Margit Sandemo: The Ice People 10 - Winter Storm

Winter Storm

The Legend of The Ice People 10 - Winter Storm

© Margit Sandemo 1982

© eBook in English: Jentas A/S, 2017

Series: The Legend of The Ice People

Title: Winter Storm

Title number: 10

Original title: Vinterstorm

Translator: Anna Halager

© Translation: Jentas A/S

ISBN: 978-87-7107-444-4

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchase.

All contracts and agreements regarding the work, translation, editing, and layout are owned by Jentas A/S.

Acknowledgement

The Legend of the Ice People is dedicated with love and gratitude to the memory of my dear late husband, Asbjorn Sandemo, who made my life a fairy tale.

Margit Sandemo

The Ice People - Reviews

‘Margit Sandemo is, simply, quite wonderful.’

- The Guardian

‘Full of convincing characters, well established in time and place, and enlightening ... will get your eyes popping, and quite possibly groins twitching ... these are graphic novels without pictures ... I want to know what happens next.’

- The Times

‘A mixture of myth and legend interwoven with historical events, this is imaginative creation that involves the reader from the first page to the last.’

- Historical Novels Review

‘Loved by the masses, the prolific Margit Sandemo has written over 172 novels to date and is Scandinavia's most widely read author...’

- Scanorama magazine

The Legend of the Ice People

The legend of the Ice People begins many centuries ago with Tengel the Evil. He was ruthless and greedy, and there was only one way to get everything that he wanted: he had to make a pact with the Devil. He travelled far into the wilderness and summoned the Devil with a magic potion that he had brewed in a pot. Tengel the Evil gained unlimited wealth and power but in exchange, he cursed his own family. One of his descendants in every generation would serve the Devil with evil deeds. When it was done, Tengel buried the pot. If anyone found it, the curse would be broken.

So the curse was passed down through Tengel’s descendants, the Ice People. One person in every generation was born with yellow cat’s eyes, a sign of the curse, and magical powers which they used to serve the Devil. One day the most powerful of all the cursed Ice People would be born.

This is what the legend says. Nobody knows whether it is true, but in the 16th century, a cursed child of the Ice People was born. He tried to turn evil into good, which is why they called him Tengel the Good. This legend is about his family. Actually, it is mostly about the women in his family – the women who held the fate of the Ice People in their hands.

Chapter 1

Villemo, Gabriella and Kaleb’s only child, woke up at daybreak when somebody threw a stone at the window pane.

She got out of bed, but immediately staggered and had to hold on to the wall. She was used to feeling light-headed. It was because of the hunger that was eating her away inside and taxing her strength. Villemo had grown up to become an extremely strong-willed young woman.

In 1673, the village was ravaged by a terrible famine following several years of the crop failure. Elistrand, where Villemo lived, was better off than most of the other farms in the parish because the farm had had great resources to draw on. But Villemo was stubborn. She shared what she had with others as much as she could and found a kind of sickening, ascetic joy in torturing herself.

It was beginning to show. She was seventeen years old, with a peculiarly fascinating appearance, but now she was beginning to look emaciated. Her glossy red hair had turned dull, her golden-green eyes were hollow and her complexion had turned sallow.

Yet her disposition shone with an inner glow which was quite frightening. It showed in her impatient movements, as if she was holding back something powerful within her, in her impetuous way of talking, and in her intense eyes. In her whole demeanour, you sensed that terrible force, like a volcano filled with pent-up lava.

She walked over to the window. Niklas and Irmelin, her cousins, who were one year older than her and from Linden Avenue and Graastensholm, were outside. Villemo signalled that she would join them.

She got dressed quickly and casually. Villemo wasn’t very particular about how she looked. She was clean and that was enough. Gabriella had often been exasperated by her unruly daughter.

The young girl was plagued by her zest for life. There was a yearning in her for something which she knew was hidden in the future, something wonderful which she longed to experience. When others spoke of love, she knew that she didn’t have the same conception of it as they did. Love to her was something uncompromising, something where you gave everything of yourself, something that was so entirely all-consuming that you became love itself. She had never experienced it – but she was waiting ...

She was out in the courtyard. It was cold and the air was nippy. The first autumn nights had come creeping in with thin ice on the puddles of water and frozen blades of grass.

“Hi,” she said, realising once again that Niklas had turned into a very charming young man. She found him fascinating with his slanted, yellow eyes. “What’s the matter? Why are you up and about so early?”

“Thieves visited Graastensholm last night,” he said.

“I’m not surprised. Was it for food?”

“That was probably what they hoped to find,” Irmelin said. “But they didn’t have time to take anything.”

“What a bunch of fools,” Villemo said. “They know your dad shares what he has with all the farms. Did you see who they were?”

“They think they were from the Black Forest.”

“I can well imagine! What sort of twisted pride do those people have? They refuse to accept any help from us, but they can steal alright! Anyway, why are you here?”

“Dad’s visiting patients,” Irmelin said. “And Mum was up so late last night that I didn’t want to disturb her. So I thought we could do something.”

“Such as?”

“Well, you see, our men shot at the thieves and hit them. We can see traces of blood right up to the forest.”

“My God! Wait and I’ll fetch a few small items. Irmelin, have you got something we can use to dress a wound?”

“Yes, I brought some things from Dad’s supplies. But I think that both the thieves were wounded. Do hurry up!”

Villemo quickly returned with a basket and they all ran towards Graastensholm. She was the weakest of the three, but she grit her teeth and tried not to lag behind.

Irmelin from Graastensholm was a gentle and beautiful girl, who was strongly built like her paternal grandmother, Yrja, but with a quiet, engaging disposition. She was extremely strong and so was Niklas since he was of Are’s kin.

“Have you heard anything from Dominic?” panted Villemo as they slowed down the pace slightly – for her sake, which she knew although they were nice enough not to say anything.

“Yes,” answered Niklas. “He wrote that he’ll be back sometime next autumn.”

“Good. It’ll be nice to see him again. It’s been three years since I saw him last.”

Actually, she wasn’t so sure that it would be nice. Dominic always managed to rub her up the wrong way.

Niklas went on. “He’ll be on his own this time. You’ll remember that Uncle Mikael and Aunt Anette took it very badly when Marca Christiana passed away last year. And now Gabriel Oxenstierna’s also gone. They’re very depressed and don’t want to travel anywhere right now.”