Meantime, Tengel was finding it difficult to regain his composure.
‘I should have left here long since,’ he said angrily, throwing a couple of wooden spoons onto the table. ‘I don’t know why I haven’t.’
‘I am pleased that you did not,’ she replied. ‘The knowledge that you were near has made me feel safe. You have been good to the children and me, sire. You are not an evil person.’
Aha, it’s ”sire” now again, is it?’ he muttered.
‘I’m sorry I forgot.’
‘You say that I am not evil – yet all are afraid of me.’
‘Is it not good that they show you respect?’ She tried to make it a joke, but the laughter stuck in her throat.
‘They believe me to be a three-hundred-year-old spirit, Silje! Yet I am but a normal living human, with the same desire for companionship as anyone – except that I have some special powers I have never wished for.’
He saw the look of complete empathy in Silje’s eyes, and he had to turn away.
‘But all those things about herbs and such-like – you must have been taught that.’
‘The Ice People are born with this knowledge and learn more from their mothers. Something that I could not do. My mother died giving birth to me, and yet people still think of me as a wraith! But it was probably a blessing for her – she was spared from seeing the creature she had brought forth into the world!’
‘Tengel!’ she implored sadly, ‘don’t say things like that.’
‘Well there is something else you should know, Silje,’ he said, his back to her as he stood by the cupboard. ‘Another reason why I must live alone, I mean. Have you noticed my shoulders?’
‘Yes. Was it an injury?’ she asked quietly.
‘No, not an injury I was born like this and that is what took my mother’s life. She bled to death.’
‘Oh, how terrible!’ she groaned, her sympathy heartfelt.
‘And I do not want that to happen to any other woman,’ he added quickly
‘Are you saying that this too is inherited?’
‘One can never know these things.’
He turned back and continued arranging the table. Soon they had laid out a wonderful meal.
‘Our Christmas feast, Tengel,’ said Silje, smiling despite the sadness she felt for him.
They sat down facing each other over the old rough-hewn tabletop. Tengel, steadfastly refusing to look at her, poured out some of Benedikt’s home-made brennevin. She hesitated.
‘I never usually take such strong drink. I have no desire to behave wantonly.’
‘This is Christmas, Silje, and now you know that you need have no fear that I will molest you.’
‘Yes, I do know that – it’s not your feelings I am afraid of but my own ...’ she stopped, alarmed at her words.
He set down the flask firmly, saying, ‘You are a surprising girl – a mixture of virtue and strong sensuality, together with a bold daring streak. I do not know which is the real you.’
Silje considered this. Hearing him say ‘strong sensuality’ had made her cheeks colour. She felt very warm, but decided not to pursue the subject.
‘I should love to have someone to speak to – about myself, I mean. In truth I have no one. Master Benedikt is very easy to talk to, but he’s mostly interested in his art and himself.’
For the first time since she had arrived, a wry smile appeared on his face. Perhaps the festive atmosphere of the meal had softened his mood. ‘You can speak to me.’
‘Would you want to listen, sire, really?’ she asked shyly.
‘I am sure that I would.’
She felt he was sincere in what he said. She began to rationalise her thoughts and went on, ‘I think it is like this. By nature I am very shy, almost wanting to avoid company. My upbringing made me more so. My father was very strict and my mother religious and they condemned everything to do with love and that other thing you mentioned.’
‘Sensuality?’
‘Yes, that,’ she mumbled quickly. ‘Everything was sin, sin, sin! This left its mark on me. On our farm there were one or two occasions when young men tried to approach me, but I fled in horror and disgust before they managed to touch me. Then I was left on my own, after that awful time when everyone died and – I still cannot think about it lest I break down in tears.’
She paused to take a breath and recover the thread of her story Tengel sat with his elbows on the table holding his mug, unmoving and attentive, watching her closely. He had not even had time to take a drink.
‘When I was driven out and left to wander the countryside, I was often accosted, especially in Trondheim. As you know, I had nowhere to live and walked about aimlessly, sleeping in the open or in the most wretched of hideaways. I learned how to defend myself and I am still a virgin, Tengel, please do not think otherwise.’
He roused himself and raising his mug to his lips, he emptied it in one swallow.
‘I never would,’ he muttered, pouring himself more brennevin.
‘I found out how tough life can be – the good and the bad – and became hardened to it in order to survive. Although it is not in my nature to be like that – perhaps this is where I found the daring you see in me. I saw and heard so many terrible things that confounded my natural instincts. I was in turmoil! Then – no, I can’t tell you any more.’
‘Yes, go on. This is important.’
‘No, I cannot.’
He grew impatient, ‘You said that you would confide in me.’
Looking away she said, ‘Your manner today has not strengthened my confidence.’
With some effort, he controlled his impatience.
‘Your words are safe with me. I want to hear your story.’
Silje realised that she felt very warm. Was it from the tire in the room or just within her? No, there was something else, something unbelievably powerful, which did not come from her. At least, not entirely.
‘It is very difficult, Tengel,’ she said, fidgeting awkwardly. ‘It’s about the … my sensuality.’
‘Yes, I realised that.’
‘How it has been … awakened. I never knew that I could have such … well … such desires.’
His eyes seemed aflame as he looked at her. The shadows made his face appear narrower and his teeth shone as he drew back his lips. His smile put her in mind of a wild beast about to pounce.
‘I’ve said enough. I shall speak no more of it,’ she muttered.
‘No! Has someone tried to … entice you? Tried to take you to his bed? Excite you?’
‘No, no!’ she answered, frightened. ‘No, it is you, and you know it full well.’
There, now she had said it! Too late, she realised that she had fallen into his trap. Oh, how she wished the ground would swallow her up! She was overcome with a childish desire to creep under the table and hide.
An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Neither of them moved for some time. Something was being offered to her, but in her embarrassment she had not been fully aware of it. He was holding a mug of brennevin for her. He urged her to drink. She coughed and pulled a face at the raw taste, but it warmed her. She noticed that his hand trembled as he held the mug.
‘Riding together on the horse?’ he said in a quiet voice.
She gave him a scared look. ‘Why do you think that?’
‘You couldn’t sit still.’
Silje felt so ashamed. She shook her head. ‘No. It began long before that.’
He paused, and then said thoughtfully, ‘Ah, yes. The painting in the church ...’
‘Don’t speak of it!’ she shouted and burst into tears. Between sobs she continued, ‘I had two horrible dreams and I will not tell you about them, no matter how much you want me to. What are you trying to do? First you berate me for coming, then you humiliate me in this way!’
He breathed out heavily and she realised that he had been holding his breath for some time.
‘You must not feel humiliated, Silje. That was not my intention
. I have been acting selfishly I see that now, but in my loneliness I needed to hear what you had to say. Neither am I used to women’s emotions. Without meaning to, I have treated you badly. Thank you for coming, but now I had better see you back through the woods.’
‘But we have not finished our meal!’
He had already stood up.
‘It is best that you go home. At once.’
She looked up and saw self-control etched in every line on his face. She felt delight race anew through her veins.
She understood.
‘Thank you,’ she spoke with ambiguity, still a little confused by her feelings.
Then, together, they went outside. After the murky light in the cottage they were both taken aback by the bright sunshine.
Not a word passed between them as they tramped the snowy downhill path. Silje threw furtive glances in the direction of the fascinating creature walking at her side. He had not taken his fur and was wearing only a short smock, gathered by his belt. She mused how the wide square shoulders made his hips look almost too narrow and out of proportion. He had a determined look about him, although he was lost in thought.
She decided to hazard a question. ‘Tengel, what is your connection with Heming, the bailiff-killer?’
‘Heming? Have you not realised? He is also of the Ice People.’
‘Is he? But you are so different.’
‘You must understand that he is not of the evil Tengel’s kin. There were several families at the beginning. Heming’s family had never wanted to be mixed with ours. They have always found their women and husbands from outside our clan, or from ”pure” families amongst our folk.’
‘You once told me that he was valuable to you. That was when I believed him to be one of the rebels. I believed the same of you.’
‘Heming is the son of the Ice People’s chieftain. Yes, even in our small world we have one.’
Silje showed surprised. ‘I thought you were their chieftain.’
‘A descendant of Tengel can never be chieftain. We are too unpredictable. No. When I went out to search for my sister, Heming’s father told me to watch over his errant son.’
‘So when you said that he could betray you all, it was the Ice People you spoke of not the rebels?’
‘Partly – to save his life he might have informed on the whole rebel movement, and by so doing reveal the secret tracks and pathways to my people’s hiding-place.’
‘He is afraid of you.’ It was a statement of fact.
‘Of course! He thinks I have the power to destroy him, and I will let him continue in that belief.’
‘And is it true?’
‘I have no wish to find out.’
How torn your emotions must be, she thought. Then she exclaimed, ‘But does he have cause to believe any such thing?’
Through clenched teeth he muttered, ‘If you had seen the others of my kin, then you would not ask that.’
Silje merely shook her head, resignedly. ‘Then tell me,’ she continued, ‘why you and Heming are so ... learned? You know many words. How is that possible?’
‘Much like you,’ he smiled weakly. ‘I was educated second-hand.’
‘How do you know about me?’
‘Benedikt.’
Silje sighed, ‘He is like a sieve, that man.’
‘He has spoken quite a lot about you,’ admitted Tengel.
‘And did you listen?’
He didn’t reply.
‘Well, anyway,’ she went on, ‘how were you able to learn?’
‘One of our men left the mountain about fifty years ago and studied in Trondheim. He was very wise. Then when he grew old he returned to us, and since that time we have had a – what shall I call it – a tradition of learning. He taught me many things himself, because he believed I had talent.’
‘I am sure that he was right.’
‘And Heming, as the son of a chieftain, must have learning. The old man had died by this time and his pupils taught Heming. I have tried to remember his teachings and to use the beauty of our language. Not all of the Ice People do this.’
‘How old are you then, really?’ Silje’s heart was beating fast. This was something she badly wanted to know.
‘Is it important?’
‘Maybe not. But it is something I have wondered about many times. It is not easy to guess your age.’
‘I am – well, in truth I am not sure. Between thirty and thirty-five I think. Thirty-two would be a good guess, perhaps thirty-three.’
‘And I am just seventeen now,’ she said quickly.
He turned away, so that she could not see his face. They fell silent again and shortly afterwards reached the edge of the forest, where they stopped. They both looked down across the valley, neither one wanting to meet the other’s gaze, neither one wanting to leave.
‘Silje, I must return to my people soon ...’
‘No! You cannot go!’ She spoke without thinking and immediately regretted her words.
‘But I must. I have been away for too long and when the ice melts and the spring floods start, all the tracks become impassable. I must be there before then. However, I was thinking about your situation and Benedikt. Maybe you should wed him anyway. You are fond of him and you cannot deny that it would safeguard you and the children for as long as you live. I would feel at ease, knowing you were safe. He is an old man and would never ask of you anything that you did not feel able to do.’
‘But that is what he has done!’ she exclaimed.
‘What?’
‘He is a wonderful man when he is sober. But he was drunk … and tried ...’
‘To come into your bed?’
‘Yes.’ She felt ashamed.
Tengel did not realise that his hand was gripping his belt so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. He stood staring at the farm below, his lips barely parted. Now, more than ever there was something of the beast in his expression.
‘Tengel, I shall make sure that it does not happen again,’ she said in a worried tone. ‘And Master Benedikt is not aware that he did anything at all; he has forgotten everything. He was so very drunk. But I could not marry him.’
‘No, you can’t,’ he said hotly. ’And that woman has arrived – and I’m concerned about Sol, my niece. I should like to stay, but I must leave. Look after Sol for me Silje. It will be better for her to be with you than with me. Will you keep her?’
Silje nodded.
‘Thank you,’ he said simply. ‘I shall return in the autumn to visit you all.’
‘It’s a long time till then,’ she said in a trembling voice.
‘You are safe at Benedikt’s farm and he will sort out that old witch, just you see. Benedikt has never been a servant to anyone. He knows his own mind.’
‘Will you go at once?’
‘No, I want to see what happens with that woman. In spite of everything, I am concerned about what she plans for Sol … and Dag. I will be around for a few more days.’
‘May I come and ...’
‘No, you cannot. It was bad enough that you came today.’
The patch of snow where they were standing had been trampled hard. Silje stamped the snow awkwardly and, although her feet were beginning to feel chilled, she still did not want to leave. Not yet.
‘Silje, those dreams,’ he said quietly without looking at her, ‘were they really as terrible as you said?’
The silence surrounding them was immense.
‘What is your answer?’ he demanded.
‘I shook my head,’ she mumbled.
He turned to look at her. Her head was bowed, her cheeks crimson.
‘Well I couldn’t hear that, you silly thing,’ he said, laughing, and she thought she heard a sign of happiness in his voice. But was he just mocking her?
Without daring to touch him, without even saying farewell, she turned suddenly and ran away, down towards the valley. When she had come some distance across the pasture, she turned to look back. He was still there, power
ful and unmoving, like a heathen character from a bygone age.
She waved quickly to him and he raised an arm in reply. For a long time they stood looking at each other, before finally she turned and continued homeward.
Chapter 9
On the farm, things continued to go from bad to worse. Abelone had begun regular visits to the neighbouring farms and, sometime between Christmas and the New Year, she found out that the children might have been baptised.
‘Silje’s baptism in the forest?’ she yelled at Benedikt. ‘What good is that? A young hussy like her, having the gall to conduct a holy rite – and my children have been living under the same roof as two heathen brats!’
‘It doesn’t seem to have done them any harm,’ he remarked with a sidelong glance at her two well-nourished offspring.
Abelone half-closed her eyes. ‘As you know very well my dear friend, there are two trillion, 665 billion, 866 million and 746,664 lesser devils. Can you imag ...’
‘And you manage to keep that number in your head all the time!’ Benedikt butted in. ‘Do you look in all the corners every day? What happens if you lose one? Or count one of them twice?’
Abelone would not be interrupted, ‘Can you imagine how many of those lesser devils have been able to enter this farm freely through those two children? They might be anywhere, they can ...’
‘Don’t let yourself get hysterical. Your face turns awfully red when you do that.’
‘They must both leave – immediately!’
‘Never!’ said Benedikt turning towards her threateningly. ‘And, for all we know, the little girl was christened a long while ago.’
‘We know nothing at all about her. She was found in the street, was she not? The woman was most surely immoral.’
Silje protested angrily at this accusation against Tengel’s unfortunate sister.
‘Still your tongue!’ commanded Abelone. ‘It is common knowledge what you are after. So that’s all there is to it! They shall be baptised at once.’
‘We do not yet have a new pastor,’ objected Marie.
‘Then we shall fetch the one from the next parish. Good Heavens! How did you manage your poor lives before I came? I happen to know that the Bekkemarken family is expecting him to visit today. They have a sick elderly relative who is close to death. The farmhand can go and fetch him.’
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