Margit Sandemo - The Ice People 14 - The Knight

The princess leaned closer. Her face wore an almost yearning expression now.

“No, no,” Tristan said dismissively. “I don’t want to raise your hopes. Those of my relatives who have these abilities live in Norway. There’s also my crazy cousin, Villemo, in Sweden, but she’s not a medical expert; she has a different expertise, and heaven knows what that is. But I do have a cousin who has healing hands ...”

“Oh, please bring her here, for heaven’s sake!”

“Him, it’s a man! That might not be possible, but I’ve thought of something else ...”

“What?” Princess Hildegard’s eagerness almost frightened him.

“I learned a lot, almost involuntarily, during the times I visited my family in Norway. And I’ve a vague recollection of some herbs they spoke of.”

Princess Hildegard had seized his arm with an intensity that couldn’t be good for her. “Herbs? For heaven’s sake, Margrave, please try to remember what they are! I ask you not for my own sake, because my life isn’t such a bed of roses that I wish to hang on to it at all costs. But I have a young daughter whom I’ve been forced to neglect quite a lot, which has hurt me enormously. I want to survive for her and see to it that she is all right. Do you understand me?”

Tristan Paladin looked down on her moon face. Her desperation showed vividly in her eyes, which were narrowed like two slits. Her face was a grotesque sight, and he understood only too well, what it must feel like to present herself in public like that.

“I don’t know much about your illness,” he said hesitantly. “But I might be able to do something about all the excess water in your body ...”

“Yes,” she moaned. “Please, do! What my physician says is my sick blood.”

“I can’t see that it has anything to do with your blood,” Tristan said, wrinkling his brow. “I’m not a medical scholar. All I remember is what my Uncle Mattias – he’s not the one with the healing hands; Uncle Mattias is just an ordinary physician – what he did for an old man with swollen feet.”

“Do you think you can find those herbs?”

“It shouldn’t be too difficult. But we must be careful not to offend the court physician.”

“Perhaps the best thing would be not to tell him?”

“That was exactly what I was thinking, Princess,” Tristan said.

“I suppose he’ll take the credit for it then?”

“That’s fine with me. But you’re not yet cured, Princess. I haven’t even found the herbs yet, so we shouldn’t anticipate our triumph. You shouldn’t even begin to hope!”

“I’ll do so anyway,” she said, leaning happily back on her pillows. “No, I’ll try not to. Anyway: I’ll pay you whatever it costs provided you’ll make the attempt!”

Tristan got up. He smiled. “If you start to talk about money or payment, I’m leaving!”

She looked at him dreamily. “What a strange man you are, Margrave! I’d no idea there were any idealists left at the Danish court!”

He held out his hand to say goodbye and she took it. “I’ll begin the search tomorrow,” he promised, kissing her hand.

Then he left. The princess followed him for a long time with her eyes. A new light now flickered in her tired eyes. I mustn’t hope, she thought over and over again. I mustn’t hope!

She folded her hands in prayer. “But God ... Nevertheless!”

Marina was in bed, still awake, listening anxiously. She knew that it was late. So maybe she would escape this evening. Her hope, her wish, was just as fervent as her mother’s, even if they prayed for entirely different things.

Uncle Paul had been there several times and she had been forced to promise not to say anything. The executioner was waiting for her mother if she gossiped.

Nevertheless, in her despair she had tried to make the grown-ups understand. That she needed their help. That she needed someone close by.

But they wouldn’t understand. She was a big girl now and she didn’t need anyone to keep watch over her at night!

Mum was the only one who understood her loneliness. But she couldn’t do anything without Dad intervening. Hildegard didn’t want Dad to slap Marina and Marina didn’t want him to hit Mum.

She saw him as nothing but a big bully.

But worst of all was Marina’s own bully, Count Paul Ruckelberg ...

Each time he had come to her bedroom he had gone one step further, and each time she had hated him with a strength that was increasingly dangerous. She was quite scared of herself when she considered what an enormous hatred she was capable of feeling.

During the day, she felt guilty. Could other people see that horrible, fat hands had been lying on her breasts; could they see that he had touched her unmentionable places? That she had put her hands around that horrible object, that one hand was barely capable of reaching around? That he ... No, she didn’t want to think of that! That stuff he wiped on her sheet.

Marina remembered with disgust and horror when he had touched a spot, so that a warm ticklish sensation radiated to her hips, and she almost seemed to like this horrible thing. She was filled with so much shame that she almost died, and she had slapped his horrible hand. This made Uncle Paul very cross, and he had said that he would tell the executioner. That she had slapped her nice uncle, who just wanted to make her happy.

Yesterday had been the worst of all. He had forced her to kneel on the bed. And he had snorted and moaned, but he had clearly not succeeded; he had muttered something about her being too small, and then he had given up trying whatever that was. Then he had forced her to do something else, which was so terrible that she would rather die if she ever had to try it again. She unconsciously grimaced, spitting out her objection. The evil memory. Never, never again!

Dry sobs, no tears, made her tremble. Who could she confide in? Without the executioner coming for her mother? She had seen him fetch a man in one of the corridors once. The man was so scared that he screamed, begging for his life, and Marina had been so small at the time that she hadn’t grasped the danger, and she had run over and tugged at the executioner’s clothes. “You mustn’t take him,” she had shouted, and then the executioner had turned towards her and she had seen his horrible eyes behind his mask, as he threatened her with his weapon. And Mum had come running and clasped her to her and said: “Are you crazy, Marina? You mustn’t defy the executioner!” Afterwards she had heard courtiers talking delightedly about how the man had lost his head and the blood had gushed, and Marina had been sick and Dad had rebuked her for doing so.

Marina lifted her head.

The castle was calm. The moon had wandered a long distance since she had gone to bed.

But perhaps ...? Perhaps he wouldn’t come tonight? God, have mercy upon me! God, let me sleep!

She couldn’t understand what Mum could have done wrong. Mum, who was so sweet! Anyway, Marina would certainly try to protect her!

If only she knew what time it was. She felt intuitively that it must be nearly morning because she had been awake for so long. There was a clock farther down the hall on the top floor. If only she dared to walk to it ...

But shouldn’t she be able to do that? It was in her bedroom that he was dangerous.

Resolute but so scared that she could hardly breathe, Marina crept out of bed and tiptoed to the door. She listened for a moment with her ear to the beautifully carved oak door, but everything was calm. She opened the door carefully and sneaked out.

The corridor was empty, dimly lit by lanterns.

She tiptoed towards the clock, but at that very moment it struck two.

Marina stopped. She need not walk right up to the clock. Two in the morning. Then he wouldn’t come. He couldn’t do that now.