While she rode through those forests, now and then walking on foot, she was also looking for something else: black nightshade – the very herb she still needed for her ride to Blakulla. She had already searched along the coast every time she’d rested and was now looking under the trees – without actually knowing what the herb looked like. Hanna had never described the herb in detail, only that it was very hard to come across in Trondelag. Sol hoped that it would be easier to come by in southern Scania.
Sol stopped and gazed straight towards the horizon at nothing in particular. Although it was fourteen years since she’d last seen Hanna, and although the image of her had begun to fade away, the bond to her remained strong. The bond between the two, who had always fully understood each other.
“Hanna,” she whispered. “Why did you leave me in the lurch, all on my own? Why did Heming the Bailiff-killer take your life – and with it the love and support we gave each other? I’m so lonely in this world, Hanna. So immensely lonely.”
Chapter 6
While Sol walked about beneath the green trees of spring, Liv stood by the window in her fashionable merchant’s house in Oslo, looking out at the filth in the streets there. The rain poured down endlessly. An ache in the pit of her stomach wouldn’t leave and neither would the despair she felt in her heart.
Her fingers tapped restlessly and nervously on the window sill. If only she had something to occupy herself with, but whenever she decided on something, it just led to a great feeling of guilt and anxiety. Would she be allowed? Should a dutiful wife be doing this or that? How would she ever be able to figure out these new rules, when she had been brought up to help wherever it was needed – and always in an atmosphere of a selfless and loving home where everybody respected the happiness of each other and they all carried out the tasks for which they were best suited? Here she was, scolded if she lent a helping hand where she wasn’t supposed to or didn’t help where this was expected of her. But how do you tell the difference between the two? To Liv, these things seemed to change from day to day.
And how were they doing at home on the farm now? Maybe the rain was also pouring down there? Then the linden trees would be dripping, forming small puddles along the entrance to the farm. It would make a pond at the bottom of the steps. Tengel had said he would do something about it for years but as soon as it stopped raining, he’d forgotten once more. Young Are will probably be the one to put a drain in front of the steps, she thought.
Her two other siblings, Dag and Sol, were in Denmark. They would soon be back in Norway, but she wasn’t going home. She’d left Linden Avenue and Graastensholm for good and Laurents always brushed off her suggestion of going for a visit by saying that he didn’t have time just now. “Besides, you shouldn’t go back too often,” he would say. “They are strange people! Charlotte Meiden is a disgrace for somebody of her class. She’s so radical. And an unwed mother ...”
Liv knew that Laurents felt that Charlotte should have been punished in the pillory just like all single mothers were. And everybody, including the child’s father, had every right to spit on them and throw stones at them. Charlotte had avoided that, which didn’t please Laurents at all. Such an attitude would only add to general decline.
Liv just couldn’t imagine the kind, good-hearted Charlotte in the pillory. Of course, Laurents didn’t know how Dag had once been left abandoned in the forest to die. She neither wanted – nor dared – to tell her husband about that.
“Your Dad earns good money so I can acknowledge him,” Laurents would say when she spoke about her family. But he would always say it in a tone of contempt. ”But otherwise he’s pretty strange. Surely you must agree on that? And my God, he certainly isn’t handsome!”
Liv had always regarded her Dad as the most handsome person on earth. Nobody had such loving eyes as Tengel.
“Your brother, Are, is acceptable. At least he speaks in a way that one can understand, although he’s nothing but a peasant. Your Mum, however, is too extreme. She doesn’t wear a headscarf, as if she lives in sin with your Dad! You take after your Mum by being so lazy in the home, don’t you think? And then this stupid idea of painting!”
Liv had never told Laurents that Silje’s artistic name was Master Arngrim, a person whose work he very much admired. He wanted to own one of his tapestries, which he had always been refused because the artist was too busy. Liv didn’t understand why Laurents thought that she was lazy in the home. Everybody on the farm had always said that Liv was the perfect housewife – unlike her Mum, Silje. But here she had quite different duties from at home: Here she was expected to manage the household, give orders to the servants and always be available when Laurents and his Mum needed help.
Liv didn’t like giving orders to the servants. At home, they’d spoken kindly to them and taken part in the housework themselves if necessary. Here everything was so complicated!
And Liv had noticed that Laurents always seemed strangely uncomfortable in Sol’s company. He found her charming, yet he was fearful of her personality and self-confidence and her lack of interest in and admiration for him. He had said lots of nasty things about Sol when she was out of earshot.
Laurents had never met Dag. Liv wondered what faults he’d find in him?
Was this how everybody regarded her family? She’d be very sad if that were the case. But she couldn’t believe it because they’d always had so many friends.
Her mother-in-law was taking her afternoon nap. This was the best part of the day – Liv’s own half-hour. But the tight knot of anxiety inside her meant that she was unable to relax as she could before.
The rain lashed against the window. One of the servants entered and Liv moved away from the window, pretending that she was busy with something.
***
At that moment, very far away in Scania, Sol stopped her horse.
Tollarp? Surely she should be there by now?
She was beginning to get the horrible feeling that she’d lost her way.
Damn! She didn’t have time for that!
She got up on her horse again and continued her ride at random without coming across a cottage or village. There was nobody she could ask for directions and time was passing.
The hilly terrain told her that she must be somewhere in the Linderode Ridge. She needed to find Tollarp or the river that flowed through it.
Only she hadn’t seen any river.
Was this entire part of Scania totally uninhabited?
And if she wasn’t careful, she might end up in the Goinge district – and then it wouldn’t be far to Sweden. What if she was already in Sweden?
No, that couldn’t possibly be the case.
Then, just as she was swearing at the emptiness of the place, she could hear voices in the distance. She rode quickly and soon she’d left the forest and was in open fields with oak trees. Some way off, by a fence, stood a group of soldiers. Their coarse laughter echoed in the quiet air of spring.
Sol wasn’t afraid of them, and they had no horses and so were unable to pursue her. Nevertheless, she stopped by the edge of the wood, gazing at them with a frown.
What on earth were they up to? Suddenly a wave of disgust went over her. She made the horse pull back into the trees. They had tied a woman to the fence so that she was bending forwards with her skirts thrown up over her head. And now they were pleasuring themselves with her from behind.
Sol was swearing like mad. They were many, probably twelve or fifteen of them. All she could see of the woman was her pathetic, bare bottom and evidence that she’d probably been a virgin before they’d begun their ugly deed. Sol could hear the woman’s sobs, which only seemed to awaken new excitement in her tormentors.
Now another soldier was about to attack her. Sol quickly dug her long golden chains from her bag and put them around her neck. She also retrieved an elegant hat, tying her hair up under it. Then she took a deep breath and placed herself in the saddle the way ladies tend to sit with their legs gathered at one side.
She rode over to them.
“Will you stop immediately!” she yelled to the man who was about to climb onto the poor woman on the fence.
When they heard Sol’s voice, all the soldiers turned in total amazement.
“Set that woman free, you miserable coward,” said Sol without realising how important and impressive she’d become.
The soldiers gaped.
Finally, one of them recovered from the surprise.
“Oh, so you’re the one who makes decisions here? You don’t even speak our language! Get off your horse and you can have some of the same!”
“I wouldn’t dream of doing that!” said Sol scornfully. “You’re too ugly and insignificant.”
Sol was careful not to get off her horse. She felt safe in the saddle.
“If you don’t let her go immediately, you’ll regret it,” she said slowly with half-closed eyes.
Many of them hesitated because Sol seemed to be a lady of influence and class, who might report them. But the man who was ready to take his turn at raping the woman on the fence just laughed.
“So you want to stop me then?”
“Yes!”
That simple statement left him confused, but then he turned round and moved determinedly towards the woman. He stood with his back to Sol.
“How might that happen?”
“Because now you’re unable to commit your sickening deed,” said Sol in a fierce tone of voice. “You’re unable to carry out the act because your manhood is deserting you.”
The others began to laugh coarsely and the man with his back to Sol laughed the loudest. He went right up to the girl.
“Damn,” he exclaimed.
Then he began to shout loud from fear and humiliation.
“Damn! Damn!”
The other soldiers fell silent and stood still. Sol decided to use this silence to her advantage.
“This is what will happen to any of you who try to touch her now.”
“You damned witch,” the man screamed, almost in tears while he took a step towards Sol’s horse. He didn’t know that Sol hadn’t used anything else but simple psychology against him – along with his own imagination, of course.
“Don’t touch me, you miserable, creepy worm!” she said in a hard, clear voice. “Any one of you who so much as lays a hand on me or that woman will lose his power of manhood for the rest of his life.”
Some of the others had begun to move towards her, but when they heard Sol’s words they faltered. She was sitting tall in the saddle and her yellow eyes looked so strange that they didn’t move. They’d all felt their passions fade so they all thought that it would be sensible to avoid such a future.
“I’ll report this to the bailiff,” yelled one of them.
Sol’s cat-like eyes turned full on him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she said ominously. “If you do, I’ll castrate you – without so much as touching you.”
“You can’t scare me,” said the man, his voice trembling slightly. It was obvious that he didn’t want to lose face in front of his comrades.
“Crawl like a dog – now!” ordered Sol in an icy voice.
To the utter amazement of his comrades, the man fell to his knees and began to whine like a dog that’s afraid of being beaten. Then he crawled away from her, whimpering and struggling on his hands and knees.
All this was too much for the other brave men. After a moment’s hesitation, one of them made the “Devil’s horn” sign for protection with his index and little finger. Then someone cried: “Come on, boys.”
And like frightened rabbits, they tore along, chased by a barking ‘dog’ soldier.
Sol released him from the trance and he immediately fell forward. Then he got on his feet and stumbled after the others as though the Devil himself was pursuing him.
Sol waited until they were small dots in the distance. Then she got off her horse and went over to the fence where the young woman was crying.
“Oh, my God,” she mumbled as she pulled the skirts down to cover her bleeding body. “What a bunch of animals!”
Then she bent down and loosened the straps that she’d been tied to the fence with.
A mass of blonde hair hid the face but Sol could tell by the skin and the arms that this woman wasn’t all that old. At last she helped the poor girl to stand up.
“My word! What’s the world coming to?” Sol almost shouted. “How old are you?”
Scarcely able to answer through her sobs, the girl replied: “Thir- thirteen.”
“Well, for heaven’s sake. You poor child!”
Sol was almost moved to tears without remembering that she was probably only about fourteen when she seduced Klaus. But that was a very different story.
Sol doubted that she’d ever seen anybody so vulnerable as this creature. Her tear-stained face seemed to have been round and healthy at one point but poverty and famine had now left its mark. She was so full of lice that Sol could see them crawling all over her clothes and hair.
“Jesus and Mary,” said Sol softly, wiping the inside of the girl’s thighs with some grass. “You need a wash and a scrub. But first we need to get away from here. I also need your help because I’ve lost my way. How do I get to Tollarp or, more precisely, to the district west of Tollarp?
The girl tried to stop her hysterical sobs. “You’re already there, Miss.”
“Really? I believe there’s a river I’m to follow west of Tollarp. Up in the hills.”
“The river runs behind that little ridge over there.”
“Well, that’s good to know. Now we need to get you up on the horse. Up you go.”
“What, me?”
“Yes, please be quick.”
The girl made an attempt but then moaned. “It really hurts!”
Sol had to help her get up on the horse. The shock of what had happened to her had obviously drained her of courage and the ability to think clearly and she clung on to the horse in stunned silence. They discovered that the girl would have to ride side-saddle. Everything else would be impossible with the pain she was suffering.
Sol preferred to walk alongside and lead the horse – Silje would never have forgiven her if she’d caught lice. Silje had always been relentless and there was no end to the horrible cures the children had suffered to get rid of a variety of bugs that preyed on every one of them.
Fortunately, the river was in the opposite direction from the one the soldiers had run off in.
“What’s your name by the way?” asked Sol as she walked, holding the horse’s reins.
“Meta.”
“Do you live nearby?”
“Yes. Well, no. Not any more.”
“What do you mean?”
The girl lifted her hand to wipe away the tears, which made her face very smudged. “I don’t live anywhere now,” she sobbed. “I walk the roads and beg for money.”
“But don’t you have any parents then? Don’t you work on one of the farms?”
“No. My Mum was a prostitute. You see – I was born out of wedlock. My mum died last spring. Since then I’ve just wandered and not been home at all.”
“You were still a virgin before all this happened?”
“Oh, yes. My Mum was determined I shouldn’t end up like her.”
“And then this happened to you!”
“They knew who my Mum was and that she was single,” said the girl, ashamed. “They were going to teach me to be like her.”
Sol clenched her teeth. “I should have turned them into living cobblestones. Then they’d feel people walk all over them forever, gradually wearing them down with their hard shoes.”
Meta said nothing.
I hope I haven’t frightened the girl, thought Sol. She looked up at her.
“Don’t worry. Things will be alright,” she said with a smile. “But where did you and your Mum live?”
“By the
river. We’re on the way there.”
“Wonderful.”
It was quite a distance, even after they reached the river. Gradually, Meta’s sniffing and sobs stopped, but nevertheless, she was a deeply unhappy little girl who clung tightly to the horse as she tried to sit in such a way that she didn’t feel any pain.
At last Meta pointed at a hut which Sol hadn’t noticed at all. It resembled a pile of earth more than anything else. When they reached it, Sol asked Meta to dismount the horse.
Meta hesitated. “I don’t think ... we should go inside.”
“Why not?”
“I ... don’t want to.”
‘Nonsense,’ thought Sol. ‘You need somewhere to stay.’
But this wasn’t a very nice place, dark and gloomy underneath the overhang of the riverbank.
Sol found a sort of entrance and crept in.
Once inside, she jerked to a sudden halt in the darkness as she came face to face with a rotting corpse lying on a bed just inside the entrance.
Good heavens, couldn’t she even have managed to bury her own mother? thought Sol. Nobody to talk to. Nobody to ask for help. Anyway, they’d have to bring things with them that they could use because the child couldn’t live here.
She found only a cooking pot, an old object without a handle.
Then Sol went outside and tugged at a couple of poles so that the whole hut collapsed over the dead body.
“There. This must be her grave. Peace be with her,” mumbled Sol and immediately made a protective talisman, which she let fall over the heap of earth. Then they wouldn’t be followed by the dead person’s spirit. Sol wasn’t one for saying prayers but for the girl’s sake, she quickly bound two sticks together with a strip of bark to form a burial cross and wedged it into the ground. Sol had no sympathy at all for what she called superstition.
Meta was still weeping silently to herself. They rode along the river for an hour’s time. Sol made a fire at a spot where the river flowed calmly.
It was a beautiful spot open to both sides of the river, which broadened into a small lake. While the water in the pot was boiling she found the girl something to eat. She ate with such ferocity that Sol had to force her to slow down.
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