Margit Sandemo - The Ice People 10 - Winter Storm

“Yes, they are, in our kin.”

“Precisely. We all know where the Ice People belong.”

Villemo couldn’t even be bothered to listen. She was thrilled to be able to look at the sinewy body’s slow, painful movements. “His leg seems to be injured. The boot is completely torn.”

“Keep your dirty fingers away! I’ll manage on my own.”

“Yes, I can see that,” she said dryly. “How bad are things at your place?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“What if you forgot your own stupid pride for a moment and spared a thought for others? We’re not interested in you. We just want to know how things are in the Black Forest.”

He jumped up. “Wasn’t it for their sake that we did this?”

“How are we to know?” provoked Villemo.

He closed his eyes. “They’re dying. I just told you so. They’re scraping the bark off the trees to get some food. They even eat the larvae underneath the bark.”

“They’re not the only ones in the village doing that,” said Villemo. “Niklas and Irmelin, take this basket of food and go up to the Black Forest. In the meantime, I’ll take care of this bawler.”

Eldar tried to get up. “Don’t go up there! You have no business there!”

“Okay, then we’ll wait for you. Now, lie down quietly so that we can remove your boot!”

“Stop touching me! Haven’t you done us enough evil already?”

“We truly feel sorry for the loss of your relative. We found him in the forest. The farmhands at Graastensholm had no right to shoot at you.”

“He was lucky,” hissed Eldar. “I’ll lose my hand because of this. Nothing but evil has come from you.”

Villemo suddenly looked determined. “You listen to me, you pigheaded fool! My great-granddad sentenced your great-granddad to death for incest. That was fifty years ago! Do you think it’s something worth brooding over now?”

“He did more than that. He also took the farm from us.”

“No, he didn’t. And you know perfectly well that he didn’t. Your great-granddad had mismanaged the farm so badly that it had to be sold at an auction, and my great-granddad wasn’t involved in that. Didn’t he give you the Black Forest instead – because he felt sorry for your great-granddad’s innocent family? You certainly didn’t seem to mind accepting the Black Forest!”

“That was the least he could have done. But we came under Graastensholm. Don’t forget that – we who had been free farmers before. So he knew how to humiliate us.”

“That’s just so unreasonable that I can’t even be bothered to answer you. Lift your leg, for heaven’s sake!”

“I’m damned if I will. You just stay away!”

Villemo spluttered like a powder keg. “Lift your leg, you damned idiot,” she bellowed so that it echoed in the forest. At the same time she lifted his leg and pulled off his boot in one single go. Eldar screamed with pain and anger.

Blood poured out of his boot. His whole leg was covered in brown-red, clotted blood. Irmelin brought water from a small stream and washed the leg so that they could see where the wound was. Eldar no longer fought against them. He didn’t have the strength to do so. He lay weak and in pain on his back but still managed to swear like mad at them.

All through the years, Niklas had been careful not to show anybody his healing hands because he didn’t want people to come flocking to him or treating him like a saint. Not even now would he place his hands on Eldar’s scarred, muscular leg as the girls dressed his wound as well as they could. That sourpuss over there had to manage without Niklas’s healing powers.

When the bleeding had stopped and the wound was dressed, they got Eldar on his legs.

“Now, lean against Niklas and me,” said Villemo.

“I’m damned if I will!”

Villemo immediately let go of him and he collapsed and showered her with curses. While the two others pulled him up again, Irmelin said gently, “It’s a long time since I’ve seen you.”

His anger seethed like drops of water on a fire. “No wonder. I’ve been away for several years.”

“In prison, maybe?” said Villemo acidly.

His narrow eyes squinted at her. “No, actually I haven’t. But don’t the younger siblings tend to leave home when they’re almost grown up? I suppose you haven’t heard of that, you spoiled brats! I came home because the suffering was so great where I was working and they didn’t have enough food for everybody. And what did I find? A dying home! That nobody cared about!”

“And so you felt that this justified stealing? Wouldn’t it have been easier to speak to somebody about the terrible state of affairs?”

Eldar had stopped on the slow walk towards his home. He straightened his back and looked down at her. “You don’t understand what it means to be from the Black Forest.”

“Oh, yes we do,” retorted Villemo. “Pride and arrogance and down with everybody else.”

For a short moment she saw something else in his eyes – tired bitterness and resignation. “No,” he said quietly. “No, you haven’t understood anything.”

To her own amazement, she was at a loss for an answer.

Shortly afterwards they could see the small forest farm, The Black Forest, among the trees. Villemo had never been there, she had only seen it at a distance from the top of the mountainous ridge. It was quite a good size, bigger than some of the other farms, but it still belonged to Graastensholm. That meant that the people there had to carry out work on the big farm now and then. But the Black Forest family didn’t turn up very often and the Meidens had had every right to throw them out if they wanted to – but they didn’t. The Meidens didn’t want to make people destitute.

Villemo would shudder every time she had seen this forest farm from some of the vantage points on the ridge. There was an atmosphere of secretive, sickening unpleasantness over the Black Forest. It was of the kind that you don’t speak about in the open.

Everybody knew of the old, appalling story about the ancestor who had abused two of his daughters and lost his head for that reason. The dead man in the forest was the result of the old man’s atrocities against one of the daughters. But that wasn’t the case with Eldar. He was a great-grandchild of the old knave.

Villemo had no idea how many there were in the Black Forest and how the family had branched out. They said that the old sinner’s children were a bit peculiar. But then again, Villemo felt that they were all a bit strange.

The ancestor had owned a large farm in the neighbouring village, so he was equal to the Ice People on Linden Avenue. However, he’d let the farm fall into decay so that it had slipped out of the hands of the kin, and now they were merely called the Black Forest people.

Villemo had always thought that they were all scum. Now she was no longer so sure. Had she had any right to judge them? Eldar’s words just now had made her doubt herself. Did he think that she, just like everybody else in the village, was both appalled and fascinated at the great-grandfather’s awful crime? His family had had to suffer for it – just as the Ice People suffered because of their ancestors.

In a fit of sympathy and some sort of solidarity, she turned towards Eldar. She was met with nothing but hostility. Well, maybe that was to be expected. He was used to reacting defensively against the condemnation of the parish.

She remembered meeting the two siblings, Eldar and Gudrun, many years ago. Irmelin had kindly invited them to go with them to Graastensholm and have some lemonade and cakes. It was Eldar who had hesitated, who had almost given in. His sister was the tough one. She was the one who had immediately severed all possibilities of contact. And now Eldar had become just as aggressive as her. Was that so strange, come to think of it?