Читать книгу The Ice People 11 - Blood Feud - Margit Sandemo - Страница 7

Chapter 2

Irmelin received her absentmindedly and somewhat indifferently.

“Oh, it’s you, Villemo. Where have you been recently? You weren’t at church last Sunday.”

She was always able to come up with the most incredible excuses for not having to go to church, where she’d just sit and yawn the whole time.

“Anyway, let’s go to my room,” Irmelin said. “I’ve just taken some wheat cakes upstairs to console myself.”

Inside Irmelin’s room, which was brighter and more feminine than Villemo’s, the two of them settled in the window seat.

“Was there something in particular you wanted to see me about?” Irmelin asked.

“No, I just wanted to talk a little. You and I are having a difficult time right now.”

Irmelin sighed.

“I feel as if my life were over.”

“Same here,” Villemo nodded.

Now, was Villemo really being truthful here? Didn’t she have a lot of future dreams inside of her, even though she never let on about it?

“Certainly as far as love is concerned,” she added.

“Yes. Sometimes I just want to put an end to it all.”

“Oh, don’t do that,” Villemo said eagerly. “I’ll admit that I had those same thoughts when Eldar passed away, but we can’t hurt our parents like that. After all, we’re all they have.”

“Yes, I know. That thought is also what’s holding me back.”

They both fell silent.

“Oh, Irmelin,” Villemo said sadly. “I understand you so well!”

Irmelin exclaimed passionately, “Sometimes I wish that we’d done the same thing as Tarald and Sunniva because then we’d have to get married.”

“Have you never done that?” Villemo inquired as she took one of the wheat cakes.

The conversation had turned less tragic now that they had touched upon more exciting things.

“Are you crazy?” Irmelin exclaimed but then the corners of her mouth twitched. “Although we certainly came close to it on some occasions.”

“Eldar wanted to all the time,” Villemo confided. “But I resisted, and now I’m glad I did.”

“Did he ever kiss you?” Irmelin whispered.

Villemo was shocked that she couldn’t remember whether he had or not. That was shameful indeed. How could she forget something like that?

“Of course,” was her offhand remark. “You should have heard it when he was about to die. All those beautiful words he said to me. Oh, it was just so enchanting.”

But Irmelin wasn’t interested in such elevated topics.

“What did you feel when he was close to you?”

“Do you mean when he died?”

“No, no. When he took you in his arms.”

A face popped up in Villemo’s mind, a face which had nothing to do with the matter. A roguish face, shimmering, golden eyes, black eyelashes and dark hair ...

“Er? Oh yes, when he ...”

She was quite unable to remember what she’d felt in Eldar’s arms! After all, it was a long time ago.

‘Go away, stupid face when I want to think of Eldar!’ she thought.

“Well,” she said slowly, “there was one time when I felt something strange as we sat close together. But-”

“Yes, what did you want to say?”

Surely she couldn’t say that it made her weak in the knees to think about someone other than Eldar?

“Nothing. Did you feel anything?”

Irmelin had a dreamy expression on her face.

“When Niklas held me close, placing his cheek next to mine, and I could feel his body against mine ...”

“Yes?” asked Villemo, who wanted to know what it was like.

“Then I felt that if he’d gone further at that moment, I wouldn’t have been able to resist him.”

Villemo began to feel a yearning. She wished that she had experienced something similar.

“So sometimes you were on the verge?”

“Well, yes. Once it very nearly- but I’d rather not talk about it. To me, it’s a sacred memory.”

“I can certainly understand that. No, I never let it go that far with Eldar. He was rather impulsive, you see.”

Irmelin’s face showed that she had never cared for Eldar. Strangely, it didn’t hurt so much anymore. In the past, Villemo would have exploded if anybody so much as wrinkled their nose at him. Was her love for Eldar beginning to wane? Had she really not been more devoted than that?

“I’ve written to Dominic,” she said quickly.

“About Eldar?” Irmelin exclaimed in surprise.

“No, not at all!”

“Then why on earth have you written to him then? You were always at odds with one another.”

Villemo grabbed at the straw, grateful it was there.

“That is precisely what I wrote to him about. To put an end to the constant quarrels and teasing. But he hasn’t replied,” she added, crestfallen.

“No, I wouldn’t expect him to either. He has a life of his own. Maybe he’s married already. He was extremely good-looking.”

That last remark cut like a knife into Villemo’s heart. Dominic married? Good grief!

“If that were true, we would have heard about it,” she said.

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Irmelin insisted without mercy. “The postal services are lousy.”

That remark was a new knife but at the same time also a consolation. If the post was delayed, then she could still hope for an answer from Dominic.

Irmelin said thoughtfully, “Niklas and Dominic and you were such a trio. I was always on the outside. How I wished then that I also had yellow eyes and could have joined you. But I was just an ordinary mortal.”

Villemo had never looked at it that way before. But now, seeing it from Irmelin’s perspective, she suddenly felt proud to belong to the group that was specially chosen.

“I wonder what it’s all about,” Irmelin went on. “Niklas is still focused on it. He maintains that it has something to do with the curse.”

“Of course it does,” Villemo said hurriedly. “But we’re not evil.”

“I’m not saying that. Niklas asserts that-”

“What?”

“I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

Villemo grabbed her arm.

“I have a right to know. I’m in just as much suspense as he is.”

Irmelin cast a longing glance towards the bowl with wheat cakes, which was now empty. Her guest had eaten them all during the animated conversation.

“Well, anyway, Niklas thinks that Tarjei and Kolgrim knew something.”

“About us? They died long before our time.”

“No, I mean about the curse.”

“Oh, of course. We all know that those two were onto something.”

“Niklas has looked into it. He thinks they found something in the loft here at Graastensholm.”

“I’ve heard that as well.”

“Only nobody’s discovered what it was. And nobody has searched since then. Let’s go up there, Villemo!”

“To the loft?”

“Don’t look so worried! Are you afraid of the dark?”

Yes, she was, but Villemo didn’t want to admit it.

“Alright then, let’s go.”

The dark loft stairs frightened Villemo. As a child, she had never been allowed to go up there, so she was still frightened. The loft at Graastensholm was a strange, eerie world in which all sorts of witchcraft reigned.

During their entire heart-to-heart conversation, she had been wondering whether she should tell Irmelin about the time when Niklas had kissed her. After all, it had merely been a test. There had been no emotions involved. So she decided not to mention it. It would only have upset Irmelin and there was no point in that.

Irmelin opened the creaking loft door. Slowly, a shadowy new world opened before Villemo’s eyes. A few tiny peepholes here and there allowed a tiny bit of light into the loft room.

“Ugh,” she whispered. “There are enough corners and dark places for a whole army of ghosts to hide in.”

Irmelin, who had a more practical view on it, said, “There’s certainly plenty of dust. Come on, let’s look about!”

Weren’t there trolls sitting on the roof beams that criss-crossed just below the ceiling? Weren’t there skeletons hiding in the timeworn material which hung over by the wall? Didn’t the furniture move at night in long strides?

“I don’t think we should, Irmelin.”

“Goodness, Villemo, I had no idea you were such a chicken! These are the possessions of the Meidens. They used them and loved them and made them with their own loving hands.”

“Strange that you mention the objects in that order. Surely they made them before they used and loved them? But I agree, it feels safer if you regard them in that manner.”

“Yes, doesn’t it? Where do you think we should begin our search? We can each take one half of the loft, can’t we.”

But Villemo didn’t like that idea at all, so they searched the loft together.

“I can’t imagine the secret of the Ice People being hidden in this old corset,” Villemo said. “Or in this jar with moustache wax. What have you found?”

“A pot. And some straw goats used as Christmas decorations. No, there’s probably nothing here. Let’s go over to the other corner.”

When they had almost reached it, Villemo held Irmelin back.

“Do you know what? I don’t think we’re alone up here.”

“Oh, please. Don’t be stupid. Come on.”

“No, we shouldn’t get any closer or we’re sure to encounter something.”

Irmelin gave her a frightened look. Villemo’s face had turned horribly pale in the dim light.

“What’s the matter, Villemo?”

Villemo took Irmelin by the hand, quickly scanning the premises, as she led her back towards the middle of the loft.

“This is much better. I don’t sense anything threatening here.”

They looked towards another corner. In the semi-darkness they could discern a table and a big chair with a cloth hanging over it.

“I don’t want Graastensholm to be haunted,” Irmelin whimpered. “Why did you have to mention it in the first place?”

“It’s not ghosts,” Villemo replied nervously. “It’s a force. Like a storm, or fire, or thunder or love. It’s not an evil force, Irmelin. It merely warns.”

They began to whisper now.

“But Tarjei and Kolgrim walked about up here and both of them had to die.”

“Maybe the force doesn’t want us to die.”

“Are you sure that it’s not an evil force, Villemo?”

She tried to sense it again but they were outside its sphere now, and she didn’t have any intention of going back.

“I don’t know” she said. “I got the clear feeling that it was a person behind the force.”

“Good God! You don’t think that it’s-”

“No, it’s not him, whose name we don’t want to mention. Let’s get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”

They walked over towards the stairs. When they had closed the door behind them and returned to the world of human beings, Villemo whispered, “There’s only one person in the entire family who can come back. And it was not an evil force. That I am sure of now. It warned us earnestly, but kindly.”

When they were downstairs, Irmelin whispered, “Was it Sol?”

“Yes, and as you know she only shows up to help people.”

“I know. Do you think I should speak to Mum and Dad about it?”

“Only if it’s necessary. I’m sure it’s fine to go up to the loft without anything happening. But you and I were searching for something specific.”

“Yes, the secret of the Ice People’s curse. If neither Tarjei nor Kolgrim could find it, then we probably can’t either.”

But Irmelin knew that Villemo had more gifts than she was aware of. When they had reached Irmelin’s room once more, Irmelin asked,

“Villemo, do you think it would be awful to give in?”

“What do you mean?” Villemo said, somewhat confused.

“You know, what we talked about earlier. When we spoke about emotions.”

“Oh, Irmelin,” she answered, full of sympathy. “I don’t know what to say. All I know is that I feel deeply for both of you!”

Irmelin’s calm demeanour cracked, and she leaned against her friend, sobbing her heart out.

October came. It was a year since Villemo had met Eldar and fallen in love with him. She had stubbornly cultivated his memory, managing to keep the flame of love alive despite the fact that it sputtered precariously every now and then.

A letter from Dominic had still not arrived. Villemo felt betrayed and she regretted ever having sent him the letter.

Niklas had turned hard and introverted and was difficult to talk to. Irmelin had been sent to Gabrielshus in Denmark for a while so that these two young people would forget one another or change their minds.

Villemo went for a walk, deep in her own dark thoughts. It wasn’t as nice an October as it had been the previous year. Now the autumn mist hung in the tree tops and the fields were marshy after many weeks of rain.

Villemo entered the churchyard to gather strength from her ancestors. So many members of the Ice People would do just the same whenever they felt doubtful or alone. It may have been a pagan ritual, but she and the others of the kin felt that it gave them peace of mind.

For a change, she went over to the oldest grave with the members of her family that she had never known.

“Tengel the Good,” she whispered loud. “And Silje Arngrimsdatter.”

Silje, the maternal grandmother of her maternal grandmother. Everybody spoke of her with great respect. It seemed that there were not enough beautiful words with which to describe her and Tengel.

“What a shame that I never got to know you,” Villemo whispered to them. “I wonder what I’ll be remembered for? Will people say, ‘Villemo, who was she?’ Or, ‘Oh, yes, that indecisive girl who didn’t achieve much of anything in this life. Who just made life miserable for others? By the way, she died a virgin, did you know? She lost the only one she loved and never got married so as not to pass on the evil legacy.’”

It seemed she was now, once again, allowing her self-pity get the better of her. She quickly moved her eyes to Sol’s name: Sol Angelica, the legendary witch, who was loved by everybody.

“I haven’t even turned into an acceptable witch. I’m nothing at all.”

Villemo left the churchyard despondent and with a slightly desperate and ironic laugh. The séance was over.

She continued past Graastensholm and Linden Avenue in the direction of the forest. Villemo was in a state that was hard to define. She was sad and dissatisfied with herself. She was unable to think clearly and didn’t want to talk to anybody. So that was how she drifted about, until she reached the river.

Now, when Villemo paused to think, she realised that the roaring river had prevented her from properly hearing the sounds that had been there during her walk; the rustle of leaves wet from the rain, the small snap of a twig, all the sounds that belong to the forest. Only, there were many more of them than usual.

She cast a glance over her shoulder. She saw the fir trees strung with water drops, and animals dashing here and there to repair the damage of their homes.

Villemo turned back to the river. ‘I don’t think I’m far from the Martha Hole. Yes, it’s right here!’

Fighting against her fear, she tormented herself by walking up to the precipice. She had been there years ago but not since the time Martha, the young girl the place was named after, had thrown herself into the deepest part of the river. Since then, Villemo had been a bit afraid of the place. Now the river ran far below her. She could only catch glimpses of it every now and then. The rest of the time the cliffs and leaning trees stood in the way of the view. She didn’t want to walk closer to the edge because it gave way to a steep bank.

The river roared fiercely as it flowed in a waterfall beneath the cliff. Villemo had now reached the Martha Hole, the deepest part of the river. She stood on the precipice above it, but she couldn’t see it because it lay hidden under the cliff. A well-trodden trail led out of the forest right to the spot where Villemo stood.

She started. A small, wooden cross was placed on the spot, and flowers had been planted in front of it. Villemo felt a lump in her throat. Who would be so loyal as to see to little Martha’s wet grave?

Villemo remembered that Martha had been a quiet girl, and almost a grown-up when Villemo was eleven. She had been shy, poorly dressed and was fairly awkward in her ways. She was just the type of girl to fall prey to the malicious tactics of a practiced seducer. She yearned desperately to experience kindness and love, and never dared to refuse it when it was offered.

The assault on Villemo came so suddenly that at first she didn’t understand what was happening when she was shoved hard in the back. She was unable to prevent the fall. She heard herself gasp and yell and saw the abyss come rushing towards her. ‘Just as it had done for Martha’, Villemo thought to herself in a flash. ‘This must have been how she experienced it as well. The fall into the abyss.’