Spellbound

by Margit Sandemo

  ‘I do. But now I need to hear them. Many things are difficult for me just now, and I need to find out whether I am alone or if there is another who understands my emotions. A person who ...’

  ‘Who is fond of you? You know that there is – but you ask too much of me, Tengel. How can I describe in words all that I felt in my dreams?’

  ‘If you are able to do this, then I shall tell you all that I have dreamt about you.’

  She began to feel very hot and self-conscious beside him.

  She went and sat on a low stool, but the hard unpadded seat was uncomfortable and she changed her position slowly, with a painful sensual movement that he could plainly see. He turned back to the fire.

  ‘Please try to understand why I am asking this. I need something to nourish my life! Now I have plenty to live for – you and the children – but I have nothing to live for when I am alone. Grant me that, Silje. My life has been filled with many hours of solitude. I know nothing but loneliness.’

  She understood what he meant and, plucking up the courage, she began in a whisper, ‘I have always had dreams about your mountains. I used to call them the Land of Shadows and they were the lair of terrible demons that would rise up, fly towards my home and frighten me. But then, in my special dream, something different happened.’

  She stopped, and Tengel gave her a sidelong look. He was unusually tense.

  ‘Carry on,’ he said. ‘Do you mean the sensual part?’

  ‘Yes! Tengel, I can’t say more. This isn’t right.’

  ‘I beg you,’ he whispered to her, his hands shaking as they grasped the stick.

  The atmosphere in the room had changed. The air itself was quaking, trembling in some strange way.

  Silje gave a moan of despair and then said, ‘The demons were not the same as they had been. They were different – grown, lustful men – and they desired me. I lay naked in a pasture. I was waiting for a special one.’

  Tengel’s stern expression stayed fixed.

  ‘At last the demon I was waited for appeared, but he remained a long way off above the mountain ridge. But I could see it was you, and my body began to … become excited with an unbearable fire inside. With that I awoke. That was the first dream.’

  She covered her face with her hands. Gently Tengel pulled them away. ‘And the other one?’

  ‘No, I cannot tell you that one!’

  ‘Did it come to a … conclusion?’

  ‘No, it ended as the first one had done, at the moment of decision. But I behaved shamelessly in my dream, Tengel. I wanted to see your body and feel it touching mine – and both times, when I woke up No, how can I tell you this?’

  ‘You awoke filled with lust and desire?’ he asked without looking at her.

  Her silence told him what he already knew.

  ‘It is nothing to be ashamed of,’ he said. ‘It happens to most people. I think that, despite your upbringing and your shyness, you have very strong ...’ he paused, searching for a word, ‘urges, and I have known this since I first saw you. It is in your eyes – and your expression.’

  ‘But it is only for ...’ she began loudly, then realising the significance of her admission, finished quietly with ‘you’.

  She saw at once by his smile that she had made him very happy. He tried, without success, to conceal it.

  ‘And now it is your turn,’ she said covered in embarrassment. ‘You promised to tell me your dreams.’

  The warmth in the room was almost intolerable, and Silje knew that it did not come from the fire in the hearth.

  ‘It will not be easy.’

  ‘I said that too, but you would have me tell you anyway.’

  ‘It will not be easy, Silje, because my dreams are waking dreams. When I sleep, I sleep. Nothing more.’

  She felt a sensation of excitement flowing through her.

  She moved slightly on the stool again. ‘Waking dreams?’

  ‘Yes! I have been with you, Silje. Every evening, even when you were at Benedikt’s house, I knew what your room looked like. I remembered the time when I put my hands on your foot, but then I let them move up under your skirts. I, who have never allowed myself even to think of women. In agonies of delight, I have undressed you and gazed at you lying there and ...’

  Silje was gasping for breath – terrified by the feelings his words had evoked.

  ‘And my hands were still around your waist, long after I had helped you down from the horse. I can still feel exactly how it was and, in my thoughts, I let my hands reach inside your clothing and hold your breasts. I have touched your soft warm skin ...’

  A whimper from Silje urged him on.

  Quickly he said, ‘But I have never dared to come to you, not even in my thoughts – that is too sacred, unassailable. I realise that it can never be real – I must never allow a child to be born into the same misery that I suffer. But I offer you my deepest, most heartfelt thanks for daring to tell me of your dreams. You have given me the strength to carry on.’

  ‘But has this made it easier for you?’

  ‘No,’ he replied quietly.

  ‘And not for me either.’

  He placed a hand on hers.

  ‘Silje,’ was all he said, but in that one word she could hear everything he felt for her – body and soul.

  Overwhelmed with the tenderness and warmth, she said, ‘We will never speak of these things again, do you agree?’

  ‘Yes,’ he nodded.

  They remained sitting in front of the fire, deep in thought, each aware that the presence of the other brought a sense of belonging as well as sadness.

  Eventually, it was the sound of Sol’s joyful voice outside that broke the mood. Tengel stood up at once and pulled Silje to her feet. A fleeting smile, gentle but sad, brightened his face for an instant. Then together they walked to the door to meet the others.

  Chapter 12

  Next morning Eldrid came to collect the children. It had been agreed they would stay with her for a few days. Dag had managed to sleep a little during the night and Silje thought that his bottom was not as red and sore as it had been. Perhaps it was just her imagination. The previous day Tengel had asked them to loosen ‘that terrible swaddling’, a request that Eldrid had argued strenuously against. Everyone knew that a child not securely bound in swaddling would be deformed. One had to make sure that the infant’s legs grew straight. Had he taken leave of his senses?

  Silje decided to loosen the binding nonetheless, as soon as the boy was returned to her. She had already been doing so while they were living with Benedikt and now her unfailing belief in Tengel served to reinforce her decision.

  As soon as Eldrid had left, taking the children with her, Silje busied herself filling a basket with food. She was full of nerves as she got ready to go out, wearing the beautiful velvet cloak Tengel had given her. Following little-used paths in the hope she would not be seen. She walked through the woods of birch growing on the hillside to the far side of the valley, closer to where the outflow joined the glacier.

  It would surely snow before long. The mountain peaks had disappeared into the low heavy grey clouds and the few slopes that were visible were completely covered in snow. This day was far colder than recent days had been and icy winds cut noisily through the trees, rattling at the few leaves left clinging to their branches.

  Silje knew she would have to cross the road at some point, and hoped she would be able to do so unseen, but it was not to be. As she stepped into the road, she saw a woman walking towards her, but to Silje’s great surprise, the stranger immediately leapt into the woods at the side of the road and hid. She remembered how she’d noticed similar behaviour before in this valley, where people who had lived closed in and isolated for so many generations were intensely fearful of any outsider. Quite simply the woman was scared of Silje, possibly even believing her to be a dangerous threat. Silje chuckled to herself and walked on her way.

  As soon she saw the old low-roofed building in the hollow, her heart began
to pound and her hands started to tremble. Should she dare go on? The cottage showed no sign of life. The sound of an axe biting into wood came from far-off down the valley. She wondered if it was Tengel working and found comfort in the thought. There were no tracks in the snow where she now stood, even though the last snowfall had been a week earlier. How long had it been since any neighbour had been to visit?

  ’Nobody goes there. They can take care of themselves.’

  They could have been dead for weeks, she thought. Then she recalled the tremendous sense of dread she felt in passing this place when she first came to the valley – the feeling that someone was watching her. She walked on up to the cottage, with uncertainty eating at every fibre of her body. Every step became harder as fear began to take control.

  The cottage had a stable door, skewed on its hinges, with snow lying deep up against the lower half of it. Her fingers were shaking so badly that her first attempt to knock made no sound at all. Her heart fluttering like a sparrow’s, she tried again. By now she was scared out of her wits.

  Shivering slightly she waited, straining her ears, but there was no sound. She had still heard nothing when the top half of the door swung open, making her jump. In the darkness beyond glowed, cat-like, the eyes of an old man. Silje curtsied as the suspicious gnarled old face – which bore a striking resemblance to Tengel’s – came into view.

  While she was still trying to find words that seemed to have vanished into thin air, a clear ironic voice from inside the room called out, ‘It’s Tengel’s woman! Let her in, Grimar!’

  At this, the lower half of the door opened and Silje stepped over a high threshold onto the earth floor inside. The most awful smell met her – the reeking consequence of dirt, old age and the years of wood smoke that had impregnated every inch of the place. There was very little daylight in the room, because the cover over the smoke-hole in the roof was blackened with soot, and although there was a glow from the primitive hearth on the floor, it was so weak that it shed almost no light on anything.

  It took a little while for Silje’s eyes to adjust to the soot-laden smoke-filled atmosphere, but eventually she was able to distinguish a figure sitting up in a short bed over in one corner. She curtsied low once again, wondering if the usual greeting of ‘God bless your home’ would be appropriate here.

  Instead she said, ‘Good day, Mother Hanna! I am Silje and, because you are both Tengel’s closest kin, I took it upon myself to call on you. I brought some things for you that I hope you will do me the honour of accepting.’

  Could they hear how her voice trembled, she wondered? The old woman grunted something. Silje could barely see her face, hidden as it was in deep shadow. She had only a sense of seeing something ancient, half-eaten by decay, but which was looking at her with eyes that pierced her soul. Grimar had closed the door and come across the room to stand close behind her. She could feel his breath on her neck.

  For one awful moment she was almost overcome by wild panic and wanted to flee the cottage. The silence in the room and the disgusting sour odour mixed with smoke – but above all else, something lurking in the very air itself, something undefined, a hex she could not describe – made her blood run cold. She stood straight and turned to look at Grimar.

  ‘Can I leave these somewhere? I must take the basket back with me. It belongs to the house where I am staying.’

  When Grimar put his hand on her arm she nearly screamed out loud, before realising that he was just showing her to the table. She unpacked the food – bread, cured ham, Christmas sausages, butter and cheese – most of which she had been given when she left Benedikt’s farm. The old woman had sat up straighter in the bed and craned forward.

  Silje spoke to her directly, knowing that she held sway in this home, ‘If there is anything I can do for you then you must tell me. I can help to clean and tidy. I can ask Tengel to fetch firewood.’

  ‘Tengel!’ sniggered the old woman in her strange clear voice. ‘Tengel is a fool! He has the power, but will not use it. He prefers to destroy it! I do not want Tengel here – and what task would you do here? You have no heart for such work.’

  The old crone’s anger was beginning to frighten Silje.

  ‘Tengel has been very good to me,’ she said in a soft voice, determined to defend him, even though this might provoke the woman further.

  ‘But he will not make you with child!’ Hanna exploded.

  ‘Only he can pass on the power, yet he would rather see it die with him!’

  ‘How can she know all this?’ wondered Silje. She just lies here; she sees no one.

  ‘He is not the only one,’ she argued. ‘There is Sol as well.’

  ‘Sol will not pass on our true inheritance! You, girl! You are the one who will pass on the heritage of the first, the Great Tengel. You, only you, can change the mind of his obstinate kin. You!’

  Her eyes fixed on the floor, Silje answered, ‘You know well that I want to, old mother. You read my feelings, do you not?’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ she replied harshly. ‘I can read your feelings and I know what flames burn inside you, girl. There is no doubt you are Tengel’s woman. It is more than just the desire to be in the arms of the other that binds you. I shall prepare a potion for you that will change his ...’

  ‘No!’ Silje said forcefully. ‘Love that is brought about by sorcery is worth nothing to me. If I cannot win him without such things, then I am not worthy of him.’

  ‘You are the bravest little creature I have met in many years,’ said Hanna softly and slowly, ‘and you have pride, too. Beware your pride, Silje, it is a dangerous burden you carry.’ Then she laughed, but this was no normal laugh.

  ‘You dare to refuse my help! This is because you are new in the valley and know nothing of our powers. Do you know that I can destroy you without even touching you?’

  ‘I have been told of your powers – but I was more worried that you were here in need and alone.’

  Hanna leaned back against the bed-head again.

  ‘You are indeed Tengel’s woman,’ she said sounding satisfied. ‘Do what you can, and it will be as you desire. He will come to you. But tell me, have you seen it yet?’

  ‘Seen what?’ she asked, unthinkingly.

  The old witch lying on the bed cackled again.

  ‘I saw him as a newborn baby I thought to myself at the time that, if only they knew, women would stand in line for him when he became a man. But it will not be good for a young virgin!’

  Suddenly Silje realised what the old crone was talking about! Her cheeks turned bright red and she felt a sense of repulsion and was overcome with embarrassment.

  ‘You’ll see. You’ll see,’ the old hag gloated. ‘Oh, yes, you’ll see.’

  With great effort Silje managed to regain her self-control. Hesitating slightly, she asked, ‘Are you ...? Can you tell me what my future holds?’

  Silence lay heavy in the room.

  ‘I could do so. Tengel’s fate I cannot see, because he shares my powers and prevents me from seeing it. I cannot say if your future lies with him, but you will be blessed with child – though I cannot see who will be the father, because that tiresome stubborn nephew of mine shields it from me. Go home and talk sense into him, Silje. Ensnare him with your youth and your tenderness – then before he knows it, he will have sown his seed in you!’

  Silje curtsied, her cheeks more flushed than they had been, and picked up the empty basket. Grimar followed her to the door. Without any words of farewell he saw her out and, as soon as she had made her way back into the woods where she could not be seen, she stopped and covered her face with her hands. Her whole body shook violently from the fear and shame, her teeth chattered and her breath came in short rasping coughs.

  But there was one thing she had learned from this meeting – as long as there was a chance that she could produce an heir to Tengel, she would have nothing to fear from the evil Hanna. She resolved to tell no one of her visit to the old ones. She did not dare.

&nbs
p; ****

  The worst months of winter passed slowly, bringing icy winds that howled around the corners of the buildings, slippery paths in the yard and snowdrifts packed hard against the door, making it almost impossible to open nearly every morning. Silje regained her strength and took the children back to live with her and life in the cottage went more smoothly. Dag was healed and Sol was chirpy and happy – as long as things went her way!

  There were times when the two children wore each other down of course. They could not go out for days at a time because of the cold and, as a result, the big room sometimes looked like a battleground or a rubbish tip; but with a little effort Silje managed to keep things running reasonably well.

  When she had spun some yarn, they set up the loom. The time Silje spent weaving gave her the energy to tackle the more mundane jobs in the cottage. In no time her neighbours had learned of her talent for producing beautiful cloth and, overcoming their fears, started to visit her. Although welcome, these visits caused Silje some anxiety, because she did not know what refreshment to offer them. Her bread cakes were always a little singed at the edges, her cheeses too soft or too hard and her pieces of dried fish cut badly or flaking.

  The village wives gave her sound advice on the use of the loom, while she taught them different techniques and showed them new patterns. No matter how she tried, though, Silje was dismayed by how narrow-minded and limited their topics of discussion could be. The language was miserable and the vocabulary exceedingly small. Conversations were limited to a few subjects: other peoples’ happiness and woes – mostly the latter – and the care of their homes and farms. That was all. If Silje tried to talk in general about something else, history, art or religion for example, they regarded her with suspicion and were silent as the grave. They knew nothing of life outside the valley and cared little for it either. It seemed their whole world consisted of nothing but the valley of the Ice People.

  She saw Tengel very rarely. He only made a visit when absolutely necessary, to do the heavy work that she could not manage and to ensure that they wanted for nothing. He tried never to look at her directly and, because she knew his reasons, she accepted his absences.