Witch-Hunt

by Margit Sandemo

  ‘Yes. The poor children.’

  Silje realised he didn’t mean their own children. ‘Tengel,’ she blurted out suddenly, her voice overcome with sorrow, ‘do you recall what Hanna once told us? That we were the only Ice People! We and no others!’

  ‘I do. And now I fear we know what she meant.’

  ‘Has nobody been spared? Oh, Tengel, it does not bear thinking about – I find it hard to catch my breath!’

  In her mind’s eye she saw the faces of people she knew: the children, their parents, the horrible events. She felt faint. No, she could not, would not allow herself to dwell on this. She straightened up and took a deep breath. ‘But what about Eldrid and her husband? She at least was of the Ice People.’

  ‘Her line dies with her.’

  ‘Heming then?’

  ‘Probably dead by now. To buy one’s freedom is not as easy as he thought. It is clear what has happened, as I said before. He was taken prisoner again and betrayed us to save his miserable neck, showed them the way to the Valley of the Ice People: ”that rat’s nest of witches and sorcerers”, as it is called on the outside.’

  Silje watched as Sol’s small hands tightly twisted the top of the sack she was holding. Between gritted teeth she repeated one word over and over in an almost silent whisper, ‘Heming! That’s his name. Heming! Heming!’

  Dag for his part was far more pragmatic. ‘So haven’t we been very lucky, really?’

  ‘You could say so, I suppose,’ replied Tengel tersely. ‘Now come on – we must keep going.’

  ‘All night?’

  ‘Yes, we have to. This is no place to rest, and the sky is light enough to travel by. It’s important that we get away as far as possible, just in case they try to follow us. We shall be out on the glacier shortly and it will be dangerous. It is best that I walk in front with a stick and test the surface step by step, so that we don’t fall into any ravines hidden by the snow. We must walk in line, one after the other, even the horse. It will be worse for him, because he is heavy and has four legs. We shall bind cloths round his hooves to make them bigger and spread his weight. It will be a long and perilous journey over the glacier, but there is no choice.’

  Silje gave a nod. Now on foot, having put the children back on the horse, she walked silently at Tengel’s side across the desert of stones that littered the sharp rocky surface of the pass. She led the horse very carefully, so that it would find the firmest footings, but the animal was nervous, continually shying and twitching, fearful of the bleak inhospitable landscape and the ground underfoot. Gradually the Valley of the Ice People, with its cloak of black smoke, faded into the distance behind them and, once they had crested the pass, it was lost entirely from their view.

  Chapter 3

  Unbeknown to Silje and Tengel, as they continued their dangerous journey high in the mountains, Heming the bailiff-killer was still alive. But just as Tengel had expected, Heming had indeed revealed everything he knew about the valley and how to reach it. He had even described in detail where to find the homesteads of Tengel and Hanna, as these two individuals were believed to be the most evil descendants of Tengel the Evil One. The bitter memory of the humiliation he had suffered when Tengel thrashed him so soundly and caused him to leave the valley, made it easier for him to justify his betrayal of the Ice People to himself.

  The bailiff’s wife and daughter had both been present at Heming’s hearing and this had proved to be his salvation. The women had appealed for mercy to be shown towards this handsome young man and consequently he was discharged and banished from Trondheim, cast out of the city by the guards and soldiers. In his defence it must be said that, having betrayed his kinfolk, he was overcome with guilt and remorse; he could not forget that his father and all his family lived in the hidden valley. But surely no harm would befall them, he tried to reason to himself, because only the witches and warlocks were being sought by the authorities – weren’t they? Although he mulled this over in his mind many times, he had eventually found it difficult to persuade himself that this reasoning was truly sound.

  Six men had forced their way into Hanna and Grimar’s tiny cottage – chosen because they were the bravest among the soldiers. Now, having carried out their orders, this party of six were making their way out of the valley again. They had been discharged ahead of their comrades, because the task they were given had been considered so dangerous. Heming had made a point of giving a special warning for all the soldiers to be especially wary of Hanna.

  As they walked along the tunnel beneath the glacier, the soldiers’ voices echoed eerily in the silence. ‘Huh! That was easy,’ declared the youngest of them. ‘It was just an old woman. Child’s play!’ He struck his lance against the icy wall with such force that the sound reverberated deeply through the ice and along the tunnel.

  His red-haired companion smirked and asked, ‘Did you see how I skewered the old man?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied the oldest one among them, speaking a little uneasily. ‘But the old woman was scary. She was very strange, she was. I was rooted to the spot when I first caught sight of her.’

  ‘As was I!’ chirped in another of them, so fat that the straps on his breastplate were stretched to breaking. ‘She was the ugliest thing I have ever seen in my whole life.’

  The conversation died away. The spine-chilling unworldly atmosphere down in that frozen burrow evoked memories that none of them wanted to relive. At last one of the men, called Willibert, broke the silence. ‘She wasn’t a bit afraid either,’ he said. ‘Did you see how she just stood there by the tire, grinning at us. Her legs could barely hold her, but she stood there just the same. Like she was waiting for us.’

  ‘Yeah! And what about those terrible fingernails she had!’ said the last member of the troop, a tall lanky youth. ‘She scratched me! Ye gods! How I jumped! She looked more like a half-rotted corpse than a person! I thought they felt like talons, I did. When we grabbed her to get her outside, I had to get behind her. That’s when she scratched me.’

  ‘And me,’ said another, ‘just as I took hold of her arm!’

  ‘Me too, but I just got one scratch from that claw of hers.’

  Every one of the soldiers who had come into direct contact with her had found her touch, and her scratching, loathsome. As she was a witch, they knew that she had to be burned alive and they had taken her outside because the hearth in the cottage was not large enough for the job.

  ‘Did you hear what she said when we’d managed to drag her out into the yard and get a torch to her?’

  ‘No?’

  ‘She mumbled, “Now they are free”. You might ask yourself what she meant by that.’

  ‘From the look on her face, you’d have thought she’d won a victory over us! Well, I suppose it could be that she was talking about the other one – the warlock. The one that we’d also got to burn? I hope they got him. Still, it’s nought to do with us now.’

  ‘Well, we’ve put an end to the old bat, and that’s for sure.’

  Silence settled on them again, the awfulness of their deeds still too fresh in their minds, and soon they emerged from the tunnel onto the open flatlands. The summer night was not dark, although the air up there had a chill to which these men from the valleys were not accustomed. Quietly, swiftly, they marched forward and it seemed that they had no more to say to each other.

  The youngest of them, however, kept scratching at his arm and muttering to himself ‘Damnation!’ he cursed softly. ‘This itches all the time.’

  Shortly afterwards the red-haired one stopped. ‘Wait up! I can’t walk so fast.’

  ‘What’s with you?’ asked the oldest one.

  ‘I think I’ve got a fever or something.’

  The youngest rolled up his sleeve to examine his arm. ‘Jesus and Mary!’ he cried. ‘Look at this!’

  On his arm was a hideous suppurating boil. There was another on his underarm. On seeing this, his companions stepped back from him.

  ‘You’re pox-ridden, you ba
stard!’

  ‘No, I ain’t. Pox don’t look like this – nor the plague neither. These are much bigger. It’s – it’s – I don’t know what it is!’

  As they resumed their march, the others kept a noticeable distance from him. The short tufted grass of the plain whined and whistled and hissed at their feet, as though cursing their every step.

  ‘Wait!’ yelled the red-haired man suddenly. ‘I can’t go on.’

  ‘What’s up with you now?’

  ‘The fever – I’m hotter than the fires of hell. See! Look at my hands! Oh, dear God, now they’re covered in these horrible sores! Wait! Wait for me! Don’t run! Please, I need your help, can’t you see?’

  He tried to run after them, but it was too much for him. He stopped – his hands clutching at his chest. When he started off again, the others were a long way ahead, nothing but five small dots fading in the distance. The oaths he screamed after them were lost on the night air.

  The pale moon rose and shone down on the red-haired soldier as he lurched and faltered onwards. He had thrown away his helmet and his lank hair was drenched with sweat from the fever and the terror he felt. A thunderous pounding reverberated inside his head. He pulled back his sleeves and found there were pustules covering his arms. When he put his hands to his face he could feel more of them. His whole body had begun to itch. He whimpered in self-pity – then screamed. ‘Wait! Wait for me! Don’t leave me!’

  His companions could not hear him now – and, even if they had heard his cries, it is unlikely that they would have taken any notice of him. Then he almost trod on a body. Stopping and looking down, he flinched. Barely recognisable because of the hideous boils that covered it, the face of the youngest soldier stared back at him with cold, sightless eyes. The red-haired soldier gave a shriek of terror and stumbled away, his whole body racked with convulsions. He clutched at his throat and sank slowly to his knees. Then he fell forward on his face and lay motionless on the ground.

  Meanwhile, the four remaining guards, driven on by fear, were rushing to get away. As they neared the edge of the flatlands, the fat one shouted out suddenly in panic. ‘I’m smitten! Look! Look!’ He ran frantically back and forth, trying to brush away the pustules and sores that had appeared on one of his hands. ‘It’s the plague!’

  ‘Tis not,’ said the oldest man. ‘No plague looks like that and it doesn’t come on so quick. This is different. ’Tis her doing – the old witch! She did for us with her talons and put a sickness curse on us all!’

  ‘But it’s not got me,’ said Willibert. ‘Can you see! My hands are clean. I hardly touched her – it’ll not trouble me!’

  ‘Me neither,’ said the tall lanky youth. ‘l did her no harm, you all know that. I treated her right, so I’m safe from it too.’

  The oldest of them was not feeling well. He was feeling very ill in fact, but dare not tell the other three. He hardly dared admit it to himself.

  ‘I’m safe from it,’ the lanky one repeated ecstatically, chanting the words as though he were casting a spell upon himself ‘Move away,’ he shouted at the fat man. ‘You’ll have to look out for yourself. It was you that …’

  ‘Shut up!’ screamed his companion. ‘Don’t speak about what we did! You’re all guilty, all of you!’

  ‘Not all of us! Not me! I’m not!’

  He started to itch, but that was only natural, wasn’t it? It was only a nervous reaction because he was frightened of the symptoms, wasn’t it? He had been kind to the old woman, hadn’t he? That little whack he’d given her didn’t mean that much, did it?

  The fat one was grovelling, moaning. ‘No, don’t run off, please. No, no! Help me! Help.’

  His cries never reached their ears. Soon the fat one fell far behind the others and was left to die a lonely and agonising death. In fact, in the end not one of the six soldiers lived long enough to reach the settlement down in the valley below.

  ****

  The glacier, when they reached it, was in every way as forbidding as Tengel had told them it would be. It sapped their energy and wasted their time. Silje’s first impression of it, as they emerged from the pass, was one she would always recall with horror – jagged, worn and weather-beaten peaks, surrounded by a vast expanse of white that resembled a frozen river, pouring out from a great gash in the highest mountains. There was neither a blade of grass to be seen nor a strip of ground to walk on. Yet the whole scene before them was bathed in bleak silver light from the moon, as it climbed higher in the night sky, and this was making the millions of icy crystals on the glacier sparkle and gleam like precious gems.

  Silje knew at once that she would carry the memory of that journey across the glacier with her forever. Her heart burdened with sorrow, despair and hopelessness, she staggered along behind the children, doing her best to make sure that no harm came to them.

  Exhausted, Liv had soon given up; she had been half asleep as she plodded along and she finally fell in a heap, sound asleep in the cold snow. They tied her onto the horse, despite their fear for the safety of the animal. What if it broke through the crust of snow and ice or decided to bolt? What would happen to the girl then? But there was no other way. Neither of them could carry her. Tengel had his hands full leading the animal and testing the way ahead with his staff, while Silje carried her bundles and watched over the two older children.

  The resilience shown by Sol and Dag was remarkable, but they were impatient. It was hard for them to understand the need for caution – they were in a hurry to get out of the bitter cold. Tengel, however, would take no risks, carefully probing the surface before every step he took.

  None of them could throw off the ceaseless worry that they were being followed. They had lost count of the number of times they had turned to look behind them during the night, but every glance had revealed a reassuringly empty white expanse of the glacier, tarnished only by the blue ribbon of their own meandering tracks.

  They kept going all through the first night, before finally coming down from the other side of the glacier. An inhospitable boggy plateau infested with mosquitoes and covered in gnarled and stunted trees welcomed them. For a while they followed the course of the glacier until it flowed into a wide river, but eventually, under a grey, cloudy dawn sky that hid the sun, Tengel decided that the children, above all else, needed rest.

  Not wanting to be taken by surprise by any pursuing soldiers, they continued over some hillocks to a dell where, in the biting early morning wind, Silje set up camp for them all. Sharing the few blankets they had brought with them, they huddled together as close as they could to stay warm. The children were fast asleep in no time – they were beyond exhaustion. Silje cuddled them from one side and Tengel from the other.

  ‘I will not be thanking God for our wonderful salvation if we survive this,’ she whispered.

  ‘Why so?’

  ‘Because I have never understood those who endure some great catastrophe and then say, ”God held his hand over me and saved me”. What of all the others who perish? I think it is so conceited to speak in that way, as if they were somehow better than all those who did not survive. I shall say a prayer for their souls instead. It will be more honest, don’t you think?’

  Tengel agreed with her. ‘What you say is true. Not that you have ever been conceited, Silje. You always put others first. God or no God, I am forever grateful that I have you all here. The danger has not passed, but we are alive so far – all five of us.’

  ‘Eight,’ she reminded him with a sleepy smile. ‘You forgot the horse, the cat and one more, who has yet to see the light of day.’

  ‘All eight,’ he repeated, smiling at her – but his smile was tinged slightly with pain.

  As the moments passed, Tengel found he dared not allow himself to sleep. He lay awake listening for any tell tale sounds of pursuit, while the others slept for an hour or two. When they resumed their arduous journey, their limbs were stiff and aching and they felt cold and lost in a world they did not recognise. Almost immediate
ly, Sol’s cat ran off into a thicket. They wasted an hour trying to find it before it emerged of its own free will, loping along after them oblivious to the anxiety it had caused.

  Once or twice they found themselves in difficulty because of the treacherous nature of the terrain. On one occasion they had to negotiate a steep incline, but the horse refused, at which point Tengel gave serious thought to ending its misery. However Silje and the children pleaded for the animal to be spared and as usual Tengel had given way. Nonetheless, the time and effort needed to coax it along was stressful for them all and Silje had almost changed her mind several times. Finally they all reached the bottom of the slope and gave a relieved cheer. Laughing, Sol pointed out that the horse was the only one not joining in.

  With great relief Tengel set to work at once tending to the animal’s minor scrapes and cuts. When he had finished Silje could see the look of contentment on his face as he stood resting his head against the horse’s neck. He was obviously relieved and delighted that their old and faithful companion was still with them.

  As they trudged on, the landscape began to change, and the air began to feel warmer now that the ice-laden wind from the glacier no longer tore into them. It had become quite clear that they were closer to the valley floor than the mountain peaks and, not wanting to tire the little ones, they broke their journey in the late afternoon and made camp among some birch trees growing in a narrow cleft in the valley. There were fir trees and pines dotted around them as well, while forest flowers carpeted the mossy ground underfoot.

  Within minutes the children had dozed off. Tired as she was, Silje had passed the point at which she could hold her emotions in check and she began to sob unendingly. With Tengel holding her close in his arms, she shed tears for all those who lay dead in the Valley of the Ice People and for the little homestead, furnished with all their belongings, that they would never set eyes on again. She wept because of the uncertain future that they now faced and not least from sheer exhaustion. However, she could not tell Tengel that part of her was crying with relief at coming back into the outside world once more. She did not want to hurt him by letting him see that she was glad to be leaving the place of his birth.