Margit Sandemo - The Ice People 09 - Without Roots

‘Mum, help me!’ Anette thought. ‘I’m totally confused. He talks so nicely to me, as if I’m his equal. What is it he wants? When will I have to face all the terrible and grotesque things you told me about?’

“And now you’re married, just because they asked you to do so,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Yes, I married a lady of noble descent who is far above me in rank. I hope you realise, Anette, that I’m not a rich man. I received an inheritance from my mother and even a small amount from my father, so that I can make ends meet, but that’s about all. However, whatever you might think of me, I want you to know that I haven’t married you because of your money.”

Anette was actually quite spontaneous by nature. For a brief moment she couldn’t feel her mother’s shadow over her. “I don’t think you did,” she exclaimed impulsively. “I think you married me because you’re a kind, God-fearing soul who wants to obey your benefactors and save yourself from a terrible fate.”

She had got up and was now standing next to him by the leaded window pane. Mikael turned towards her.

“Yes, I suppose that’s how it is. You must feel humiliated.”

“In a way, yes. But it’s just as bad for you. I said yes without any scruples. I clutched at a straw.”

She fell silent, shocked at her own openness. For the first time that day, Mikael gave her a very frank smile. He took her face in his hands, concealing the trembling that he felt.

“Then we’re equal. I’m happy about that. It would have been worse if one of us had been unhappily in love with the other. That would be truly debasing.”

She also smiled cautiously and her small, pale face expressed a tenderness which he had not thought it was capable of showing.

“The Virgin Mary will help us,” she said.

Mikael glanced at the silent virgin up on the wall, wondering whether she would also be present later that night. He wished he could take the picture down.

They turned towards the window once more and stood quietly while they looked in the direction of Brunkeberg, where the old place of execution was. It was at Brunkeberg that Sten Sture had defeated Denmark’s King Christian I in a decisive battle almost two hundred years ago. Now the ridge had been partially dug up and a lot of houses had mushroomed on the steep slopes of the ridge. The town between the bridges, where the palace was situated, was almost not big enough to cope with the burgeoning population. The few farms on Normalm were getting more and more neighbours.

They stood silently as they gazed out of the window for a while.

“I’m glad that we’ve had the chance to talk to each other for a while,” said Mikael quietly. “I’m sure you understand that I’m not the type to demand my right without being considerate.”

She gave a frightened nod and shuddered once more. He meant the abominations, whatever they consisted of. She eagerly welcomed every delay, but was at the same time prepared to endure the worst.

Mikael did not dare to mention how helpless he actually felt. “Tell me something about yourself, Anette.”

She shrugged her shoulders, making a childish, resigning grimace.

“You see,” he went on so as to hide his own insecurity. “From the little I know of you, I get the impression that you-”

He was silent. He had been about to say: “that you’re a little fool who whines whenever you’re forced even a little outside your own conventions.” But he had not said it because he sensed that Anette was a very sensitive girl.

Instead he said: “...that you keep within the conventions that the Church has laid down. The few times I’ve heard you speak, when you’re together with other members of the Court, you’ve said something along the lines of: ‘No, surely you can’t do that. Oh, dear. You mustn’t speak like that. You can’t dress like that!’ And most of all: ‘It’s not the proper thing to do.’”

Her cheeks gained a bit of colour for a change. “Those weren’t kind words!”

“Maybe it wasn’t the right thing for me to say?”

“No, it most certainly wasn’t!”

The corners of her mouth moved slightly. He smiled at her.

“There’s nothing wrong with knowing how one should behave, is there?” she asked defensively. However, it was her mother she had in mind, the shadow that hovered over her.

He didn’t answer.

“Yet, in spite of everything, you decided to marry me?” she asked bluntly.

“I thought we’d discussed that.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

They sat quietly for a while as Mikael looked expectantly at her.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I suppose I am conventional. I do like an orderly life and norms to stick to, including my religion and my good upbringing. We were well above everybody else in my French hometown. My Mum saw to it that all conventions were observed. I got a rap over the knuckles with a ruler if I was too exuberant when I was a young child. I had to wear starched dresses with high collars. Oh, those dresses chafed me all over. I was taught discipline, but I was a lively kid through and through.”

That was something Mikael could well imagine, judging from the giggling young women of the palace.

“My Mum was very strong,” she said dreamingly. “So incredibly strong-willed. She was...” She searched for the words.

Mikael was able to guess the rest of what Anette wanted to say. He thought that she had been subdued and castigated. Only he didn’t say that because it would seem that Anette looked upon her mother as something holy and inviolable.

Now that she had opened up, she spoke willingly about herself. Mikael wondered whether he should lead her towards the bed, but didn’t do so. He was still shrinking from doing what he, deep down, regarded as the worst test in this sudden list of obligations.

So they remained standing – he leaned up against the window sill while he looked at her, she with her hands against the window frame, gazing towards the Strömmen.

“I hardly remember my dad,” she continued. She began speaking more quickly, stumbling over the words, as the young girls at Court did, almost apologising for speaking seriously. “He passed away suddenly so my Mum was alone with me. She was a domineering woman. She managed the palace and the village single-handedly. When she died a few years ago, one of her relatives was made my guardian. But by then I was on my way here because my Dad’s cousin, Jacob de la Gardie, had visited us in France and brought me with him. And when my Mum died, I wanted to stay here, which made my guardian furious but Uncle Jacob was Rigsmarsk and could do as he pleased. I begged him earnestly not to send me back to that terrible man in France. Then Uncle Jacob also passed away, and suddenly I was all on my own. I would have languished if I didn’t have the Virgin Mary to watch over me.”

‘Languished?’ thought Mikael. ‘What a word to choose!’

“What about your palace? Your village?” he asked.

“The palace isn’t mine. Women can’t inherit it. It belongs to a three-year old boy who is a distant relative.”

“Not to your guardian?”

“No, he’s a relative on my Mum’s side.”

“I see.”

Mikael thought that it was actually quite nice that she didn’t own a palace in the south of France. Then they did not have to think about that obligation... Now and then he would wonder if he was lazy. No, it was the deep sorrow within him that made him indifferent about life.

“What about the Rigsmarsk’s widow, Ebba Brahe, and her offspring? Surely they’re a great comfort to you?” he asked.

“No, they have their own lives. The only one who took care of me was Uncle Jacob.”

“And now there’s me,” said Mikael, startled. It was only now that it had dawned on him.