Chapter 14
Winter came and went. The snow and the wind held Linden Avenue and the farm in their icy grip, and although the severity of the cold was nothing compared to what it was like in the old Valley of the Ice People, the warmer days of spring were still very welcome when they arrived.
Tengel and Silje would often look down through the avenue of linden trees, from which their farm took its name, longing for the special moment when their stepdaughter, Sol, would return. But they’d heard nothing at all since that day in late autumn when she rode away.
Both Tengel and Silje would secretly inspect her special linden tree on the avenue, and as long as it remained healthy they were relieved.
Summer returned, then gently gave way to another autumn as the seasons continued their majestic progress without pause.
At about that time, Silje and Tengel’s and Charlotte’s first grandchild was born. Without any complications, Liv presented them with a little boy, who was named Tarald, after his very proud grandfather. He’d banned them from naming the boy Tengel. It was a name that could be filled with much suffering, he said.
Silje said nothing, but in her heart she hoped that her poor daughter really had recovered after all her problems. She had given birth to a baby boy, and she seemed so happy, calm and free with Dag.
Nevertheless, in nagging moments, Silje couldn’t help recalling Hanna’s haunting words: “All your children will bring great joy. Yet one will also bring you great sadness.”
Hadn’t she experienced that sorrow already after Liv’s tragic marriage and all that unsettlement it caused?
But when she mentioned it to Tengel, he turned away and wouldn’t answer.
Why then did he react like that now that Liv was so happy? Maybe he felt that her happiness was still too short to be really counted yet?
Silje, however, was determined to count Liv’s as real happiness, and she trusted that no more harm could come to them.
Klaus, the former stable boy, had recovered swiftly thanks to Tengel’s care and experience. He was happy working at Graastensholm and never uttered a word to anyone about his great yearning. There had never been anyone else but Sol for him – and many times he’d be looking down through the two lines of linden trees hoping that he may see her returning.
Liv seemed truly happy. Dag had solemnly promised never to reprimand her for something she might have overlooked in the house, or if things weren’t in their proper place. Anyway, he’d have no need to criticise her because a better housewife than Liv would be hard to come by. Dag believed that Laurents Berenius’ greatest fault lay in the fact that he’d been driven by a burning desire to be the best and place himself above everybody else, trampling them into the ground regardless of how good they were.
One winter evening, when Are had gone to bed and Tengel and Silje sat in front of the fire, each quietly occupied with their own thoughts, there was a loud knock at the front door.
They both exchanged inquiring glances. Who’d be out so late in such a freezing January storm? Tengel got up and opened the door. Outside stood an anonymous woman, wrapped solidly in capes and shawls.
“Sol!” yelled Tengel after a moment, his voice a mixture of joy and pain. “Come in! Come in, my dearest child!”
Clearly exhausted, Sol slowly entered the warm, comforting hallway. She got a warm embrace from both her parents, and Silje’s eyes were brimming with tears.
Sol didn’t speak immediately, and her eyes strayed silently over the glazed mosaic window which Benedikt, the church painter, had given Silje many years ago. She also gazed at the four portraits hanging beside it, which Silje had painted herself. She’d painted Liv and Dag twice so that Charlotte would have a pair to hang in Graastensholm.
“We’ve missed you dreadfully, Sol,” Silje managed to say between her laughter and tears. ”Have you come alone this time, then? Not another poor Klaus or Meta in tow?”
“No, I’m not alone,” said Sol, gasping for breath. I do have someone with me. Can I bring ...?”
“Yes, of course,” smiled Tengel. “Just bring in your protégé! Nobody must be left to stand outside on a night like this!”
Sol went outside and returned a moment later with a small bundle that she nervously held out for them to see. “This is Sunniva,” she said with a trembling smile. “Will she be welcome here?”
Silje felt as if the ground disappeared under her feet. “Is it your child?” she whispered breathlessly.
“Yes. She wouldn’t let herself be done away with, Dad. I tried with all the herbs I had, but she wanted to live.”
Silje swallowed hard. “Of course, she’s welcome,” she said, her voice trembling. “Our second grandchild.”
“Second?”
“Yes, Liv and Dag now have a boy – about the same age, I’d say.”
“Sunniva was born on August 29,” said Sol at once.
“And Tarald on August 25,” said Silje with a broad smile. “And a terrible business it was, too! The woman at Eikeby was due to give birth at the same time. But her child wasn’t turned properly and Tengel had to ride back and forth between Eikeby and Graastensholm.”
“What? At Eikeby? Giving birth is hardly any news over there! She has a new one three times a year! What does the husband think he is – a rabbit? Did things turn out alright?”
“Oh, yes. Though they had a weak little thing in the end – a girl. So you decided to call your little daughter Sunniva. That was a lovely thing to do.”
“Yes, after my mum – and you too, Silje.”
“Thank you.” Silje was touched by this. “She’s so sweet. Like a little elf. Have you seen how pretty she is, Tengel? But who does she take after?”
“Her dad,” said Sol bluntly.
“I seem to recognise that face,” said Silje thoughtfully. “Have I seen it before?”
“She’s very beautiful,” said Tengel, who took some time to recover his thoughts after the shock. “But who’d have thought that you would ever have a blonde, blue-eyed daughter, Sol?”
“Can she stay here?” asked Sol quietly. “I can’t imagine any other place on earth where she’ll have a better upbringing – even if it hasn’t worked on me! But then, nobody would have expected it to work on me, would they?”
The others looked questioningly at her.
“We don’t need to stand here,” said Silje. “Come on in and sit by the fire. You must tell us everything.”
“Can she stay here?”
“Yes, of course, you know that she can,” said Tengel. “But now we want to know all that’s happened to you.”
“Can I have something to eat first?” said Sol. “I’ve almost forgotten what food tastes like.”
“Oh, goodness me!” Silje was appalled and ran at once to the kitchen. “What does the little one eat?”
“Milk ... anything will do!”
When she’d finished eating and her horse had been seen to, Sol began her tale. She lay comfortably relaxed against the sheepskin draped over the kitchen seat with the baby Sunniva who, now well fed, was fast asleep in Are’s old cradle.
“They’re searching for me,” she said in a voice that sounded tired. “I think they’re on my trail, which is why I came here with my baby girl – I wanted first of all to make sure that she’d be well looked after.”
Tengel’s expression was inscrutable. “If you could start from the beginning?”
“Yes! When I left here the last time, I met the man I’d already told you about, Tengel. Do you remember?”
“Certainly. I remember – the only one who was able to bring you peace and happiness – or so you said.”
Sol gave a harsh, hollow laugh. “My goodness, how true! Those were my words. Anyway, he’s Sunniva’s dad. May he burn in the fires of hell.”
“So he’s dead then?” asked Tengel gently.
“Yes, I killed him. I watched him die a slow death. It was the most satisfying hatred I’ve ever felt, Dad!”
“Sol!” said Silje shocked. “You mustn’t! After all, he was your child’s father.”
Sol turned to her. “Indeed, and thanks to him I can only feel a deep, unbearable tenderness for my little girl – but I can never love her. And he became my death sentence. Somebody found his dead body and others remembered seeing us together at the inn – they remembered the cat-eyed woman. The ‘cat-eyed witch’ the bailiff had been hunting for so long.”
“But why did you kill him, Sol?” Silje demanded to know.
Sol answered sharply. “Because the man I believed I could love had the name I hated more than anything else in the world. His name was Heming the Bailiff-killer!”
“What!” cried Tengel, jumping to his feet.
Silje’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, no! Oh, no! Sol, say it isn’t true!”
“It’s true!”
“Yes, I see it now. Believe me, she has Heming’s features. Oh, how terrible!”
Tengel was absolutely furious. “So that bastard crossed our ways once more – and brings sorrow to our home. But Sol, he mustn’t destroy you – he mustn’t!”
He pulled her to her feet and held her tightly.
“You’re the daughter of my sister and I’ve loved you as I do my own children. You’re the last incarnation of the Ice People’s evil spirit – it can’t be your downfall. That mustn’t happen, Sol!”
“No! I’ve no intention of going quietly into their trap,” she replied, tears trickling down her cheeks. “I’ll flee to Sweden. But first I had to bring Sunniva to you.”
Silje tried to suppress her feeling of exhaustion at the thought of bringing up another child – especially at her age because she wasn’t getting any younger.
“We’ll take care of Sunniva. Don’t worry about that!” she said. “All of us here at Linden Avenue and at Graastensholm will look after her. But you still haven’t told us everything. Where have you been all this time?”
Tengel and Sol sat down again.
“After I’d killed Heming, I set off to search for the Finnish lumberjacks. It took a long time and their settlements are spread over wide areas of the great forests. At first they were suspicious of me – we couldn’t understand each other because they speak a different language from ours. But finally they accepted me. I lived among them, and there I also met people who knew sorcery.”
Sol hesitated as if it was difficult for her to continue. “But they wanted to expel me because I was pregnant with Sunniva. They wanted to put me in a pillory. They were also frightened by my witchcraft because I knew more than they did ... And well, before long, I happened to cast a spell on a man I didn’t like.
There were those who weren’t so intolerant, but they couldn’t save me from the righteous among them. So I fled from there and lived alone with my little Sunniva in a remote and empty lumberjack’s hut for a while. I lived on what nature provided while I breastfed the child. Finally, I realised that I had no other choice but to come back home no matter how dangerous it might be. There was no fodder for the horse and I couldn’t take the little one with me to Sweden.”
“No, of course not,” muttered Silje.
“Then I went to a farm east of Oslo to ask for some milk. I shouldn’t have done so because they recognised me. I can’t hide my eyes,” Sol said emotionally. “Later when I’d left, they told the bailiff’s soldiers, who set out after me – but I managed to fool them and so here I am. They’ll discover where to find me soon enough. So I must leave first thing tomorrow.”
“Is there no deserted farm in the area where she can hide?” Silje asked Tengel.
He thought about this. “No, all the farms are occupied, and it’s just a matter of time before rumours spread. Sweden is your only hope, Sol.”
“I know that, but I’m so tired.”
They knew that she wasn’t just talking about physical exhaustion. Everybody could see that her tiredness went much deeper than that.
***
That night Sol went to sleep at home for the first time in what now seemed an eternity. In the darkness before sleep came, she lay thinking.
Sweden? ... What could she achieve there? New difficulties, new disappointments – nothing. There was nothing left on this earth for her any more.
Except one thing: the Prince of Darkness.
At first, Sol had believed that Heming had also taken from her the thrill of her rides to Blakulla. She’d not dared to go again because nothing would have been worse than to meet him there.
But then she discussed this with an old Finnish woman, who was experienced in witchcraft, and the woman had listened, nodding understandingly. Then, talking Swedish in her sing-song dialect, she told her: “Try again! You’ll never see that man at Blakulla now! The Prince of Darkness is never repulsive to those who seek him.”
Sol waited for a long time and then she plucked up courage and tried again. Finally, while living in the hut with the baby, she’d rubbed the witch’s ointment on her body one evening exactly as before.
The Finnish woman turned out to be right. There wasn’t a trace of Heming the Bailiff-killer in the Satan who welcomed her and filled her night with lust. He’d been dark, demonic and handsome. But he’d been her own – and not a twisted image of a childhood memory.
Sol had never understood – or maybe more accurately – never wished to understand that the mixture of black nightshade, henbane and hemlock itself had produced these wild ecstatic dreams of a fantasy figure. She believed that it was a magic substance, the key that unlocked the Underworld, the deepest darkness. She didn’t know that the herbs brought on hallucinations – black nightshade the grotesque, nightmare scenes at Blakulla; henbane the dizzy, swaying ride over land and sea. Each of the three herbs was a deadly poison when swallowed but rubbed into the skin in precise measures, they awoke incredible lust – followed by a terrible headache. Witches knew the perfect mixture. One ounce too much of an ingredient could result in a fearfully distorted dream – or even death! Sol didn’t know about all this while she lay in that remote hut, whimpering with blissful lust in a dream shared with a demon created from her own fantasies and desires.
But lying there at home again in her own bed, with the helpless little Sunniva slumbering next to her, Sol suddenly found a new enlightenment. Now she knew exactly what she wanted.
Sweden? What was the purpose of going there? She would still be unable to stop herself from killing or somehow injuring anyone who fell victim to her wrath – and then everything would begin as before with flight and poverty.
She could only be really safe with one person – and that would be forever!
But how would that be possible? The only way possible for her to reach eternal life was through fire and brimstone in the Underworld. The only real answer was to be burned at the stake as a witch.
Sol had never feared pain and the stake was something she didn’t dread. On the contrary. Just thinking about it triggered an intense feeling of ecstasy.
Why had she slogged so hard here on earth only to suffer other people’s foolishness and ignorance?
It was so simple! Why hadn’t she thought of it before?
The Prince of Darkness was expecting her in the very image she wanted him to have.
She relived the blissful moments spent with him, not only during moments of passion but in the glorious understanding they shared afterwards as well. The smiling, demonic eyes stared endlessly into hers. Without any words they told her that they belonged together forever.
Suddenly the desire to be there overwhelmed her and she choked back a tear. Besides, if she were to remain there, she wouldn’t have any of the after-effects she’d experienced previously. Her whole existence would then be one unbounded, burning rapture.
She slept soundly after these
thoughts and when morning came, she said goodbye to everyone with a new sparkle of certainty in her eyes. She kept her goodbyes as brief and unemotional as possible in order to spare the others. She took the time to ride up to Graastensholm to see Liv and Dag’s newborn boy and chatted happily with her unsuspecting friends. She even found time to exchange a few brief warm words with Klaus in the yard.
Tengel couldn’t understand why she only wanted a small amount of money for her journey, but she told him that she knew where she could get more on her travels. He was even more surprised when she handed over all her stock of medicinal herbs and other substances to him, including all the herbs she’d inherited from Hanna. She even left the mandrake in his care. “Just keep everything until I return”, she told him. “I don’t want to be tempted to use all this again!” A relieved Tengel thought that all this sounded wonderful – but he was still greatly surprised. He embraced her more than once before she left, his eyes moist and his expression filled with the intensity of his feelings.
The weather had improved dramatically and the sun was shining brightly when she finally set off along the tree-lined avenue.
***
Then three days later, word reached them of Sol’s fate.
She had been captured and had, in fact, walked straight into the arms of the soldiers looking for her.
There were no delays in the due processes either – the sentence was passed quickly. A pyre was built outside Akershus on which – following a day of torture – the worst witch they’d known would be put to the flames.
Dag did everything he possibly could, speaking frantically to all the judges and lawyers he knew, but they all shook their heads. For his own sake and that of his family, they told him he shouldn’t get involved. Nothing at all could be done to save this woman.
Dag eventually gave up.
Another person had prayed for her as well - the executioner. He went to speak to her in person, but seeing her strength of resolve, he couldn’t do anything either. Sol only asked for him to do everything as quickly and humanely as possible, and he promised that with a silent nod.
The Stepdaughter Page 24