“I’ll die if it’s locked,” muttered Kolgrim fiercely.
But there was no lock on the door and it didn’t resist as he pushed at it. Kolgrim held his breath as it swung open. It was dark in the hallway and even darker in the small alcove behind the picture. However, by focusing hard, he could just make out the shape of a sack that was filled with something. He reached into the neck of the sack and brought out the first thing his hand touched and gave a start. He was holding the dried remains of the most intimate part of a man, probably taken from a hanged criminal. Kolgrim quickly put it back and very gently closed the door of the secret alcove.
He felt a great surge of elation run through his whole body. “I’ve found the treasure at last!” he told himself. “But more than that, I proved that I’ve got the special gift which I didn’t know about before. Have I not been in contact with my Grandma, Sol? And has she not helped me?”
Suddenly Kolgrim felt invincible. The feeling was heady and deeply satisfying.
“I knew it!” he whispered to himself. “I always knew that the greatest of the ‘chosen ones’ would be me – ‘the like of which the world has never seen!’ But now I’m here, you weaklings of humanity, and I am fear itself!”
He realised that he couldn’t touch any of his bounty straightaway. Tarjei would be leaving any day and he’d wait until he’d gone. He reminded himself that Tarjei could be dangerous. It was impossible to know how much he knew or understood.
Kolgrim had even wondered if in some way Tarjei was also a ‘chosen one,’ but Tarjei had none of the mystery about him that surrounded the true descendants of Tengel the Evil in the way that Kolgrim did. No, he decided. Tarjei wasn’t a ‘chosen one.’
“Just wait, humankind,” Kolgrim said to himself. “Nothing you’ve seen will have prepared you for what’s to come!”
Gently, almost lovingly, he closed the door of the secret alcove and returned the portrait of Sol to its place. He bowed his head reverently towards his Grandma, the beautiful witch, and took a deep breath.
“Everything is as it should be now, Grandma” he whispered. “My rightful inheritance has been returned to me!”
Chapter 6
Two weeks after Kolgrim’s fateful discovery came the memorable day when Dag called out to his coachman as they passed Graastensholm Church: “Blow your horn! Blow it loud for our lost son has come home!”
The coachman didn’t need to be asked a second time because his joyful fanfares resounded loudly across the countryside.
Inside Graastensholm, the family was eating their evening meal. When Liv heard the commotion, she turned her head to listen.
“What’s that noise?” she asked in alarm. “It sounds very much like our own coach horn!”
“I think you’re right,” said Tarald.
“Oh dear! I hope nothing has happened to Dag.”
“No, it’s a joyful fanfare,” said Yrja, who’d gone to the window.
“Look, they’re careering up the driveway like mad!”
“What’s going on?” asked Liv as they all headed out to the front steps. “You must be crazy, Dag!”
They watched the carriage continue its manic advance towards them, horn still blaring, until it was finally brought to a halt at the foot of the front steps.
Liv yelled: “Dag, are you out of your mind?”
Dag stepped down from the carriage, grinning from ear to ear. Liv hadn’t seen him looking so young and happy in many years.
“I’ve brought two friends with me,” he announced triumphantly.
“Dear me, what will these friends think of us?” muttered Liv to the others who stood next to her at the top of the steps.
The coachman helped a well-built youth from the carriage followed at once by a small red-haired boy who was waving and laughing. Both of them were dressed in rags and cast-offs, held together with rope.
Yrja screamed “MATTIAS!” at the top of her voice and collapsed slowly in a heap.
Tarald had already arrived at the bottom of the steps and thrown his arms around his son without saying a word – simply because he was so overwhelmed he was quite unable to speak a word.
Liv suddenly felt faint and took a firm grip on the handrail to steady herself.
The family from Linden Avenue came running to find out the reason for the commotion, which had been heard right across the parish.
Yrja remained slumped on the ground, unable to move, weeping so much her whole body ached. Mattias was on his knees asking her over and over again: “But aren’t you pleased to see me, Mum?”
All the servants, too, came rushing to see what the fuss was about, and the coachman tried his best to tell his story several times over. For a while there was total uproar.
Are, laughing as tears of joy streamed down his face, said to Dag: “To think I was going to scold you for shaming us all with your noise! But no! Coachman, blow your horn again! Blow so that all of Norway can hear you!”
That evening there was a big party at Graastensholm. The families and workers from both farms together with the Eikeby clan were all invited, and the news quickly started to spread. Very soon, people were arriving from all over the parish to see and touch Mattias.
First to enter Graastensholm were the Eikeby family, Yrja’s vast circle of relatives. The old man, Eikeby himself, wiped away a tear when he went and hugged Mattias, his namesake as well as his grandson. Rich and poor and all those in between rubbed shoulders that evening and there was plenty of meat and drink for them all.
Quite late in the evening, Mattias startled them all when he asked for the first time: “Where’s Kolgrim? I haven’t said hello to him yet.”
That was when it dawned on them that nobody had seen Kolgrim since supper – in fact, since the carriage arrived. Dag told the servants to look after his guests, ushering his immediate family into his study. He explained to Tarald and Yrja that he wanted them to put Mattias to bed while he spoke to the rest of their relations.
Only Matilda was missing. She’d gone back to Linden Avenue to put little Andreas to bed.
After carefully closing the door of the room, Dag told the assembled group: “This is a very serious matter. From what Mattias has told me, it’s quite clear that Kolgrim was behind Mattias’s disappearance.”
He then relayed Mattias’s story as it had been told to him.
When he’d finished, there was a stunned silence. Everyone was profoundly shocked and at a loss for words.
“Please don’t say a word yet to Tarald and Yrja,” said Dag. “They’ve had their share of tragedies and I’ll tell them myself later.”
Liv was the first one to speak: “All this is undeniable – but where’s Kolgrim? Are we to suffer another disappearance? I don’t think that we could survive that.”
“Obviously he was frightened off,” said Brand. “Now that Mattias has returned, the truth was bound to come out.”
“The only question is how long he’ll stay away,” said Liv. “I don’t like him to be out when it’s dark.”
“Yes, but what are we to say when he does return?” asked Dag anxiously. “I’m only used to speaking about justice and injustice with miscreants and criminals. But this ... I fear I’m not man enough for this!”
As he finished speaking, Matilda hurried in, looking distraught. She glanced round the room until her eyes settled on her brother-in-law.
“Tarjei, somebody has been in the old part of Linden Avenue!” she said in an anxious voice. “Your travelling chest has been broken into and medicines are scattered everywhere. One of the portraits is hanging off the wall and behind it is an empty little room I never knew existed before! But there’s something even worse than that ...”
She never finished the sentence because Tarjei leaped from his chair. He was completely white in the face.
“Empty!” he yelled. “Dear God, that means
he’s found it!”
“Found what?”
“The Ice People’s hoard of secret spells and magic potions.”
“All Dad’s and Sol’s things?” asked Liv. “Dear me!”
“We must find him at once,” insisted Tarjei.
“No, stop!” said Dag. “Calm down. Not now! Not when it’s dark outside. Besides, we don’t know where to look.”
“How on earth did he manage to find it?” asked Tarjei.
“He must have been searching for it ever since Tarald blurted out the secret two years ago,” replied Dag.
“Yes,” agreed Tarjei. “He certainly tried to get rid of Mattias when he discovered his little brother would inherit everything.”
“We should never forget that Kolgrim is one of the accursed,” Brand added quietly. “I mean ... well, he could have been led to the treasure in ways that we don’t know about.”
Liv nodded, thinking hard. “I remember now! He’s been behaving very strangely recently. Very secretively. Ever since ... let’s see, it must have been fourteen days ago when he spent two whole days in the attic. He came back down with a horrible, triumphant grin on his face.”
“Liv, you do remember that this is your grandchild we’re speaking of?” said Dag reproachfully.
There was great sadness in Liv’s eyes. “Do you think I don’t know that? I don’t love him any less than the other three. But Dag, on this occasion ...” She broke off and left the rest of the sentence unspoken.
Tarjei was growing impatient. “Wait a minute! What did you say about the attic, Aunt Liv? Was it the attic here at Graastensholm?”
“Yes.”
“What was it he discovered?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
Tarjei made up his mind at once. “We may not be able to search for him this evening, but find me a lantern and I’ll go into the attic. I’ll see if I can work out what it was that made him so over-excited.”
“But Tarjei, it’s so dark up there,” objected Liv, “and it’s very messy. You won’t find anything until morning.”
“Tomorrow may be too late!”
Tarjei took two lanterns with him into the great space beneath the roof of the mansion. It was a part of the building that he’d never visited before.
To begin with, he stood and took in the scene before him and imagined it to be filled with countless dark, secret shadows. Old items of furniture and chattels were piled everywhere while clothing and tapestries were hanging from rods suspended from the rafters. Some of these things looked as though they’d been there for a long time. Tarjei noticed some very beautiful pieces of furniture: some finely crafted old chests and several other things that were perfectly usable. He decided to ask Liv if he might have some pieces for his own home – once he’d found somewhere to put down roots properly, of course.
He found himself suddenly thinking of Cornelia once again and his heart began to ache – lively, happy, impossible Cornelia. Living with her would have broken his spirit but he found it equally painful to live without her. He’d never deny that she’d given him the happiest years of his life regardless of how trying it had been at times. He’d also never forget that she’d given him little Mikael – the child he still hardly knew.
At that moment in the attic, Tarjei realised how much he wanted to return to be with his son. He was suddenly filled with a sense of urgency. Was the boy in good health? What was he like? Who was this little boy he’d begun thinking of more and more each day, who filled his heart with warmth and affection?
Tarjei knew that the plague had swept through the states of Germany and that the population was also suffering onslaught upon onslaught of armies waging war back and forth across the country. Mercenaries served in every one of those armies, and these so-called ‘soldiers of fortune’ were often the most brutal of men, who misguidedly saw it as ‘honourable’ to indulge in killing and pillaging.
Towns and villages had been turned into wastelands; farmers and peasants took refuge in the cellars beneath houses and cottages that were razed to the ground. No one dared to venture out during daylight.
Famine was rife and its consequences catastrophic. Nobody was prepared to plant the fields or tend to the crops because they knew that a new wave of plundering and pillaging was sure to come before long. Stray dogs, those that hadn’t been killed and eaten by their starving owners, soon became wild, joining scavenging packs that roamed the countryside, adding yet more fear to the lives of ordinary people. Prowling wolves and other predators were also found everywhere.
Consequently, the morale of the population had plummeted and their belief in God had all but died out. It would take two centuries for the population to return to the size it had been before the war.
Adding to the misery was the fact that the plague had struck again without warning in 1635.
Only the outbreak of the Black Death three hundred years earlier had claimed more lives and caused more hardship.
Because Tarjei’s emotions were in turmoil, he became acutely conscious of his own little son’s situation, surrounded by so much devastation. Admittedly Juliana had written to tell him that all was well. For the moment that was his only consolation.
But now, he yearned to be back with them again more than ever before.
The sudden worrying turn of events at Graastensholm had clearly triggered feelings that he’d unconsciously been suppressing for some time. He was now acutely aware – more than ever before – of his personal responsibility for that tiny young life.
He had to make a determined effort to prevent these feelings from overwhelming him. Very reluctantly he turned his attention back to the urgent task of searching the attic.
Tarjei had a logical, methodical mind, and as he looked around at the jumble of furniture and discarded belongings, he soon figured out where Kolgrim had been searching. A bedspread had been draped over an old chair in one corner and there were clear signs that somebody had sat on it, which told its own story. The remains of candles, breadcrumbs and a cup containing dried milk littered a table close by. That made it clear that somebody had recently made himself comfortable there.
So this, reflected Tarjei grimly, was where Kolgrim had recently spent two whole days.
Looking further around the immediate area, Tarjei saw an untidy corner where lots of old odds and ends had been piled on top of one another.
Then a small iron box caught his eye. It showed recent signs of being forced open.‘Our dear Kolgrim isn’t one for tidying up after himself,’ thought Tarjei. ‘He’s just as careless as any other fourteen-year-old.’
Crouching down, he opened the lid of the iron box and moved the lantern closer. Fascinated, he lifted an old object out of the box and without realising it, Tarjei sat down in Kolgrim’s comfortable chair to scrutinise it carefully.
Minutes, then hours passed and Tarjei remained there, scarcely moving, completely absorbed in his thoughts, disconnected completely from the world around him.
Unlike Kolgrim, Tarjei didn’t need two days to make sense of what he’d found. His adult mind was more acute and he’d long since grown accustomed to long hours of study and intense concentration.
As the pale light of dawn eventually dimmed the glow of his lantern, he slowly raised his head.
“He’s mad!” whispered Tarjei fiercely to himself. “He must be completely mad! He can’t do it! Does he really think that he can?”
***
When at last Tarjei came down from the attic, hollow-eyed and weary, the whole house was buzzing with activity.
Servants were attending to all their usual duties as well as clearing up after the celebrations the evening before. Liv was inspecting the food stores. Their contents had now been considerably depleted, and she’d just decided that more beer needed to be brewed when Tarjei appeared.
Without even taking the time to say ‘good morning�
� to her, Tarjei said grimly: “We have to set off after Kolgrim at once! I know now where he’s planning to go.”
Liv looked at him questioningly. “Tarald has just discovered that his horse is gone. He and Yrja are organising a search for him this very minute.”
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll go and speak to them. Where’s Mattias?”
“He’s still asleep.”
Out in the courtyard he found a large group of people, mostly men, who were listening to Tarald’s orders.
“Stop, Tarald!” called Tarjei in an authoritative tone.
“There’s no point in sending people out in all directions. I know where he’s headed.”
“Where?” asked Tarald frantically. His face was pale and grey. He was obviously taking the disappearance of Kolgrim very badly.
“To the north. Let me have some horses and two good men and I’ll give chase.”
“But I want to help!”
Tarjei raised his hand. “No, Tarald, not you! Not this time!”
“But he’s my son!”
“And that is precisely why you mustn’t come with us! I have to go because he’s taken all the remedies – things that can be fatal in his inexperienced and irresponsible hands.”
Tarald came closer to him. “Tarjei,” he said, “in spite of all he did to Mattias, please remember that we’re very fond of him.”
His cousin nodded understandingly. “I know – and I’ll bring him home, you’ll see! But right now, his life’s at stake if he’s not stopped in time!”
“Do all that you can,” whispered Tarald in a tired voice. ‘Nobody has suffered a life of such great tragedies as you,’ Tarjei thought to himself. ‘Thank goodness that Yrja has stood by you during all this grief.’
Evil Legacy Page 11