Читать книгу The Ice People 11 - Blood Feud - Margit Sandemo - Страница 6

Chapter 1

The first six months after Villemo had returned from Tobrønn, she spent a lot of time at home and was as unhappy as anyone could be. She was preoccupied by it all, but wanted others to be aware of how much she was suffering. And nobody suffered as dramatically as Villemo. Niklas was probably right; her loyal love to the now deceased Eldar Black Forest was more a result of stubbornness than of heartache. But Villemo was unable to admit this, least of all to herself. She was completely blinkered.

There was malicious gossip about Eldar being the father of several children and having even murdered a young girl for that very reason. How could anybody possibly believe those rumours about him? Villemo selected the memories she had of him with care, completely forgetting all the unpleasant ones. She chose to recall the few times when Eldar had shown signs of warmth and compassion, even of mending his ways. In her mind, he had become a persecuted angel. Time and again she would let her thoughts drift back to the beautiful death scene in which Eldar had confessed his love for her, Villemo.

Although Villemo never mentioned Eldar (since he was a sacred memory), her parents, Gabriella and Kaleb, found her absolutely intolerable. She walked about with the attitude that her parents clearly couldn’t understand her pain. She would tilt her head to the side and her eyes, filled with yearning, looked like they could fill with tears at any moment. Her parents wanted their robust, cheerful and slightly crazy Villemo back – the girl who they had scolded so many times and had loved so deeply.

But when she wasn’t wallowing in her pain, she was as sweet and compliant as ever. And she was quite remarkable with the poor creatures she and Eldar had found in the basement at Tobrønn. The eight of them were determined to do good work at Elistrand, Graastensholm and Linden Avenue. Admittedly, there were problems, especially for Mattias at Graastensholm who believed that these people shouldn’t reproduce. But how could you prevent them from doing so without imposing restrictions on their private lives? So far nothing alarming had occurred, and on the three farms the group were protected from the disdain, humiliation and outright contempt of the surrounding world. This hatred was simply triggered by a lack of understanding, and a fear of anyone who’s not ‘normal’. People also whispered that the Ice People had procured cheap and unintelligent labour, but once they heard the whole story, the gossip immediately stopped.

Despite this, the eight people still struggled. They suffered from nightmares and were haunted by memories of the basement, of being slashed and assaulted, and they were terribly frightened of being sent back to Tobrønn. At those times, they would send for Villemo. She would come to soothe them, and she understood their pain because she had seen their misery and humiliation at Tobrønn.

But Kaleb, her Dad, was worried. The people at the farm would turn up again and again with reports of peculiar things happening around Elistrand. Strangers had been seen guarding the property, but they would immediately vanish as soon as anybody got closer. And people had turned up at Elistrand asking about Villemo - where she stayed and when she went out.

Kaleb had asked his daughter about it, and was worried that she may be in danger from the Woller men. But she didn’t understand what he was referring to, because she had never been told who the four men, who had murdered Eldar Black Forest, were. She believed that he had been killed in a battle as an insurgent. She didn’t know of the Woller farmer’s dogged determination to find the girl from Elistrand. His son, his only son, Mons, had been killed by Eldar and Villemo. In revenge, they must both die. Eldar had been taken care of, which meant that there was only one left to contend with.

No, Villemo had no idea why there were people ‘guarding’ Elistrand and asking about her.

“Who are those secret admirers of yours, Villemo?” her mother, Gabriella, would ask with a smile.

She would once more put on a face of insulted melancholy and profound sorrow and walk quietly up to her room. Her bed had not yet been given the inscription, ‘The happiest person sleeps here!’ – why had she been so stupid as to want to write something like that? No, Dominic’s suggestion, ‘Love is the greatest thing of all,’ had been much better. Only she couldn’t bring herself to scratch it in.

By summer, Kaleb was so fed up with his daughter’s displays of agony that he forced her out of the house.

“Old mother Sigbrit is no longer able to walk. We normally go to her home with a pail of milk and some food every other day. That’s your job from now on, Villemo.”

The daughter stifled an agonised sigh and went along with it.

Actually, it was wonderful to go out in the glorious summer weather. Only, she didn’t want to show it. If she was going to suffer, she would have to do it consistently.

Something happened when she was on her fourth trip to mother Sigbrit’s place. It was a warm day at the height of summer, as she sauntered slowly and pensively through the long grass in the forest on her way home from the old woman’s house. The empty milk pail dangled against her leg and the grass tickled her bare feet. The path was edged with the violet flowers of the tufted vetches. In the darkness among the trees, coy bluebells peeked out from the black earth.

In the midst of all this beauty, Villemo felt more lonely than ever. The one person she had hoped to share all of this with was gone. He lay in a cold grave far away on the plains of Romerike.

The path she was walking on grew narrower as the trees grew closer on either side. All of a sudden she stopped. She heard horses’ hooves galloping along the path behind her. She turned to see a rider in black, sitting upon a huge, muscular horse that was galloping wildly toward her. It looked like he had no intention of stopping.

Villemo stood stock still for a moment, completely stunned. ‘Well, stop for heaven’s sake,’ she thought. ‘Can’t you see me?’

He could see her alright. He had wrapped a scarf over his face, leaving only the eyes showing. Those eyes were focused directly at her with utmost determination. He spurred the horse on.

Finally, Villemo realised what was happening. She ran like mad along the path, but knew that there was quite a distance before it would start to grow wider – and by then it would be too late. She could already hear the horse’s snort in her ear as she threw herself to one side and plunged into the prickling, dense thicket of spruce. She screwed her eyes shut to protect them against the prickly twigs and managed to push through them. As she felt her arms, legs and ears getting scratched and cut, she heard the horse stop. But the rider couldn’t turn on that narrow path, and he certainly couldn’t pursue her on the horse.

Villemo was already far from the path, forcing her way through the underwood. She broke small fir trees, plodded through black swamps and didn’t see where she was walking because she couldn’t keep her eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time. Her feet were torn to pieces from all the trampling, but the rider seemed to have given up. He had been so big and broad that he hadn’t been able to force his way through this jungle of a forest.

Villemo’s breathing was wheezy from fatigue. She mostly inched her way on her hands and knees over boulders and through shrubs; she ran for her life, stumbled, crawled, got up and ran once more. Then all of a sudden things started to look more bright – and Graastensholm lay in front of her not too far away.

She ventured a glance back across the meadow from which the rider would have emerged. But he wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

Tired, torn and bruised, her beautiful hair tangled in a knot full of spruce needles and twigs, she tumbled into Graastensholm. She stopped in the hall in order to catch her breath. But nobody seemed to have registered her arrival. This offended her somewhat in the midst of all her fear, because she had never before managed to make such a dramatic entrance.

Then she heard angry voices from the big drawing room. It was most unusual for anyone to raise their voice at Graastensholm. Mattias and Hilde were both very peaceful individuals. But whatever was happening now, it was clear that nobody had time for her. They had their own drama to contend with. Villemo remained standing there, wavering, until the door suddenly opened and Irmelin, howling in tears, rushed past her and up the stairs without so much as even noticing her.

Villemo entered the drawing room cautiously where deep silence now reigned. Irmelin’s parents were there together with Niklas, whose face was red and had a defiant expression. Nobody said anything as Villemo entered.

“I’m sorry if I’ve come at an awkward moment ...”

Irmelin’s father, Mattias, pulled himself together.

“Heavens, Villemo. What’s happened to you? Have you been in an accident?”

Villemo felt that this wasn’t the right time to be thinking of herself. Their problem seemed to be bigger.

“No, it’s nothing. I stumbled over a rock, that’s all. But why do you all look so agitated? Has anything happened?”

Mattias and Hilde looked at one another.

“You might as well be told now, because you’ll find out about it sooner or later,” said Mattias. His kind eyes were sad. “Niklas has asked for Irmelin’s hand in marriage. And I’m afraid we had to decline.”

Thoughts buzzed in Villemo’s head.

“Niklas and Irmelin? Do they plan to marry? I had no idea that-”

“No” Niklas said, unusually agitated. “You wouldn’t have noticed anything lately, you’ve been much too self-absorbed for that. But we’ve been close for many years, so you really should have known about it.”

“I- I-,” she stuttered sadly.

“Villemo has problems of her own,” Hilde said, trying to smooth things over.

“Yes, don’t we know about it,” Niklas hissed.

She chose not to be hurt. Actually, he was quite right that she had been too focussed on her own problems.

“Why aren’t you allowed to get married?” Villemo asked.

Irmelin’s father sighed.

“It won’t do. Those two are far too closely related.”

“I don’t think they are,” Villemo objected.

“Well, even so, that is how matters stand,” Mattias insisted. “I know that my father once stood here just like Niklas today. My father wanted to marry Sol’s daughter, Sunniva. Tengel was said to be furious. But it was too late. Sunniva was with child and they were forced to get married. Then Sunniva gave birth to a stricken child, Kolgrim, and died in childbirth.”

“But surely they were more closely related than Niklas and Irmelin are?”

“Yes, a generation less. They were related three times removed while Irmelin and Niklas are related four times removed. Besides, Tarald and Sunniva were far more burdened by the legacy because they were Tengel’s grandson and Sol’s daughter. But even so, Villemo! We can’t take the risk!”

“I think it’s unfair!” Villemo cried. “They’re so well suited for one another.”

“So were Tarald and Sunniva, and it was still a disaster. No, I’m afraid we’ll have to say no despite the fact that we’re very fond of Niklas.”

Villemo wondered why she had been so blind about Niklas and Irmelin. There must have been plenty of signs that she should have picked up! Even long ago, when she had asked Niklas to kiss her, she should have sensed where his heart actually lay.

Did she feel jealous about it? No, not at all. She’d never been in love with Niklas. She considered him a terribly proper and correct young man, and she admired him, but that was all she felt for him. He was a relative and her childhood friend.

Mattias was obviously troubled by the situation. He turned to Niklas and said “I’m sure that your parents will agree with us.”

Niklas just remained standing in the same spot, looking angry and lost. “When we get around to talking with them, then we’ll see. Can I go up to Irmelin’s room?”

Mattias and Hilde hesitated.

“Yes, certainly. But please don’t act rashly!”

He nodded tersely and left the room.

Mattias rubbed his eyes. Both he and Hilde seemed deeply saddened.

“And what about you, Villemo?” he asked absentmindedly. “You look like you’re in bad shape. I think we ought to take a look at your wounds, don’t you?”

“No, it’s not that bad, nothing that I can’t wash away myself. I’ll do that when I get back home. But I’d be grateful if I could take a moment to tidy myself up. I want to look more presentable when Mum sees me.”

“Of course,” Hilde said in her usual, kind voice. But her thoughts seemed to be elsewhere, which was no wonder.

That day changed Villemo in many ways. She became silent and pensive, lost in her thoughts even when she was with her parents at mealtimes, or in the great parlour in the evenings.

Villemo had entered a necessary period of soul-searching. A few weeks later, she sat down in her room and wrote a letter to her relative, Dominic.

Dear friend,

You’re bound to be surprised at receiving a letter from me because I don’t think this has ever happened before.

The thing is I feel so perplexed and have nobody to talk to about it. So much is happening around me, and I feel that I’m in a vast vacuum where nothing is real. I’m also frightened, and I don’t dare to speak to my parents about it. I’ve caused them enough worry already.

In the past, those of us who were the same age would always stick together, especially those of us who had cats’ eyes – you and I and Niklas. Although you tended to tease me the most, I always felt at ease in your company.

Now we’re no longer together. Niklas and Irmelin want to marry one another, but aren’t allowed to do so because of the evil legacy. They’re in such great despair and so absorbed in each other that I am no longer involved. Lene is to marry Örjan Stege, whom you undoubtedly know, and we’re all invited to the wedding this summer. So she’s also focused on herself. They say that Tristan has become so strange, so I don’t feel like writing to him. All I’ve got is you, Dominic, and please be nice and try to take me seriously – I wouldn’t be able to bear it if you teased me right now.

It’s as if I’m waking up from a long dream. Goodness, I’m so horrible. I think self-pity is the right (and ugly) word for it. And I’ve had no reason to feel that way – something which I realise now that I’m experiencing things that I can’t explain. A few weeks ago, I was attacked by a rider in black in the forest. He tried to trample me with his horse. I don’t know why, because I don’t think I’ve ever met him before. But his face was hidden, so I’m not sure. I managed to get away but the incident left me frightened in ways that I didn’t fully understand until now. In fact, I find that I’m quite upset and shaken these days. And even before this incident, the farm was being guarded and our farmhands were being questioned about me. I’m practically afraid of my own shadow now and hardly dare to go out. Never again will I have the courage to take the shortcut through the forest.

At the same time it feels so silly. What is it that I’m so afraid of? Of dying? I, who no longer have anything to live for and who is just a nuisance to everybody.

Oh, Dominic, being so lonely is very difficult. I mean inside, in my soul. Of course, I should have accepted my fate when I encountered the rider. But I don’t want to be trampled to death! That would be such an undignified and grotesque way of dying!

Suicide is out of the question. I believe that would cause my closest family too much grief. Do you know what? The day E. passed away (Villemo couldn’t bring herself to write his full name) something strange happened. The three of us – Niklas, you and I – have always wondered about our yellow eyes. And to my great disappointment, I have never been able to find a reason for having them. I mean, you two possess unique gifts, but I don’t. But when E. was dying, he asked me so fervently to follow him to the border of the land of shadows. I was very much tempted because I felt that it was my own life that was burning up at that moment.

Then, all of a sudden, I had my first vision, if that’s the right word. It was so intense that it hurt. I knew instinctively that you and I and Niklas must live on. We had been chosen for something that was so frightening that I was unable to breathe properly. I was unable to sense what it was, only that my dear love, E., was involved somehow.

You see behind people’s masks, Dominic. Have you had a similar foreboding? Your ability to see through people is probably why I’m so afraid of you and why there’s such tension between us. I always imagine that you know everything about me and find me ridiculous and childish, and God knows what else ...

Am I really so hopeless, Dominic? Do I only think of myself? I think that I care about other people. My heart bleeds for Irmelin and Niklas who can’t marry each other. Yesterday I wept for their sake. And then there are the slow-witted people that we have on our farm. I can sympathise with them and understand how they feel. Even so, my life isn’t fulfilling. I want to experience something new all the time and I’m always looking ahead. But that seems to be changing now that I’ve experienced something evil.

Oh, dear. This has turned into a terribly pessimistic and self-absorbed letter. However, this was to be expected considering the frame of mind I’m in at the moment. Please answer me, dearest Dominic, tell me about your world, your life and all your loved ones. I think this would make many things easier for me.

Yours affectionately,

Villemo

When she had finished sealing the letter, she paused for a moment. She felt a strong urge to add: Only I don’t want to know anything about girlfriends or marriage plans.

But she didn’t. Dominic’s private life was none of her business. She couldn’t demand of others that they be unattached as well as her. She quickly had the letter sent off before there was any chance of her having second thoughts.

And in August, Villemo did something she had long been dreading: she went up to the Black Forest. She felt it was her duty to tell Eldar’s family about his last days. She was surprised to discover how few they were. Eldar’s parents and young siblings were alive, but otherwise their ranks on the farm had depleted to an alarming degree. When she asked where everybody was, she was told how each one of them had faced various accidents, either alone in the forest or in the capital, Christiania. She instinctively felt that the older ones were hiding something from her.

Villemo wasn’t given a cordial welcome, but then she hadn’t expected one. Eldar’s parents greeted her with only a grumpy silence. They had put flatbread and milk on the table, but made it clear that they only did so out of duty.

More unsure than ever, she stuttered, “I would have come up a long time ago to talk to you-”

“I don’t know whether we have anything to talk to you about,” the woman muttered.

“About Eldar,” Villemo continued with brave persistence. “After all, we spent his last months together.”

The old man snorted.

“Eldar was a good man,” Villemo said sadly. “You have every right to be proud of him.”

“I see,” the mother responded curtly.

The younger children sat on the bench, looking at her fixedly. The brother she had spoken with a bit at Linden Avenue was no longer there. He had been killed in Christiania. She was told that he had been stabbed with a knife in a narrow alley.

“Eldar was one of the most trusted men of the insurgency movement,” Villemo continued, unperturbed. “He fell while he was on duty. He sacrificed his life for his country.”

After a somewhat uneasy pause, the father drawled, “Why was he there in the first place? Wouldn’t it have been better if he’d taken care of the farm? Now there’s hardly anyone left to take over.”

“I can certainly see that,” Villemo said sympathetically. “What about Gudrun?”

Then everybody fell completely silent. The mother, who had been busy baking, slammed the dough onto the table.

“Gudrun’s dead,” she snapped.

“What? How on earth did that happen?”

The old man laughed bitterly.

“Well, at least that illness was self-inflicted.”

“Don’t mention the illnesses of shame in our house,” said the woman.

Villemo could hardly eat the food. She felt so terribly sorry for these people who had suffered so many losses.

“Eldar was such a noble person,” she tried to say once more. “There was so much good in him. We wanted to get married.”

Both parents stiffened. Then the mother began to bake once more.

“Don’t sit there and talk nonsense, miss!”

“I’m telling you the truth!”

“Did he make any advances, Miss Villemo?”

“Eldar?” she smiled. “No, he behaved completely honourably.”

Well, that was what she had managed to trick herself into believing. She had been seeing those recent events in her life through rose-tinted spectacles.

The old man got to his feet.

“You shouldn’t have ruined him, miss,” he said in a voice that trembled with controlled anger. “First, pulling him into an uprising and then charming him so that he forgot his station.”

“Me?” Villemo exclaimed. “I had nothing to do with the uprising. It was none of my business. He joined long before I did. And as for ‘charming him’ ... well, that was just how it was. We loved each other so much. That is why it almost seems to me that I belong here in the Black Forest. So please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

“No, thank you,” the farmer answered coldly. “Enough has been done as it is. But you could ask the landowners why they don’t protect us farmers. We have to watch our loved ones die like flies.”

“Well, er,” Villemo said, perplexed. “Surely the best prevention against accidents is to make things safer and to be more careful in general.”

“Make things safer,” the man hissed. “You haven’t understood anything! You can believe whatever you want to believe. Anyway, I don’t care. It’s none of my business. I couldn’t care less!”

Then he got up and left the house.

Villemo realised that these two old folks no longer had respect for her. They didn’t regard her as a sort of daughter-in-law, but as an upper class girl who had got involved with a man from a lower class, which was unforgivable. She was lower than them now and they looked down on her.

She could do nothing except thank them for the meal and plod homeward with the sinking feeling of having failed terribly that day.

As she was walking along the forest trail, she discovered a piece of rope, half hidden. The rope had been tied to a branch that had been stretched across the path, forming an almost invisible stumbling block. Villemo loosened the rope and the branch swung back swiftly.

“Good God,” she muttered to herself. “Are they putting traps for the animals in the middle of the path? Somebody could have walked right into it and been badly hurt.”

‘Strange that I didn’t notice it,’ she thought. ‘I could have been badly hurt.’

Villemo, unsuspecting, continued walking home.

When she emerged from the forest and the entire Parish of Graastensholm lay before her eyes, she felt an immense emptiness. ‘What’s left?’ she thought to herself. ‘A dream about a man who never became mine? Why am I striving so hard to keep his memory alive? Because I have no one else – and that’s the truth. But any girl of my age would want somebody to think about...’

The memory of Eldar had become too diluted and pale in her memory. Instead of him, she visualised ...No, that was too ridiculous!

Villemo began walking again. She wanted to talk to Irmelin. It had been a long time since she had seen her friend. So she began walking up toward the old, familiar building of Graastensholm.