The Legendary Inge

by Kate Stradling

  “Ah, Leiv,” he said with an aloof expression.

  “Master Jannik,” Raske replied, nodding curtly.

  “And where did you disappear to this morning?”

  Raske couldn’t decide whether Bergstrom was mocking him or merely being inquisitive. He decided to react according to the latter motive so as not to betray anything the older man might not yet have discovered. “I had to run an errand for the new prince.”

  “What, he’s ordering you around already?”

  Yes, that was definitely a mocking tone. Raske knew it well. “No. She didn’t order me. Given that the king’s decree has so wholly upset her life, I thought I’d take pity on her in this matter.”

  “You’re too soft-hearted, Leiv. I’ve often warned you about taking pity on others.”

  Even though Raske technically outranked Bergstrom now, their history went beyond mere titles. It showed in their address to one another. The captain was always “Master Jannik” and the colonel was simply “Leiv,” his given name. They were master and pupil, and their relationship seemed to be a constant power struggle, from Raske’s point of view. Bergstrom had trained him and expected him to be as cold as stone.

  “Thanks to all those stories you keep spreading, no one would ever believe me capable of such weakness,” said the colonel.

  The captain smiled. “You’re welcome.”

  Raske didn’t waste his breath further on this subject, but returned to the more pressing matter. “In this case, taking pity seemed like the only logical thing to do. She has a family, a whole pack of younger siblings that she’s responsible for. We can’t just uproot her on a whim. What say we convince His Majesty to release her back to the peasantry?”

  “No,” said Bergstrom without even considering the idea. “His Majesty has decided that she will suit his purposes nicely, even if she is a girl. Incidentally, he’s ordered that she be a boy, and there’s a threat of execution on anyone who refers to her as otherwise, but I’ll overlook your slip of the tongue for now.”

  Raske stared in astonishment. “You can’t be serious!”

  “How old was Osvald when King Halvard adopted him?” Bergstrom idly asked.

  This question stumped him. He had to throw back his memory to nearly a decade previous. “Fourteen?” he ventured.

  “Thirteen,” said Bergstrom. “And how old do you think our Prince Inge will pass as? Twelve or thirteen at best, scrawny as she—as he is. His Majesty has decided that this will be yet one more detail to needle Osvald. He would still have preferred you in the role, though. If only you had been more reliable, Leiv.”

  Raske bristled. “If you had bothered to warn me that the creature was ensorcelled against steel, I might’ve fared better. And speaking of unreliability, wasn’t it attacking your territory for the better part of a month?”

  “I’m getting old,” said Bergstrom with a shrug. “It’s best to let the younger generation take care of these problems. Why do you think I suggested that you be promoted to colonel over any number of qualified men older than yourself?”

  “I thought it was because I knew Osvald better than any of them,” Raske replied.

  “If you knew him so well, you should’ve guessed that he would ensorcell his monster against steel. However did you sever its head from its body, anyway?”

  “Ropes and horses,” said Raske curtly.

  Bergstrom nodded in approval.

  “What’s to be done about the girl’s family if she is to remain here? And what about the people of the community who recognize her? There’s sure to be someone who knows she’s not a boy.”

  “Hmm. Prison, I should think,” said Bergstrom. “Not for the family, of course. How many children did you say there were?”

  “Four or five.” It wasn’t a lie. Inge’s sister Nea might not be present, but that was no reason not to count her, especially under the circumstances. Raske watched with shrewd eyes as Bergstrom considered this.

  “I’ll consult the matter with His Majesty,” the captain said at last. “When a person of the peasant class is adopted by the nobility, the family usually receives some compensation. Doubtless His Majesty will be able to provide something for them.”

  Raske wanted to bang his head against a wall. “They don’t need money. They need their sister. And what makes you so certain that she’ll consent to play this part? From what I’ve seen, she’s very strong-willed.”

  “You seem inordinately concerned about her welfare,” said Bergstrom with an indulgent smile. “Was it love at first sight?”

  Self-control was a magnificent virtue, Raske thought as he clenched and unclenched his fists. He did not deem the remark worthy of a response. “Why must you avoid the issue?”

  “Because I have no control over the issue. Halvard has made up his mind to go forward with his plans, despite this slight snag. In fact, he seems to think that this might work better. I certainly can’t dissuade him, and I suggest you abandon any hope of trying. We must simply sit back and see how things play out from here. Yes, yes, I’ll speak to him about the girl’s family. We’ll see what we can do. In the meantime, why don’t you send one of your men over to watch them?”

  “An admirable idea,” said Raske. “I’ll do just that.”

  ***

  Gunnar Lang knew very little about caring for children. Although he was oldest in his family, his mother had always tended to domestic duties, with Inge and Nea to help. Gunnar, like his father before him, had placed his focus entirely on supporting the family through work outside the home. Hence, when his commanding officer left him to look after his younger siblings, he hardly knew where to start.

  Eirik and Einar weren’t the problem. They were old enough to look after themselves, for the most part, and only had to be kept from exploring any real mischief. No, the problem lay with Sassa and Lisbet. Gunnar had not the first clue how to look after the needs of two little girls, especially when one of them was sick in bed with a wracking cough.

  “I really need to send for Nea,” he decided after only half an hour.

  Eirik and Einar stopped their play-fighting. “Inge will get mad,” said Eirik. “She sent Nea away on purpose.”

  “What? Why?”

  The twins exchanged a glance and shrugged. “They were fighting about it for a week before,” said Einar. “Nea didn’t want to go.”

  “Then doesn’t it make sense to bring her back?” asked Gunnar.

  “No,” said the twins in unison. “Inge doesn’t want her here.”

  “But Inge’s not here and I can’t stay forever! Who else is going to watch over all of you?”

  “We can watch ourselves,” Eirik suggested with a little too much anticipation.

  “I’m sending for Nea,” said Gunnar firmly. “Which dairyman did Inge hire her out to?”

  Again they exchanged a glance.

  “You don’t know?”

  “Inge does. You’ll have to ask her.”

  Gunnar rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, an act of sheer frustration. “I can’t ask Inge right now.”

  “Then you can’t send for Nea, can you?” said Einar carelessly, and he and his twin returned to their play-fight.

  A tug on Gunnar’s shirt brought his attention downward, to four-year-old Lisbet. “I’m hungry,” she said.

  “There’s bread in the breadbox, Lisbet,” Eirik called. “Don’t bother Gunnar over food. He doesn’t know the first thing about it.”

  Gunnar recalled a time several months ago when he had tried to fix some gruel for the two boys and had burned the bottom of the pot so badly that the whole mess was inedible. Obviously Eirik remembered it as well.

  “I can cut bread well enough,” the elder brother said stiffly, and he shuffled over to fetch some for Lisbet.

  While he attended to this task, a sharp rap sounded against the door. Eirik and Einar tossed their wooden swords into a corner and bolted into the other room. Gunnar looked down to Lisbet, who stared back up at him, unmoving.

/>   “Inge says I’m not allowed to answer the door.”

  He didn’t recall Inge being so paranoid in the past, that she would forbid Lisbet from performing such a menial task, but before he could ask Lisbet to explain, the knock sounded again, more formidable this time. As Gunnar crossed to the door, Lisbet crouched beneath the table and peered out between the chairs.

  “And here I thought—” the person on the other side started to say, but his voice caught in his throat when he laid his eyes on Gunnar.

  “Ulfred?” said Gunnar in confusion. “How can I help you?”

  He had met their landlord only a couple of times—once to make arrangements for the small cottage, and then again when they were moving in—but he knew that Ulfred Rikardson was a well-to-do merchant here in the capital. Gunnar caught a faint whiff of foulness about the man and thought that he had probably come to exact punishment upon Eirik and Einar for his night’s escapade.

  Ulfred’s face had taken on a mottled color, but he quickly recovered to flash a tight smile. “Ah, Gunnar, is it? I didn’t know you were in town.”

  “Just for a short while. What brings you here today?” Gunnar knew it was wrong to play dumb, but he had been in a fair number of scrapes in his youth and he had no inclination to betray his little brothers. If Ulfred wanted them punished, he would have to make an accusation outright.

  Ulfred, however, did no such thing. After a moment’s hesitation, he replied, “I had some business with your sister, Ingrid. Is she about the place?”

  “No.”

  “And… when do you expect her back?”

  Gunnar recalled his colonel’s suggested excuse and decided to use it. “I’m not sure. She’s visiting family in another town. What business did you have with her?”

  “Oh, something about the garden fence needing repairs,” said Ulfred glibly. “Just thought I’d stop in to get the particulars from her. She didn’t say anything to you before she left…?” His voice rose in a trailing question, and he eyed Gunnar nervously.

  “She was called away quite suddenly. I didn’t get a chance to speak with her before she left.”

  “I see,” said Ulfred. He started to say something else, but the gate behind him squeaked. Both Ulfred and Gunnar turned to see a withered old man toddle up the short walkway. The black bag in one hand testified plainly of his profession. He looked up through bushy eyebrows and glanced between the pair at the door.

  “I am Kasper Doctor,” he said simply. “I’ve come to tend to a child called Sassa.”

  Gunnar hesitated. “We didn’t send for a doctor.”

  The man chuckled cynically. “Leiv Raske sent me. When the Demon Scourge of the royal army orders me to a commoner’s household, I go without asking questions. I value my head where it rests upon my shoulders.”

  Gunnar’s brows arched. “Colonel Raske sent you?”

  “The Demon Scourge?” Ulfred echoed sharply.

  The doctor seemed unperturbed by their shock. “If you please,” he said mildly, “I will attend to my duties. Where is the child?”

  If Raske had sent the man, Gunnar certainly wasn’t going to stand in his way. He moved to one side. “Sassa—Astrid, that is—is resting in the other room, through the door there. The twins should be with her. They probably know more than I do about her condition, but if they get in the way, shoo them out.”

  The doctor tipped one hand in thanks and shuffled through the dimly lit main room to the second door. Gunnar shifted his attention back to his landlord, who had turned an apprehensive shade of gray.

  “The Demon Scourge sends doctors to tend your family?” Ulfred asked, trying to appear nonchalant and failing miserably.

  “He was here this morning himself,” Gunnar replied, “but I never thought… I mean…”

  “The Demon Scourge was here?”

  Gunnar knew that tales of his commanding officer circulated freely among the troops; it surprised him to discover that such tales had reached some of the civilians as well. The reason for Colonel Raske’s presence at his house, though, was a matter best left alone. “It’s a long story. Now, this business you had with Inge—”

  “Another time, another time,” Ulfred interrupted. He waved his hands and backed away. “If she left no word with you, I… I’ll trust her to contact me when she returns.”

  He was out the gate before Gunnar could question further, a retreat that was suspicious in its very haste. Why would Inge have any dealings with their landlord, Gunnar wondered with growing suspicion. If the fence needed mending, she would do it herself.

  “He’s a bad man,” Lisbet said from behind him.

  Gunnar started at the sound of her voice. She still huddled beneath the table, her gaze intent upon her brother. “Why do you say that?” he asked curiously. Eirik and Einar had said he deserved the prank they played on him as well.

  Lisbet did not answer. Instead, she shrank back between the chairs into the safety of her hiding place.

  Chapter 6: Subject to the King’s Whims

  On the afternoon of Inge’s first day at the castle, by royal decree, citizens gathered to hear King Halvard speak. From a balcony high above the multitude, the king announced the tale of the night-walker, a horrific beast that had terrorized the castle for weeks, and of the hero, a young boy who had slain the monster and thereby saved the kingdom. To illustrate his words, Halvard displayed the monster’s severed head on the end of a pike and motioned his newly adopted “son” to stand beside him and Princess Signe.

  Inge felt like a fool, but she had no choice; Captain Bergstrom practically dragged her into place.

  To her annoyance, the crowd cheered wildly for their new prince. Inge’s perceived age and the surprise betrothal to the princess worked them into even more of a frenzy.

  “The people adore when a commoner rises to higher ranks,” Bergstrom remarked as he surveyed the cheering masses below.

  “I’d rather they revolted,” she muttered.

  “No one revolts when a national holiday is proclaimed. Now smile and wave to the crowds, Your Highness. They came just to see you.”

  Botheration, Inge thought, but she did as she was told.

  When the announcement concluded, the royal family moved indoors, away from the gawking crowds.

  “Congratulations on surviving the unwashed masses, Prince Inge,” Bergstrom said in a falsely cheerful voice. “Now you get to face the real monsters.”

  She gaped up at him.

  Five paces ahead, King Halvard abruptly stopped. Signe, on his arm, waited expectantly. “Bergstrom, where has Colonel Raske disappeared to? He was not at the announcement.”

  “He’s sleeping, no doubt—probably dismembering that monster again in his dreams.”

  The monarch snorted. “His presence is required in the throne room. You will fetch him. The three of us can find our way there without you.”

  Captain Bergstrom wordlessly tipped his head in acknowledgement. He swept past his king up the hall, his back straight and proud.

  Halvard beckoned to Inge. “Come, my son.”

  She could do nothing but follow. He led her and Signe together to the same throne room where she had stood that morning. Instead of only the king’s throne at the head of the room, however, two tall chairs now accompanied it, one on either side.

  “My son, you will sit on my left hand. Signe, your place is to my right, as always.”

  “Shouldn’t it be the other way around if Inge is your heir now?” Signe inquired innocently.

  He patted her arm. “I’m used to having you on my right. Indulge your aging father, would you?”

  Inge could plainly see that he doted on her. Why would he force his own daughter—whom he apparently adored—into such a ridiculous situation as this? He really was a lunatic.

  She did not ask why they had come here. The reason manifested all too soon. King Halvard had introduced her to the citizens already. Now he would introduce her to the nobility.

  They came with stately airs,
family by family, pomposity rolling off them as a herald announced the names of their noble houses: Gyllenstierna, Konigsheim, Rosenstral, Ehrensvard, and so forth. Nobleman and courtiers bowed before the throne one after another, resentment in their eyes as they paid their obligatory respects to the newly elevated peasant. Their congratulations dripped like honeyed acid from their mouths.

  In the midst of this toxic fanfare, Captain Bergstrom returned. King Halvard motioned him to a position on the right of the throne. Colonel Raske, on the captain’s heels, moved to the opposite position on the left. Inge examined his face for any signs of sleep and was disappointed to find none. In fact, he was cleanly shaved now and seemed perfectly refreshed.

  The fanfare continued. During a slight lull, she looked to a nearby sidedoor and pondered her chances of slipping through it before anyone caught her, if she were to suddenly bolt. Her eyes strayed back to the main obstacle in her path.

  Colonel Raske perceptively shook his head. She wouldn’t make it two steps.

  “Lady Adelborg and the honorable Lina Adelborg!” announced the herald.

  A faint hiss caught Inge’s ears. She turned just in time to see Princess Signe school away an unhappy expression. Curiously she observed the pair of women that had elicited this telltale reaction.

  Mother and daughter walked arm in arm toward the throne. Lady Adelborg, rotund and red-cheeked, held her nose in the air at such an angle that it threatened to topple over the exquisite pile of impossibly blond hair atop her head. Her daughter, Lina, looked like a younger, less doughy incarnation, but with a superior glint in her eyes. Both had an appearance of overripe beauty and brash confidence.

  As they approached, a mute interaction took place between the younger Adelborg and Princess Signe. Lina glanced toward Inge, and then back to the princess, her eyes crinkling with malicious mirth. Signe straightened in her chair. Aloof tranquility emanated from her as she graciously looked down her nose at the pair.

  No love lost between them, Inge surmised.