Читать книгу The Ice People 26 - The Secret - Margit Sandemo - Страница 7

Chapter 2

Eskil was concerned from the moment he saw Eldafjord. This wasn’t at all how he had imagined the place. A fisherman had lent him his boat – Eskil had paid him a tidy sum, which would enable him to use it for a week or so. He reckoned that was about as long as he would need it for. He had left his horse with the fisherman as security.

He hadn’t said where he was going because this was his own adventure. He also had precise directions to get there. However, it had taken longer than he expected! And weren’t those steep mountains high! The snow shone brightly on their lofty pinnacles. He hadn’t taken into account that he would be so unfit after his long imprisonment. He got big blisters on his hands from the rough handles of the oars and he rowed more and more slowly. He had been out on the open sea for a while and the boat had rocked alarmingly. Then he entered the fjord and everything was calm again.

This was just the main fjord. As the sun disappeared behind the mountains and the shadows fell on the water, he reached the entrance to Eldafjord, the small side-fjord between the soaring cliffs.

If he hadn’t known it was there, he would never have guessed that there was a narrow, deep fjord right there.

He swung the rowing boat around the cliff and turned around in the boat. He wanted to see where he was going. His face flushed in shock and surprise. The mountains were tall with shiny flanks: it looked as if numerous rock falls had been wearing the stone smooth for thousands of years. At the far end of the narrow inlet lay a cluster of houses, helplessly crouched under the enormous weight of the mountain walls. There were a few farms and modest houses and a small fish farm. That was all there was room for.

Wait ... wasn’t that the roof of another house sticking up through the trees to the right? With slopes above it rising up to the mountain wall?

It was hard to tell.

Eskil realized that this place must be very beautiful in daylight, but he had been unfortunate to arrive at the gloomiest time of the day, when dusk had its most oppressive grip on human hearts.

What could this place be like in winter, when storms whipped up the waves and the snow swept around the corners of the houses in the silent darkness?

He shuddered.

There was something else about this fjord that frightened him. What could it be? Something lurking somewhere. Now he was allowing himself to be carried away by the shadowy blue atmosphere of twilight. He was weak and exhausted, partly because of his many months in prison eating miserable food, and partly because of the unfamiliar exertion of rowing. Now he registered that he was hungry as well. And rather seasick.

And then there was this fog rolling down the mountains. He was freezing cold. Losing heart in such conditions was easy. What on earth was he doing here? Why hadn’t he ridden straight back to nice, warm, lovely Graastensholm? But Mother and Father hadn’t written; they hadn’t even tried to get him out of prison. Perhaps something had happened to them?

He had been absolutely stupid to insist on searching for the treasure first. He ought to have ridden home straight away!

But now he was here. He had reached his destination.

Oh, what a destination! Was there a gloomier place in the whole of Norway than this? Without turning round to look any more, he fought his way onwards, clutching the oars with his blistered hands. The hair at the back of his neck tickled as if somebody was watching him with dangerous, evil eyes from Eldafjord’s little harbour.

He was too scared to turn around again.

Instead, he stared at the main fjord. It would soon disappear and all he would have to look at would be the naked mountain walls.

That wasn’t an uplifting thought.

The water around the rowing boat seemed bluish-black and cold, as it reflected the slopes of the massifs. Who could know what lay hidden in the depths here? Perhaps a lurking monster would suddenly tip up the boat?

Eskil started and nearly screamed when the boat hit something and stopped with an eerie, scraping sound. For a moment, he thought that his heart would stop from sheer fright, but then he saw what had happened. He had reached land. He had hit a stone under the water, some distance out in the fjord.

A little group of people stood on a small bridge, watching him. There were a couple of children, some elderly men leaning against the parapet, a stout, grumpy woman, and two young girls who put their heads together and giggled. They weren’t looking at Eskil in an unfriendly way – on the contrary! One of the girls was actually quite a beauty.

That was all that Eskil had time to see. He hurriedly moved to the back of the boat so that it lifted off the rock. With a very stiff and shy smile, he nodded to the group on the bridge and began to pole the boat. The small boys immediately ran out into the water and grabbed the bow of the boat, almost making Eskil lose his balance. The girls laughed again.

Shortly afterwards, he was standing among those people, asking and explaining. Of course, they wondered what this completely unknown stranger was doing in Eldafjord but they didn’t say so. Eskil sensed that they were puzzled.

He told them that a man he had met many years ago had advised him to see this fantastic place, which was no lie. He had become so curious that, since he was in the area, he had decided to take the opportunity to stay here for a few days.

They looked at one another. They didn’t say a word.

One of the small boys said: “Terje sometimes rents rooms,” and the grown-ups shushed him.

“Terje?” asked Eskil.

“Yes,” said one of the men, very slowly and reluctantly. “It’s true that Terje Jolinssøn tends to rent to visitors. But don’t settle for anything! Ask to rent a room in his house. Not in any other place! Not everything he has to offer is ... good!”

His voice died away. Eskil wanted to hear more but he got no answer. He had pricked up his ears when he heard the name Jolinssøn, because that was the name of the man who had built the fabled house.

That was where Eskil wanted to go! But he had better not ask too many questions. For the time being.

He asked: “Will somebody show me the way to Terje Jolinssøn’s house?”

The two young girls reacted quickly: “We can do that!”

“Splendid.”

The elderly men were mildly amused at Eskil’s attempts to moor his boat.

One of them said calmly: “We’ll take care of it.” They were no longer so hostile towards the new arrival, a landlubber who didn’t have a clue about handling a boat.

The grumpy woman was already hurrying up the hill as quickly as her thick legs would carry her, in order to be the first with the news.

Eskil left the bridge with the two girls. They kept staring at him, which concerned him slightly. Eskil Lind of the Ice People had grown into a handsome young man. His dark, copper-red hair was thick and curly, and his greenish-brown eyes had a slightly cheeky look in them, which was extremely charming. And his thousands and thousands of freckles ...? They might have been a problem on the face of an over-sensitive girl, but on Eskil they added to his charm. His short snub nose and radiant smile were also assets, not to mention his long legs and well-proportioned body. He had undoubtedly inherited his pleasant appearance from his maternal grandparents, Elisabet and Vemund Tark. The fact that he was very pale and skinny after his imprisonment meant nothing – it just gave him a more romantic air. Besides, most of the people in the village were undernourished, so he didn’t look unusual. Add in his tendency to blush now and then at his boyish clumsiness, and he was almost irresistible.

The pretty girl was the one who walked beside him – it was her natural right. She told him that her name was Inger-Lise. Eskil might have expected to come across terribly shy girls in such a remote part of the world, but Inger-Lise had the self-confidence that an attractive appearance generates. She had attended the village school for a while, so she was worldly and pleased with herself.

The other girl, Mari, was a more typical product of an isolated settlement in Western Norway. She played the admiring, self-effacing role in the two girls’ relationship, which was bound to be as it always is: as soon as the more popular of the two girls finds a boyfriend, she completely forgets the friend she needed for so long to set her off and support her. Mari noticed Inger-Lise’s new behaviour and felt a twinge in her heart from an anxiety hitherto unknown to her. Both girls were obviously very religious: they weighed their words carefully and would often fold their hands very quickly as if to pray for forgiveness or a blessing for their secret thoughts.

Inger-Lise chatted. She swayed her hips and really played up to Eskil as best she could. He was longing for female company after almost a year behind bars, and the girl was confoundedly pretty. Her presence acted like a tonic for him, while he found the other girl boring because she didn’t say anything and showed no interest in getting to know him better.

Spring had come to Eldafjord. As they walked up the hill, there was a strong smell of the earth coming alive – a sharp, good smell that ignited many different urges and instincts in human beings. It was certainly dark and gloomy, and the mountains brooded threateningly in the twilight; but a narrow strip of cold, yellow light showed that brighter days might be in the offing. If you had time to wait ...

Eskil fooled about with the girls, teasing Inger-Lise so that she slapped him coquettishly on the arm in mock anger, and all the while his senses were absorbing the atmosphere of the little inlet: the houses resting so silently around them; the scents from the tiny gardens; the small, cultivated patches of forest; a small farm in an open field; the mooing from a cowshed; flickering light in a window; the cold evening air from the fjord ...

“Terje lives up there to the right.”

Eskil looked up. He could see that there was light in two windows. It appeared to be a pretty big building with impressive stables.

Could this be Jolin’s house, where the treasure was hidden? If so, it was a rather mundane place to search for treasure.

Eskil said nervously: “The men down at the beach told me to ask to stay in the house itself.”

“Yes, you must definitely do that!”

This was the first time that Mari had spoken of her own free will.

“Why?”

Inger-Lise said quickly: “Oh, don’t worry about that. There’s far too much gossip here in Eldafjord.”

Eskil asked: “Do you mean to say that there are several houses that I can choose from?”

“Yes,” replied Mari.

Inger-Lise didn’t want her new conquest to be frightened away. She whispered tetchily: “Be quiet, Mari,” but not so quietly that it escaped Eskil’s hearing. He reckoned that there must be at least one more house – which he ought not to stay in.

It had to be Mr Jolin’s house!

Eskil strained to get an impression of the surroundings in the twilight. Above that section of forest over there ... that must be the same rooftop that he was sure he had seen from out on the fjord. There was someone up there. A house or ...? Yes, there was a cold, bluish light in one of the windows.

“Is there a house up there?” he asked the girls.

“Yes, but we never go up there,” replied Inger-Lise.

“Why not?”

Inger-Lise shrugged her shoulders. “Terje doesn’t like it. He tends to treat that house as if it were made of gold. He rents it out to rich people who are in poor health and that sort of thing.”

Mari whispered something to Inger-Lise as if to dissuade her from saying any more. Inger-Lise hissed back that it was nothing but stupid superstition.

But Eskil was no longer really listening to them. He was focused intently on the house above them. Now light was twinkling in several windows. Was it a two-storeyed house perhaps? That was certainly most uncommon in this wilderness. Then the house disappeared from view and they came to a gate.

“This is where Terje lives,” said Inger-Lise. Her voice implied a thousand plans, more meetings, the hope that he would stay, and promises if he did. Eskil found the immediate future quite promising. Mari said nothing. She just put out her hand and he thought that he detected a request, or a warning, in her eyes. Be careful. Eskil didn’t think Mari was trying to warn him against getting to know Inger-Lise better. No, it was something else, far more sinister, that she was driving at.

Was it the house up behind the trees she had in mind?

Eskil frowned. Where had he seen Terje Jolinssøn before? No, he had never seen him in person but who was it he resembled? That small feature around the extremely beautiful eyes. Where had he seen that before? No, he couldn’t remember.

Terje Jolinssøn was an extremely handsome man, and yet Eskil couldn’t help feeling slightly uneasy in his company. Was it a brutality in the way Terje moved, or his low, scheming voice? Not that he was unkind – no, not at all. He spoke in a low voice as if he was afraid that somebody might hear him. There were obviously several other people in the house. The kitchen where they stood was neat and tidy. It showed the touch of a woman.

“Yes, I can certainly rent you a room for a couple of days,” Terje said, smiling like a tiger. “It all depends on how much you want to pay, because the rooms are of various qualities.”

Eskil, who had received all his travel money back thanks to the intervention of the king’s emissary, was willing to pay what he was used to paying for a good room in a reputable inn. Terje’s eyes grew bigger for an instant, and a satisfied smile quivered at one corner of his mouth.

Eskil added swiftly: “I’d prefer to stay in this house.”

Terje didn’t seem to be in favour of that. “You will hear a child crying at night, which can be very annoying. I can offer you much better rooms.”

In Jolin’s house? Already? Eskil wasn’t quite ready for that just yet – he was too exhausted, tired and hungry.

“All I want right now is to get some sleep,” he said, smiling nervously at Terje. “A child crying won’t disturb me. But it would be absolutely great if I could have some food because it’s a long time since I had anything to eat. I’ve been rowing nearly all day.” Eskil laughed as he showed the palms of his hands, and Terje shook his head at his recklessness. “Well, if you’re willing to settle for a modest room for tonight, that’s fine with me. Then we can find better lodgings for you tomorrow. You can have something to eat and we’ll see to your hands.”

“I’ll accept that.”

A little while later, Eskil went to bed in a small well-kept room. He was full up and satisfied, his hands had been bandaged – and he fell asleep immediately.

In the middle of the night, Eskil was woken by a long scream of the utmost agony. He sat up in bed and listened. He could discern a soothing woman’s voice. It was a child who was screaming and it went right through Eskil. How could anyone suffer so much pain? A child! The agony echoed in him: it was as if he was feeling the pain himself and he felt the tears of compassion fill his eyes. It wasn’t an infant but an older child – you could tell by the voice. The woman was murmuring kind words, trying to comfort the child, but Eskil registered her desperation and despondency.

A door was opened roughly and the moaning became louder. Then a furious man’s voice could be heard. “Can you get that damned brat to keep quiet? We have guests in the house!”

The woman said something in a low, cowed voice.

“Give him a dose that will keep him quiet once and for all. I’ve said that a thousand times!” the brutal man’s voice said. “Why should he be bothered? This can hardly be good for him.”

She was startled and hushed the man. “He can hear you, Terje!”

“So what? Surely you don’t imagine that he’ll ever get better?”

The door was slammed.

Eskil lay for a long time, listening to the child’s moans, which abated little by little and finally quietened down completely.

My God, he thought, what’s going on? That poor, poor child! And the parents! Naturally, Eskil felt an urge to help like everybody else, just as everybody imagines that he or she is just the one to be able to. However, in this particular instance, it seemed completely futile.

Dawn broke through the small window. Eskil got up and looked out. It must have been very early because the dew lay like cobwebs all over the grass outside. He could see only a small part of the yard, because the stables blocked his view of the rest. Whatever Terje Jolinssøn was, he must be a hardworking man. Everything emanated, if not affluence, then energy and hard work on the farm.

A cock crowed on a neighbouring farm. Eskil walked back to his bed and lay down to sleep again.

When he woke up, he could hear activity in the house so he washed himself and got dressed. Terje was in the kitchen when he went down. He was sitting at the table, mopping up grease from his plate with a crust of bread. Eskil said good morning and was offered a seat at the table, which was laid for three. Since one place had been used, Eskil sat down at the third.

“Has your wife gone out?” he asked politely.

“She’s not my wife but my sister-in-law,” replied Terje. “She’s feeding the child.”

“She’s a widow then?”

“Yes, my brother’s. I let her stay here because she has nowhere else to go. Besides, it’s good to have a housekeeper. Did you have a good night’s sleep?”

Eskil lied: “Yes, I slept like a log. All through the night.”

Terje nodded, satisfied.

A young, but mature, woman came into the kitchen and greeted Eskil politely. She had many of the same features as the other people he had met in Eldafjord. Unlike Terje’s eyes, hers radiated warmth and humour – though sadly overshadowed by sorrow – and a zest for life that Eskil found really engaging.

She was probably around thirty. Beautiful, with dark eyes. Or rather, they seemed dark but were actually bright. Her complexion around her eyes was dark, which suited her. She didn’t give an impression of being exhausted or weak. Nevertheless, her facial features betrayed a tragedy.

“It’s so nice to have a guest in the house,” she smiled. “I hope you’ll have a long stay with us.”

Terje screwed up his eyes. “What’s your reason for coming to Eldafjord in the first place, Eskil?” Once again, Eskil spoke of the man he had met so long ago, the one who had boasted about Eldafjord and made him curious. He had to admit it: his expectations had been met. This place was magical!

Terje leaned forward, picking at a piece of bread that lay on the table. Eskil thought that Terje’s voice contained a veiled threat: “This man – did he say anything else about Eldafjord?”

The woman, whose name was Solveig, had stopped moving abruptly. She looked frightened. What was Eskil to say? How much ought he to reveal? How well known was the story about Jolin’s treasure? Should the man Eskil had met many years ago have known about it?

Terje’s eyes were sly and the woman stood stock-still as they waited for Eskil’s reply. He gave a strained laugh and shrugged his shoulders: “No, what would that be? All he said was that this place is beautiful. And I was in Western Norway anyway. Or, wait ...”

He pretended to think. “No, perhaps it wasn’t him.”

“What do you mean?” asked Terje.

“I think I’m mixing up two different people. When I was a child, somebody told me about ...”

Suddenly, Eskil was on his guard. Terje and Solveig were too attentive.

“No, no,” he said with a deprecating gesture. “I mixed everything up. That had nothing to do with Eldafjord.”

Terje dropped the topic reluctantly. His sister-in-law, Solveig, heard a sound from within the house and hurried off. Terje got up from his chair immediately.

“If you’ve finished eating, perhaps you would like to look around?”

“Yes, I would like that!”

Like most people who lived in the country, Terje took his beret from a hook on the wall. Indoors you would be bare headed, but when you went outside, you would put something on your head, no matter how cold or warm it was. This was how people were brought up from childhood. Eskil wasn’t so particular about things like that, but he felt a bit bare on his head.

They went outside. At the door, Eskil stopped abruptly.

“Fantastic!” he exclaimed spontaneously.

“Yes, I agree, but it won’t make you rich,” Terje replied. “Still, it’s a place worth visiting for city-dwellers. See the snow-clad mountains, the meadows covered with small, white flowers. And the blue colours everywhere – the fjord, the mountainsides, the sky ... even the air!”

Eskil had completely forgotten his anxiety from the night before. Eldafjord and its surroundings were just amazing.

Terje said: “Actually, city-dwellers are my biggest source of income. That’s why I’ve renovated an old house – and I thought that you and I should take a look at it. Perhaps you might like to rent a room there ...”

Eskil’s heart began to thump. “Well, why not?” He stopped himself: he had been about to make for the road that led to the hidden building up behind the forest. But he stopped in time and let Terje lead the way. He had been quite right – they walked up the hill.

Then Terje shocked him so much that he almost jumped up in the air. “That person who told you about the beautiful Eldafjord ... Did he happen to mention a treasure?”

Eskil could feel his face turning as red as a beetroot. He needed a minute to recover. Finally, he said slowly: “So it must have been him after all. Somebody did tell me about a treasure somewhere. It wasn’t until I was in the kitchen just now that it occurred to me that he might have had Eldafjord in mind. Only it didn’t make sense to me. The memory is so vague that it’s never stuck in my mind.”

He didn’t dare to check whether Terje believed him. He was walking with his head bent, pretending to be very focused on the spring flowers at the side of the road.

Terje said in a strained voice: “Yes, that’s quite right. It’s here at Eldafjord.”

“Is it true? I don’t remember the story in detail.”

Terje gave a bitter laugh, which didn’t sound good. “That’s why people come here, because they have heard about the treasure. It’s fine by me if they want to search for it, because I don’t believe it exists. Anyway, I earn money from the ones who come here.”

Eskil laughed: “It sounds like a good business. Where do you think the treasure is? How old is it, and what is it? I must say it sounds exciting.”

“It’s nothing but old wives’ tales. They say it dates from the seventeenth century, from the time of my ancestor. He was the one who built the house we’re on our way up to, the original part I mean. I’ve added to the building, and if I may say so, it’s a really nice house now. It’s true that old Jolin was rich, but a treasure ...? That’s something people have invented.”

As they walked through the forest in the beautiful spring morning, a thought occurred to Eskil. He was walking slightly behind Terje and when he looked at the man’s booted feet, Eskil felt that he was gliding away from reality: the worn soles of his boots moved rhythmically as if in a dream. He saw the grass and the earth they were walking on sticking to Terje’s boots, and yet to Eskil it was as if he was seeing it all in paintings, in pictures.

It was a strange feeling that Eskil couldn’t explain. A moment later it was all over, and he was back in reality once more. Terje Jolinssøn was very real and down-to-earth, and Eskil was walking up a road, nothing more.

“Anyway, I’ve no intention of searching for treasure,” he laughed nervously.

Terje turned to face Eskil. “You’re welcome to do so. People here have searched for centuries without finding anything. They have cut into walls and dug under floors; they even pulled the roof down once but without success.”

“But really, from the 1600s? That’s two centuries ago. How can a legend be kept alive for so long? What’s the foundation of the story?”

Terje replied: “I think it’s written down in an old almanac. Old Jolin hid all his belongings and his gold in his house. That’s all it says. I believe the book was found in the bishop’s palace of this diocese in the last century. I’ve never seen it, but we Jolin sons don’t believe in the story about the treasure.”

“So you’ve never searched for it yourself?”

Terje’s laughter sounded slightly false. “No, I haven’t! I put much more faith in what one can earn and achieve through hard work. Cause and effect. Agriculture, and building an attractive house for those who can pay to live there. My two older brothers were stupid enough to believe in the treasure, so they ended up doing nothing.”

They had arrived. Eskil looked up at the most elegant, well-maintained house he had ever seen. Every single detail had been carefully worked out so that the first floor, which was clearly a later addition, would blend with the very old ground floor. The house was beautiful.

“Jolinsborg,” said Terje flatly.

Eskil couldn’t explain why all the hairs on his neck and down his spine stood on end.