Margit Sandemo - The Ice People 14 - The Knight

Jochum’s nervousness, his hectic restlessness and his furious attacks on her in recent days ...? Could Miss Kruusedige be pregnant?

A half-sister or half-brother for young Marina? Undoubtedly a half-brother because Miss Kruusedige would probably have sons. Only Hildegard would have a daughter.

Her heart was bursting with love for the little girl.

Was this why his need to give his mistress decent status was urgent?

Oh, bitterness. Your sobs are so unbearable!

The king ... Jochum ... The elegant noblemen who danced over there ... She recognized several of them and it wasn’t their wives they bowed so seductively towards.

Sleaze and indecency wherever you looked!

Her eyes briefly rested on Count Ruckelberg. Although he was repulsive to look at with his wobbly chins and stomach, he had at least one redeeming feature: his name had never been linked to any kind of immorality.

A few chambermaids, little more than children, whose job it was to light the fires in the morning, might have said something different if only they had had the courage to do so ...

At that moment Hildegard happened to turn round and caught the purest and saddest glance in the world.

Only for a brief second. But once more it was enough to make her calm and feel something that might be called happiness.

Tristan Paladin. The knight of sorrow. Hildegard began to imagine how he came to be so sad; she didn’t know anything of him, so she could only guess.

In the noisy, steamy hall that reeked of perfume and sweat, Hildegard felt calm at last. She leaned against the high back of the sofa and closed her eyes. Without realizing it, she sank into deep unconsciousness, and at first nobody noticed the state of the clumsy, unimpressive woman.

Chapter 2

While the glittering, colourful ball was taking place in the hall, the castle’s commandant stood next to the court physician, gazing over the courtyard from a window in the stairway.

“I see that all your men are on guard today,” the physician said.

The commandant looked about to make sure nobody could hear him. Then he said:

“Yes. An occasion like this one is always difficult. His Majesty is in greater danger now than usual.”

The commandant was a nondescript person. A man in uniform. Middle-aged, of average height, average in every way. The physician was rounder, more interested in people noticing him and therefore dressed more ostentatiously, with an authoritatively protruding chin. However, there was nothing unsympathetic about either of them.

“You haven’t got hold of them yet?” the court physician asked discreetly.

“No. All we hear are rumours. Rumours and gossip. But we daren’t let up on our vigilance.”

“I can well understand. If only half of what is talked about in corners is true, then they’re extremely dangerous.”

They looked over the streets of the city, on the other side of the courtyard. There, where it faced the street, the courtyard was bordered with dense leafy trees that cast deep shadows over the gates. A small inn stood in the deep shadows and under the trees they could make out three men in dark capes. Three men who, because of the shadows, seemed unnaturally tall.

“They’re the ones people are whispering about, right?” the court physician asked in a low voice as if the men could hear them.

The commandant shuddered slightly. “They’ve been standing there for a week now. My men have approached them, but before they reach them, they disappear. As if they were all nothing but ... shadows. An optical illusion from the castle up here.”

“And you assume that they belong to the secret order?”

“Assume?” The commandant was slightly hesitant in his reply. “That’s what’s being said.”

“What is it this sect call themselves: ‘Guardians of the true religion’?”

“No, no. It’s not a sect but an order. They call themselves ‘The Guardians of the Rightful Throne’.”“An attack on the King then. Do they have another candidate for the throne?”

“It’s much worse than that!”

“I know so little about them,” the physician said. “Don’t they have an air of occultism about them?”

“Yes, precisely. But you know how rumours can distort things.”

“Sometimes it’s wise to listen to the rumours. Tell me about them. I’m no better myself.”

The commandant smiled wryly. Then he turned serious. “We’ve many kinds of orders in Denmark. Esoteric ... “

“What does that mean?”

“That they surround themselves in secrecy and that their rituals are only for the initiates. Most of these societies do good deeds out of the public eye. But these Guardians of the Rightful Throne are a different matter. They’re downright venomous and deadly dangerous. Certainly, according to the rumours about them. Nobody knows anything for certain.”

“What is it that makes them so dangerous?”

“They’ve been digging too deeply. Have you ever heard people speak about the bog men?”

“Oh, absolutely.” The physician smiled. “You mean those creatures that live in bogs and under the moors?”

“The indigenous population of Denmark, yes. Those who lived here before human beings spread into Denmark – and who then went underground. These legends exist in many countries. In Norway they’re called wood spirits. In England and Ireland, they’re known as elves. The Celts knew about them. We also have elves in Denmark.”“What have they to do with the Guardians of the Rightful Throne then? How do they fit with that kind of belief?”

“Now listen. Whether you want to believe this or not is up to you. These Guardians have found old manuscripts, very old things in which a lot of witchcraft is involved. Of course, it’s primitive and stupid. But they follow old rituals, make sacrifices and horrible things of that kind when they gather. Their principle objective is to reinstall the bog men in their rightful place. To give them back their land.”

“Good heavens,” the physician moaned. “Stupid rumours!”

“Well, I’m inclined to believe that it’s these Guardians that are stupid. They’re the ones who believe in the bog men. The rumours assert that the Guardians have been in touch with these mystical indigenous beings. Of course it’s not true, but the Guardians seem to believe in it.”

“What are they actually planning to do?”

“Overthrow the King. Kill him ritually. Then the bog men can occupy the castle and their king can be installed on the throne.”

“But these are old wives’ tales!”

“I’m not so sure. Of course, it’s nothing but fantasy; bog men don’t exist. However, the threat to the King is very real. These fantasists are serious about their objective.”

“Are there many of them?”

“We don’t know.”

“But the castle is well guarded!”

The commandant’s expression became stony. He looked out of the window again at the three long shadows. “There is an unpleasant rumour that they are also inside the castle. That they’ve infiltrated the court and the life guards.”

“Good heavens!” the physician whispered. “That is frightening!”

“If only I could find out where they hold their meetings,” the commandant said absently. “Then we could capture them all at once. It makes no sense to seize one here and another there. They’ll simply multiply like mosquitoes on a summer evening.”

“Well, honestly, I think the rumours must be groundless. An alliance that’s so secretive would never allow so many rumours to escape about itself.”

The commandant looked at him, eyes expressionless. “We know where the rumours come from. We know the source. A young man, more adventurous than intelligent. The day after the Guardians’ existence came out into the open, he was found dead. Hanged head down like a slaughtered animal on a house wall. Emptied of blood.”