His sly grin mocked her. He didn’t believe her for a minute. When she walked towards the door to open it for him to leave, he jumped to his feet. He would not allow the other lads to see her throwing him out. Remembering how she had fought off the Bratteng boy, he grabbed her and held tightly onto her arms. He had intended to seduce her slowly using the power of persuasion, for he disdained violence where women were concerned – he had never needed to resort to it before with any woman. Now he was panicking at the thought of the others listening outside.
Silje was stronger than he had expected, and she was in a fury. She sank her teeth into his arm and made him yell, but he wasn’t going to give up. He pushed her down onto the floor in the full knowledge that many girls would become aroused by such domination and readily submit to him. A near-silent and determined battle was ensuing and, because he was so sure he would win, Heming had started to prepare himself for the final assault. At this point Silje lay still for an instant and took a deep breath and, just as she was about to scream, he put his hand across her mouth. Silje now had one arm free, as she had planned, and she used all her strength to hurt him in that most sensitive part of a man’s body. Heming let go of her with a terrible cry of pain – and at that same moment Tengel stepped through the door.
The young men had scattered in all directions like startled rabbits, as his enormous frightening form came striding across the yard. At first he was of a mind to run after them, but then he heard Heming’s shout of agony, followed by the screams made by Dag, as he woke up.
Tengel burst through the door and understood in an instant what was happening. His arm reached out and he dragged Heming to his feet by the collar of his tunic, almost throttling him in the process. Shaking and close to tears, Silje got to her feet. She brushed the dirt from the earthen floor off her skirts and pushed her hair back.
Tengel’s rage was terrifying. Never before had she seen such a hateful expression on his face. Heming screamed in fear. ‘Please don’t destroy me, Tengel!’ he whimpered. ‘Don’t put a curse on me, please. It was only in fun – I just ...’
‘What do you prefer,’ Tengel said violently, his face drained of colour, ‘Shall I beat you or use other powers?’
‘Beat me, beat me! For God’s sake, beat me if you must – but I never meant to do anything ...’
‘Then fasten your leggings and trews,’ hissed Tengel.
Heming quickly did as he was told and then, as Tengel took hold of him again, he began to scream in fear once more. ‘No, no, don’t hit me. Please don’t. She’s not worth it. She’s just a ...’
Tengel’s fist struck out hard. Not just once, but again and again in a blind frenzy until he felt Silje’s hand on his arm and her voice begging him to show mercy. Heming fell to the floor in a whimpering blood-soaked heap. Tengel lifted him up, carried him to the door and threw him bodily into the yard.
‘Take him away with you!’ he yelled at the lads who had hidden, terrified, in the trees at the edge of the woods and then he went back into the cottage. ‘Are you hurt, Silje?’ he asked, still breathing heavily. ‘Did he do anything to you?’
She stood leaning on the cupboard, her back to him, her whole body in tremors.
‘No – no, he never had time. Thank you, I’m so glad you came! You have a habit of arriving whenever I need you.’
‘Well something made me uneasy, so I left home a bit earlier today. Don’t cry, little one, it’s over now.’
‘I’m not crying,’ she said, taking a deep breath. ‘Not really. I just didn’t like the way you – kept hitting him. I know he deserved it, but I don’t like to see you beat anybody.’
Tengel closed his eyes. ‘I have been waiting for this moment for a long time, Silje. Not only me, but everyone in the valley as well, I should think. Sooner or later someone had to put a stop to his ruthless, arrogant behaviour. I’m sorry it had to be me, but I lost my temper. Forgive me, Silje, I did not want you to see such a thing.’
‘I see,’ she muttered. ‘Dag needs me,’ she added quickly – she knew that she must not fall into Tengel’s arms at that moment.
She picked up Dag and began to comfort him. Tengel went over to the window and took off the shutters. He could see the lads dragging the limp unsteady form of Heming away with them.
‘You should let in more daylight,’ he said as he fitted the shutters back in place and looked indecisively around the room. Knowing that he had upset her by what he had done had caused him to lose confidence.
‘I see you’ve hung your lovely leaded light over there. What if I were to saw up ...’ He stood running the tips of his fingers over Benedikt’s glasswork, which she had placed above a cupboard.
‘No-o,’ he said slowly
‘What do you mean?’ asked Silje.
‘No, this light does not belong here.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘It is destined for another wall, in a home far grander than this,’ he replied.
‘Do you mean that we should not keep it, then?’
‘Of course you should keep it – it was a gift to you,’ he said, perplexed by her question.
He moved his hand away from the glass.
‘Did you see into the future just then?’ she asked quietly, trembling.
‘Yes – I did. Something forceful was telling me not to fix the glass here.’
At this they both fell silent for a while.
Then suddenly he seemed more cheerful. ‘Let me help you with your chores. I shall fetch water and firewood.’
‘That would be good. I must see to Dag and change his clothing.’
Tengel picked up the pail and went outside. When Eldrid returned with Sol a little later, everything was as before. Neither of them ever said a word to her about the incident with Heming.
Chapter 13
After Tengel and Eldrid had left, Silje took out the sketchbook that Benedikt had given her and ran her hand gently across the cover, on which she had made a careful drawing of the valley of the Ice People. She had told no one what she was using it for; not even Tengel. She had been keeping a diary of sorts – making occasional entries when she thought something special or interesting had happened. Now, in her elegant handwriting, but with so many spelling mistakes the teacher at home on the estate would have been reduced to tears – had he not already been long dead – she began to write, ‘Today I witnessed yet another of Tengel’s hidden powers. He placed his hand on my glazed mosaic and saw into the future.’
She continued for some time, recording other recent events that she thought were worthy of note, then closed the book and replaced it, in its hiding-place. At last, exhausted and still a little distraught, she climbed into her lonely bed.
Tengel did not go back to his home that night. Instead he wandered aimlessly along the mountain paths, restless and confused, his mind in turmoil. The moon had risen, shedding a pale light over the valley. He stopped and covered his face with both hands, in supplication.
‘Dear God,’ he prayed, ‘Merciful Father, look upon me, your wretched child. Help me! Counsel me! Give me a sign! What am I to do? I love her so much that I cannot bear to be without her and you know, Lord, that she and the children need my help. I am the one who brought them to this wilderness and, without me, no one will protect them. I could not leave her on the outside, but I sense, I know that she is not completely happy here. Dear God, all this is too much for me, show me what to do. I want only what is best for her.’
The vast firmament above him remained silent. There was no answer, so he turned and began to trudge back down the path, his feet heavy and tired. In the distance he could make out the rooftops reflected in the moonlight. In his agonising distress, Tengel strayed from the track and across the frozen surface of the river. Soon the ice gave way beneath him and he cried out in fear and surprise. The next moment he was almost paralysed by the cold of the swirling waters, which started to drag him under, down into their depths.
Instinctively his hands reached out for
something to hold onto, but the crumbling rim of the ice was his only support. He grasped hold with all his strength.
‘Is this your sign?’ he shouted at the night sky. ‘Is this what you wish to tell me – that my life is worthless and she will fare better without me? That there will never, never be any mercy shown to a wretch with the blood of the evil Tengel flowing in his veins?’
In exhaustion, he bowed his head and rested it on his already frozen arm.
****
Tengel did not come to visit Silje the following day – or the next. When she had not seen him for three days, she left the children with Eldrid and set out for his house, far down the valley. She had never been there before; had only seen it from a distance and thought how run-down it looked. She felt anxious as she approached it now – there was no smoke coming from the flue and that frightened her.
The cottage was very small and one gable had started to lean dangerously, looking as if it would collapse at any moment. She dared not knock too hard on the door, for it too looked ready to fall apart.
‘Come in.’ That was Tengel’s voice, but it sounded unusual. No matter, just hearing him was enough to make her heart skip a beat. She realised how concerned she had been these last few days at his absence.
Silje went in, certain that he would be angry with her for this intrusion. Perhaps he had just wanted to be alone and expected her to have sense enough to understand that.
‘Silje!’ his voice was very hoarse and he was struggling to sit up in bed. ‘I’m sorry you should find me like this – and everything is in such a muddle!’
That he should be worried about what she thought was very touching.
‘Oh, Tengel, I don’t care whether it’s tidy or not, you know well that I am hardly the neatest person on earth, but you are living in hardly more than a woodshed – one that is ready to fall down! It doesn’t even keep out the weather – I can see through cracks in the walls!’
‘I tried to patch them with moss and tow, but there were too many.’ His voice made a throaty rasping sound as he spoke.
Silje was upset by how weak he looked. The face she loved had been changed by the dark shadows under his eyes and his sickly pallor contrasted with the flushed colour of his hollow cheeks.
‘You are ill!’ she said sitting down on the edge of his bed, and becoming even more concerned, as she felt how hot the fever was making him. ‘Why have you not told anyone?’
He turned his face away from her.
‘Don’t sit too close, Silje. I must look awful – I only want to look my best when I am near you.’
‘What foolish talk – you are too vain! ’ she said with a smile. ‘How long have you been sick?’
‘The day that Heming came to you I was enraged and so unsure about our future that I spent the whole evening walking the mountain. I fell through the ice on a stream and ended up in the water.’
Tengel was overcome by a fit of coughing just as he finished speaking.
‘But you might have died!’ she shouted at him.
‘True! But never in my life have I felt so forsaken by the world, and even by God. You were angry with me too, because I fought with Heming.’ He stopped while another bout of coughing took hold. ‘But I had to see you at least once more – and that gave me the strength to pull myself out of the water. The next day I was too weak to get up from my bed.’
‘Well, thank God you managed to get back here,’ she muttered. ‘How do you feel now?’
‘I am better, I think, but still a little weak.’
She pushed her hand inside his shirt and rested it on his chest. She could not stop a certain excitement from within, but she knew that she must concentrate and ignore the arousal she felt from just touching him. She could feel the rattle of his breathing against the palm of her hand.
‘I know that it has gone to my chest,’ he said weakly ‘I have tried to cure it myself but ...’
She stopped him. ‘You need to be warm – this place is as cold as ice! And you need nourishment as well. You are coming to stay with us, and I will not hear a single word against it!’
‘Well, at least you can be sure I will pose no risk to your virtue in this condition,’ he smiled and lay back down again.
‘Your horse – has it been fed?’
‘That was the other most important thing on my mind – I have almost had to crawl to the stable to feed him.’
‘So you will be able to ride – which of us was first in your thoughts, the horse or me?’
‘Quiet, Silje. You know the answer to that very well.’
Her heart began to pound with happiness. At last he had agreed to come and stay with her. Now she would do all she could to make sure that he never moved back here again. Sometimes she frightened herself when she noticed how wilful and determined she had become. Had she always been that way? She could not say. Perhaps her own will had been suppressed by her strict upbringing – she suspected that this was the case.
Until now she had not wanted to admit, even to herself, that she had made a decision about her life some time ago. The old woman, Hanna, had promised her that she would be with child. Silje would be sure that it was with Tengel and no one else. She had no fear of the evil legacy If they were all like him, what was there to fear?
Silje managed to help Tengel onto his horse. He sat bolt upright, but his head hung forward, as though he was sleeping. She proudly led the animal, so happy that she felt as if she were part of a triumphal procession. They passed Eldrid’s farmyard on the way and she called out from a distance. Eldrid and the children joined them and they all made their way back to the cottage together.
Tengel lay on Silje’s bed, watching trance-like as they eagerly prepared a place for him to sleep in the main room. Sol was helping, as happy as the others that he had come to stay. Silje wanted to give him the best she could offer and so she cooked and cleaned with boundless energy, happier than she had ever been. Tengel found all this very touching. He was not used to living with other people. No one had ever cared for him so tenderly before – no one had ever taken such pleasure in his company.
Thanks to Silje’s devoted attention, his condition slowly improved. They all thought it was wonderful to have a man in the house, especially Sol, who joyfully jumped onto his bed every morning. Even Dag seemed to know that something exciting had happened, as he grinned delightedly at the big man, proudly showing his first his two teeth. For Silje, life had become perfect in every respect. She happily fussed over Tengel in every possible way. She kept everything neat and prepared the best food she could – and Eldrid couldn’t help smiling to herself.
‘You deserve to be spoilt, Tengel,’ she told him. ‘Your life has been harsh and without love. You could have moved here long ago.’
He didn’t answer her, but he realised how enjoyable life was becoming. He wondered if anyone could fail to be anything but a good person when surrounded by these warm-hearted folk?
Word reached them that Heming had left the valley as soon as the way was open. They all knew that Silje’s rejection and the beating he had received from Tengel had damaged his pride and reputation far too much for him to stay, but Silje could tell from Tengel’s furrowed brow that the news concerned him. He explained that he was always apprehensive when Heming was at large, because a reckless fool like him might easily be captured – and there would not always be a Silje to get him out of trouble. The most worrying aspect was that, if he were tortured or threatened, Heming would gladly betray his own family in order to save his skin.
‘I shall get up today,’ Tengel announced unexpectedly one morning.
‘Stay in bed for one more day, just to be certain you are completely well,’ Silje pleaded.
‘But I am well,’ he insisted.
Indeed, he was looking much better, but she was adamant. ‘One more day, that’s all.’
With a sigh, he resigned himself to her wishes – for a few hours anyway. When she returned later in the afternoon, after helping Eldrid with her
chores, she found him dressed, but still lying on the bed.
‘Where is Sol?’ he wondered.
‘She wanted to stay and play with the kittens at Eldrid’s. I will fetch her later. Tengel! You should not ...’
‘No, I shouldn’t! You have been bossing me about for quite long enough. It’s time I showed you who is master in this house – and tomorrow I shall move back to mine.’
‘No!’ she shouted in alarm, ‘I won’t let you return to that cold bleak shack.’
She had stepped over to the bed and put her hands on his shoulders, pushing him down to make him stay. His strong fingers wrapped themselves around hers.
‘You know that this cannot go on,’ he said softly ‘What do you think it’s been like for me these past nights? You in the next room and me here knowing that you lay under the bedcovers – imagining your shape, your warmth and your soft mouth, which I have felt against mine but once, and never forgotten.’
His words had made her feel quite weak and she sat down beside him.
‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘I have had the same thoughts. Staring into the darkness I have thought of you leaving your bed – walking across the floor – standing at the doorway with your wide shoulders outlined in the glow of the fire – coming to me. But you never did.’
‘I have done so in my thoughts.’
His eyes shimmered like never before with their strange green and yellow glow, as if on fire.
‘Have you not been happy here?’ she asked desperately.
‘Never have I felt so at home – I would give anything to stay.’
His hand stroked her neck and shoulder. She unlaced her blouse a little, so that he could touch her skin. His hand was hot and his fingers trembled.
‘Let me see you,’ he whispered. ‘Just once.’
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