There were moments, of course, when their eyes met, each holding the other’s gaze, and when this happened they became joined in a strange trance-like silence. They both knew that nothing had changed between them – or had it? Had their longing and desire become in some way more vivid, so intense that eventually it would reach breaking point? Silje was frightened that it might and kept out of his way as much as she could.
Tengel, for his part, had been speaking with their chieftain. They had been out together on the frozen lake, trying to catch some fish to eke out the food stocks. Using their axes, each had made a hole in the ice which, because of the intense cold, they had to keep clearing to prevent them from re-freezing. Although the biting wind pulled at them, there was an occasional mildness, a sign that a new spring was waiting.
The chieftain was one of the few people who did not shun Tengel and, when they spoke, it was as equals.
‘So what are you going to do with Silje?’ he asked suddenly, without warning, as they fished side by side.
Tengel was confused by the question. ‘How do you mean?’
‘She is a distraction for the lads. They watch where she lives – and they fight over her.’
‘I did not know of this.’ Concern was etched on Tengel’s brow.
‘Don’t worry. They dare not interfere at the moment, but one day something will happen. You must get her married off – and quickly! A maiden living all alone, well, it’s too much of a temptation for any young man.’
There was a knot in Tengel’s stomach. ‘I don’t know – I cannot simply wed her off against her will.’
‘Of course you can, man! Is that not our custom? It is not expected that a girl should decide these things. You shall speak to her. She will have feelings for some young lad, I expect. She is a good-looking woman and very able. I suspect that even Heming is interested in her and I would not say ”No” to such a daughter in wedlock.’
‘She will bring two children into a marriage.’ Tengel pointed out.
‘You or Eldrid will take care of the girl. She is of your blood. The little boy on the other hand can be of use in the house. The strength of an extra man means a lot on a farm. You talk to her and find out what her feelings are and remember – Heming is not a bad catch!’
After that, Tengel had lost all heart in the fishing and went back home. He did not tell Silje of the conversation and this proved to be a mistake. The very next day, things about which the chieftain had spoken began to occur.
Tengel came back from an unsuccessful day on the slopes, hunting grouse. He was aware that Heming had also been out hunting and, as he reached the narrow deep river close to Silje’s cottage, he caught sight of him. He was standing on a ledge above the rushing waters, watching something. Tengel edged forward with some foreboding. Heming saw him and waved him over. There was an arrogant smirk on the face of the chieftain’s son.
‘Look over there,’ he urged.
Tengel looked down at the river, where Silje had obviously been rinsing out clothes in the ice-cold water. An unpleasant scene was unfolding in front of them on the opposite bank. She had laid out her washing on the rocks and one of the Bratteng brothers was crawling along, obviously planning to come at Silje from behind. It was the nastier one of the boys and his intentions were clear.
Tengel shouted a warning, but the noise of the water drowned out his cry. The riverbank was too high for him to get across at this point – and Heming just stood grinning! Tengel was looking around urgently for a stone to throw, when Heming, with a look of admiration, grabbed his arm and pointed.
At the same instant that the Bratteng boy attacked Silje, she turned and they watched as she did something so incredible and so fast that neither of them could believe their eyes. With lightning speed, Silje grabbed a fistful of the boy’s hair, pulling him forward, so that he raised his hands to break free. At that moment she hit him hard under the chin with her other fist, after which she drove her knee up into the most sensitive part of his body. The boy fell to the ground and remained lying there, writhing in agony Silje quickly gathered her washing and ran from the river up towards the cottage.
Tengel and Heming looked at each other.
‘God help me,’ panted Heming. ‘I don’t think I’ll try my luck there!’
‘She said she’d learned how to take care of herself? said Tengel weakly. ‘I never thought she meant like that!’
They walked on down to find a crossing point. The Bratteng boy had got to his feet and left, swaying unsteadily. He would be unlikely to try that again.
‘I’ll go and see how she is,’ mumbled Tengel when they had crossed and they went their separate ways.
Tengel found Silje outside, hanging up her washing.
Even from some distance he could see she was upset and he hurried to her. ‘I saw everything that happened.’
Dropping her linen in the snow she ran to him, throwing herself in his arms, forgetting that it might not be what he wanted. ‘Oh, Tengel, Tengel! Why can’t you be here always?’ she whispered, trembling. ‘I am so helpless without you. So unprotected.’
‘Not from what I saw just now,’ he answered, surprised by his own faltering voice.
It had been hard for him to stand on that ledge unable to do anything to help.
They had not mentioned the sensitive subject of their relationship since the day they had confided their feelings to each other. That had been nearly two months earlier.
‘Where are the children?’ he muttered, his lips pressing against her hair.
‘With Eldrid. I did not want to take them to the water.’
Tengel did not want to let her out of his arms and she was certainly not making any attempt to free herself.
‘And Dag is well?’ he asked, for no other reason than to make the wonderful giddy moment last a little longer.
‘I do not think he is very strong, but that may be because he has never had a mother’s milk, as you said. But he can sit up – with help.’
‘Silje, I have often meant to say something to you about Dag, but whenever we meet there are other things to occupy us.’
She gave him a quick understanding smile. His fingers played with a lock of her hair that had come loose while she was working. Her head rested against his chest, turned towards his shoulder so that she could look dreamily out over the farm. Her hands lay on his back.
‘Do you recall the letters C.M. on the cloth you found Dag wrapped in?’ he asked.
‘I could never forget them.’
‘You know that you found the boy not far from the city gates and also that the cloth carried the emblem of a nobleman’s crown. I sent a man – it was the wagon-driver – to try and find the child’s mother. We believe he may have done so. I just didn’t have the time to tell you before we had to flee and, since then, as I have already said, I forgot about it.’
‘How could you forget such a thing?’ she asked reproachfully, with a severe look on her face. ‘You know how much thought I have given to Dag’s background! Well, what did your man find out?’
Tengel tried not to let himself be overcome by the magic in her lovely clear eyes.
‘There is one Baron Meiden who has a palace quite close to the city gates. He has a daughter, Charlotte, who it is said is neither one of the youngest nor most beautiful.’
Silje stood in his arms, unmoving, forgetting he was there.
‘So now the unknown woman has become flesh and blood – Charlotte Meiden. It is sad, somehow, to know at last who our little boy belongs to.’
Tengel noticed that she had said ‘our little boy’. It touched him deeply. In a gentle voice he said, ‘She has no rights, Silje, and she can hardly want him either. But I do understand your feelings.’
Charlotte Meiden – the name kept running through her head. She felt sympathy as well, no matter how unwarranted it might be, for this woman who had left her child out in the cold to die – but Silje felt there must be more to the story than this.
‘Wake up, Si
lje,’ his soft voice urged her. ‘Your thoughts were far, far away’
She turned her attention back from Trondheim to this poor mountain farm. In the yard, smoke still rose from the tire beneath the washtub that stood by the tree.
A great tit twittered cheerfully in readiness for spring, but Tengel noticed none of this. He saw only Silje, feeling her in his embrace, exactly as he had always dreamt.
‘Silje,’ he whispered, ‘I have lived every day in torment. Every night has been twice as bad.’
‘For me as well,’ she said softly, looking up at his face, as though she had only just noticed he was there.
‘And just now, when I saw that young whelp at the riverbank – I thought I would fall apart.’
Slowly a smile lit up her face. The intoxicating realization that she had been in Tengel’s arms for such a long time began to surge through her, warming every part of her body Her hands were trembling as she touched his distinctive face as gently as the wings of a butterfly beat the air.
Tengel drew a quick breath – he might almost have sobbed – and pulled Silje closer to him. Tighter and tighter she felt his arms around her, her cheek against his. When his lips touched the soft skin of her neck, she threw back her head in expectation. His warm breath excited her as his mouth gently brushed the curve of her throat and, with a languid joyful smile on her face, she pressed her body even closer to his. Tengel’s mouth moved slowly up to her face and he gently kissed her cheek, her forehead, her eyes, her other cheek and then … her mouth.
At first their kiss was soft and sensitive, but in seconds it became passionate and all-consuming, as her pulse started to race, her body responding to the release of pent-up emotions. Again and again he kissed her, feeding from her passion like the hungry man he was – dizzy, possessed – yet so full of love that Silje welcomed every kiss with a surge of delight, as her world reeled and swayed and she soared upwards, borne aloft by gentle clouds of desire.
Suddenly she found that her fingers were clawing into his shoulders like talons and that she was slowly moving her body against his, leaving him in no doubt about her feelings. Breathing heavily, he relaxed his hold on her and looked down into her face, seeing the sensuous happy smile that still played on her lips. He had a distant look about him, as if he was unsure where he was.
‘What will become of us, Silje?’ he whispered. There was regret in his voice. ‘I should not be alive – it would be better I were dead!’
‘No!’ she wailed. ‘I could not be in this world without you! Without you I am nothing. Come – come with me. Look, we’ll stand with the bottom half of the door closed between us ~ you outside and I will be inside – and then we can talk together, but please, you must not leave!’
She rambled on and on, hoping her words would keep him there. Reluctantly he gave in to her somewhat silly idea, feeling a little bit foolish standing on the outside of the stable door, although he did understand why she had suggested it.
She talked without stopping, ‘We need each other in so many different ways, Tengel, every moment of every day – to talk to each other and solve our problems together, to share happiness and worry.’
‘I know,’ he interrupted sadly ‘We are made for each other, to share our lives together. We are like a tree split in two – if the parts are not bound together to heal, the tree will die.’
She looked at him – breathless. She had been expecting him to say something else as well. When he did not, she decided it was time for her to say it for him.
‘Then why do we not try? Do we have to have children?’
As he looked at her, his gleaming wolf-like teeth shining through his warm smile, he said, ‘I think we are both hot-blooded creatures. Don’t you think we would forget ourselves?’
‘Yes,’ she said a little ashamed, ‘forgive my lack of modesty!’
He placed his hand on hers where it rested on the top of the door. ‘You need never beg forgiveness from me, Silje! Do you not think I understand you? You give voice to those feelings that I also share. But now I must leave.’
She tried desperately to find more to talk about. ‘I have often wondered ...’
He stopped, waiting expectantly and watching her face.
‘I have often wondered about that night we first met. You had many men with you – soldiers who obeyed. Who were they?’
‘Kinsmen,’ he smiled. ‘Our chieftain had sent us all out to find Heming, you see. We had heard that he had been captured and his father thought I needed more men with me to free him. They all came back here shortly afterwards. Now farewell, Silje, and take good care of yourself!’
He left and there was nothing more she could do to make him stay. From then on his visits became more frequent. He called in every day to make sure all was well and that none of the young men had been back to trouble her.
****
Silje found she was heartily glad that winter was coming to an end. Others told her that it had been mild – but she couldn’t agree. At least they had been spared the attentions of wild animals; it wasn’t uncommon for packs of wolves to cross the glacier during the winter months, causing all kinds of problems in the valley – but not this year. Thanks to the help she had been given by Eldrid and Tengel, the winter had not taken too much out of Silje. She needed nearly all her energy to manage Sol, who could be a handful, and to keep the infant Dag alive – he was still not as strong as he needed to be for this hard mountain life.
Eldrid was worried, too. The fodder was running out and she herself was exhausted from years of working this large farm on her own. Silje had taken to helping her in the barn every afternoon, to ease her load, and the two women became very close. One day, while Sol was scurrying to and fro among the calves and kittens, and Dag lay sleeping in a basket in one of the empty stalls, Silje found herself confiding in Eldrid her feelings for Tengel.
‘Tengel is so foolish,’ said Eldrid. ‘Just think what a good life he could have with you! But I can also understand why he is the way he is. I have seen far more of our evil inheritance than you – enough to make me not want to bring a child into the world.’
‘But I have never really been able to believe in this evil heritage, Eldrid. I don’t believe people can conjure up magic and I don’t think there are witches. I refuse to believe in them.’
Eldrid stood up straight, a faraway dreamy look on her face. ‘You are right in some ways. It is not witchcraft and sorcery that hold the greatest dangers in the power they possess. It is the will to do harm. The belief that they are able to injure folk and animals is the ruin of so many of our kin. That is what Tengel lights against.’
‘I do not think he needs to worry,’ Silje butted in quickly ‘I’m sure he has none of that power – except the power in his hands to heal, for that I have seen with my own eyes. What evil can there be in helping others?’
Eldrid looked at her with the same strange expression, ‘Tengel? You should be glad he is the way he is! I have watched him do things, as a child and a youth, but something scared him – I know not what – and after that he tried to put it all behind him. Hanna would rage at him, saying that he could have great gifts. But no, I think Tengel knows his own mind, when he says he will not settle with a woman.’
Silje kept looking at her, but Eldrid said no more and turned to start milking one of the cows. She was so rough and heavy-handed that the animal started kicking angrily. Silje felt there was no hope in sight.
****
The thaws came. Rivers and streams broke their banks, while the compacted snow became porous and slowly melted away. The pack ice that had dammed the outflow of the lake broke up and the river roared as it flowed under the glacier, almost filling the tunnel to the brim. The walls of the cottage gave off the scent of sun-warmed tar. Sol’s face soon turned dark brown, because she was always playing outside, most often in the rivulets of melted snow in the yard. Spring had arrived sooner than expected. Eventually the torrent of water subsided and the way to the outside was open once ag
ain. Eldrid’s hopes began to rise. Perhaps the fodder would last until they could put the cattle out to pasture.
Then one day Silje received a visitor – Heming. She did not particularly welcome this intrusion, because she was alone with Dag, while Sol was out with Eldrid. Heming, sly young scoundrel that he was, could still appeal to her a little with his handsome good looks and natural charm, in the same way that he would appeal to almost any woman on earth. Silje, though, could never have any fondness for him – she considered him to be an irresponsible, incompetent young man who would exploit all those around him. Still, she could not stop herself from admiring the way he looked – the gleaming smile and the eyes that told a girl that she was the one who meant something special to him. He was a dangerous visitor to have in the home.
If she had known the real reason behind his visit, Silje would have had even more cause for concern. On the previous evening, Heming had been feasting with the other young men of the valley and, drunk as they were from too much ale, they started to talk about Silje. It seemed that the Bratteng boy had not been the first to get ideas about her and, although they had not been as daring, a couple of the others had been spying on her. They had decided that she was one girl that they would get nowhere with.
Heming took up the challenge at once. ‘I could have had her once,’ he told them, slurring his words and emboldened by the ale, ‘only I offended her. I chose to take her valuables instead of her virginity – but I can still get her on her back whenever I want.’
None of them believed him. So now, to prove his point, he was here with her while the others waited in the woods above, excitedly watching to see what happened down in the farmyard.
They quickly saw that Heming had been invited in. Getting that far was a good start, they thought, and then crept closer to hide behind the corner of the outhouse. While they were giggling amongst themselves, one of them stood accidentally in the remains of an icy pile of snow. The noise from outside made Silje realise what Heming’s true intentions were and she immediately asked him to leave. For his father’s sake and for the sake of their friendship, she did not want any fuss.
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