Читать книгу The Ice People 30 - The Brothers - Margit Sandemo - Страница 6

Chapter 1

Nobody in the world could have been lonelier than young Henning Lind of the Ice People when he returned home to the empty house at Linden Avenue on that ice-cold morning in March 1861. Silvery, shimmering ice crystals and a flickering layer of white frost covered grass, shrubs and outhouses. Steam came out of the horse’s muzzle as it trudged into the courtyard.

Henning, who was eleven years old, could feel the stiffness in every fibre of his body. The lack of expression on his face reflected the fact that he felt completely paralysed inside.

He couldn’t think. Didn’t dare to. Didn’t dare to think of the future before him – he just had to live in the now, act and not speculate.

He had his precious cargo in the gig: Saga’s newborn, orphaned twins, Marco and Ulvar. The farm was very quiet. No one was there to welcome him. Perhaps no one else would ever come home there anymore?

No, he mustn’t think now! The babies ... they had to be taken indoors. That was the most important thing.

During his short life, Henning had learned more about hardship than most adults, and he feared that he would need all the energy and resourcefulness that life had taught him.

He jumped down from the gig and lifted up one of the babies. It whimpered softly inside the blanket, which was still nice and warm. Without that warmth, the little ones would never have survived the night journey.

Henning saw that he was holding Marco. The dark, remarkably handsome one.

They were so different ...

He held the infant securely as he fetched the key from its hiding place in the wall. Twenty-four hours had passed since he and Saga had left the farm to meet his parents, and what a lot had happened during that time.

A single day and night had felt like a whole year of violent events.

The door stood wide open. The house was cold inside.

“You mustn’t be afraid,” he said in his innocent child’s voice. “Henning will soon make this place nice and warm for you.”

Henning laid Marco in his parents’ big double bed with the high sides. He gulped and hurried outside again. He had wiped away his tears a long while ago. Now there was no time for them. But although he had banned himself from thinking, he couldn’t prevent his brain from working. Completely independently of his will, it thought about what had happened ... Yesterday afternoon, Saga and I learned that the ship that Mother and Father were coming on had disappeared. Near Målen, the terrible shingle bar – Norway’s worst ship graveyard.

Then, on the way home, the utterly unfathomable happened. For as long as Henning lived, he would never, ever be able to understand it! The travel rug the other baby was wrapped in was also inexplicably warm, protecting the tiny creature from the cold of the night. Henning ran indoors with the child and placed him on the bed next to his brother.

“The horse,” he muttered, both to himself and to the two newborn babies. “I need to bring in the horse: it mustn’t stand outside. I’ll be back in a jiffy!” He dashed out and got the horse into the stable, removing its harness. The warmth from the cowshed spread into the horse’s stable. It was given some hay and a grateful pat on its back.

The cows mooed impatiently.

Henning promised: “I’ll be back straightaway to milk you.”

Then there were the babies. They had begun to scream as they were brought into the cold house. Feeble, helpless little cries.

“Just a moment,” Henning said, and now he felt harassed. And nervous. What clothes could he put on the babies? And how was he to feed them?

He fumbled with the sticks trying to light a fire in the fireplace; he was far too hectic. And all the while, there were treacherous thoughts at the back of his mind. Above all, he didn’t want to think, but everything was overwhelming him.

The children’s birth, which he had had to handle all on his own. Saga, who had bled so terribly, slowly slipping out of the world of humans. And then ...

Had he really experienced all that? Those two black, winged creatures that had fetched her just as she was about to die. Who had given her life back only to lead her to ... had she said Lucifer? The dark angel – who wasn’t Satan? Surely that hadn’t happened! It was just impossible!

Nevertheless, she was gone. They had taken her with them, carrying her in their strong arms. They had told him that what was left were the two children: Lucifer’s gift to the Ice People. Those dark angels had touched the miserable blankets the two babies were wrapped in, making them so lovely and warm, which they still were. One of the men had placed his hand on Henning’s head and said that he must replace the chosen one. The chosen one was Saga. Was Henning to take Saga’s place? Surely he couldn’t do that, could he?

Henning put his hand to his chest. That was where the mandrake was hanging. Calming, comforting. When the angel had touched Henning, it had been so ... so ... He had seemed to feel stronger. As if he had turned into the strongest person in the world. But the sensation had worn off, so that when the creatures disappeared, Henning was once more just a young, insecure and very lonely boy who had been given far too great a responsibility.

The fire in the fireplace was burning nicely, making the rooms warm.

“Can you lie there a little bit longer, do you think?” he asked the two babies. “I have to go out and milk the cows. I need to feed you. I’m sure you must be hungry by now?”

They had to be, because they were crying pitifully. The pathetic little whimpers went right through him. Never had the cows been milked so fast! He tossed breakfast to the different animals: hay to the cows, gruel to the pigs, barley to the chickens, and so on. Mucking out would have to wait. Then he ran like a busy little pixie across the yard and into the house with the full buckets of milk.

Henning thought that the most crucial thing was for the two little ones to have some food. He left them lying in their warm blankets while he prepared the milk. Warmed it a bit and ... what was it Saga had said? Mix it with water? But how was he to make them drink the milk?

As he sat there on the edge of the bed with a bowl of milk on the chair, trying to coax a bit of it into them with a teaspoon, Line from Eikeby came by.

She was a pale, thin woman, who was probably younger than she appeared. Every single line in her face and body pointed downwards – she could no longer claim such a thing as a figure or pure features. A life of endless heavy work and constant worries had taken their toll. Her husband wanted to sell Eikeby to the townspeople who were spreading all over Graastensholm parish – or, to be more precise, what had once been known as Graastensholm. Line didn’t have any say in this. The sorrow of having to leave her childhood home – because it was her farm, not his – weighed heavily on her. The Eikeby people had always regarded themselves as relatives of the Ice People. Mattias’s mother had come from Eikeby, and when the Ice People had needed help on their farms they had always turned to them. Relations had been rather tense for the past fifty years, after Heike brought the troublesome grey people with him to Graastensholm. But since Saga had intervened and banished the grey people, the Eikeby people had begun to communicate with the Ice People once more. Cautiously and with a pretty bad conscience, since they had let down their “relatives” for so long.

“Well, heavens above,” said Line as she came into the room. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

Henning moaned: “Oh, Line. Please help me. They don’t want to drink. I’m so afraid they’ll die.”

“What are you saying, boy? Are they Saga’s? Has she had them now? Where is she? I suppose she’s in bed?”

Henning moaned: “Saga’s gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean? Well, did you ever see such a sweet little baby? And the other ... Oh, God, oh phew! Is he one of them? I certainly saw Heike, but this one here is worse than the Devil himself! Well, Henning, what ... Oh, Jesus Christ, you mean Saga must be ...” Her voice sank to a whisper: “ ... dead?”

Henning confirmed it with tight lips.

“Where is she then? Is she up in her room?”

“No,” he replied hoarsely. “She died last night. On the way here.”

“Is she ... in the gig?”

“No, where she died. Far from here.”

Line tried to take it all in. It took a little while.

“Oh, good heavens!” she said then. “Where? We must bring her home!”

Henning’s thoughts whirled in panic. He couldn’t very well tell Line that two black angels had fetched Saga. “No, that ... isn’t necessary. There was someone there. Some church people, I think. They promised to take care of her and give her a fine funeral. Immediately.”

“But surely you must ...”

“She was very compromised.”

“Oh, I see,” Line replied weakly. “But what about your parents? Where are they? You can’t look after these little babies on your own?”

Henning replied swiftly: “They’ll be coming soon. The ship has just been slightly delayed.”

Line stared at him. He really was all by himself – with two newborn babies!

His lower lip quivered.

“Delayed?” she said in a toneless voice. “For how many days?”

“They’re not in any danger,” he said quickly. “It hasn’t struck Målen, it’s taken another course.”

“Has it vanished?”

“Only for the moment. They’ll soon find it, it’s probably in port now. But we couldn’t wait because Saga became ill and had to come home.”

Line realized that Henning couldn’t take much more. His stiff face and his dismissive attitude showed that right now he was scared stiff of any tenderness or compassion. He had his pride, the little chap.

She turned to the babies and said: “The twins. They must have some food.”

There was no doubt about that at all. They were yelling quite determinedly, though their frail voices hadn’t drowned out the conversation.

Line said: “Let me see ... Is there anybody in the parish who can breast-feed them now? So many new families have moved to Graastensholm parish that I don’t know half of them! No, I can’t think of a wet nurse, but I’ll look into it. Anyway, you can’t feed them with a teaspoon. That won’t work! But we have a bottle that we use for the newborn lambs ... I’ll fetch it straightaway.”

She disappeared out of the door. Henning collapsed on a chair. He didn’t even have the energy to think about the grotesque fact that these newborn babies would have to use a bottle that lambs had used.

The news soon spread through the parish. Henning had a trying day, not least receiving the many curious and helpful people that came pouring in all the time.

They had found a wet nurse, but she would only take care of the good-looking baby. She didn’t want to have anything to do with Ulvar. Poor Henning was really confused, trying to decide what he ought to do. A crowd of women stood around the big bed where they lay.

“What a little angel!” one of them sighed about Marco. Thank you very much, Henning thought bitterly. Do you want me to tell you who their father is? Then perhaps we could have some peace here? But of course, he said nothing.

By the afternoon he was worn out. No one had given a thought to the eleven-year-old boy and the enormous responsibility he had been given.

Little Marco had been dressed in baby clothes that had been collected in the parish, but nobody wanted anything to do with Ulvar. Henning had asked for the boy to be given the surplus clothes, and after a lot of whispering, the women gave their permission. Henning had to dress the little boy himself. He fumbled and it hurt him to feel the distorted body with the horribly sharp shoulders that had taken Saga’s life.

Now the babies were lying in bed. The women had hidden Ulvar’s face so that they didn’t have to look at it, but newcomers were constantly walking over and lifting the blanket to see it and be shocked.

The wet nurse wanted to take Marco with her immediately, but Henning opposed this very vehemently. With horror in his heart, he sat on the edge of the bed by the children and explained that he had promised their dying mother that he would not separate them. Finally, the wet nurse promised to come several times a day because she didn’t live very far away.

But young Ulvar ... Somebody muttered: “It would be best if he were allowed to die,” and others nodded. Line from Eikeby was the only one who showed some compassion. She hadn’t been able to find the primitive bottle used for newborn lambs – which was probably just as well – but she taught Henning how to feed the boy with the edge of a linen rag dipped in milk. She didn’t want to touch “that devil of a child” because she had a large family at home who needed her. Henning had thanked her and prepared the milk according to Saga’s instructions. He carried Ulvar out into the kitchen and sat with him in his arms, and after numerous attempts he managed to get Ulvar to understand that he had to suck the linen rag.

If only the women in the room next door didn’t talk so loudly about what a tragedy it was that Viljar and Belinda of the Ice People had perished! He didn’t want to hear any of it: he wanted to stick his fingers in his ears, but then he would have dropped the baby.

The narrow, half-blind yellow eyes were focused on him and sought his face. The grotesque features twisted impatiently every time Henning had to dip the cloth in the milk.

“Don’t worry, Ulvar,” he chattered childishly. “I’m here. You can trust me, I’m your friend, and I won’t leave you. Don’t listen to those stupid women, Mother and Father will be back soon and then everything will be fine. You’ll see, they’re so nice, both of them.”

Ulvar’s yellow eyes regarded him stonily.

Henning remembered what the dark angels had said as they stood beside the babies during that quiet night: “One of them will provide the successor who will fight against Tengel the Evil. The other boy has a different task. They are our ruler’s gift to the Ice People.”

Which of them was which?

It didn’t matter. Henning would take care of both of them and treat them as equals.

He was too young to know that no children can be treated equally. Even those parents who try to be fair to their children down to the tiniest detail will always treat one or other of them unjustly. Because children have such different expectations, and they interpret things differently.

Now both the babies had been fed, and the crowd of women cackled so loudly that it gave Henning a headache. Evening was approaching and he needed to sleep, but when would he find the time to do that? The animals had to be fed and ...

He went in with the little one.

Suddenly he heard what one of them was saying: “Mrs Lie is in the parish, visiting the priest. The one who once owned Elistrand. She’s a widow now. She heard about all this and said she would come by.”

Grandmother? Henning’s ears began to burn. You must honour your mother and father. That was what it said in the Bible, but it said nothing about grandmothers. He had never cared for his grandmother, who had always been so arrogant towards her daughter, Henning’s lovely mother Belinda. She had also intensely disliked Henning’s father, Viljar, who hadn’t been able to get Graastensholm under control. When they lost the large estate, Grandmother had left them in the lurch. She had never helped them in any way, but only demanded this, that and the other. Henning was scared of his grandmother because she paralysed his will.

The women were arguing over which of them was best suited to take care of little Marco. They didn’t hear Henning’s feeble protests that the boys were not to be separated. They felt they were being immensely helpful and kind-hearted by relieving him of responsibility for one of the boys.

Then Mrs Lie entered the house. Her bosom almost filled the doorway as she sailed indoors like a battleship.

“Henning, my grandchild,” she proclaimed sanctimoniously. “What’s this I hear about your parents? Have they really drowned?”

The boy turned as white as a sheet. “No, not at all, they’re just slightly delayed.”

“That’s your reckless father all over, taking my daughter with him on such a dangerous voyage! Now you’re all on your own, my child! Of course, you must come and live with us. And I hear that you have two small babies here as well. Saga’s twins. Well, for heaven’s sake, what haven’t you been through, and one of them is a cursed child! Well, it’s what I’ve always said – my daughter should never have married into that terrible Ice People family ...”

Henning didn’t quite catch all that she was saying. After all, he was Belinda’s son, and he didn’t think there was so much wrong with him. Ulvar was Saga’s child. Saga from Sweden. Of course they were related. Cousins of the Ice People. She was probably right, but it was slightly far-fetched.

Mrs Lie made her way through the throng of women, shooing them out of the room with offensive, dismissive gestures. Then she had a look at the two little babies, shuddering at Ulvar and melting into a smile at Marco.

“What an adorable boy!” She lowered her voice to an inaudible murmur, speaking between clenched teeth so that no one could see her lips moving: “Saga was single, wasn’t she? She belonged to the well-to-do branch of the family. Isn’t that how it was, Henning?”

“Yes.”

“I suppose you’ll inherit something.”

“Saga wanted me to share equally with the children, a third to each if I took care of them. And I promised to do that,” Henning said, his heart filled with sorrow. Right now, he thought that money was not important.

“Nonsense,” said Mrs Lie. “It doesn’t make sense for such a monstrosity to inherit anything. He’ll have to go into a home of some sort: that’s more than reasonable. And of course you’ll move to our house, because you can’t stay here.”

“Yeeeees!” Henning yelled in despair. “I must stay here while I wait for Mother and Father to come back.”

“They won’t be coming back. The sooner you realize that, the better.”

“They’ll come,” he said defiantly. “and I’m to keep both boys. Together. That’s what I promised Saga.”

Henning felt that he had fought against a whole army of women all day long. Not even Line could help him because she didn’t want to have anything to do with Ulvar. His grandmother came up to him and grabbed his ear as she had done with the defiant Belinda many years ago.

“Now you keep quiet, boy,” she hissed between clenched teeth. “I’ve always been right. That obnoxious child will be put in an institution suitable for his type, and then ...”

A quiet voice spoke from the doorway: “There’ll be none of that.”

Everyone turned in its direction; Henning could still feel his grandmother’s painful grasp of his ear. A young woman, with a rather shapeless figure but with a forthright, confident look in her eyes, stood in the doorway. She was dressed in travelling clothes and had a big suitcase with her.

She said: “Henning, they told me what had happened out in the courtyard. I’m Malin, your Swedish relative, though we’re so distantly related that you’ll have to go back almost to Tengel the Good to establish our relationship. Anyway, we’re both of the Ice People. I’m Christer’s daughter and the grandchild of the famous Tula. I was Saga’s best friend. She wrote that I didn’t need to come to help her just yet, but from her letter I gleaned that she probably needed more help than she said. Anyway, I decided to come. At just the right time, by the look of things.”

Everyone felt pretty confused, listening to what Malin had to say. Mrs Lie had let her arm fall, and Henning couldn’t find the words he needed. So Malin continued: “There’ll be no question of separating the two little boys, Mrs Lie. They’ll stay here at Linden Avenue with Henning, and I’ll stay here with him and help him take care of them. We have to be here to wait for Henning’s parents.”

Henning ran over to Malin and threw himself into her arms, hiding his head in her bosom.

“I suppose you’re out to grab the money,” said the grandmother grumpily. “Do you intend to rob my grandson of it, eh?”

“We aren’t talking of money, Mrs Lie. We’re talking of two young orphans.”

Mrs Lie corrected Malin: “Three.”

Henning turned to his grandmother as he stood with his arms around Malin. “No!” he said vehemently. “My parents are alive! What’s more, Saga said that if Malin turned up, she and I were to share my part, and we will do that because Malin is so nice. Saga said so herself!”

Malin said quietly: “I think you’d better leave now, Mrs Lie. From what I gather, you were never at all supportive of Belinda and her little family when she needed you most. Your motives for taking care of Henning and one of the babies seem very murky, to say the very least. Henning and I will manage very well. I’m a fully trained nurse and healthy and strong. Saga always boasted of Henning in her letters, telling me how clever and efficient he was in his work on the farm. When it comes to money, I have enough for myself, and in this kind of situation friendship is more valuable than all the riches of the world. I don’t need anything. Saga’s inheritance belongs to the three boys.”

Mrs Lie tightened her lips. “We’ll see. I intend to keep an eye on you, my good Miss. A woman in employment is someone for whom I have no respect. I can certainly well understand that you’ve ended up on the shelf, which I’d imagine would make you desperate. Your chances won’t be any greater now, I can assure you. Men don’t care for such emancipated and outspoken women, who’ve never been taught their proper station in life.”

After this torrent of words, Mrs Lie left the house.

Malin shrugged her shoulders. She said quietly: “It seems she has never been taught to know her station. Women like her always manage to find a twisted husband of sorts, somebody they can boss about.”

For the first time that day, Henning dared to laugh – because his grandfather was just that kind of person. He gave Malin a hug. “Oh Malin, I’m so pleased you’ve come.”

“So am I,” she said gently. “But now you look as if you could do with a rest. I’ll ask Line from Eikeby to help me with the animals this evening. She seems to be a good worker. Now Henning, you just have confidence in me and go off to bed and get some sleep!”

“What if Mother and Father turn up?”

“Then I’ll wake you up immediately!”

He relaxed, and felt how completely exhausted he was. When he was in bed, Malin came in and saw to it that he was properly tucked in.

“Malin,” he said drowsily. “I haven’t had time to talk about it, but I miss Saga so dreadfully!”

She nodded and stroked his forehead. “We both do. I feel so sad for her sake. Tomorrow, you will tell me what happened, won’t you?”

“Yes, and we’ll take good care of her two boys.”

“That’s the least we can do for her.”

Henning fell asleep immediately. Malin spread the duvet properly over him and went downstairs to attend to the chores. She just had to forget her own fatigue after the journey. She stood in the doorway, looking down at the two small babies, who were fast asleep. Her expression was pensive, showing deep concern. She gazed at one and then the other. Over and over again. Then she left them. Actually, she felt great serenity in her heart. At last, she had found a place where she was needed and could use her excellent skills.

Three little boys in her care. All three needed her so desperately. It was a wonderful feeling, being allowed to do something for them.

Young Henning. What a night and day it had been for him! Unconsciously, she looked out of the window towards the road. But no carriage came bearing his parents. As a matter of fact, Malin didn’t know whether she expected it or not.