Oh, hell and damnation!
It is Tarjei... and the groom Baard, and Bergfinn the farmhand.
What in hell’s name are they doing here?
And who’s the young, fair-haired boy? Haven’t seen him before. Where did they find him?
No, wait! Wasn’t he the one who came back with Mattias? He was sure he’d seen them together from his hiding-place.
Mattias! Always Mattias! Bloody Mattias! Bloody snot-nosed spawn! Was Mattias to cast his sanctimonious shadow over this special valley as well?
“Kolgrim! Wait!”
The four men were now standing a short distance from him.
“Come no closer!” he yelled at them. “You cannot overpower me anyway – you’re nothing but mere mortals! I’ve looked upon Satan himself!”
“He’s taken a potion of some sort,” said Tarjei, speaking softly to his companions so that Kolgrim couldn’t hear.
“Wait and I’ll try to talk some sense into him. Just go back a few paces.”
Tarjei moved a few steps closer to Kolgrim because he didn’t want the others to hear anything he said.
“What did Satan look like, Kolgrim?” he asked quietly. “Can you describe him?”
“Hell’s teeth!” replied the boy. “He was the damnedest, most hellish thing I’ve ever seen!”
“Well, I expected he would be, didn’t you?”
Tarjei waited for a reply. He wondered where the seemingly mild-natured young Kolgrim had learned to curse so strongly – or maybe it was the effects of the potion he suspected he’d taken.
“He was much shorter than you’d think,” said Kolgrim, his glazed eyes staring wide, “short and squat, with a nose like a beak and piercing venomous eyes. And he just stood there like a dark shadow up on the brow of the hill...”
“Kolgrim,” said Tarjei calmly, “it wasn’t Satan that you just saw. He doesn’t exist. You’ve just described Tengel the Evil to me, exactly the way Sol once described seeing him here. You’re having an illusion caused by one of the herbs or potions.”
Kolgrim stared back at him in disbelief. “How do you know that? You’re nothing but a mortal.”
“Granddad Tengel told me everything when he entrusted that sack you have there to me. Sol had described her visions and illusions and she was many times more knowledgeable than you.”
“Oh, no!” Kolgrim answered with unswerving self-confidence. “I’m the strongest, the greatest! I can fly! Just watch me as I soar from this mountainside!”
“Stop, Kolgrim. Are you mad? Don’t you see that it’s the effect of the herbs you’ve taken that’s making you like this? Those herbs and potions aren’t playthings,” he said pointing at the sack. “Believe me, they aren’t.”
This was an absolute affront to Kolgrim’s pride.
“I don’t play with them, Tarjei! I’m one of the ‘chosen.’ I’m the only Chosen One!”
“Yes, Kolgrim, indeed you are,” agreed Tarjei solemnly. “And I believe you should grasp all the wonderful opportunities you have before you to become a new Tengel the Good. You’ll be as loved and respected as he was.”
“I’ve no wish to be loved and respected!” Kolgrim snapped back at him. “You’re a fool, Tarjei. Love and respect! Why would I want that when I can be dreaded and revered by everyone, rule the whole world, kill anyone I want, trample them underfoot and laugh at their anguish and pain? You’ll be trembling in my presence, Tarjei, and everyone back at Graastensholm will crawl before me. Loved and respected? What drivel!” He paused to savour the thought, then asked: “What has brought you and the others here?”
“I, too, went up into the attic at Graastensholm,” Tarjei said gently. “There I discovered the same things you’d found and figured out where Tengel the Evil buried his cauldron. It’s not surprising that you and Sol saw his spectre. He must have been furious that it had been revealed. He doesn’t want it to be unearthed and have the curse removed. I, however, am not one of the accursed so he can’t show himself to me. For the future of our kin, so that they may live in peace, I’ll dig up this misery from its hiding-place.”
“No,” gasped Kolgrim, his face a ghastly shade of green. “You can’t do that! If you do, all our powers will be lost forever!”
“Yes, I pray they are,” replied Tarjei evenly. “For your sakes, you poor accursed wretches.”
“We’re the ‘chosen ones,’ Kolgrim corrected him fiercely. “Never forget that – or you might regret it!”
“Put an end to that foolishness now, Kolgrim,” said Tarjei quietly. “Hand me that sack so that we can start homeward.”
“This treasure is MINE! It’ll never be yours. I’ll call upon Satan for I have no fear of any spectre. I only ran from it because it came upon me unexpectedly. Don’t you see, he can do me no harm because I’m to be the most magnificent, the greatest of all.”
“Kolgrim, for God’s sake!” Tarjei took a step towards him.
“Come no closer, I warn you. You who want to destroy our special powers – powers ordained by Satan himself. You know that I can fly, don’t you? I can get away from you so easily ...” and as he spoke, he turned to throw himself from the edge of the precipice.
Tarjei took a couple of steps forward and quickly grabbed him by the shoulders. Seeing what was happening, the other three men ran across to help.
Kolgrim searched desperately for a way to escape and before anyone realised it, he’d drawn a knife and concealed it in one hand behind his back. Without uttering any words of warning or threat, Kolgrim thrust the knife swiftly into Tarjei’s stomach.
Staggering back, Tarjei stared at him in shock and disbelief. Then he slumped forward on his knees to shield his injury and his three companions rushed forward, yelling loud warnings.
The insane young Kolgrim, would-be ruler of the world, stared briefly at them with the eyes of a cornered animal. Then he turned and ran to the edge of the cliff where he leaped outward into space, spreading his arms wide as if they were wings that would carry him high above the earth. When he realised his awful mistake, he began to wave his arms frantically, helplessly, as the bottom of the precipice rushed towards him. His childlike screams of fear lasted a long time, until they were silenced abruptly by a single horrible dull sound.
And so it was that Sol’s line ended, just as Hanna had predicted so long ago. Her only child, Sunniva, had been dead for fourteen years and her only grandchild now lay lifeless at the foot of the cliff at the age of fourteen. Hanna had been right – she’d known that Sol’s offspring would lead to nothing.
***
Tarjei’s companions bent over him with great concern and tried to help him to his feet but they knew at once that their efforts were hopeless.
“Lie him down very gently,” said Kaleb, remembering how Mattias had cared for the unfortunate Knut for so long. “And give me something to press hard against his wound.”
He sat beside the pale unmoving body of Tarjei, trying as best he could to stop the bleeding. He held the edges of the wound tightly together, listening to his laboured breathing.
“Oh, no, not Mr. Tarjei!” said Baard bitterly. “Please, not him! Whatever will become of us all at Graastensholm and Linden Avenue?”
Bergfinn also gazed desperately at the others, seeking comfort they couldn’t give him. “Why Mr. Tarjei?” he asked blankly. “In God’s name, why him? There’s nobody better than him!”
***
They buried Kolgrim in the Valley of the Ice People. It would have been meaningless to try to carry his badly broken body home with them halfway through Norway.
As they laid him to rest, nobody noticed that they were also burying a strange root reminiscent of a human, which hung around his neck – the mandrake that had passed from generation to generation for at least four hundred years. Yet how much luck and good fortune had it brought to those who’d owned it? No one
could say what had happened to those generations long since gone – but what of Hanna? Had fortune smiled on her? Hadn’t her death been cruel, callous and brutal? Sol had inherited it from Hanna, but in what way had it protected her? Now finally Kolgrim, the last one to hold it, had barely begun his adult life before it was snuffed out.
The mandrake had also passed through Tengel’s hands. He ended his own life in sorrow, so what happiness had it brought him?
Tarjei had also come into contact with it. Could it have stopped him losing his beloved Cornelia? Could it have prevented this terrible misfortune that had happened to them all now?
No, it was much better that the mandrake was buried deep beneath the earth. If it were to twist itself into a claw-like hand in protest, as Sol had once said, there wouldn’t be anybody to see it. The men who’d buried it were already making their way down through the Valley of the Ice People.
They had fashioned a simple stretcher on which to carry the unconscious Tarjei. As they walked, they hardly dared look at him in case they’d find that his breathing had stopped.
At one point they rested and looked back at the region they’d just left.
“Still, maybe we shouldn’t judge him too harshly, eh?” said Kaleb thoughtfully.
“Nah,” nodded the other two in agreement. “Nah, not really. Not that harshly anyway.”
For a long moment they stared at the distant brooding precipice that rose up high above the small grave at its foot. Alone, always alone, Kolgrim would remain buried there for eternity.
But would he be truly alone? Down among the ruined cottages lay many an unmarked grave. The valley, too, had its own particular graveyard.
So in essence, Kolgrim was at rest among his forefathers, who’d known the valley for many hundreds of years.
As they watched, a big swirl of wind brought with it a new flurry of snow, hiding the rock suddenly from their sight. Taking hold of the stretcher again on which the unfortunate Tarjei lay, they bent their shoulders into the wind and resumed their arduous trek.
Chapter 8
Kaleb, Bergfinn and Baard soon found the path that led out of the valley. The following morning, when the river was at its lowest level after the chill of the night, they started off through the tunnel. Hardly a word was spoken as they cautiously handled the stretcher between them.
Just as they emerged from the tunnel, Kolgrim’s horse appeared wandering towards them. They gratefully took it under their control and with the stretcher attached to the horse’s back and supported on each side, they were able to travel more easily.
They continued across the heathland, still saying little to each other. They lost their way a few times before they found the road that led to the lower valley where they were able to retrieve their own horses. They made a new and sturdier stretcher, which they slung between two of the horses and set off immediately on the long road home.
Often they couldn’t tell whether Tarjei was alive or dead. At every village they entered, they asked whether there was a physician or somebody who could help them. The answer was always the same – a shake of the head and no one to help.
As they carried Tarjei, a fatally wounded, outstanding young doctor, these three simple men of the land had never felt so desperately hopeless and depressed.
Finally, exhausted after a week’s travelling, they approached Linden Avenue along Tengel and Silje’s avenue of linden trees, lashed by torrential rain.
Words couldn’t describe the grief and heartache that met them as they approached the house. Are sent at once for the surgeon. Then he and all his family, together with Liv and Dag, sat around Tarjei’s bed in petrified silence.
This was something they could never have believed would happen. Tarjei, the brightest and best of all the family, was badly and possibly fatally wounded.
Nobody was surprised when Tarald locked himself away. His son, Kolgrim, had caused all this and now he was dead. It was impossible to even begin to understand what he was feeling. Yrja, as steadfast as ever, divided her time between caring for Mattias and looking after Tarald in his self-imposed solitude.
Liv had already written letters to Cecilie, telling of the joy everyone felt at Mattias’s homecoming and then the subsequent anxiety caused by Kolgrim’s disappearance.
For once, the postal service had been fast, and a disturbed Cecilie had arrived with her entire family two days after Tarjei had been carried into his own room at Linden Avenue. Cecilie had spoken with Alexander before leaving: “I simply must have the whole family together and let them get to know our beautiful children. I want to meet Mattias as well. Besides, they need us with them now. Don’t worry, I’ll watch out for Gabriella and Tancred whenever Kolgrim’s around – after he shows up again, that is!”
The further news that greeted them all on arrival left her deeply shocked. Kolgrim was dead – and Tarjei possibly dying. Cecilie was scarcely able to believe it and hurried to Tarjei’s bedside. She saw at once that his face had the pallor of a ghost and he was surrounded by the whole family. With hardly a word, she ordered the surgeon to move away and examined the wound herself.
“Cecilie,” began Liv, “you can’t ...”
Her daughter turned and looked at her, her eyes brimming with tears. “Tarjei came to our help when we needed him and he saved my Alexander’s life. I learned a little from him then, and besides, he and I have always been close. Let me help him now in return.”
The surgeon and Cecilie fought to save Tarjei’s life for several days. Then, on the evening of the fifth day, he opened his eyes for the first time. They immediately sent for all the adults to come to his room.
“Tarjei, can you hear me?” asked Cecilie, leaning closer over him. Tarjei had closed his eyes again but he nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Is there anything at all I can do for you?” she asked in a whisper. “To make you well again, I mean.”
He nodded once more, but it was only the slightest movement of the chin.
“Some special medicine, maybe?”
His brow furrowed as though he’d not understood the question.
“From your store – or somewhere else?” pleaded Cecilie.
No, that wasn’t it – the tiny side-to-side movement of Tarjei’s head was a definite “No.”
Cecilie decided she’d have to use trial and error and racked her brain on how to do it.
“But you do want something?” she persisted. “Can you tell me what it is if I offer some alternatives?”
A faint nod greeted this suggestion.
“Something to drink?”
Another slight nod indicated that this was right and Cecilie murmured the name of one drink after the other – and each one received an almost imperceptible shake of the head until he finally nodded at the mention of a dram.
“You want a dram?” she asked again, horrified. “What do you want that for?”
“Maybe he needs something to give him strength,” whispered Alexander at her side. “I’ve often seen that in the wartime field hospitals.”
“Of course, how foolish of me.” Cecilie felt a knot in the pit of her stomach, and she had a deep sense of foreboding. With Alexander’s help she managed to get a few sips of spirits past Tarjei’s lips until he made it clear he wanted no more.
After a few moments he opened his eyes wide and looked straight at the two of them.
“Mikael ... is to ... all ... that I own,” he whispered with a great effort.
“Oh, Tarjei!” Liv whimpered.
Tarjei shook his head to warn her to be silent and she quickly fell quiet again.
“Yes, Mikael ... is to have all my things ... except for ... the secret treasures of ... the Ice ... People. Dear ... Mattias is ... to have ... those.”
Liv closed her eyes. That was the last thing she wanted to hear. She would have preferred to see all that ugliness thrown away. But i
t was something she could never ask for. She knew in her heart what an invaluable treasure it was.
“We understand your request, Tarjei,” said Are. The big man’s expression was one of grief, and the corners of his mouth were trembling as he held back his tears. “Do you want us to fetch Mikael to be with you?”
“No! Only to ... visit ... follow his life ... for me ... Juliana will keep ... him. She’s a very ... good ... person. Mikael is her brother’s ... only ... kin. That’s why ... I ask this.”
“It’ll be as you wish. We shan’t lose touch with him,” promised Are.
“And tell him ... one day ... that I loved him ... very much.”
“We’ll do that,” Cecilie assured him. “As soon as it’s possible, we’ll travel to Lowenstein.”
“Thank you ... and tell ... Mattias ... he must find ... a worthy heir himself.”
“We know,” said Dag. “Someone like you.”
A slow smile lit up Tarjei’s face and he nodded his agreement: “Yes.”
But this precious moment, with all the members of the family gathered around him, was to be one of his last.
Two days later Tarjei passed away very peacefully. Aged just twenty-eight, his time was over.
The family was devastated. Their great hope, the one who might have become a famous name in the world of science, was no more.
Their beloved Tarjei. How could he be dead? He simply couldn’t be. Not him of all people.
No one wanted to believe it, but it was true, nonetheless.
***
There wasn’t a single person on either of the farms who didn’t want to attend Tarjei’s funeral, so Kaleb offered to stay at home and care for all the children – both those of the family and the servants. They were all very grateful for his help. However, what a crowd Kaleb found himself confronted with on the day, as children of all ages swarmed around the courtyard at Graastensholm.
Evil Legacy Page 14