Evil Legacy
The Legend of The Ice People 6 - Evil Legacy
© Margit Sandemo 1982
© eBook in English: Jentas A/S, 2017
Series: The Legend of The Ice People
Title: Evil Legacy
Title number: 6
Original title: Det onda arvet
Translator: Anna Halager
© Translation: Jentas A/S
ISBN: 978-87-7107-335-5
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchase.
All contracts and agreements regarding the work, translation, editing, and layout are owned by Jentas A/S.
Acknowledgement
The legend of the Ice People is dedicated with love and gratitude to the memory of my dear late husband Asbjorn Sandemo, who made my life a fairy tale.
Margit Sandemo
The Ice People - Reviews
‘Margit Sandemo is, simply, quite wonderful.’
- The Guardian
‘Full of convincing characters, well estabished in time and place, and enlightening ... will get your eyes popping, and quite possibly groins twitching ... these are graphic novels without pictures ... I want to know what happens next.’
- The Times
‘A mixure of myth and legend interwoven with historical events, this is imaginative creation that involves the reader from the first page to the last.’
- Historical Novels Review
‘Loved by the masses, the prolific Margit Sandemo has written over 172 novels to date and is Scandinavia's most widely read author...’
- Scanorama magazine
The Legend of the Ice People
The legend of the Ice People begins many centuries ago with Tengel the Evil. He was ruthless and greedy, and there was only one way to get everything that he wanted: he had to make a pact with the devil. He travelled far into the wilderness and summoned the devil with a magic potion that he had brewed in a cauldron. Tengel the Evil gained unlimited wealth and power, but in exchange, he cursed his own family. One of his descendants in every generation would serve the Devil with evil deeds. When it was done, Tengel buried the cauldron. If anyone found it, the curse would be broken.
So the curse was passed down through Tengel’s descendants, the Ice People. One person in every generation was born with the yellow eyes of a cat, a sign of the curse, and magical powers which they used to serve the Devil. One day the most powerful of all the cursed Ice People would be born.
This is what the legend says. Nobody knows whether it is true, but in the 16th century, a cursed child of the Ice People was born. He tried to turn evil into good, which is why they called him Tengel the Good. This legend is about his family. Actually, it is mostly about the women in his family – the women who held the fate of the Ice People in their hands.
Part One
Kolgrim
Chapter 1
Anyone who listens to the wind can hear many things in its sighs and whispers. But never had the wind seemed to moan so bitterly as it did when sorrow and grief came to Graastensholm.
At Linden Avenue, the son of Silje and Tengel, known as Are of the Ice People, listened to its monotonous whine as it swept through the tops of the linden trees. He was restless because of the turn of events concerning Kolgrim Meiden, the first-born son of Are’s nephew, Tarald. Kolgrim had arrived in the world in 1621 under dreadful circumstances, when his mother Sunniva, Tarald’s first wife, died giving birth to him. From the outset the rest of the family had been afraid that Kolgrim might be carrying the feared curse of the Ice People, which had been handed down by their ancestor, Tengel the Evil One. But as he grew up, Kolgrim’s personality seemed to change for the better and these fears had generally softened.
However, one rash remark from Tarald was all it had taken to trigger the full rage of Kolgrim’s inherently evil powers.
It had been Kolgrim’s secret intention not to take advantage of the open and innocent kindheartedness that everyone at Graastensholm showed him until he was older. All the members of his immediate and extended family had been very careful to show him only love and attention while he was growing up. They hoped that they could prevent any possible evil power from taking hold. This meant that his needs were mostly taken care of and he’d therefore been content with waiting. But then, all of a sudden, a torrent of emotion – pent up deep inside him for so long – had been released.
In 1633 he had turned twelve and he was a handsome boy in his own special way, but his amber-tinted eyes, which met any person’s gaze with childlike innocence, would change as soon as their back was turned. His look would become cold and scornful and with calculating sidelong glances, he’d watch and measure every move.
“You miserable little souls,” they seemed to say. “I’m strong, much stronger than any one of you – stronger than all of you. I’m nice only as long as it serves my purpose. But when I’m old enough to look after myself, then you should all be on your guard, each and every one of you!”
Kolgrim, like all the accursed children of the Ice People, was a very lonely character, but he never regarded loneliness as something negative. In fact, quite the opposite. He gladly sought solitude because he believed that it would increase his powers.
At that time, much had been happening beyond the peaceful borders of Norway. Although Sweden’s King Gustavus II Adolphus had led his army to a brilliant victory over Tilly at Breitenfeld in 1631, The Thirty Years’ War still dragged on. King Gustavus was killed the following year at Lützen where his amassed armies succeeded in crushing the might of the combined forces of Generals Wallenstein and Pappenheim. Tilly was fatally wounded at the Battle of Lech, in 1632, and a couple of years later Wallenstein was murdered by his own troops. Yet the war went on and on, now with other Swedish generals on the side of the Protestants. Lennart Torstensson, Johann Banér and Hans Christoff von Königsmarck would go down in history for their exploits in this long-drawn-out war.
Christian IV had finally gotten rid of Kirsten Munk after it came to light that her latest child, Dorothea, might not have be fathered by the king. Kirsten Munk had also tried to mix some medicine into the king’s food and had cartoons made of him as a cuckold. Christian could take no more. He told her that he hoped she would suffer at the hands of a thousand devils and had banned her from seeing any of their children. But this didn’t seem to worry Kirsten Munk unduly.
Nobody knows what her mother, Ellen Marsvin, had to say to her daughter once their lucrative association with the king was over. Regardless, she continued to put on a brave face in adversity.
Insult was added to injury for both women when Christian IV took a new lover – their very own lady-in-waiting, Vibeke Kruse, who was the epitome of vulgarity and simple-mindedness. However, she bore him a remarkable son, Ulrik Christian Gyldenloeve, who grew up to be a far better warrior than his father ever was. When Leonora Christina was nine years’ old, King Christian IV had arranged for her to become engaged to Corfitz Ulfeldt, an ambitious young nobleman. There was one unintended benefit from this – the tyrannical royal housekeeper, who had ruled the domestic scene at Court with an iron fist, was removed. She had continued her ill treatment of the children unopposed and on one occasion she’d beaten Leonora Christina so severely that the girl was unable to sit down for several weeks. In fact, the injuries were so bad that she continued to suffer from them for the rest of her life. Inevitably, Leonora had told C
orfitz what had happened and at long last the housekeeper’s brutal rule over the children was brought to an end, once and for all. On the king’s orders, she was dismissed and never served at Court again.
Anna Christiane, the king’s eldest daughter by Kirsten Munk, didn’t enjoy a long or happy life. Her fiancée, Frans Rantzau, died in 1632. The young fop was with the king at Rosenborg Castle, celebrating his appointment as Chancellor and was determined to match Christian’s consumption of wine, glass for glass. Rantzau became so drunk that he fell from the castle wall, hit his head on a stone and drowned in the moat. Anna Christiane became gravely ill shortly afterwards. Some said that she was overcome with grief, others that it was due to smallpox. She asked that Countess Paladin be at her side and Cecilie Meiden of the Ice People duly left her five-year-old twins at Gabrielshus and set off to Court again.
Meanwhile, dark clouds were continuing to gather over Graastensholm.
Tarald Meiden, Cecilie’s brother, had never been known for being astute. It was when he was having lunch with his wife, Yrja, his two sons and his parents one summer’s day in 1633 that he said the fatal words that were to trigger the terrible change in his son, Kolgrim.
“I received a letter from Tarjei today,” he announced at the table. Tarjei was the eldest of Are’s three sons, who had distinguished himself as a brilliant doctor at an early age. So far, the conversation had only been about trivial matters, but this statement made his parents give him a sharp look.
“You did?” said Liv to her son. “Why? I thought Tarjei had applied for a position in Erfurt to work with a scholar or some learned man, as his assistant. What did he write?”
“He said that he’s dealing with a terrible outbreak of smallpox. And he worries that like so many others, he’ll be infected.”
“Yes!,” said Yrja. “I’ve heard that smallpox is terribly dangerous.”
“Tarjei is too good to be taken by an epidemic,” replied Tarald’s father, Dag Meiden. “But why does he write to you about it?”
“He asked me to look after the Ice People’s secret supply of herbs and potions – but only if something were to happen to him, of course. He told me he’d write a final letter describing the hiding-place and that he wanted Mattias to inherit it all in due course.”
Almost before her son had finished speaking, Liv, horrified at the significance of his words, pretended to have a violent choking fit, which immediately alerted Tarald to his indiscretion. Kolgrim, who sat opposite his grandmother, glanced furiously round the table, a dangerous amber glow showing briefly in his eyes.
“Of course he must have everything with him in Germany, you understand,” Tarald added, trying to save the conversation. “I’m sure of that.”
“What secrets are you talking about?” asked his younger son, Mattias, speaking with the wide-eyed innocence of any eight-year-old. “I don’t understand.”
“I’ll tell you all about it when you’re older,” muttered Tarald hastily. “We won’t go into it now.”
The answer seemed to satisfy the boy. He was not inquisitive. If his dad said so, then so be it, was his attitude. But this wasn’t the case with Kolgrim. What he’d just heard had sparked off a burning rage inside him. His parents and grandparents were keeping something from him. The secrets of the Ice People! And why was Mattias to have the supply? After all, wasn’t he, Kolgrim, the older of the two half-brothers?
All through that day, the fury burned deeper and deeper into his soul. There was something he hadn’t been told! Was the secret knowledge only with Tarjei? Oh, no – he’d seen how Grandma Liv had tried to warn his dad about his indiscretion, so he was almost certain that Tarjei didn’t have the precious things with him. No, they must be somewhere at Linden Avenue!
All the effort Tarjei had put into keeping the existence of the Ice People’s knowledge and recipes of herbs, plants and potions a secret had now been undone. Tarjei had heeded Tengel’s warning to him as the newborn Kolgrim lay in his cradle. “Never, ever allow that child to have even the smallest herb. He mustn’t have any of them!” he’d said. “And teach him nothing!”
Now, in his hour of need, with his own life possibly in danger, Tarjei had turned to his cousin, Tarald, the father of the two half-brothers. But in many ways, Tarald was the worst person he could have possibly chosen.Despite being a responsible family man, he’d always shown a remarkable inability to think before speaking. Now, because of Tarald, Kolgrim had heard things he was never supposed to have heard, and unlike his dad, he was extremely sharp-witted in his own evil way.
He had to find out more, but who was he to ask? Certainly not Grandpa or Grandma because they weren’t easily fooled. His dad, for his part, was too weak and he’d never go against his own parents. Stupid Yrja, his stepmother and mother of Mattias, wouldn’t know anything. He’d swear to that. After a lot of thought, his intuition told him that he should approach the one member of the family who wasn’t too clever but not too stupid either. So the next morning he walked nonchalantly into the yard at Linden Avenue.
“Hello there!” Are called pleasantly on catching sight of him. “Out for a stroll, are you?”
“Yes, I want Brand to mend something for me. He’s very strong.”
“And am I not strong enough, then?”
“No, not like Brand.”
Are laughed. “Did you hear that, Meta? I’m of no use any more!”
Meta simply shook her head. She’d grown thin and tetchy over the years and old age didn’t become her. She complained of stomach pains all the time and had never stopped grieving for Trond, who’d been her favourite son. As Kolgrim walked off, her glance followed him anxiously.
“I don’t know why, Are, but that boy always sends shivers down my spine.”
“Oh, come on! He’s come on in leaps and bounds!”
“You might think so,” she mumbled. “I’m not so sure.”
***
A short while later Kolgrim found Brand tending a field of peas. They exchanged pleasantries for a short while, then without any warning Kolgrim asked him bluntly: “Have you ever seen the Ice People’s secret herbs, plants and potions?”
Brand walked a few steps to the edge of the field and sat down, deep in thought. Now twenty-four years old, he was the size of a bear and moved in the same lumbering way. He and Matilda hadn’t had any more children since the birth of their son, Andreas. The boy was the image of his dad and granddad, Are, and somebody to be proud of.
“No, I’ve never seen the supply,” replied Brand. “I think my brother, Tarjei, is the one who has it.”
Sitting beside his dad’s youngest cousin, Kolgrim looked tiny and much like a cunning little lizard.
“What exactly is in the supply?” Kolgrim asked.
“Have you never heard the story?”
“Only bits of it. I don’t know why everyone else is allowed to hear the story except me.”
It was common knowledge that the family had been careful not to say too much to Kolgrim about the Ice People and after a moment’s thought, Brand sniffed and took a deep breath.
“Trond and I always felt that you’d been treated unfairly, Kolgrim. If anybody should know the legend of the Ice People, it’s you.”
“I think so too,” agreed Kolgrim, his bottom lip quivering. He really managed to look unhappy and ready to burst into tears. “I’ve heard about Tengel the Evil, of course, as well as your granddad, Tengel the Good, and my Grandma, Sol, who was able to do magic. But I don’t know any more than that.”
So there and then, Brand told him everything about all the accursed members of their clan and as Kolgrim listened, his eyes grew wider and wider. But not for one moment did he see himself as cursed. In his view, he’d been chosen!
“Did Tengel the Evil really go and seek out Satan?” he asked at last. “If so, where did he go?”
“Nobody knows.”
; “Then what did he do?”
“He put all the herbs, plants, potions and objects he possessed into a great kettle and boiled them up to a brew, a potion more terrible than any man could ever imagine. You can be sure that Tengel the Evil knew the recipes to lots of potions like that!”
“Did he drink it?”
“Who knows? Maybe, maybe not. Anyway, he would have said spells over it – to conjure forth the one with goat’s feet, you understand – and it’s said that he was successful, although Grandpa Tengel didn’t believe it. He said it was just a family peculiarity that some of us have cat-like eyes and special powers that normal people don’t have. But nevertheless, I wonder. I always wonder...”
“What?”
“If what they say is true. I think Satan himself might be a part of it all.”
“Jesus!”
“You mustn’t speak like that. You know that perfectly well,” Brand admonished.
Brand continued recounting what he knew of the story for a minute or two, then added in conclusion: “And ultimately it’s said that one of Tengel’s heirs will become the greatest sorcerer there ever was.”
‘That’s me – that’s me!’ thought Kolgrim excitedly. He must be one of the “chosen” as he wanted them to be called. He felt he’d known it for a long time – just one glance in the mirror had told him so. And Tengel the Evil must have drunk from the devil’s potion, that was another thing that he was sure of. And one day he’d do the same – if only he knew where to do it, and how.
“Has Tarjei taken the herbs and potions with him to where he is now?” Kolgrim asked Brand at last.
“To Erfurt? No, Trond didn’t think so,” replied Brand. “And, oh yes, Trond was also one of the accursed. Did you know that?”
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