarily sentimental. All unnecessary expenses are bad!”

Those were her words – certainly not Adrian’s, he was much more refined. He probably wasn’t even aware of the misery around the barracks since he so rarely went there.

But heavens, what a depressing village!

Anna Maria took heart and lugged her bag along the little path, which was probably called a road in this small out-of-the way settlement.

Her arrival had not gone unnoticed. Scrawny women stood in the doorways of the few houses. Their faces were empty and bleak. They were silent, but Anna Maria noticed the glances they exchanged across the street. She greeted them politely with a tremulous smile. At first she was met with stern, dismissive faces, then they each gave her a dignified nod. That was all.

Two children stood between the houses staring at her. They were shabbily dressed and didn’t look particularly healthy, either.

When Anna Maria finally managed to reach the biggest building, she breathed more easily. She knocked on the door that seemed to be the right one. No one answered. After looking around and not seeing any other doors, and only being met with the silent interest and stares from the front doors of those observing her, she opened the door and went inside.

It was a bare, disheartening room, and she soon decided that she must have been mistaken. This was not an office: it must be the back of something, though she wasn’t sure what. It looked like an empty storeroom, ugly, dirty and dilapidated. There were no doors leading anywhere and she was just about to go back outside when she heard voices on the other side of the wall.

A hard, dark voice said urgently, “I asked for a teacher, not a young lady!”

“It wasn’t easy to get anyone to come here,” answered a friendly, gentle voice, which Anna Maria recognized at once. It was Adrian’s voice. Her Adrian, whom she had dreamed about and kept as an exquisite, sacred secret deep within her soul all these years.

“And Miss Olsdatter is well educated,” he continued.

Thank you, Adrian, thank you for defending me!

But the other voice just answered brusquely: “Yes, well, we know all about these foolish virgins who venture into typical male communities as a last resort to avoid ending up as old spinsters!”

“Anna Maria Olsdatter is anything but old. And she comes from a very fine family.”

“Which makes it even worse. Is she going to get on her high horse? And how am I supposed to maintain control over my men if there’s a young woman here? Well, I’ll have to console myself with the fact that she must be as ugly as sin if she’s chosen to work in such a place. The men won’t stand for some uppity schoolmarm, it would be humiliating for them.”

“Now, now, Kol, you mustn’t judge her before we’ve seen her. I don’t remember much about Anna Maria because she was nothing but a skinny little girl the last time I saw her, though I do have a vague memory of a pair of longing eyes and an eternally devoted smile – and that she followed me everywhere. But there was nothing special about her, I must admit. She’s coming today, isn’t she?”

“Yes, and I don’t intend to arrange a welcoming committee. You yourself will have to see to that, Director!”

Whereupon a door was shut and a resigned sigh could be heard from the director.

Her Adrian. Who could barely remember her – other than as an insistent child!

And the other man – was his name Kol? That must be the foreman, the one who had asked for a teacher for the workers. He didn’t seem all that enthusiastic about having her here!

How strange, that when you have a goal you can reach it through willpower alone. But if the goal turns out to consist of absolutely nothing in the end, you suddenly feel all your fatigue and hunger. Anna Maria was completely empty inside and felt as though she were carrying a heavy burden of despondency and disappointment on her shoulders.

But the worst thing was the sense of loneliness. What did she have to look forward to in terms of a shared, human connection?