Friendship

by Margit Sandemo

“Cecilie, please! You’re only giving me hope where there is none.”

  But she wasn’t listening to him. “May I borrow your slippers?” she asked briskly. “Thank you! Oh, they’re too big but perfect for cold feet!”

  She began to pinch the skin on his leg, little by little from his toes to his thigh, but he showed no reaction.

  “I’ll be black and blue,” he grumbled.

  But Cecilie ignored him and just carried on.

  “Bend your toes,” she ordered.

  “Don’t be stupid!”

  “Bend your toes! TRY! If you convince yourself that you can, then by your willpower, your toes will bend!”

  He made no sound, but she knew by his expression that he was trying as hard as he could. But no, his toes didn’t move. Not the tiniest twitch could be seen.

  “Cecilie,” he begged her, “please stop torturing me!”

  “Have you tried to do this before?”

  “What for? Why? Tarjei stuck needles into every inch of me and I never felt them.”

  “But did he ever ask you to use your willpower?”

  “Of course not! What’s dead is dead!”

  “Well then, let’s try something else.”

  She raised his knee and held his right foot with one hand while her other hand supported his unresponsive leg.

  “Push your foot against my hand,” she told him.

  Alexander swore at her between clenched teeth, and she was thankful she hadn’t heard every word!

  “TRY!” she said again. “Harder! Concentrate every ounce of your willpower on this alone.”

  “I am!”

  “No, you’re not! You’re angry with me, aren’t you? Then use that fury, PUSH with all your willpower!”

  “Haven’t you understood anything? I’ve no legs any more!”

  “Yes, you have! They were long and beautiful and strong, but soon they’ll be pale and withered like flowers without the sun. You could once fence wonderfully, like a god and ...”

  “The gods don’t fence.”

  “Alexander, please TRY! At least for my sake! Whatever happens, you’ll not get better just lying here moaning about your fate ...”

  “What interest is it of yours that I get better ... only to find a new ‘friend’ and cause you more humiliation? Wouldn’t you rather I stay as I am, crippled, helpless and in your power? At least then I’ll be faithful to you.”

  She let go of his leg and it dropped back onto the bed.

  “That was a horrible, spiteful thing to say! Is it impossible for you to believe that I want only what’s best for you? It hurts me to see you defeated and downhearted – is that so strange? Why must you make everything so complicated, you damned bull-headed fool?!”

  A broad smile spread across Alexander’s face. “That was magnificent, Cecilie! You looked like a dazzlingly beautiful witch – your eyes were on fire with rage and your hair was shining in the candlelight.”

  She smiled back at him. “I suppose I looked a lot like Sol. When I feel like that, I can swear like a sailor. Forgive me!”

  “I’m the one who should beg forgiveness,” he said soothingly. “You were right to be angry. So, shall we try again?”

  Cecilie raised his leg once more, thankful that he’d at last decided to do his best. For a whole hour they continued to work together, but there was no sign of any change. By then they were both exhausted.

  “At least one good thing has come from this,” said Alexander when Cecilie finally decided to give up. “I’m so tired now that I’ll fall asleep immediately.”

  “So will I. Goodnight, Alexander. Oh, here are your slippers. We’ll try again tomorrow – and every day.”

  “Slave driver,” he muttered, but he was no longer feeling quite so pessimistic.

  She resisted the urge to stroke his cheek as she left. She knew there were limits to their relationship.

  ***

  Over the following months, Cecilie kept her word. She would come to his room every morning before he was up and dressed. She pinched and prodded him, told him to move his feet and push against her hand. Although there was no difference from one day to the next, she refused to give up. Alexander, realising that he might as well resign himself to this treatment, had stopped protesting. However, in his quiet moments, he did wonder how much longer she’d persevere.

  He was able to sit at the table for meals and this alone raised his spirits. Furthermore, as the strength in his arms increased, he was able to achieve much more than anyone had imagined. In the evenings, they’d play chess or some other board game and each day they’d go for short walks around the estate with Cecilie either wheeling him along or walking beside him as Wilhelmsen pushed the chair.

  Occasionally she’d invite friends who lived in the area to call on them. Although these visits seemed to cheer him up, once their guests had left, he was low-spirited because most of their conversation focused on a world in which he was no longer involved.

  Cecilie received constant approaches from Court, inviting her to return and take up her position with the royal children again. They missed her calm, friendly but disciplined presence. She respectfully refused every request and said that her duty now was to be at Alexander’s side.

  Occasionally she did leave him on his own and would go off on trips by herself. She had her own life to live as well – and it didn’t hurt him to miss her presence now and then.

  And to her delight, it seemed that he did miss her. He would always brighten up whenever she returned and had lots to tell her about the farm and estates, and things he’d discovered. He never missed the daily walk, always happy to ride in his chair. Above all else, he retained a realistic sense of his own worth and Cecilie knew that this was a very good sign.

  ***

  In the late summer of 1626, they received family visitors – Liv and Dag were finally able to realise their dream of travelling to Denmark to see their unfortunate daughter. It was natural for them to think of her as unlucky and unhappy – first she’d lost her baby and then her husband had returned crippled from the war. They couldn’t see that Cecilie was happy in spite of these things. She was needed, wanted and sometimes she was conceited enough to believe that she was indispensable. Almost everyone wants to enjoy such feelings and Cecilie was no exception. But the long, silent, lonely nights were her greatest dilemma – and she couldn’t see any way of solving that situation.

  Her thoughts on such matters became secondary during her parents’ visit, and she was just overjoyed to have them with her. It was heightened by the fact that they’d brought Kolgrim with them. He’d so longed to see her for years. She couldn’t get over how wonderful it was to see them all once more. So she fussed and rushed around, her head filled with all sorts of things to do and tell. In her excitement she would forget what she wanted to say or do in the first place. From the comfort of his wheeled chair, wrought so skilfully by the farm’s blacksmith, Alexander watched all her comings and goings with affectionate amusement.

  Liv hadn’t changed in the least. Warm-hearted and as understanding as ever, she’d kept her youthful looks longer than normal people, maybe because she was a kinswoman of the Ice People. Baron and Notary Dag Meiden, however, had aged considerably. His hair had thinned and turned grey, and he’d even lost some of the “weight” of authority that Cecilie had teased him about when she’d last been back home.

  ‘Dad’s growing old,’ she thought sadly, ‘and I don’t want him to. Not my kind, dignified dad, who’s always listened absent-mindedly to our small, childish worries before letting mum decide.’

  Forty five years had passed since young Silje had discovered her two small children in the middle of a devastating plague epidemic – the two-year old girl and the newborn baby she’d named Sol and Dag, respectively. It was on the same night that Tengel had saved them all and Silje had rescued Heming the bail
iff-killer, the scourge of the Ice People, from the gallows. Yes, Heming... who had been Sol’s downfall, Sunniva’s father and Kolgrim’s grandfather. Most of them were long dead. But here were Liv, Dag and Kolgrim. How rare that they were together again with Cecilie, here at Gabrielshus. Cecilie always thought that Tengel and Silje’s other child, Are, had to some extent stood isolated from the family, although he’d become the chief clansman of the Ice People when Tengel had passed away. Cecilie never had much in common with Are’s two younger sons, Trond and Brand, but she’d always shared a close relationship with his eldest boy, Tarjei. And now Trond, afflicted by the curse of the Ice People, was also gone. But while she grieved with her parents over Trond’s fate, hadn’t it been for the best that it was over and done with quickly?

  Tengel and Silje’s home had been Linden Avenue where Are and his wife, Meta, now lived, but Graastensholm had become the focal point of the family after Dag had inherited the estate from his mother, Lady Charlotte Meiden. But Cecilie only believed this because she saw things from her own perspective. Tarjei, for instance, still considered Linden Avenue to be the centre of the world because it was his home.

  During the visit to Gabrielshus, Dag and Alexander got along famously. Cecilie thought how nice it must be for her husband to speak with someone so experienced in national and local affairs, and so widely read. Cecilie, for her part, spent most of the time chatting about womanly things with her mother since she’d passed so much time recently in the company of men. Liv was surprised to find her daughter so happy, but she found Alexander to be very friendly and was soon speaking fondly of him. Such a pity, of course, about his injury. Cecilie never said anything about his unusual tendencies – in that respect she was rigidly loyal to her husband.

  From day one of the visit, Kolgrim was the one she devoted most of her time to. What Liv had written about him being as kind as a lamb – something which Cecilie had the gravest doubts about – certainly seemed to be true. In addition to his unusual looks, he was certainly a fascinating person. ‘Heaven help the girls who cross his path when he’s older,’ she thought more than once. There was still something a little grotesque about him; his looks, which had put so much fear into everybody when he was born, were still there but had softened a lot. They now gave him the kind of attractive, sensual aura that often appeals to people who are drawn to the exotic and the unusual.

  His eyes were narrow, like the yellow slits in a cat’s eyes, and his teeth were slightly pointed. His face had a triangular shape with broad cheeks tapering towards a strong mouth and chin. His black hair reached down to his shoulders and he moved gracefully in a way that Cecilie found devious and a little unsettling.

  Kolgrim in his turn worshipped her and stayed at her side from morning till night. He never once spoke of the pair of them attending the “Troll’s Great Feast,” which she’d spoken of when she was at home the last time. Perhaps he’d come to understand that it was just a fairy tale. Nonetheless he would have happily sat listening to her imaginary stories for hours had he been given the chance. The genuine empathy they’d shared years ago still remained and it was clear to Kolgrim that Cecilie was the only one in his family who was able to understand his way of thinking. Only she knew and fully understood his yearning for the shadows and the darkness of night, how much he longed to visit the land of shadows where strange spectres moved and evil was good – and good was for fools.

  On one occasion she asked him very seriously and pointedly: “What are your plans for your life, Kolgrim?” but instead of replying, he simply roared with laughter.

  On another occasion she asked him: “And how’s your little brother?”

  “Okay,” was his rather indifferent answer.

  “And are you fond of him?”

  “Yes. Mattias is nice. Watch me swing in this tree!”

  Cecilie watched to admire his antics but nothing more was said about little brother Mattias.

  Towards the end of their stay, Kolgrim suddenly said: “Will you be coming home soon, Aunt Cecilie?”

  “As soon as Uncle Alexander’s well,” she replied.

  ‘But when will that be,’ she wondered with a pang of despair. There was no end in sight and she yearned for him to make some progress. She was as determined as ever to help him, but there were days when her optimism dipped in the face of the uphill struggle. Realising suddenly that she might be seeming pessimistic to the young boy, she smiled at him again.

  “I’ve not been able to visit you before this because Alexander has been so sick,” she explained quietly. “But I’m looking forward to being with you all again, Kolgrim.”

  The boy was watching Alexander sitting defenceless in his chair, holding a conversation with Liv and Dag. Something inexplicable in the boy’s demeanour at that moment caused cold fear to run through Cecilie. But when she looked at him again, Kolgrim’s eyes showed only innocence and friendliness. At that instant, she was shocked to find that she wished that her parents and the boy would leave at once.

  Yet when the day actually came for them to leave, Cecilie found the idea hard to bear. As the time for departure drew nearer, Alexander said something unexpected that lifted her soul.

  “I know my dear Cecilie yearns to travel home to Norway,” he said to her parents. “So rest assured we’ll arrange it before long.”

  “But I want you to be with me,” she said. “I want to show you all the places I knew as a child. I want to show you my country, Norway.”

  Alexander smiled. “And one day I’ll see it, I promise! But for the time being I’m not quite used to the many changes in my life.”

  They all smiled, understanding only too well what he meant. Then they were on their way, her parents and the mysterious, charming little troll, Kolgrim. As she and Alexander waved goodbye to them, Cecilie realised that she was the only one among them who felt anxious when she looked into Kolgrim’s seemingly virtuous and honest eyes.

  ***

  As summer quickly turned to autumn, something unbelievable was about to occur at Gabrielshus. A year had passed since Alexander had been paralysed and in the outside world, many things had been taking place. King Christian ignored the warnings of his officers and had decided to take Silesia for the protestant cause – and his own gain. Near the small village of Lutter am Barenberge, his army clashed with Tilly’s hordes which were supported by almost 5,000 of Wallenstein’s men.

  Unfortunately, this was a crushing defeat for King Christian. Whole phalanxes of his mounted men and infantry fled the battlefield, with their officers saving themselves as best they could. The King stood his ground until the end, vainly trying to call his men back to the fight and openly regretting the death of so many.

  King Christian blamed General Fuchs for the outcome, and he may well have a good reason to do so, but the general was unable to speak in his defence because he had been killed, as had Lieutenant Colonel Kruse. However, it must be said that General Fuchs had been the person who had vehemently opposed the King from going after Tilly at that time. Christian IV was a very brave leader but he tended to rush headlong into conflict with very little idea of the wider strategy. Lutter am Barenberge marked the end of his participation in that great and seemingly unending war. From that moment on, Christian played only a minor and an often less than honourable role in the historical events of that period.

  The defeat meant that after the battle at Lutter am Barenberge, Tarjei was released from his heavy duties as field surgeon. He realised that he wasn’t very far from Erfurt, and his mind went back to the events which had led him to join King Christian’s forces. So he began to consider whether he should visit little Cornelia again.

  But this plan would have to wait for a little while at least, because King Christian’s defeated soldiers needed him now more than ever. Most of them had fled north, back to Holstein but many wounded were left behind on the battlefields where they’d fought, deserted by their comrades, d
isabled and incapable of making their way home. He reminded himself reluctantly that, more than anything, his first duty was to help them.

  ***

  Meanwhile, Alexander had been silent and deep in thought for several days at Gabrielshus.

  Cecilie, always helpful and supportive, did her best to cheer him up but it seemed that he was impossible to console. Finally, Cecile couldn’t stand his moodiness any longer and one night at the supper table she said: “For Heaven’s sake, Alexander, what’s the matter with you? Have you taken a liking to Wilhelmsen all of a sudden, or what?”

  “That was a very nasty joke, Cecilie,”

  “Yes, I know it was! But I had to get your attention somehow. Please tell me what’s going on! You’re driving me mad with your faraway looks and bizarre answers. Yesterday, I asked you what you wanted for supper and you said: ‘They’re under the table’.”

  He smiled wanly at her. “Did I really say that? Please forgive me!”

  “I forgive you but what’s the matter?”

  “If only I was sure I’d say so straightaway. But it’s so vague.”

  Cecilie’s heart began thumping against her chest. He sighed and reached out for his fork but she grabbed his hand.

  “Tell me, Alexander!”

  “It’s really nothing, my dear friend.”

  “Then tell me about nothing!”

  “I know you. There’s nobody more stubborn when they get something into their head.” He paused and grinned. “I didn’t want to say anything for fear of giving you false hopes.”

  “Oh, Alexander,” she gasped.

  “No, Cecilie, no! It’s nothing, I’m sure. Only that when we do the exercises and you press against my foot ...”

  “Yes?” it was almost a scream.

  “Calm down, please, I can’t feel anything – nothing at all. But I sense that I’m more aware of it when I try hard to push against your hand.”

  She stared at him, open-mouthed.