Margit Sandemo: The Ice People 11 - Blood Feud

Something happened when she was on her fourth trip to mother Sigbrit’s place. It was a warm day at the height of summer, as she sauntered slowly and pensively through the long grass in the forest on her way home from the old woman’s house. The empty milk pail dangled against her leg and the grass tickled her bare feet. The path was edged with the violet flowers of the tufted vetches. In the darkness among the trees, coy bluebells peeked out from the black earth.

In the midst of all this beauty, Villemo felt more lonely than ever. The one person she had hoped to share all of this with was gone. He lay in a cold grave far away on the plains of Romerike.

The path she was walking on grew narrower as the trees grew closer on either side. All of a sudden she stopped. She heard horses’ hooves galloping along the path behind her. She turned to see a rider in black, sitting upon a huge, muscular horse that was galloping wildly toward her. It looked like he had no intention of stopping.

Villemo stood stock still for a moment, completely stunned. ‘Well, stop for heaven’s sake,’ she thought. ‘Can’t you see me?’

He could see her alright. He had wrapped a scarf over his face, leaving only the eyes showing. Those eyes were focused directly at her with utmost determination. He spurred the horse on.

Finally, Villemo realised what was happening. She ran like mad along the path, but knew that there was quite a distance before it would start to grow wider – and by then it would be too late. She could already hear the horse’s snort in her ear as she threw herself to one side and plunged into the prickling, dense thicket of spruce. She screwed her eyes shut to protect them against the prickly twigs and managed to push through them. As she felt her arms, legs and ears getting scratched and cut, she heard the horse stop. But the rider couldn’t turn on that narrow path, and he certainly couldn’t pursue her on the horse.

Villemo was already far from the path, forcing her way through the underwood. She broke small fir trees, plodded through black swamps and didn’t see where she was walking because she couldn’t keep her eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time. Her feet were torn to pieces from all the trampling, but the rider seemed to have given up. He had been so big and broad that he hadn’t been able to force his way through this jungle of a forest.

Villemo’s breathing was wheezy from fatigue. She mostly inched her way on her hands and knees over boulders and through shrubs; she ran for her life, stumbled, crawled, got up and ran once more. Then all of a sudden things started to look more bright – and Graastensholm lay in front of her not too far away.

She ventured a glance back across the meadow from which the rider would have emerged. But he wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

Tired, torn and bruised, her beautiful hair tangled in a knot full of spruce needles and twigs, she tumbled into Graastensholm. She stopped in the hall in order to catch her breath. But nobody seemed to have registered her arrival. This offended her somewhat in the midst of all her fear, because she had never before managed to make such a dramatic entrance.

Then she heard angry voices from the big drawing room. It was most unusual for anyone to raise their voice at Graastensholm. Mattias and Hilde were both very peaceful individuals. But whatever was happening now, it was clear that nobody had time for her. They had their own drama to contend with. Villemo remained standing there, wavering, until the door suddenly opened and Irmelin, howling in tears, rushed past her and up the stairs without so much as even noticing her.

Villemo entered the drawing room cautiously where deep silence now reigned. Irmelin’s parents were there together with Niklas, whose face was red and had a defiant expression. Nobody said anything as Villemo entered.

“I’m sorry if I’ve come at an awkward moment ...”

Irmelin’s father, Mattias, pulled himself together.

“Heavens, Villemo. What’s happened to you? Have you been in an accident?”

Villemo felt that this wasn’t the right time to be thinking of herself. Their problem seemed to be bigger.

“No, it’s nothing. I stumbled over a rock, that’s all. But why do you all look so agitated? Has anything happened?”

Mattias and Hilde looked at one another.

“You might as well be told now, because you’ll find out about it sooner or later,” said Mattias. His kind eyes were sad. “Niklas has asked for Irmelin’s hand in marriage. And I’m afraid we had to decline.”

Thoughts buzzed in Villemo’s head.

“Niklas and Irmelin? Do they plan to marry? I had no idea that-”

“No” Niklas said, unusually agitated. “You wouldn’t have noticed anything lately, you’ve been much too self-absorbed for that. But we’ve been close for many years, so you really should have known about it.”

“I- I-,” she stuttered sadly.

“Villemo has problems of her own,” Hilde said, trying to smooth things over.

“Yes, don’t we know about it,” Niklas hissed.

She chose not to be hurt. Actually, he was quite right that she had been too focussed on her own problems.

“Why aren’t you allowed to get married?” Villemo asked.

Irmelin’s father sighed.

“It won’t do. Those two are far too closely related.”

“I don’t think they are,” Villemo objected.

“Well, even so, that is how matters stand,” Mattias insisted. “I know that my father once stood here just like Niklas today. My father wanted to marry Sol’s daughter, Sunniva. Tengel was said to be furious. But it was too late. Sunniva was with child and they were forced to get married. Then Sunniva gave birth to a stricken child, Kolgrim, and died in childbirth.”

“But surely they were more closely related than Niklas and Irmelin are?”

“Yes, a generation less. They were related three times removed while Irmelin and Niklas are related four times removed. Besides, Tarald and Sunniva were far more burdened by the legacy because they were Tengel’s grandson and Sol’s daughter. But even so, Villemo! We can’t take the risk!”

“I think it’s unfair!” Villemo cried. “They’re so well suited for one another.”

“So were Tarald and Sunniva, and it was still a disaster. No, I’m afraid we’ll have to say no despite the fact that we’re very fond of Niklas.”

Villemo wondered why she had been so blind about Niklas and Irmelin. There must have been plenty of signs that she should have picked up! Even long ago, when she had asked Niklas to kiss her, she should have sensed where his heart actually lay.

Did she feel jealous about it? No, not at all. She’d never been in love with Niklas. She considered him a terribly proper and correct young man, and she admired him, but that was all she felt for him. He was a relative and her childhood friend.

Mattias was obviously troubled by the situation. He turned to Niklas and said “I’m sure that your parents will agree with us.”

Niklas just remained standing in the same spot, looking angry and lost. “When we get around to talking with them, then we’ll see. Can I go up to Irmelin’s room?”

Mattias and Hilde hesitated.

“Yes, certainly. But please don’t act rashly!”

He nodded tersely and left the room.

Mattias rubbed his eyes. Both he and Hilde seemed deeply saddened.

“And what about you, Villemo?” he asked absentmindedly. “You look like you’re in bad shape. I think we ought to take a look at your wounds, don’t you?”

“No, it’s not that bad, nothing that I can’t wash away myself. I’ll do that when I get back home. But I’d be grateful if I could take a moment to tidy myself up. I want to look more presentable when Mum sees me.”