But now even she seemed crushed by events – and they’d hardly had time to celebrate Mattias’s wonderful homecoming.
Tarjei placed a comforting arm on the shoulder of his distressed cousin for a long moment before hurrying away to the stables. There a few men were busy picking out some good horses. Among them was Kaleb, clean-shaven now, dressed in clean clothes and looking very handsome.
After Tarjei had greeted him, Kaleb said: “I rode quite well before. Can I come along?”
“But you’ve just spent four years down a mine!” smiled Tarjei. “Believe me, you’ll have a sore backside from this long ride!”
“I don’t mind that at all,” replied Kaleb immediately.
“My word, you only arrived here last evening after a very tiring journey!”
“Kolgrim is the one who did nasty things to Mattias, isn’t he?” Kaleb’s blue eyes looked at Tarjei without wavering.
“Yes,” Tarjei’s voice was slightly harsh. “But we must be careful about feelings of vengeance. We’re dealing with someone who’s still a child.”
“It wasn’t vengeance I was thinking of. I was thinking that there isn’t any conscience in the boy ... and what a danger he is for others.”
“You’re absolutely right,” agreed Tarjei while he thought to himself that Kolgrim was no longer a child. It seemed that he had all the cunning of an adult who lacked any empathy or consideration.
“Will you travel far?” asked Tarald, who had followed Tarjei to the stables with his wife, Yrja.
“To Trondelag,” replied Tarjei.
“Are you out of your mind?” gasped Yrja.
“No,” replied Tarjei. “But Kolgrim would seem to be. I’ve already seen one of the Ice People’s unfortunate sons go mad – I’ve got no wish to see it happen again.”
“But I come from Trondelag,” broke in Kaleb. “What’s more, I’ve done all that I was obliged to. I brought Mattias back home. Whatever else happens, I can’t stay here. I’ve got to be going somewhere ... maybe not back to my village but somewhere. Anywhere!”
Tarjei stared at him thoughtfully for a few seconds. “Where in Trondelag?”
“Horg, south of Trondheim.”
“Very well,” nodded Tarjei. “It might be helpful to have someone from a local family with us. You may come – I want one or two more men to accompany me – and now I must go and speak to Liv and Dag.”
Liv told Tarjei she’d been just three years old when her family, including Dag, had left Trondelag. She remembered very little that would help Tarjei, but Dag was able to sketch a map that Tarjei tucked safely inside his shirt.
“Tarjei,” pleaded Liv. “Remember he’s our grandson and that he’s behaved well these past years. We had no reason to find fault with him until ...”
Her voiced broke down and she was unable to finish the sentence.
Tarjei nodded sympathetically. “I’ll treat him compassionately. Rest assured in knowing that. But it’s possible that he might turn out to be difficult.”
He began to tell them what had happened to Trond, how grotesquely transformed he’d been by the curse of the Ice People and how it had led to his death. Liv and Dag stared in disbelief as the story unfolded, their imaginations obviously running desperately ahead of Tarjei’s narrative.
By the time he’d finished, Dag’s face had become very grave.
“If what you say is true, Tarjei,” said Dag, “then I don’t think it’s wise for you to go. Kolgrim’s probably nothing like a child any longer. Am I correct in thinking that he might now be more like a ... werewolf ... or something of that kind ... in the guise of a human being?”
The painful memory of Trond flashed back into Tarjei’s mind. “Yes, maybe along those lines.”
“Then stay here! You know so much you’re of value to the world.”
Tarjei smiled grimly. “I’ve survived Trond’s attack and lived through starvation in the forests of the Harz as well as the plague here at home and the pox in Germany. I’ll survive this ordeal as well as the others, if for no other reason than to see my son again. I felt so heartbroken when I left Germany that I hadn’t taken time to get to know the little mite. If only you knew how often my thoughts are with Mikael!”
“Then may God be with you, Tarjei,” said Dag solemnly.
“You’re a brave man.”
“Thank you. I have the advantage of knowing what Kolgrim intends to do. I sense his thoughts and feel the evil of the curse. What happened with Trond took me completely by surprise, and yet I lived to tell it to you. But this time I’m prepared!” He paused. “Please don’t tell them anything about this at Linden Avenue until after I’ve left. I don’t want Dad trying to persuade me not to go.”
“Just you leave Are to me,” smiled Liv. “He’s my little brother and I’ve always managed to talk him round.”
***
Soon afterwards, four men got their horses and left Graastensholm together. Behind Tarjei rode Kaleb, a groom named Baard, who’d take care of the horses, and Bergfinn, a farmhand. The groom and the farmhand were two well-built, strong and fairly young men. Klaus had been eager to join them, but he was now too old. Jesper was also keen to go, but Tarjei considered him too unreliable.
Kolgrim had half a day’s lead, but they counted on him resting for a few hours during the night. Therefore they felt that they stood a good chance of finding him soon. Unfortunately, these turned out to be false hopes because wherever they stopped to ask they heard the same story: Yes, a youngster with fiery eyes had rested here – or ridden by here – but that was half a day ago.
“He rides swiftly,” said Baard, the groom. “But we’ll catch up with him soon.”
Tarjei considered this for a moment: “One who’s spurred on by zeal rides faster than a man weighed down by an onerous task.”
His three companions looked at him questioningly but Tarjei said no more. His expression was intent as he led the way forward. He just wasn’t in the mood for idle conversation. When they were forced to stop and rest, they let the horses graze on the sparse spring grass of a sunny hillside. Kaleb approached Tarjei to share something that had been on his mind.
“When I was in the mine,” he said, “Mattias would sometimes speak of the Ice People, and I was a little afraid when he did because I knew of the name.”
“Did you?” asked Tarjei in surprise.
“Yeah, but because Mattias said he was one of them, I didn’t want to ask him more about it. Now I see that just about all of you are of the Ice People. I didn’t think the clan existed!”
Tarjei was intrigued by what Kaleb had said and he sat down beside him. “Tell me more. Where did you hear the name?”
“In south Trondelag, of course. But everybody says it was just fairy stories.”
“And what tale did these fairy stories tell?”
“Oh, how in the old days a whole flock of witches and wizards lived up in the mountains of Utgard. Then of how the brave soldiers of the bailiff found them and killed every last one ... and burned their evil dwellings down to the ground.”
Tarjei grimaced sadly. “Brave men, you say? They butchered innocent people, Kaleb! Yet the story is true – you can ask Liv and Dag. They, together with their Grandparents and little Sol, were the only ones to get away from the slaughter.”
As the other three men listened in growing astonishment, Tarjei continued to tell them about the curse and how dangerous Kolgrim might turn out to be.
Finally he said: “I want you all to understand that I’m determined to try and save Kolgrim. Tengel, my granddad, was also difficult as a child but he succeeded in turning the evil within him to good. I’ll try to do the same with Kolgrim in the hope that he might become a new Tengel.”
Meanwhile Tarjei was thinking ‘I hope it will be possible. I will need all His powers to help me.’
Tarjei also reproa
ched himself for not trying to influence Kolgrim earlier, but he’d only recently seen how much cunning lay behind the boy’s polite manners.
When Tarjei had finished speaking, the riders sat in thoughtful silence for a while until he stood up.
“Let’s get on our horses again, shall we?” he said brusquely. “It’s time to move on.”
***
Kolgrim was seated in a roadside inn. As he looked around observing everything that was happening, he began to accept that it was much farther to Trondelag than he’d imagined.
“Will this road never end?” he asked himself impatiently.
Nevertheless, he was determined to get there. Nothing was going to stop him.
His desire was giving him strength. To know that he, Kolgrim Meiden, had been chosen to be the greatest person ever to have lived meant everything to him.
He hadn’t had time to look through all the items in the sack. He’d enjoy that luxury when he reached his destination and was alone and undisturbed. However, there was one item he’d identified among the assortment of leather bags, jars and boxes.
As soon as he had touched the binding around the neck, he knew – and he’d smiled. This was the mandrake. He was protected against everything now. He was invincible – immortal – with that in his possession. Now there was nothing he couldn’t do.
A serving maid was going from table to table with trays full of beer and food. As she served, she smiled and giggled with the other guests and Kolgrim’s eyes followed her every move. She was a large buxom woman with watery eyes, and it had been many years since the word ‘maid’ had been suitable in her case.
Kolgrim had reached the age when boys begin to find girls attractive. He liked the look of the plump serving woman. She was older and obviously experienced. She’d be more than willing to teach an innocent young boy the secrets of physical passion. ‘Not on this occasion,’ he told himself. ‘But when I return, things will be very different ...’
His lust overcame him and he began to fantasise over their meeting. First of all, he’d let her teach him about everything she knew and then use her to gratify himself in every possible way. He wouldn’t show her the slightest tenderness in return. That would be absurd, he thought. Then he’d take his knife and cut her a little, just to frighten her. And then he’d ...
As his imagination wandered, Kolgrim was unaware that his eyes had begun to glow with such bestiality that several travellers had quietly got up and left. The serving maid was also so unnerved that she didn’t want to be on her own in the pantry with the strange young man. Now she wondered how she’d ever allowed her passions to stir when she’d first seen him walk through the door.
Thankfully, she’d never know his lewd desires.
Kolgrim concluded his fantasy by throwing to the dogs all the small pieces that were left of the woman.
Then he got up and promptly walked out to his horse – much to the relief of the innkeeper.
Later, when his four pursuers arrived and asked if the boy had been seen, they were left in no doubt: The locals felt they’d not been visited by a boy but Satan himself in disguise. They told of how he had eyes that burned so brightly that his body must have been consumed by the fires of Hell!
“That’s him,” said Tarjei, remembering the eyes of his brother Trond on the battlefield. “Bring us food and horses as quickly as you can so that we may catch him. Has he been gone long?”
“Not more than about six hours.”
They looked at one another and smiled quickly.
“Then we have him,” said Bergfinn.
“What’s the name of this parish?” asked Tarjei.
“Oppdal.”
“And is it far to South Trondelag?”
“You’re already there.”
Tarjei gave a deep sigh. “Bring the food at once, please! We mustn’t lose his trail.”
But lose his trail they did. The fact that Kolgrim was easy to recognise had made it simple for them to follow him until that point – then all trace of him disappeared. Nobody they asked afterwards had seen anyone resembling Kolgrim.
The next morning Kaleb told the others: “Over there lies Trollheimen. Somewhere up there is the mountain they call Utgardsfjällen.”
“Good.” Tarjei had a determined expression on his face as he got off his horse. “Now it’s time to examine Uncle Dag’s map. The problem is that he and the rest of the family came down from the mountain in a completely different place from where the road would have taken them. The road was unknown to Dag because he was just a little boy when Silje and Tengel took him, Liv and Sol to the Ice People’s valley by a secret route. We must follow their journey down in reverse and it’ll be difficult and dangerous. It’s pointless to take the horses. The others only had one horse with them and crossing the mountains was fraught with hardship both for them and the animal.”
After spending some time studying the sketched map and listening to what Kaleb had to say, they all agreed on which path to follow.
Before they set out, Kaleb asked, “How’s Kolgrim going to find his way?”
“We may never know,” replied Tarjei. “But he is on his way, beyond doubt – and I know what the young lunatic is planning! He knows nothing about the herbs and secret potions he’s got with him though – and what he wants to do is madness!”
Before long the group reached the valley into which Tengel, Silje and the three children had descended from the high mountain half a century earlier. A local farmer agreed to let them leave their horses with him until they returned, and they began their steep trek into the wilderness.
They climbed steadily higher, following the fixed points that Dag had drawn for Tarjei. For a time all went well.
Deformed craggy mountains, stripped clean by weather and wind, rose up all around them. There was neither sight nor sound of humans this high up, only the monotonous, repetitive whistle of the golden plover in the heather accompanied their footsteps. Cold winds brought snow from the mountaintops, whining and moaning through the crevasses as they blew.
This is what Mattias means when he speaks about the crying wind, thought Kaleb, who was beginning to feel ill at ease. There were times when the wind told sad stories and other times when it warned of suffering, pain and dread.
“Here’s the stream they followed,” shouted Tarjei. His voice sounded strange, entirely without echo or depth in the unending emptiness. “It means that the great outflow from the glacier is alongside us on the other side of that hill.”
They trudged along, following the stream to the squelching sound of cloudberries being crushed underfoot, making the soles of their shoes slippery. They pushed through strands of cottongrass; waded in the icy water; climbed over the stones and rocks beside the stream where in summer mountain saxifrage would bloom a fiery yellow. Only grey, straggling tufts now remained.
Far below, they could see the mountain plateau where they’d been standing just a short while earlier.
Baard gazed up at the cold snow-covered mountain and shivered. “I hope we don’t have to come down the same way.”
“We should be spared that,” answered Tarjei. “Once we get there, it’ll be easier to find the proper way out.”
The terrain grew even steeper as they struggled upwards. Then just when they thought they’d reached another plateau and were bracing themselves for a further climb, they found themselves on the edge of the glacier with tall black mountains rising vertically all around them.
“God’s forgotten country,” muttered Tarjei. Did Grandma and Grandpa really cross this – with one horse, three small children and one more, my dad, on the way? It’s just unfathomable!”
The wind whined and sighed over the vast expanse of snow and ice. Any man or woman standing there for the first time would be struck by the realisation of just how insignificant they were.
“The pass that Dag spoke o
f must be that one up there on the other side of the glacier,” said Tarjei, pointing. “We’ll have to keep it in sight – but God help us when we have to get over it!”
“If they could do it, then so can we,” Bergfinn assured him. “But will we cross it today?”
“No, I know that Tengel and his small family had to cross during the night but they were given no choice, if they wanted to live – and theirs was a moonlit night, but tonight there’ll be no moon. Besides, the glacier looks dangerous. We can’t walk all night to cross it and there’s nowhere we can make camp on the ice. We’ll spend the night here – and probably be blue with cold when morning comes!”
Wrapping himself in his cape and turning his back to the wind, Kaleb mumbled: “I yearned for fresh air and wide-open countryside all the while I was in the mine. But did it have to be so much, all at once?”
Tarjei’s thoughts were somewhat more complex. The boy’s mad, he thought to himself. The evil of the Ice People has taken over his personality entirely and I must save him before he does himself more harm.
But the question I must ask myself is: Do I really want to help him – or do I only want the return of the ancient remedies?
“Yes,” he said, speaking aloud suddenly although the others were beyond earshot. “Yes, because thats what his family wishes. For their sake I’ll do everything to ensure his safe return home. And I’ll transform him into a new Tengel!”
Chapter 7
Because he knew more than Tarjei about that particular stage of the journey, Kolgrim had taken the easier, secret route through the valley with his horse.
Now he was riding confidently across the open heath where Silje’s wagoner had once turned his sled and where the murderers of Hanna and Grimar had later met their painful deaths, one by one.
Tengel had loved that heath. The sight of the wide grassy countryside, its orange and yellow hues sprinkled with the dark blue-green juniper bushes, captivated him whenever he returned to the valley from the world outside.
But Kolgrim had no interest in the countryside.
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