Spellbound

by Margit Sandemo

  Silje warmed her frozen fingers by the fire and avoided looking at him. After a moment’s hesitation, he lifted her cape from her shoulders, and seeing that its hem was damp from the snow, he hung it to dry.

  ‘Your boots?’

  ‘They’re dry. I think I’ll keep them on.’ She spoke in a strained low tone, still fearful of his anger.

  He nodded and motioned her to sit on a wide bench covered with a sheepskin, then sat down on a similar bench opposite her on the other side of the fire.

  ‘Would you like something from the basket, sire?’ she wondered.

  His tone was cross and severe. ‘Yes, thank you, in a while. First I need to speak to you.’

  He placed a kettle of water on the fire, seeing that she needed something to warm her, as she had walked so far. Silje reflected on the strained atmosphere in the room, although perhaps she did not need to. Instinctively she knew that her own feelings were largely to blame for it.

  ‘I thought I had asked you not to address me by any title.’

  She lowered her eyes. ‘I don’t believe I can do that. It would be presumptuous of me, and besides, I’m not sure I want to.’

  ‘You want our relationship to remain one of master and servant?’

  ‘Words alone cannot bridge the distance between us.’

  Although she did not look up, she could feel him gazing thoughtfully at her.

  Abruptly he asked, ‘What do you think of me, Silje? Do you believe me to be Tengel – the Evil One?’

  She looked across at him through the shimmering flames. He sat with his back to the wall, knees drawn up to his chest, his arms resting on them. In the uncertain light of the fire, his face did indeed have a demonic look about it.

  ‘I cannot believe that,’ she said, choosing her words with care. ‘It would be so ... grotesque. You are a passionate man! But there is much about you that I do not understand, sire.’

  A bitter smile played on his lips. ‘I imagine there is. Do you really want to hear my story? The Ice People’s story?’

  ‘That’s what I came for,’ she replied with childlike sincerity. ‘That, and because I thought you might be hungry.’

  ‘A ghost never gets hungry, which means that you didn’t believe I am the evil Tengel.’

  ‘No! No, I did not.’

  ‘Nor am I!’ he said angrily. ‘How can people think such nonsense.’

  She lifted her feet onto the bench and pulled her skirt tightly around her legs. He looked away quickly.

  ‘You know ...,’ she hesitated, uncertain, not wanting to anger him again. ‘No, it was nothing.’

  ‘Come now,’ he said sternly, ‘what is it? Finish what you were going to say.’

  For a moment she was overcome with the memory of that last dream. What if, in desperation, she were to try and calm his anger by undressing, just as she had done in front of the men who threatened her in the dream? How would he react to that? He would probably feel only contempt and disgust for her, and throw her out headlong into the snow. Her dreams were the result of her own desires, not his. It was a hard thing to have to accept.

  ‘No, it was just a silly feeling I had,’ she said, her mind quickly returning to what she really wanted to say. ‘It meant nothing. It felt as if I have been waiting for this moment all my life.’

  ‘To hear the story of the Ice People?’ His tone was sceptical and that saddened her.

  ‘Now you’re mocking me, sire. I realise that I spoke out of turn. Forgive me for being so bold.’

  ‘Then tell me what you meant.’ There was impatience in his voice.

  ‘I meant only that I felt I could be close to you, because you see things the way I do – you understand me. With you, I’m not afraid to reveal my emotions and I know that whatever I say or do will remain a confidence. But forgive my impertinence, sire, naturally you share no such feelings. I had better leave.’

  She stood up without daring to meet his gaze.

  ‘Sit down!’ he yelled. ‘Do you want to hear what I have to say, or not?’

  ‘Yes – please,’ she answered, startled.

  ‘Then stop all your nonsense.’

  He waited until they had both calmed themselves, then said, ‘Do you want the whole story, right from the beginning?’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ she said in a hushed voice.

  ‘You don’t need to whisper. You behave like a fledgling cornered by a snake. So! Where to begin? I have never told this wretched tale to anyone before.’

  His face was thoughtful, but resigned. Silje, her heart pounding, eased herself into a more comfortable position on the bench, ready to hear the legend of the Ice People.

  Chapter 8

  The pensive man sitting on the other side of the fire from Silje drew a long deep breath and began his tale.

  ‘You have heard of the first Tengel, haven’t you? How he took his kin, together with other families, and fled up to the Barren Mountains? All this took place in the thirteenth century, and exactly what my infamous ancestor did, I do not know for certain. However, it is said that he entered into a pact with Satan in order to survive the harsh conditions in the mountains. I believe it’s more likely he was already a wizard of sorts. They say he had a strange look about him – short but somehow aristocratic, with black hair and extraordinary eyes. No one knows where he came from, or his clan, but there is nothing to say that he was not from these parts. They also say that he performed unspeakable deeds to appease the Evil One himself – and that many of his spells were uttered over a wizard’s potion of untold power, boiling in a kettle.’

  Silje could not stop herself looking at the kettle he had placed on the hearth earlier. It looked quite safe. Tengel smiled a knowing smile and carried on.

  ‘After he had entered his pact with Satan, my ancestor buried the kettle, with all its evils still inside, and placed a curse upon the ground where it lay. He then told the people that a chosen few of his descendants would inherit the gifts that he himself had been given – and that one of his kin would be granted greater supernatural powers than mankind had ever seen. The curse – for curse it is, Silje – could only be revoked if the kettle was found and dug up.’

  ‘And has it been found?’ she asked quietly, trying to meet his eyes in the darkness beyond the smoke and the dancing flames of the fire.

  ‘No, because nobody knows where he may have buried it. He was away for thirty days and thirty nights, from one full moon to another, when he sought out Satan. He might have been high up in the mountains or even beyond – far beyond. It is said that after the terrible meeting he returned looking quite different from before: shrunken, shorter and broader – do you know what I mean? He became ugly and evil, and horrible to look at.’

  ‘Do you believe these things?’

  ‘Some of them,’ he answered hesitantly ‘In any event, I believe that he did carry out the deed and that he tried in every way he knew to contact Satan. Yes, I do believe that. Whether he truly met with the Prince of Darkness, nobody will ever know, but I sincerely doubt it. He maintained that he had, but I imagine him to be someone who enjoyed scaring and misleading folk. It may be that he really did believe he had met the Evil One. There are many more devout people than him who claim to have done so. I think he made up the part about his descendants inheriting his powers. He probably knew that there had always been members of his kin who had passed on ”occult powers” from generation to generation. I think he just wanted to show that he could prophesy the future. In other words it was a bluff. That he became smaller in stature and uglier is not to be wondered at either. It happens to us all as we grow older, and if someone is evil through and through, this will surely show in the person’s face as well. One thing is certain, however, that he, the one whose name I bear, knew many things that were secret and untold. But no, the story about the pact with Satan is just that – a story, nothing more. There is no such creature as Satan.’

  Silje was appalled. ‘You must not say that! That is the same as denying Our Lord�
�s existence.’

  ‘Is it? Don’t be naive, Silje. I thought you were a sensible girl, despite your youth and background. But now you speak like any other foolish uneducated woman. I see Satan as a very convenient invention of humans who need someone to blame when they do not want to take responsibility for their own misdeeds – and who can say how much the priesthood has relied on a belief in Satan to gain power over the people.’

  ‘Sire! You blaspheme!’ she gasped.

  ‘Oh, be quiet! If you accept that there is a Satan, then you condemn me to eternal torment. Is that your wish?’

  ‘No, of course it isn’t!’

  He leaned forward. ‘If it is true that the first Tengel sold his soul to Satan, then he likewise sold mine. For I am of the same blood, the same seed, the same soul and the curse rests upon all of us who have inherited his powers. Can you understand this? I refuse to acknowledge Satan, but I do believe there is a gentle and forgiving God who will have mercy on an accursed child of humanity.’

  Silje had a lump in her throat. ‘The way you explain it, I begin to believe that you may be right, and that the Evil. One has been invented by people. But I do not believe that you are cursed, you who are …’

  ‘Look at me!’ he yelled. ‘Do humans look like me? When I see my reflection on the surface of a pool it repels me. Look at these burning eyes, slanted and narrow, like those of a cat. The predator’s jaw with powerful teeth and this coarse hair, better suited to a horse’s mane. Have you ever seen anything so hateful?’

  Silje’s voice trembled slightly. ‘I will admit that I was frightened by your appearance at first, but now, for some reason I cannot explain, I find you very ... well, I just cannot explain it. I enjoy looking at you. I look forward to seeing you when you are away. Besides, you have been very good to the children and me...’

  He stood up suddenly, saying, ‘Ha! I am not always an angel.’

  Her words had obviously disturbed him. He walked restlessly to the other end of the room, stood for a moment before opening a cupboard door for no apparent reason, then slammed it shut and returned to his seat again. Silje sat quite still, ashamed of her forthrightness. He must surely be in a rage because of that.

  For a long time he sat with his hands clasped tightly on his knees, looking as though he did not know what to say. When the silence became too much to bear, Silje, in a quiet voice, asked, ‘and are you sure that among your kin, you are one of the chosen ones? The power to heal – has that also been passed down from him?’

  ‘Call it sorcery, magic, for that is what it is! Yes, it is passed on with frightening certainty – not to all, but at least one in every generation is afflicted. It is always the swarthy unusual-looking cat-eyed ones who are the victims.’

  ‘You say ”victims”. Is that because this is a heavy burden to carry?’

  ‘Yes, it is more difficult than you can ever know.’

  ‘You also said there would be one who would inherit greater supernatural powers than man had ever seen. Do you believe that is you?’

  He threw his head back and gave a dejected laugh. ‘Me? Oh, no! I am not so tainted; my powers are few. All I have is the ability to sense tension and emotion in people, and my healing hands. No, there are others of my kin, unspeakable creatures whose very existence you would not think possible. I feel powerless when I see all the disgusting things they can bring themselves to do. But no, the greatest chosen one has not yet been born, and I intend to see that he never will be!’

  She continued to look at him inquisitively.

  ‘I have sworn to myself that the evil bloodline shall die with me,’ he said at last. ‘I shall never lie in the embrace of a woman, lest the dangerous seed I carry within me should be passed on.’

  Silje looked down, not wanting him to read her thoughts, to see the vibrant hope within her at that moment. That he had been so reluctant to let her come up to the cottage, could that be because he might ...? No, of course not! Feeling quite indignant now, she was determined to ask one more question.

  ‘If you believe in the possibility of the greatest chosen one being born, do you not also believe in the power of the first Tengel to foretell the future?’

  The wolf-like grin flashed in irritation. ‘Not really, I think my ancestor made it up, like many others who carry the dream of being a Messiah – even though he was the very opposite of the benevolent Messiah. But the inheritance alone is so much to bear that I do not want to pass it on.’

  ‘Are you the only one in your generation, sire?’

  ‘Yes. For some time we thought that my sister had been cursed with the inheritance, but happily it was not so. She left the mountains, Silje. Left them when she found love, and settled with her husband in Trondheim without daring to reveal that she was born of the Ice People. You see, Silje, anyone found to be of the Ice People is killed on the spot, their body burned and the ash buried deep in the earth, so it can no longer spread its sorcery. We heard that my sister has two small daughters, Angelica and Leonarda. I was going to visit her that night when you and I first met. We were worried for her and the children – but I never did find them.’

  Silje suddenly became very still on her seat. ‘What are you thinking?’ he asked. ‘You are very tense.’

  ‘How old were her little daughters?’

  ‘Very small – the youngest just newborn. I think she was called ”Nadda” – Leonarda?’

  ‘Tengel!’ said Silje breathlessly.

  ‘Well, at last you call me by name.’ He was mumbling, which was unusual for him, but Silje was so agitated she did not notice.

  ‘Tengel! My God, I think ...’

  ‘Come on. What?’

  ‘I think your sister is dead.’

  He froze. ‘Why do you think that?’

  ‘You know how I found Sol, don’t you? Beside her mother’s dead body – an incredibly beautiful woman, with dark curly hair and dark eyes. Later, when Sol and I heard the infant crying in the woods, she urged me to go to it, pulling me and repeating ”Nadda, Nadda” over and over. At the time I thought perhaps she had a little brother or sister with such a name, another child who had surely died of the plague.’

  ‘Leonarda? Dear God,’ whispered Tengel. ‘I’m sure you’re right, Silje. I saw it on Sol’s face – she has the character of the Ice People. But I would never have thought ...’

  Suddenly, it was as though everything had become too much for him. He found it hard to remain composed; but there was more to come.

  ‘Oh, Tengel!’ Silje cried in despair. ‘I am scared that … that Sol carries the evil inheritance within her! I see her unruly behaviour and her weird moods. She can be impossible to understand. But most of all, I fear the strange absent look that comes upon her sometimes.’

  ‘Yes!’ he exclaimed. ‘That is one of the first signs. Oh, Dear Lord, that poor child! Can that little girl Sol really be my niece Angelica? I cannot believe it – or that my poor sister is dead.’

  Cracks had begun to appear in his hard shell of hostility Silje waited patiently, while he tried to come to terms with all the tragic things he had just learned. She would gladly have gone over to him and thrown her arms around him to show that she understood his feelings, but she knew that it would not be advisable. It was not easy for her to see the mighty Tengel so hurt.

  His eyes showed his anger; his voice reflected his feelings. ‘If I were but strong enough, I would kill her right now, before she is old enough to understand. It is a corrupt seed that the evil Tengel has placed within us. Corrupt!’

  As he spoke, his face looked less human than ever it had, but at the same time Silje saw that his eyes expressed more sadness, more pain, than she had ever seen.

  In horror, she pleaded, ‘No! You must not kill her!’

  ‘No, of course not – but my heart bleeds in despair for her future. Oh, Silje, you can never know what a living nightmare it is to have these traits! Some of my ancestors have revelled in them, been proud of them and become evil wizards and witches. They
have announced to the world that they were the greatest chosen one, with more powers than anyone before them – I hate those qualities.’ Then he lowered his voice. ‘But I shall keep my oath never to touch a woman. My seed shall bear no fruit, even though little Sol may continue our accursed lineage. We must pray to the Merciful Father that she has not been given the depraved nature of some of our forebears – those who chose to serve evil. I try to keep myself on the side of good.’

  He straightened suddenly, as if listening to a voice from within himself.

  ‘What is it?’ wondered Silje.

  ‘Do you recall when I came to your room, when I tried to save Sol from the plague?’

  ‘Yes, I do remember that you hesitated for a moment. You started to say something and then stopped.’

  ‘Yes, exactly. I had a fleeting feeling that I ought not to save her. Now I know why. She is one of the afflicted. I did not know it then, but something in me felt that she should not live her life. Well, there is nothing that can be done about it now. Nonetheless, I shall never take a woman.’

  Silje sat fighting her tears. As always, he could feel her sorrow, but this time he became even more irritated than before. He stood up again.

  ‘I have never found it difficult to avoid women. Not, that is, until Ah! The water’s boiling.’

  She had hoped he would finish what he was about to say, but then she realised he was talking about the water in the kettle that had probably been boiling unnoticed, for some time. She opened the box, while he brought out utensils for eating and drinking.

  For her part, Silje was proud to provide so much fine food, and was pleased to see his eyes following every movement she made. How wonderful it was for her to do something in return for all that he had done for her!