There was a long pause in the conversation.
“Well?” prompted Cecilie.
“No, I really can’t do this.”
But Cecilie, encouraged by the fact that her sister-in-law didn’t get up and leave, decided to persist.
“Ursula! Alexander and I talked through everything – or everything he can remember. It wasn’t easy for either of us. I was also disgusted by it all at first, and couldn’t understand how anyone could be like him. But you see, he couldn’t help it. It was almost like a sickness – although I don’t believe he would think of it in that way. And he’s such a wonderful man.”
Alexander’s sister nodded. Her red-painted lips were grim and without a smile. “I suppose I can try – but I don’t like the thought at all.”
And so she began the story; she started by saying how the plague had robbed them of all their siblings and about their miserable mother, who doted on Alexander. She also spoke of their father who was self-indulgent and given to extremes. He hadn’t been a warm family man.
“What about the pictures?” asked Cecilie. “Alexander spoke of some pictures in a room that he didn’t like.”
“Ugh! That! That was our father’s room – the pictures were truly sickening. They were mainly obscene depictions of alluring women – often with strangely bloated bodies. It wasn’t art. It was more ... ugh ... what should I call it? Fulfilment of men’s filthy fantasies. Our mother hated that room and when our father died, she burned every one of the pictures.”
“Do you think that might have had some effect on the way Alexander is now?”
Ursula thought for a minute or more. “I really couldn’t say. I doubt it. But he was beaten an awful lot because of those pictures.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he managed to sneak into the room on his own quite a few times. We were forbidden to enter the room, you see. Father ordered his valet to give him ten lashes with a birch after he’d been in the room once too often.”
“So do you mean to say that Alexander liked to go into the room and look at those horrible pictures?”
“I don’t know. Besides, I think that episode is irrelevant.”
‘No,’ thought Cecilie. ‘I don’t think it is.’
“You said earlier that Alexander had always had unnatural tendencies?”
“Yes, there’s no doubt about it,” replied Ursula. “He wasn’t more than twelve years old when he was discovered in some very suspicious circumstances.”
“With a man?”
“Yes, with father’s old valet who’d been kept on after father died. He was dismissed at once, of course. Although he pleaded his innocence, the old man’s punishment was harsh.”
“And then nothing more happened after that?”
“Not until these unpleasant rumours started.”
Cecilie stared up at the ceiling. “That was when he was twelve years old, you say? And when was he given that beating for sneaking into the locked room?”
“It must have been ... oh ... I think it was during the last year of our father’s life.”
“Then Alexander would have been about six or seven years old,” said Cecilie thoughtfully.
“Did you actually see him being beaten?”
“I don’t recall that now. It was so long ago. But no, I don’t think so.”
“And up until then, you had noticed nothing strange about Alexander?”
“No.”
“Just why was the valet kept on after your father died?”
“Because he begged and pleaded with our mother to be allowed to stay on.”
“Aha,” said Cecilie sombrely. “Could that be because he’d discovered a young boy that he could mistreat after promising him, on that first occasion, that he wouldn’t be beaten?”
Ursula stared back at Cecilie, but said nothing.
“If that was the case, then maybe the valet was later able to threaten him with the birch if he told tales or refused to do as the valet asked. Here was a little boy who you said was naturally curious about looking at naked women – as I imagine most growing boys are. But then he might have been forced to do things that weren’t normal to him. Could that not have been the case?”
Ursula stared at Cecilie wide-eyed, perhaps without really seeing her. Her expression suggested that she might be silently considering the whole of her brother’s childhood properly for the first time.
“You’re making me think, Cecilie,” she said very quietly.
“Just a moment ago, you said that you were sure that Alexander could never have forgotten one awful situation ... Was that the time he was found with the valet when he was twelve?”
“Of course – it was the most terrible day. Our mother had always worshipped Alexander and she was absolutely furious after he was found with the valet. She hit him over and over again, screaming the most horrible words at him. Alexander didn’t speak for many weeks afterwards.”
Ursula fell silent for a while, staring straight ahead. Cecilie thought she was unable to say more, but eventually she straightened on her chair and looked at Cecilie again.
“After that he behaved very strangely for a long time. Maybe he was so shaken and distressed that he forgot his earlier childhood.” She paused again and shook her head in a little gesture of distress and bewilderment. “Imagine poor little Alexander, first being discovered in shame then beaten by his dear mother. Yes, and I even hit him as well ...”
Ursula’s voice died away, and this time her expression showed clearly that she could no longer hide her shame. Cecilie swallowed but said nothing. After another long interval, Ursula turned to her sister-in-law again.
“Do you honestly believe, Cecilie, that he was seduced and then molested by our servant?”
“We may never know for sure. It was only something I presumed.”
“Can’t you ask my brother?”
“Of course I will. When he returns home – or should we say if he returns home...”
Without saying anything further, Ursula rose and walked quietly out of the room. She was obviously deep in thought. Cecilie returned to her own thoughts, but her mind now seemed to have become much clearer.
By evening she found herself in a more optimistic mood. She decided that she believed what Tarjei had told her, namely that only a person born with unusual tendencies was ‘incurable.’ Now she could see a tiny possibility that Alexander had started life being like most other people – and if that was true, then maybe he could be like that again. Her spirits rose as she reached this conclusion – yet at the same time she felt she heard a very small voice deep within her saying quite the opposite: “Ha! Foolish heart! There’s no limit to your hopes!”
***
As that warm summer of 1625 reached its height, two personal letters began their journeys by courier, travelling to and from different parts of Scandinavia and Germany. They carried confidences, confessions, reactions and revelations – all important in different ways to their senders and addressees. When the letters arrived, they would each bring comfort and have other important bearings on the lives of those concerned.
The first, sent from the country estate of Graastensholm in Norway, made the long journey to Copenhagen. It was from Liv to her daughter Cecilie and it read:
My dearest little girl,
How awful it was to learn that you have lost your unborn child. Your dear husband will be heartbroken when the news reaches him. What can I say? What can I do? If only I could make the journey to see you and be with you for a while. But we are not allowed to travel to Denmark because she is at war. However, it is good to know that your sister-in-law is with you. I judge her to be strict but sincere. The letter she wrote to us telling of your sad condition was both friendly and compassionate. Please let her know how grateful and thankful we are.
Try now to look to the future, my dea
r Cecilie. Your Alexander, who I long so much to meet for the first time, will soon be home again. All wars must end eventually, although this one has already lasted seven years. We cannot understand why Denmark had to poke her nose into it at all.
Here at Graastensholm and Linden Avenue, life goes on peacefully. We are thrilled to see that your little protégé, Kolgrim, is becoming so clever. It is hard to believe how kind and considerate he is. He behaves like an angel towards his little brother, Mattias, and all the women at Graastensholm adore him. I cannot describe how much he has changed. My dear Cecilie, all the misgivings we felt at his birth have proved unfounded and all is well with Kolgrim now ...
‘That might be what you think,’ thought Cecilie cynically as she paused in her reading of the letter. ‘Who knows what you are up to now, my satanic little fox? Have you discovered that there is more to gain by showing a friendly face to the world? Or is there some other explanation for your strange change in behaviour?’ Cecilie was unable to decide one way or another and returned eagerly to the rest of the letter.
Liv went on to write:
All is well with Tarald and Yrja. Yrja scratched her hand badly on a rosebush when she was picking wild strawberries, but it has healed now. One of the maids cut her hand with a kitchen knife and the barber treated it with a poultice of something called “Devil’s Dung,” which is perhaps better known as Giant Fennel. This is something which Tengel or Tarjei would never have done – but despite that, the girl is better.
Poor Meta was devastated when both her youngest boys were taken off to war. Are has become sombre and introvert in the absence of Brand and Trond. But then again, he was never one to show his feelings very much. But what is far worse is the fact that we have not heard a word from Tarjei! They wrote a letter to the University of Tübingen but it was returned with a message that Tarjei had never arrived there! We are all terribly worried. Have you heard anything?
And pity poor Klaus, who stands each day down by the road, hoping to see the wagon that drove away with his son, Jesper, bring him back once more. It is so tragic, and it hurts me so much to see that poor man in such distress.
Dad is well, but I do not like to see him working so hard. He works more and more at home sitting up in bed at night giving much thought to difficult cases he has dealt with. But everybody says he is an excellent notary. Maybe that is because he takes his duties so seriously.
I believe you met our dear vicar, the young Pastor Martinius? Unfortunately he has left us. You remember that all was not well between him and his wife? It seems that their relationship had improved recently and he was offered a deanery or bishopric, I forget which, in Tonsberg, I think it was. I’m not sure. Anyway, the wife became much friendlier before they left, a colossal change which was nice for his sake because he is such a fine person, who really deserves the love of a good woman. We all miss him so much.
This is all I have to write for now. The flowers you planted in the border are all in bloom at the moment except for one. I have put something else in its place but I have no idea what it is. Anyway, it is mauve in colour and looks good.
Try not to dwell on what has happened, little Cecilie. You know that so often we women must see our small children die. I knew someone once in Oslo who lost nine babies, one after the other, and not one reached their first year. You have all your life before you, and the children of the Ice People have always been hardy.
Dad wishes you well. Our thoughts are always with you. And do not forget to place a sprig of lavender in your linen cupboard. It gives a lovely scent to everything and keeps the moths away. Sent as always with my heartfelt good wishes,
Your loving Mum.
***
The second letter took longer to reach its destination. It was addressed to Alexander Paladin by a courier who took messages from Copenhagen Court to His Majesty King Christian IV at the front. Ursula had just managed to catch the courier before he left and he had promised to deliver the letter in person to her brother.
When it arrived, Alexander was sitting in a private house in Nienburg which was rented for officers. As he looked at the letter, he couldn’t help feeling surprised because it was in Ursula’s handwriting. She hadn’t written to him for years and a feeling close to panic gripped him as he opened the seal.
The letter said:
My dear brother,
You will undoubtedly be surprised to receive a letter from me as we have not been on close terms for a long time. However, the time has come to put this right.
‘Get to the point!’ thought Alexander, feeling worried and impatient. He ached with a sense of foreboding and for a moment he looked away from the letter, fearing to discover what it might contain. Then, plucking up courage, he resumed his reading.
I don’t know how best to reveal this to you, my dear Alexander, but I have to tell you that Cecilie recently suffered an unfortunate accident. And of course, I am very sad to say that she lost your child as a result of falling off her horse. I have not dared tell Cecilie this detail but had it lived, Alexander, the child would have been a boy who would have passed on the name of Paladin.
Kirsten Munk’s head housekeeper is to blame for this because she forced Cecilie to ride home when she declined to undertake the journey to Dalum Monastery because of her condition. Cecilie was dismissed immediately and given the most unmanageable horse. I have launched a complaint about this matter that involves the death of your heir, but of course His Majesty is not in residence. Nevertheless, I hope that the housekeeper is severely disciplined. But who is left to tell her off?
Cecilie has become very quiet now. She says very little and spends most of her time in bed staring out of the window, although she did get up for a short time today. I cannot tell you what she thinks or is feeling. But since she lost the child we have grown close. She is a fine girl, Alexander, and I am so happy that you chose her. I try to do my very best to comfort her and help her, but what can anyone say in a situation such as this? One feels so desperately helpless.
Besides, your wife has taught me to understand your difficulties. For my part, I told her about that horrible valet who treated you so badly for so many years, and of the number of beatings you received, most of all for entering father’s room where he kept those ghastly paintings of women. I also spoke to her about the appalling episode with the valet, when mother became panic-stricken. I realise now that you should never have been blamed for what took place. Can you please forgive me, Alexander?
He stopped reading, shaking his head distractedly and found that he’d partially crumpled the letter in his hands without meaning to. After smoothing out the creased pages again, he began to read the rest of what it said in the letter:
Every one of us here at Gabrielshus is very fond of your dear wife. We all share her grief and do what we can to spare her further upset. And you must not distress yourself over the lost child! You can still have many more. Please never forget that our thoughts are with you every day and please also know that Cecilie and I are anxious for your safe return. Please take the greatest care of yourself and do not put yourself in harm’s way without good cause. You already know how much we need you.
Your affectionate sister,
Ursula.
Alexander held the letter loosely between his fingers now and looked up, gazing out absently into the distance over Nienburg. Half a dozen words from the letter were ringing over and over again in his mind.
You can still have many more ... You can still have many more ...
At that moment, his orderly knocked sharply on his door and entered the room. Without saluting or observing any other subtle points of military etiquette, he handed Alexander a formal written order:
“His Majesty has called an immediate Council of War, Colonel,” said the orderly. “The whole army is to prepare for battle immediately.”
Chapter 8
Until now, King Christian, who had c
alled the Council, hadn’t had a very enjoyable campaign.
He was suffering from the after-effects of his injury, suffered when he fell from his horse. He was lying in his magnificent camp bed, complete with velvet curtains and other finery. It all looked very out of place in the bleak surroundings of an army at war.
“I’ll have to get up!” he announced impatiently, “and cut Tilly down to size. When we’ve finished with him, he’ll be no taller than the boots he stands in!”
“Your Majesty, please rest for one more week,” his physician replied anxiously. You haven’t fully regained your strength.”
“You’re the only one who tells me this. You’re nothing but a stupid, brooding hen! I’ll get up!”
The Court Physician was offended. “I’ll send for the field surgeon, if you wish to hear his opinion, Sir.”
“Field surgeon? May I please be spared the attentions of those butchers.”
“They have an exceedingly talented surgeon now. He’s a young Norwegian boy – and he’s very well educated! I’ve spoken to him myself and found that his knowledge is exceptional.”
“Norwegian ... hmm?” Mumbled King Christian. He’d always had a soft spot for his second country. “Our foremost healer came from there but sadly he’s now dead. Tengel was his name.”
“This man is his grandson, Sir.”
The King sat up at once. “Aah! Oh, no!” he gasped. It felt as though someone was stabbing daggers into his head and he fell back against his cushions. “Then fetch him! At once! We want to meet this boy.” King Christian gave a satisfied grunt. “Mr. Tengel’s grandson – excellent!”
It took some time to bring Tarjei from the field hospital to the King’s private quarters in Nienburg, but the moment he arrived the Court Physician introduced the young man to King Christian.
“Tarjei Lind of the Ice People, eh?” said the King. “I never had the pleasure of meeting your grandfather, or maybe I should say that I was lucky enough to enjoy such good health that he never had to be sent for. By coincidence, I recently made the acquaintance of another of his grandchildren – my dear wife’s lady-in-waiting.”
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