Читать книгу The Ice People 10 - Winter Storm - Margit Sandemo - Страница 8

Chapter 3

The trip to the Black Forest had taken place on Thursday. That Saturday was eventful too. Villemo, who was on her way to Irmelin at Graastensholm, saw a foreign horse outside the estate. Irmelin ran to meet her in the entrance hall.

“Guess who’s here, Villemo!”

“No, I can’t. I saw the horse but ...”

She fell silent. A tall man stood in the door to the drawing room. His golden eyes regarded Villemo with a kind, jolly smile.

“Dominic,” she whispered weakly. “You’re here!”

“Yes. Didn’t you know that I would be coming?”

She woke up. “Yes, but ...”

How could she have forgotten it? How? Now that was a good question. Goodness, he was ever so handsome! His voice was deep and soft as velvet, his features masculine but still had a gentle expression. His beautiful eyes had a hint of sadness. To her despair, Villemo felt her old shyness towards Dominic return.

“Well, anyway. Welcome Dominic! You’ve grown since I saw you last time!” she exclaimed far too loudly and artificially.

“Yes, Auntie. I’m twenty-one and have lost all my milk teeth,” he lisped like a polite, little boy.

Villemo laughed nervously. “Will you be off again? I mean, how long will you be staying for?”

She had never been able to express herself clearly, let alone intelligently, in his presence.

“I may stay a week, if you can stand me for that long,” he smiled. “Actually, I’m just a courier for Gyldenloeve, Governor at Akershus. But, of course, I wanted to say hello to you all back home.”

Villemo was almost touched when she heard him say “back home.” Dominic had always had strong roots here, just like his dad, Mikael.

He went on, “We heard that there was a famine in this part of Norway and, of course, we were concerned. Mum and Dad send their love.”

Now she had even forgotten to enquire about them! Was there no end to her shame?

“Thank you, how are they doing?”

“Fine, thanks, and thank you for asking.”

“You’re too fast for me,” she said jokingly, twisting and turning and dangling her arms around her like a six-year-old who has been asked to perform in front of the family.

Her one thought was: thank God that he’s only staying for one week! She couldn’t stand his penetrating gaze.

“Well, little Villemo is now a young woman,” he said thoughtfully. “Not bad. Not bad at all!”

“That I’m now grown up?” she replied quickly. “Shouldn’t you be staying at Linden Avenue?”

“So I will. I’m only here to say hello. And afterwards I’ll continue to Elistrand.”

A slight irritation seized her because he had come to Irmelin first of all. But that made sense because Graastensholm was the first place on his route.

“I hear that Tristan’s here on a visit. I’m looking forward to meeting him. After all, he’s the smallest boy in the family.”

“The smallest? He’s almost grown over our heads.”

“Tristan? Unbelievable! Then I suppose you and I can go to your home afterwards? The horse can carry both of us.”

“You make it sound as if I weigh 200 pounds,” she exclaimed angrily. “What’s more, I don’t think I was made to sit on your horse ...”

“Of course, you can always sit on your backside behind me,” he laughed teasingly.

Villemo blushed heavily. It was the thought of sitting in front of him with his arms around her that had made her anxious.

“We’ll see,” she said and turned round. “Irmelin, I came to ask whether you’ll be going to church tomorrow. I thought of joining you.”

Irmelin stared at her in surprise. Villemo wasn’t exactly the most passionate churchgoer. “Yes, of course I will. Shall we meet there?”

“Fine,” nodded Villemo and she carefully avoided saying any more on the matter.

One hour later they rode home to Elistrand. Villemo was grateful to be sitting behind Dominic – this meant that she could avoid his searching gaze. It was as if he knew everything about her, which wasn’t a pleasant thought right now.

They only spoke about superficial matters. Villemo tried not to hold on to him too firmly. Her hands did all sorts of small movements, on the saddle, on the horse, on his cape, and with very light touches around his waist. This made him impatient in the end.

“Sit properly with a firm grip. And stop behaving like a nervous spider! You’d think you were afraid that I might seduce you!”

Villemo blushed again. “Now don’t think that I’m euphoric about sitting so close to you,” she answered, hot-headed.

That made Dominic chuckle. “Dear Villemo, I certainly don’t think that you yearn for me.”

The way he said it made it sound as if he knew what preoccupied her thoughts.

Kaleb greeted Dominic with enthusiasm and regretted that Gabriella wasn’t at home.

“What about Tristan then?” said Dominic. “Where’s he?”

“He’s not at home either,” said Kaleb. “He rode up to the Black Forest to get his woollen peasant’s coat, which he must have forgotten up there.”

“Did he really?” said Villemo sharply. “But I could have gone–”

She fell silent as she saw their inquisitive glances.

“Why should you pay for Tristan’s forgetfulness?” her dad asked.

“No, all I meant was just ... he’s so small.”

“He’s bigger and stronger than you.”

“Well young, then.”

“Honestly, Villemo. You’re not exactly grown up for your age either.”

During the whole conversation, Dominic had watched her amusedly with beaming, penetrating eyes and a smile at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re very much mistaken!” she cried at him as she rushed up the steps.

“Villemo,” bellowed her dad, but she didn’t stop. Kaleb ran after her and reached her by the door to her room. He grabbed her ear.

“Now you come down with me and say that you’re sorry to Dominic,” he hissed between his teeth. “What’s all this nonsense about?”

“Alright, I’ll do as I’m told,” she whispered back in a hiss. “But you mustn’t hold my ear because that’s too humiliating.”

“You’re being appallingly rude at the moment, Villemo,” said Kaleb on his way downstairs. “Can’t you behave a bit better now that I’ve got sole responsibility here?”

“Forgive me, dear Dad,” she said, repenting. “I don’t know why I’m acting this way either.”

They had come down and she humbly asked Dominic to forgive her behaviour. He accepted her apology with a smile, which was so explicitly empathic that she was on the verge of exploding once again.

“I’m leaving to talk to some peasants,” Kaleb said. “But I won’t be long. Can’t you show Dominic the alterations to your room while I’m gone, Villemo?”

“Of course,” she said eagerly.

Kaleb explained to Dominic, “Villemo got the crazy idea that her room was hopelessly old-fashioned, and she has bossed around cabinetmakers and other craftsmen all summer. I let her because craftsmen also need to keep the wolf from the door. But go up and take a look – it’s turned out well, in my opinion.”

Dominic turned towards Villemo. “Yes, if I’m allowed to step into the young lady’s bower.”

“Dominic, if only you’d stop insinuating things. It is a young lady’s bower.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“Listen to that, Dad!” Villemo exclaimed in despair. “Now he makes it sound as if no nightly suitors would ever wish to take me on!”

Kaleb laughed. “How on earth did you get so outspoken? You didn’t get it from Gabriella or me, at any rate.”

“From Grandma Cecilie,” Villemo said quickly. “And, so they say, from Sol, the witch.”

“Heaven forbid,” shuddered Kaleb. “We’ll meet later. Offer Dominic something to eat, Villemo!”

“No, thank you,” Dominic said. “I’ve done nothing but eat ever since I came. If things continue like this, my horse will protest on the way home.”

Villemo proudly showed Dominic her room. Elistrand was designed according to Alexander Paladin’s instructions and without sparing anything. It was kept in baroque style, which suited Alexander the most, with solid carvings in the banister, heavy furniture and chubby cherubim floating under the ceiling.

But Villemo had scrapped the dark, oppressive canopy bed and instead had a bed installed that was built into the wall. Dominic couldn’t see anything modern about it. On the contrary. The style was rustic, albeit in the style of a wealthy farmer – but he had to admit that she had arranged her room very tastefully. The colours in the woven carpets matched the walls of light wood, and the chairs were in a light, Spanish style. The bed was built into a beautifully carved wooden panel. Villemo pointed at the top of the bed.

“This is where I want to have an inscription,” she said excitedly. “And some decorative ornaments, of course. I think I want it to say: ‘This is where the happiest person in the whole world sleeps.’”

“My word,” murmured Dominic, who could hardly keep a straight face. “Is that such a good idea? Think of those who’ll be sleeping here after you! What if one of them were a terribly unhappy individual? Then the words would seem like a mockery.”

Villemo bit the knuckle of her thumb. Then her face brightened into a smile, “I know, I’ll write this instead: ‘Here sleeps the happiest person, Villemo Kalebsdatter Elistrand of the Paladin and Meiden and the Ice People kin.’”

Dominic couldn’t see that the addition was an improvement. “You could become unhappy yourself,” he reminded her.

“I’ll never be unhappy,” she assured him.

“You possess all the traits of being unhappy.”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked him, offended.

“Your disposition. You’re happy now. But you get fully engrossed in everything that you do, which means your sorrows will become just as great as your happiness.”

Villemo turned serious. “That was what Grandma Liv also said. You seem awfully wise,” she continued reproachfully. “You predict like a bird of ill omen. What should I write instead then?”

“Well ... why not a quote from the Bible, which is the normal thing to do.”

“A quote from the Bible? Why should I use a quote from the Bible?”

“Well, there are several you could choose from. For example, ‘Love is the greatest thing.’”

“Yes!” she shouted enthusiastically. “That’s good! That’s what I want!”

Then she became thoughtful. “You don’t think it is too shameful in any way? Over a bed, I mean?”

“I don’t think the writer thought of that kind of love,” Dominic said with shining, yellow eyes, and Villemo blushed with embarrassment.

“Let’s go to the big hall,” she suggested with exaggerated enthusiasm. “I’m sure Dad will be back soon.”

Let’s hope he will, she thought. So that I can be my natural self again.

Young Tristan stared bewitched at the charming girl in front of him. Gudrun handed him the woollen peasant’s coat with a sweet smile and quickly hid the rash on her hands before he had time to see it.

“I found it in the barn, but I wasn’t sure who it belonged to.”

As a matter of fact, she had hidden his coat so that he would have to come back and fetch it.

“I’ll follow you some of the way, sir,” she said softly and began to walk slowly next to him. Tristan pulled the horse after him and found it difficult to stop looking at Gudrun. She had her hands down in the pockets of her skirt, swaying lightly as she walked. She made a very delicate impression, in her white blouse and a black pinafore dress and with a multicoloured woven band around her golden hair.

Tristan was totally unaware that her hatred of his family was sincere and passionate.

“This evening, I’ll be up in the mountain pasture to fetch a few things that must be brought home before winter sets in,” she sighed. “Me of all people, and I’m so afraid of the dark.”

“Does the mountain pasture belong to the Black Forest?” asked a surprised Tristan. “The one which is so high up?”

“The ridge is higher,” she said with a loud laugh. “The mountain pasture isn’t far from here.”

“Why don’t you go up there when it’s light?”

“That’s when I’m working, sir. Ugh! I just don’t like the thought of tonight.”

Tristan thought for a long time. His mind moved ever so slowly.

“I ... er ... might go with you?”

Had he been too impetuous? This delicate creature of the forest might take offence.

“Oh, but I can’t possibly ask you to do that! I’m just a simple peasant’s daughter. That wouldn’t be suitable, sir!”

Tristan became eager, just as she had expected. “No, I assure you that I’d be most delighted to help. And please don’t call me ‘sir.’ It makes me feel embarrassed. You don’t need to be afraid of me, Miss Gudrun. I have the noblest intentions. I just want to accompany you so that nothing happens to you in the wilderness.”

Gudrun had to bend over to hide her laughter. Afraid? Of that little pup? What a ridiculous, puffed-up little count! Imagine hurting him for life! But it would have to take place in the dark. Daylight was no longer her ally.

“If you insist, then all I can say is thank you very much,” she said, dropping a deep curtsy. “Now I’d better be on my way back.”

They agreed where they were to meet. Tristan wanted to take leave of her by kissing her hand, but she quickly tore herself loose and ran home like an animal of the forest.

Tristan rode home to Elistrand, his heart bursting with joy.

Villemo was restless. Dominic had returned to Linden Avenue, and the afternoon was dragging along.

“For heaven’s sake, Villemo. Stop walking about like a brooding hen,” Kaleb said. “Can’t you sit quietly for just one moment?”

“No, I ... I think I’ll walk the dog. He needs to run about a little in the meadows.”

“Just don’t let him chase wild boar!”

“The dog? I’d like to see the day he actually manages to kill a wild boar.”

The old Norwegian elk hound sauntered quietly next to her as she walked across the meadow up to the edge of the forest. She roamed to and fro for a couple of hours, from vantage point to vantage point, until dusk forced her to return home.

“Villemo,” Kaleb said with a smile as Villemo walked in the door. “The poor dog is totally exhausted!”

The dog had flopped on the floor like a sack.

“It was a longer walk than I intended,” she admitted.

“You sound so discouraged. Why?”

“Me? No, I’m just tired. I think I’ll retire for the night. Where’s Tristan?”

“He’s gone out again. He mumbled something about having to help a friend. And that he might be late.”

“Oh, I see. I had no idea that he had a friend here. Is it Niklas?”

“I don’t think so. But then he has been here several times.”

“Yes, that’s true. Well, goodnight, Dad!”

“Goodnight, my little darling!”

In her room, Villemo cast a glance at the bed. All things considered, Dominic was probably right. It might not be so wise to put: ‘The happiest person in the world.’

Happiness isn’t a constant state, she thought. Happiness is probably just a pang in the heart now and then, an exhilarating joy which threatens to make you burst. And which disappears just as swiftly as it came, until it comes back once more and tricks you into believing that life is the most wonderful thing that exists. Now her thoughts seemed to move in circles. She crept into the bed which she’d designed herself, breathing in the smell of newly cut timber.

She was seventeen years old ... and her heart was filled with secret dreams, which nobody, nobody was to know anything about.

Tristan tried to meet Gudrun’s eyes in the darkness. How had they arrived here? The small cabin in the mountain pasture was cool, but the hides in the bed were warm, and the girl’s skin was even warmer.

He thought that he hadn’t been impetuous, but she’d still understood his yearning. She’d been so sweet and said that he hadn’t at all misused his superior position towards a poor subordinate. No, he had no reason to feel anxious. She wouldn’t say anything about who it was who had touched her. She hadn’t pulled back, merely whimpered a bit, asking him to consider a young, innocent girl. She knew so little. All she knew was that it was any farmer’s right to reap the fruits that were his due.

“But I don’t want to hurt you,” Tristan had stuttered.

“I know that,” she had sobbed. “You’re a fine gentleman and I’m a poor girl. I can’t help that my heart is moved by just looking at you.”

“I’m also moved,” he admitted with a trembling voice while a hitherto unknown fever rushed through his body, making his hands weak. What were the short, empty ecstasies of looking at girls compared to this? “I mean at seeing you. At feeling your beautiful hair between my fingers.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said with a shy whisper. “We know that all husbands have the right to be with the girls on the farm.”

“All?” said a surprised Tristan, thinking of his dad, Kaleb, Brand and Mattias. This just didn’t make sense to him.

Gudrun realised that her assurances could turn out to be counter-productive. She had learned a lot about men and their reactions during the years she had spent in Christiania. “Well, not all, of course but the majority by far. It’s their privilege and we subordinates have given in constantly. We believe that it is an honour to be chosen.”

She had a slight suspicion that she was contradicting herself, so she quickly added. “But nobody has yet taken an interest in me. Am I really so repulsive?”

“Of course not, Miss Gudrun. Of course not!”

Although Gudrun kept on pointing out that she was shy, somehow she had kept on moving closer. Tristan had been overwhelmed by a deafening, violent dizziness and hadn’t sensed anything except her delightful proximity, her hair against his cheek, her body against his, her passionate, moist lips. And now, in a moment of clarity, he found himself lying between the pig hides. She kept pulling at his clothes so that the lower part of his body was bare.

For a fraction of a second Tristan thought: ‘God, how can I violate that poor girl?’ But then he was unable to think any more. He felt like a wild bull that butted and forced its way forward. Afterwards, it was as if he was about to go unconscious because it had been so truly wonderful.

Gudrun pushed aside the unsure boy with a grimace. There was a smile of disgust and triumph on her face. Now it was done. Revenge for all the humiliation ...

But now it was best to leave Graastensholm for a while, before the scandal and rumours became a fact. And Eldar ...? She harboured a mixture of fright and respect for her brother. There was every reason to take his threat that he would kill her very seriously because he was capable of doing it.

Come to think of it, his reaction had been strange. As a child, he’d always been a willing collaborator for her hatred. He’d been easy to stir up. Nobody despised the Meidens and the Ice People more than he did.

He’d said that he’d been out and about in the world. Learned to see with different eyes. Nonsense! Wasn’t she worldly as well? She’d certainly learned something about life. And whose fault was it anyway? The Ice People’s. The Meidens, who had banished them from the family’s big farm and turned them into their slaves, those damned, arrogant boasters! She was of just as fine extraction as they were. Well, maybe she wasn’t nobility, but the nobility was highly overestimated anyway. Particularly Danish nobility.

Gudrun worked herself up into a dither as she lay there. She got to her feet with a jerk so that Tristan almost fell to the floor.

“Oh, God, what have we done?” she moaned. “Oh, poor me. Now I’ll have to throw up in the lake. No, we can’t meet any more, never again, and never again will I be able to look you in the eyes. What must you think of me since I was such easy prey for your art of seduction? Now I’ll forever be a dishonoured girl.”

Tristan was heartbroken. She had to calm and soothe him, and then they later parted in shame, promising each other to forget, never to mention anything to anybody, and never to see each other again. The whole adventure was a bitter experience for Tristan to swallow. And it would turn out to be even more bitter ...

Villemo met Irmelin by the church. Irmelin with her gentle, fine smile, always calm and unperturbed. Daughter of Mattias and Hilde, grandchild of Yrja. Irmelin had inherited her disposition from these three good-hearted people and from Hilde’s grandmother. She had none of the weaknesses of her maternal grandpa, Joel the Night Man, or her paternal grandpa, Tarald. She had turned into a strong and gentle girl. Although she was almost a head taller than Villemo, she appealed to men’s protective instinct. This was no doubt due to her warm, touching smile.

Nobody would ever dream of protecting Villemo! That little independent lady, who observed people on the church hill from the corner of her eye. But what about inside the church?

“Should we go in?” asked Villemo.

“Shouldn’t we wait for the others from Linden Avenue?”

“Of course.”

They turned up at last, almost all of them men. Eli was the only woman left at Linden Avenue. Brand was there, and so were Andreas and the two young men, Niklas and Dominic. When she was a child, she would call them “Dominiklas.” Villemo suddenly felt a strong urge to be a child again. They had had such fun together. But now everything was so different.

They went into the church together. Tristan seemed so strange today. One moment he would blush and the next moment turn pale, his eyes radiating joy and then suddenly revealing a guilty conscience. Villemo thought that he was probably at an awkward age.

She looked over the men’s pews, but very quickly so that nobody would think that she was interested. With a deep, resigned sigh she seated herself right at the front of the church. The vicar talked. And talked. But all his good words were lost on Villemo. What on earth was she doing in church?

After the service, the elderly members of the congregation tried to agree on who was to be in charge of the coffee today. They had agreed that it had to be at Graastensholm when Villemo noticed that Irmelin was talking to her and had mentioned a name ...

“What did you say?” asked Villemo. “Please say it again, I was listening to your mum.”

Irmelin smiled. “All I said was that I’d heard the servant girls chatting this morning. They were talking about last night’s ball in Eikeby.”

“Yes, but what was it you were saying about it?”

Irmelin raised her eyebrows, surprised at her interest. “Well, they said that Eldar from the Black Forest had been there.”

“Oh, was that all?” said Villemo in a totally indifferent voice. “Does he normally turn up?”

“The girls say that since he came home, he doesn’t normally turn up.”

“I suppose he’s angry with girls,” Villemo said, her heart beating violently.

“He left quickly, they said. They sounded slightly disappointed because they thought that he’s become extremely stylish. I find him a little strange. Wild and dangerous in a way.”

“Yes,” said Villemo, feeling like a traitor.

Eikeby? Of course, she had heard that there was to be a ball there. The landowners and their families tended not to go to such parties, but people in Eikeby were their relatives. Mattias’s Mum, Yrja, came from there.

‘Why hadn’t I gone there?’, thought Villemo. She was repentant and felt terribly disappointed. She could have thrown herself down and banged her fists on the ground out of bitterness. But she concealed her emotions.

They said Eldar had left early. Had he been looking for someone who hadn’t been there? Rubbish, he had probably found a girl and had run off with her. She must stop it, she was torturing herself!

Villemo got into the carriage which was to take them to Graastensholm. The last thing she saw before the carriage set off was Dominic’s compassionate cats’ eyes and ironic smile. She was on the verge of getting out and slapping him in the face.