The woman, not usually one who would tolerate wandering beggars, gave them a stern glance at first. But then she looked again at Mattias’s eyes and listened carefully to his pleasant voice – although the words had become coloured a little by the mine workers’ somewhat coarse language. Making up her mind suddenly, she fetched milk and gruel for Kaleb and Mattias and watched while they ate.
As soon as they’d eaten, the woman wanted to know why a person like Mattias had come to her door as a beggar.
Kaleb took it upon himself to answer. “It was misfortune that led my friend away from his own people and now we’re trying to find his way back home again. Do you know the place, Madam?”
No, the farmer’s wife had never heard of Graastensholm. “But,” she began, “if it lies in the direction of Christiania, then ...”
“Yes, yes!” Mattias interrupted excitedly. “It does, it does!”
“Then you must follow the valley down. You’ve come way too far north and west. This place is Fla in Hallingdal. You say you came over the western ridge? Well, you can thank the Lord you didn’t run into any bears! Mind you, I expect they haven’t stirred from their winter sleep yet.”
Kaleb smiled and said: “I’ve got a guardian angel with me!”
They thanked the woman for her great kindness and set off again, confident once more and carrying a small bag of additional food she’d given them.
As the pair walked south, they saw more farms at intervals along the valley floor.
All went well as they followed the bank of the great river until suddenly they were forced to turn inland by the rough and impenetrable terrain. The track they’d been following ended and in no time the boys had lost their bearings. They were confronted by forest once more, and it seemed that somehow or other they’d wandered off their main route.
Although it was little more than a track on the western bank of the river, it had at least been a guide. Now they’d even lost sight of the river.
Mattias slumped to the ground. He was exhausted. “Where shall we spend tonight then, Kaleb?” he wondered dejectedly.
The older boy hadn’t realised how cold and tired Mattias was.
“Just a bit further. Then as soon as we see a farm we’ll ask to sleep in the barn.”
Mattias nodded without saying a word. With great effort, he heaved himself back on his feet. It had been a long time since they’d seen any buildings and the chances of finding a farm before night set in seemed slim.
“We’ve got to find the river again,” said Kaleb. “More chance there.”
They trudged on with cramps in their tired feet. After a while, Mattias took hold of Kaleb’s hand for reassurance. This helped him to find the last reserves to keep going.
As it turned out, luck was with them that evening. The sky was already growing dark when they heard the rushing waters of the river again. A short time later they saw lights from a farm and headed towards them. When they finally arrived at the farm, they were so exhausted that they simply walked into the barn and collapsed on the hay without even bothering to ask for permission.
Just before he fell asleep, Mattias said: “Kaleb, what if we never find Graastensholm? We’ll never have a home again.”
This was the first time Kaleb had ever heard Mattias sound so defeated, and he was shaken by it. His young companion had always been a beacon of light for him and he realised then for the first time how much his own courage depended on Mattias’s quiet, cheerful self-confidence. If Mattias were to lose heart, what would Kaleb have left to put his faith in?
“Don’t worry, Mattias. Things will all work out well, you’ll see,” he told the sleepy figure beside him – and even though he could hear how empty his words sounded, they seemed to comfort Mattias.
Kaleb hadn’t given much thought to his own future. To escape from the mine had been the most important thing for him. He was committed to helping Mattias return home safely, but after that he’d have to make his own way in the world. He was young, fit and healthy, with his whole life ahead of him, and that was more than enough for someone who’d spent four years locked away in darkness.
They both woke early the next morning and left quietly before the farmer noticed their presence.
The forest, which had appeared to be so impenetrable the night before, was, in fact, not as bad as they’d feared. When they reached open ground again, they found themselves close to a bridge across the river. Without knowing it, they’d come down into the wide, flat and open countryside of Ringerike.
The hard surfaces of the well-travelled tracks had given Mattias blisters on his feet. Although he didn’t complain, Kaleb could see the agony in his young friend’s every step, and he knew that the pain might make Mattias even more disheartened.
A large village came into view and they met more people along the road. Kaleb asked one of them if he’d heard of Graastensholm. The man thought for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. No, the name meant nothing to him, he said, but they could always ask the magistrate. He was holding the circuit court that very day and he came up from Akershus.
“Then he’s bound to know my granddad,” shouted Mattias excitedly. “Where is he?”
The man pointed to the largest house in the village, the Rectory, where a dispute between two neighbours was being heard. He delighted in telling them in detail about the hostility between the two parties, punctuating his story with the happy grin reserved for self-satisfied but uninvolved bystanders.
After listening patiently and thanking the man, the boys set off excitedly towards the Rectory and arrived during what seemed to be a break in the proceedings. The porch and entrance hall were filled with farmers and other locals who were gossiping and arguing. All of them were too busy to pay any attention to the two ragged boys as they crept past.
The Rectory’s large reception room had been transformed into a courtroom. The notary was sitting at one end. He was taking advantage of the break in proceedings to engage in informal discussions with his accompanying court officials.
Other men involved in the hearing were in quiet conversations among themselves.
When the door at the other end of the room opened suddenly, accompanied by the disapproving shouts of the doorman, the notary heard the squealing of a child’s voice.
“Granddad! Look, Kaleb. It’s Granddad! Come on!”
Baron Dag Meiden looked up, initially irritated by the intrusion. Who were these impertinent local children who had the cheek to disturb this important hearing? Then with growing amazement, he realised the shouting was directed personally at him – but who was using the word granddad? He was only granddad to one child now, and that was Kolgrim. But this was definitely not Kolgrim’s voice.
The next moment he saw two boys dressed in rags, running at full speed down the length of the room. They’d obviously eluded all the efforts of his officials to stop them. All the notary could do was sit and stare in astonishment as a little boy, followed by a taller boy, raced towards him, his face beaming with joy, and shouting: “Granddad! Granddad!”
Dag Meiden’s chest tightened and he was gripped with a feeling of panic.
This couldn’t be happening. He just wouldn’t allow himself more anguish, more disappointment. Yet the copper-coloured hair – no longer as wavy as before – the face and those eyes, they could only belong to Mattias! Looking closer, yet scarcely believing his own eyes, the notary drew a very, very deep breath.
It was him!
“Mattias!” he cried, dumbfounded. “Mattias!” For a second or two, the room swam around him and his vision faded. Then the moment passed. The boy was in his arms and the great man of learning was reduced to weeping and laughter all at once as he held his missing grandson tightly in his embrace. Mattias was chattering away, but all Dag heard was a jumble of words about mines and Knut and Kaleb and chimneys, none of which made the slightest sense to him.
> Finally, Dag managed to collect his thoughts. Blowing his nose and wiping his eyes, he announced in a husky voice to the onlookers that this was his grandson who’d been missing for two years and who everybody thought was dead. Mattias explained, much to Kaleb’s embarrassment, how brave his friend had been. Dag greeted Kaleb then hurried them both to the kitchen to be fed before returning to the courtroom and concluding the case quicker than any other case in his life – but as always, the protagonists were dealt with justly and fairly. Dag returned to sit in the kitchen with the two boys and listened to a calmer and more sensible account of what had taken place. Words just couldn’t express how he felt to be reunited with his grandson. Mattias was thinner than he remembered, thought Dag, but he’d grown wiry and strong. His fingernails were a disaster. Yet there was no mistaking the warmth in his eyes – that was the same as it had always been.
“And I’ve got real muscles, too, Granddad. Look!” The youngster pulled up the sleeve of his ragged shirt with great pride to show off a small, taut knot of muscle that Dag duly admired.
Then Mattias fell silent all of a sudden. For a long moment, he stared down at his own hands before lifting his eyes again to look enquiringly at Dag.
“And what about Kolgrim, Granddad?” he asked in an anxious voice. “Is he alright?”
“Kolgrim? Yes, I think so.”
Mattias sighed with relief. “Thank God he came home safely. I’ve worried so much about him. I thought he’d drowned, you see – and he never saw the dancing fishes either. I felt very sad for him.”
“Drowned? What do you mean?”
Dag Meiden listened very intently as he learned the details of what lay behind Mattias’ disappearance. As the story unfolded, his expression grew grim and resolute.
So it was true, he thought. Everything that Yrja, Liv, Cecilie – and yes, even Meta – had feared was true. Maybe there was some truth after all in the saying that a woman’s intuition was far greater than a man’s.
But Kolgrim? How was Dag to think of Kolgrim now? The facts of what had happened were almost too much for a grandfather to bear. In spite of everything, he’d always been very fond of his oldest grandson – the one born to carry the curse of the Ice People – and this twist had left his thoughts and emotions in turmoil.
Dag had originally planned to spend the night at the Rectory but now he was eager to get home to Graastensholm again. ‘Imagine their surprise when I come back with these two,’ he thought. He’d already handed down his judgment on the case, which meant that there was no reason for him to stay. So he took the boys to his carriage and they drove off towards Graastensholm. The coachman, who was moved at seeing little Mattias again, wiped away a tear. What a story he would have to tell his wife – and the rest of the parish – and he’d been there when it all happened.
Mattias had hesitated as they were about to climb into the notary’s elegant carriage. “We’ve washed our clothes and ourselves very well, Granddad,” he’d explained apologetically. “I don’t think we’ve got any bugs on us.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” Dag had reassured him. “You look just fine to me. Now climb in.”
Once they were seated and on their way, Kaleb asked Dag: “Can anything be done about Hauber, sir? Or Nermarken? To stop what’s been going on?”
“You can be absolutely sure that it will be stopped! But it seems to me that the most important matter is ensuring that there are no children working in any mine anywhere in this country. Believe me, I had no idea that this was happening.”
Kaleb nodded thoughtfully: “I’ve often thought that if ever I got out, I could do something to make it better for the boys working there – or in any other place. But without any schooling there isn’t much I can do.”
“We can do something about your schooling,” Dag replied. “Your account is a grotesque example of the way children are being used, but I wonder if lesser wrongdoings are also occurring in other places. Anyway, they’ll soon find out who they’re dealing with. Nobody will get away with treating my grandson badly.”
“But can’t we do something to help Olaves, too,” asked Mattias eagerly. “After all he saved my life.”
Dag replied in a reserved tone: “Yes, he did save your life. But I believe he only did so so that he could profit by sending you to the mine. So I think that particular rascal should be left to sink or swim on his own. I’m afraid that at times you’re still too good-hearted, Mattias.”
Kaleb smiled broadly at Dag. Although no words were exchanged, the notary could tell that he couldn’t have agreed more.
***
Back at Graastensholm in the spring of 1635, Kolgrim had continued to keep a close eye on everything Tarjei did during his stay. His discovery up in the attic had transformed him and his eyes now burned with barely concealed impatience. There had to come a time when Tarjei needed something from the secret hoard of potions and herbs that Kolgrim knew existed. He only had to be patient, he told himself and all would naturally be revealed to him.
But this didn’t seem to be the case. Tarjei even made plans to travel and set a date for his departure. Kolgrim was growing more and more desperate and he began concocting all sorts of unlikely plans to discover Tarjei’s secret.
One day, he realised what he must do. It was something he should have thought of years before. After all, wasn’t he one of the Ice People’s chosen ones? Of course he was, but so far it would seem that he hadn’t inherited any of their talents – except a gift for extraordinary evil. The ‘chosen ones’ were clairvoyants who were able to cast magic spells, bewitch people and gain power over them. They became the master of other people’s minds. Whenever Kolgrim thought of this, he flew into a rage, wondering why he hadn’t been granted any such obvious powers. Eventually he pulled himself together and managed to calm down. He began to think more sensibly. Had he ever really tried to discover whether or not he had any such powers, he asked himself? No, he hadn’t. He’d merely waited indignantly for them to show themselves. Yet it would be remarkable, he thought, if he didn’t have any. And besides, he was absolutely determined to find his treasure. But how exactly would he do it?
There was nobody he could turn to. The ‘chosen ones’ had always learned from one another, but Kolgrim – like Trond before him – had nobody to teach him. Tengel had deliberately extinguished the flame of knowledge so that Kolgrim would learn nothing. If only he could get his hands on that store of wizardry, then he’d surely find out everything he wished to know. Wait, what wizardry? He realised that he was letting his imagination run away with him.
Yet what would happen if he concentrated on what he wanted with all his being? Would that bring those things to him? He didn’t know for sure but he decided to try.
That evening he sat nervously in his room, his heart pounding as he thought about his first potential act of wizardry. He stared across at Mattias’s unused bed opposite his own. It had never given him any pangs of conscience; it was irrelevant. That evening, however, it was to play a part in his plan. He left the door slightly ajar and snuffed out the single candle before curling up into a ball in the middle of Mattias’s bed.
“Come,” he whispered. “Come, treasure! Come to me!”
His gaze was fixed on the thin beam of moonlight that fell through the window as though he was expecting a dark shadow to appear across the floor. The shadow of the treasure ... His treasure!
The tone of his voice became more hypnotic as he repeated his chant endlessly like a tiny, wizened, wide-eyed troll from the dawn of time. He continued for over an hour, stopping only once when he heard the creaking of a door somewhere. But despite all this, his efforts seemed to go entirely unrewarded.
Disappointed both with the uncooperative spirits and the whole rotten world in general, Kolgrim returned to his own bed and fell asleep. But his slumber was to be anything but peaceful and he immediately began tossing and turning wildly. I
n the middle of all this turmoil, without any doubt, he heard a voice whisper “Come!”
At first he wondered if it could be an echo from his own incantations. Then slowly a face appeared. It was a mocking, laughing face, just waiting to play a trick on virtuous relatives.
“Come!” repeated the voice and he knew at that moment it belonged to his maternal grandmother, Sol. The mocking face was hers as well and she looked exactly like her portrait in the hall at Linden Avenue. Only now her eyes and mouth were moving. “Come!” the voice urged again – and then she was gone.
When he awoke, every detail of the vivid dream remained with him and the more he thought about it as the day wore on, the more it began to make sense to him. By coincidence, everybody from Linden Avenue – Are, Tarjei, Brand, Matilda and little Andreas – were due to visit Graastensholm later that afternoon. When he was certain that the whole family had arrived and was in the drawing room, Kolgrim slipped away.
The hallway at Linden Avenue was in shadowy semi-darkness when he entered a few minutes later. The only light came from the last rays of the sun that shone through Silje’s mosaic window. It cast a shimmering, mystical pattern of colours onto the floor and walls. But there was enough light to see the four family portraits that included Silje, Tengel and Sol. When he moved closer, Sol’s eyes stared at him, expressionless and inscrutable, but he knew for certain that she’d called to him in a dream.
He studied every detail of the portraits very carefully, searching for some clue. The frames of all four pictures, were very similar – in fact, on closer inspection, he found that they were identical. He took a step forward, touching each of the four canvases in turn and immediately let out a little murmur of satisfaction. The canvasses weren’t identical.
While three of them gave a little when he pressed them, Sol’s didn’t. Unlike the others, it was firm and hard. Excitedly he ran his fingers round the edge of its frame, still hardly daring to hope. Eventually his fingertips came up against a tiny clip that was so small as to be almost invisible. He lifted it, felt it release and the picture frame moved. The portrait, frame and wall were hinged and all three swung silently open as one, revealing a small door behind.
Evil Legacy Page 10