Margit Sandemo: The Ice People 10 - Winter Storm

Filled with an unfathomable sense of emptiness, she went out once more to help unload the carriage. Why had she come to the forest anyway? She could no longer remember.

Gudrun and Eldar stood on the ridge above the houses, each with a bundle of dried twigs for lighting the fire.

“There are those damned Ice People brats,” Gudrun said with narrow, hateful eyes. “Do they need to feel noble and important again?”

Eldar didn’t say anything. He had a frozen expression on his face. “They make me so mad,” continued Gudrun. “I really feel the urge to show them a thing or two. It would serve them right.”

“Serve them right for what?” Eldar said sharply.

“You know very well what for. All the humiliation, all their sickening benevolence.”

“It’s thanks to them that you’re alive.”

“Now listen, Eldar! What’s the matter with you?”

“Maybe I have a different view of the world because I’ve been away for so long.”

“I’ve been away for several years too. But I haven’t changed my opinion!”

“No, you haven’t ...” said Eldar.

Gudrun had been in Christiania. Her life there hadn’t exactly been anything to write home about. Now she was back because the male customers no longer desired her. She was sick and haggard, and suffered with scabies and worse. Her state of health was clear for anyone who saw her without any clothes on. But otherwise she was an exceptionally striking woman to look at, with her wild eyes and her curly hair, which reached all the way down to her knees. Before she had become ill, she was eating well and was voluptuous. She had lived a pleasant life in Christiania for as long as it lasted. In her opinion, the Black Forest was a hole, but now it was her only option.

Her eyes glimmered with an idea, which made Eldar uneasy.

“Maybe I should ...”

“Should what?” he asked hastily.

“Maybe I should test them a bit.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“That lout down there!” She laughed coldly. “What do you think that posh family would say if he came home with the marks of shame?”

“Gudrun! Are you crazy? You can’t do that!”

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” she cooed.

“Niklas from Linden Avenue? He’d never fall for you. Never!”

“No, I realise that. He wasn’t the one I had in mind.”

“Who then?”

Eldar looked down at the crowd of young men who walked back and forth between the carriage and the barn. None of the people in the houses helped them.

“Do you mean that young one down there? Who’s he?”

“I know who he is. My sisters recognised him. He’s one of the Danes. Paladin.”

“But for heaven’s sake. You can’t do that! I – I forbid it!”

She looked at him coldly. “My word, you’re really complaining, aren’t you! Maybe you’ve got a particular interest in him?”

“Don’t be so stupid! Don’t you realise what you’re getting yourself into? Haven’t we erred enough already?”

“Do you mean Woller? What’s that got to do with this? Come on, let’s go down.”

“No, I don’t want to go down while they’re here.”

“Then I’ll go on my own.”

“Gudrun, you leave the boy alone! Nothing good will come of it.”

“Not for them, no. That’s the idea.”

“No good will come of it for us either. I won’t allow it! I’ll kill you!”

She moved closer, in a threatening way. “Listen, Eldar. Why this sudden weakness?”

“It’s not weakness. I hate them just as much as you do. It just makes sense, Gudrun!”

The expression on her face alternated between fervent revenge and slyness. “Alright then, I won’t. I’ll leave now. Care to come with me?”

“No, I can’t stand them. I’ll wait till they’ve left.”

Gudrun walked down the trail and entered the courtyard.

“Oh, I see,” she said mockingly. “Have shopkeepers come to the farm?”

Villemo’s eyes, which for a second had radiated hope, now looked sad. All she had done was explain the reason why they had come as kindly as she could.

“How noble,” said Gudrun as her eyes sparkled at young Tristan. “Is he a relative of yours?”

“Yes, he’s my cousin, Tristan Paladin.”

“Is that so? The last time I saw him he was only seven or eight years old. Hello,” she said as she stretched out her hand. “I’m Gudrun. Welcome!”

Tristan blushed like a beetroot. He didn’t make a point of saying that a girl from a farm does not normally shake hands with a Paladin. She should have dropped him a deep and submissive curtsy. Even so, he took her hand and bowed courteously the way he had been taught at court.

Gudrun’s smile was promising. Villemo wondered where this sudden expression of kindness came from, but she had no time to talk. She filled the sack with the last of the corn and carried it over to the barn.

Gudrun stayed behind, talking to the extremely shy Tristan. He squirmed with embarrassment – never in his life had he seen anything so beautiful. Then she disappeared indoors because Niklas came back from the barn.

“Well, that’s it,” said Niklas.

The farmer appeared. “We’ll pay for all this,” he said aggressively. “We won’t accept handouts.”

Niklas regarded him pensively and then he nodded.

“Of course. We’re not talking about handouts. It’s our duty to pay our farmers their wages. Will you come down on Tuesday in fourteen days’ time and you can work for a few days in the stable at Linden Avenue? The one wall looks as if it’s about to give in and the winter storms can be harsh. It needs repairing before then.”

“We’ll come,” said the farmer grumpily.

Villemo climbed reluctantly and slowly up into the carriage. Now she no longer had any reason to go up to the Black Forest. She sat quietly on the way home through the forest. So did Tristan, but she didn’t notice that. The two others talked eagerly with each other.

Suddenly she looked up, gave a start and felt herself blush. A figure blocked the road. Niklas brought the oxen to a halt.

“Where have you been?” said Eldar sternly, although he knew this perfectly well.

Niklas replied calmly: “We’ve sold some barley and seed corn to your dad.”

“Sold?”

“In return, you’ll come and work on Linden Avenue for a few days. Building work. Will you be coming?”

Eldar looked as if he was about to blow up in protest but he managed to compose himself. “We’ll see.”

Then he let them pass. He had only cast a quick glance at Villemo. But when she turned back, she saw him standing on the forest road. Their eyes met and Villemo wasn’t one to look away. She felt a dizzying abyss in front of her as she looked into the narrow, hostile eyes that glided farther and farther away as the carriage moved on. A curve in the road broke their eye contact faster than she would have wanted.

The rest of the way she sat quietly, full of inner joy, all the way to the gate at Graastensholm. Then her bubbling joie de vivre forced her to stretch out her arms towards the sky with a violent jerk and a shout of joy.

“Is it so wonderful to be back home?” Niklas asked wryly. “It’s true those people are truly awful.”

Villemo didn’t answer. She felt she was invincible.

Chapter 3

The trip to the Black Forest had taken place on Thursday. That Saturday was eventful too. Villemo, who was on her way to Irmelin at Graastensholm, saw a foreign horse outside the estate. Irmelin ran to meet her in the entrance hall.

“Guess who’s here, Villemo!”

“No, I can’t. I saw the horse but ...”

She fell silent. A tall man stood in the door to the drawing room. His golden eyes regarded Villemo with a kind, jolly smile.