Margit Sandemo - The Ice People 09 - Without Roots

“Let’s ask her first,” Mikael said cautiously.

The count gave a sigh of relief.

A sad smile spread over Mikael’s charming face. “You know, of course, that I obey you in everything and I know you’ve always wanted to do the best for me. Besides... ”

“Yes?”

“It would be quite a treat to cheat a prominent man out of a piece of candy.”

“I like that, Mikael!” smiled the Count, putting his arm on the young man’s shoulders. “Come. Let’s find Anette.”

As the Lord Chamberlain and his charming wife entered her rooms together with their foster son, young Anette de Saint-Colombe eagerly wiped the tears from her eyes and got up quickly from her praying position in front of the Virgin Mary. She listened to their proposal in horror.

Mikael Lind of the Ice People? Was it possible that he – one of the most handsome young men at Court – would marry her and release her from her nightmare? Now, everybody who wore trousers, of course, was a possible monster in her view, but if you were forced to subject yourself to their dreadful needs, then this particular monster was far more appealing than most. Her heart pounded, and she hardly dared to look at him. Nevertheless, she found herself looking in his direction, over his body and... She shivered at the thought of what was hidden beneath his beautiful clothes. Feeling guilty, she turned the other way and looked at Marca Christiana.

“Has your guardian officially asked for your hand in marriage?” asked the Count.

“Yes. Well, asked and asked. He’s announced that he’ll come in a few weeks’ time and take me back home as his bride. Here’s the letter.”

“I’m afraid you haven’t received the letter yet,” said Marca Christiana resolutely. “We are completely unaware of his plans. Gabriel and I will now sit down and compose a letter in which he’ll be faced with a fait accompli and you’ll be married within a week. Then Gabriel will send Mikael to the battlefield. So if your guardian turns up, there will be nothing that he can do. Don’t you think he’ll receive our letter before then?”

“Can’t he just declare that the marriage is annulled?” asked Anette, trembling. “Since I haven’t received his blessing?”

Gabriel Oxenstierna bit his lip.

“I believe that we can solve that problem,” said Marca Christiana. “It might not be quite decent towards a deceased person, but... I know that Jacob de la Gardie, who was your guardian, was very fond of Mikael. All we’ll say is that the Lord Chamberlain gave his approval a long time ago.”

“Good heavens,” said Gabriel. “You’re crazy. Don’t do something like that – can’t we ask his widow?”

“No,” said Marca Christiana quickly, “Anette didn’t get along with her very well.”

Jacob de la Gardie’s widow was Ebba Brahe. In her older years, Countess Ebba had become very stuck-up and judgemental of a person’s station in life. She was bound to object to Mikael’s humble birth.

“Surely we can’t lie about a person who’s passed away!” said Gabriel.

“Oh, it’s just a white lie,” said Marca Christiana lightly.

“No, I won’t have it,” said her husband. “Marca, sometimes your morals are... ”

‘They’re discussing this over our heads,’ thought Mikael. ‘I won’t go through with it, I just won’t! And what about her, what does she want? A moment ago, she looked as if she thought I’d devour her!’

He cast a quick glance at her. She sat with a downcast glance. Her nose was red and the handkerchief in her hand was soaking wet. She seemed stiff and anaemic; her mouth was pursed, her back straight, and her demeanour almost hostile. She was certainly not the kind of girl he would have chosen.

Could he spend his whole life with her? Only he couldn’t pull out now. It was not in Mikael’s nature to hurt other people. The girl would just be sad, and he wanted so much to obey his foster parents.

Anette was thinking along the same lines. ‘What does he want himself? He hasn’t said anything but he doesn’t seem overly keen.’

If, however, she was forced to make a choice, then the decision wouldn’t be difficult. She shuddered at the thought of her guardian in France. His portly belly, his double chin, the bare top of his head under the wig, his bad breath. But worst of all was his unpleasant disposition. The eyes that followed all young girls, his discreet groping of any woman within reach, his moaning and noisy chewing at the dinner table, his boasting about his wealth and noble birth.

He probably wasn’t so rich anymore. It was reported that he’d squandered his family fortune. And now he’d set his eyes on her fortune.

Mikael...? She tried to think clearly and forget all the terrible things that were hidden under his clothes. Of course, he wasn’t as well off as she was, and he was certainly not of noble birth. Although his mother, the Countess of Breuburg, had been of distinguished birth, his father hadn’t been at all. So for Anette it was a step down the social ladder.

What would her dear mother have said? She who considered not being born noble the worst thing of all. Nevertheless, she felt a tiny glimmer of hope. Mikael was nice. She knew that. He seemed slightly absent-minded and actually not at all interested in her until now. She’d never regarded him as a danger. But now he was suddenly asking for her hand in marriage. Anette was totally confused.

She turned towards Marca Christiana. With a voice that she meant to sound in charge, but was weak after all her weeping, she said: “Is Mr. Mikael of the right faith?”

“Certainly,” answered the Countess. ‘The right faith is a relative notion,’ she thought.

The answer calmed her.

Before she’d had time to think for herself, she said in a mixture of French and Swedish. “Oh, I hope you’re not doing this out of pity, because I couldn’t bear it!”

The two adults lost their composure for a moment then looked pleadingly at Mikael. Mikael started but quickly pulled himself together. “No, of course not. This is something I’ve wanted for a long time.”

Heavens, where did those lies come from? And so readily? Now he was inextricably trapped.

Gabriel Oxenstierna said doubtfully, “What do we do about the guardian? We haven’t solved that problem yet.”

“He’ll probably declare that the marriage should be annulled,” said Marca Christiana. “We need to think carefully – all of us.”

“True. Anyway, you have our blessing, dear children. Anette, if you’re willing to go ahead with the plan, then put your hand in Mikael’s. And, Mikael, you take Anette’s hand.”

Timid as a roe deer, Anette stretched out her small hand, placing it carefully in Mikael’s. She gave a start when she felt his dangerous, masculine warmth but she controlled herself. “By the will of God,” she whispered. After a slight hesitation, Mikael closed his hand around hers. The pact was sealed.

Marca Christiana kissed both of them on the cheek. “Blessed children! Now we really must find a way for Anette to escape her dreadful guardian.”

The solution came quicker than they had anticipated. That same evening, Mikael was on his way through the empty corridors of the palace and halls to fetch a bottle of wine for Marca Christiana. The Queen and her cousin Carl Gustav were expected back the following day. The Queen’s entourage, with Master of the Royal Hunt Gabriel Oxenstierna at the head, had left to meet them at Braaviken. The servants had spent all day readying the palace for their homecoming and had now retired for the night. So the palace was practically deserted.

Mikael had passed the ghostlike banqueting hall and walked in his stockinged feet towards the kitchens. His candle had burned out, but he knew the palace well and the moonlight shone through the small peepholes.