Margit Sandemo: The Ice People 30 - The Brothers

The Brothers

The Legend of the Ice People 30 - The Brothers

© Margit Sandemo 1986

© eBook in English: Jentas A/S, 2018

Series: The Legend of The Ice People

Title: The Brothers

Title number: 30

Original title: Människadjuret

Translator: Anna Halager

© Translation: Jentas A/S

ISBN: 978-87-7107-652-3

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchase.

All contracts and agreements regarding the work, translation, editing, and layout are owned by Jentas A/S.

Acknowledgement

The legend of the Ice People is dedicated with love and gratitude to the memory of my dear late husband Asbjorn Sandemo, who made my life a fairy tale.

Margit Sandemo

The Ice People - Reviews

‘Margit Sandemo is, simply, quite wonderful.’

- The Guardian

‘Full of convincing characters, well established in time and place, and enlightening ... will get your eyes popping, and quite possibly groins twitching ... these are graphic novels without pictures ... I want to know what happens next.’

- The Times

‘A mixure of myth and legend interwoven with historical events, this is imaginative creation that involves the reader from the first page to the last.’

- Historical Novels Review

‘Loved by the masses, the prolific Margit Sandemo has written over 172 novels to date and is Scandinavia's most widely read author...’

- Scanorama magazine

The Legend of the Ice People

The legend of the Ice People begins many centuries ago with Tengel the Evil. He was ruthless and greedy, and there was only one way to get everything that he wanted: he had to make a pact with the devil. He travelled far into the wilderness and summoned the devil with a magic potion that he had brewed in a pot. Tengel the Evil gained unlimited wealth and power but in exchange, he cursed his own family. One of his descendants in every generation would serve the Devil with evil deeds. When it was done, Tengel buried the pot. If anyone found it, the curse would be broken.

So the curse was passed down through Tengel’s descendants, the Ice People. One person in every generation was born with yellow cat’s eyes, a sign of the curse, and magical powers which they used to serve the Devil. One day the most powerful of all the cursed Ice People would be born.

This is what the legend says. Nobody knows whether it is true, but in the 16th century, a cursed child of the Ice People was born. He tried to turn evil into good, which is why they called him Tengel the Good. This legend is about his family. Actually, it is mostly about the women in his family – the women who held the fate of the Ice People in their hands.

Chapter 1

Nobody in the world could have been lonelier than young Henning Lind of the Ice People when he returned home to the empty house at Linden Avenue on that ice-cold morning in March 1861. Silvery, shimmering ice crystals and a flickering layer of white frost covered grass, shrubs and outhouses. Steam came out of the horse’s muzzle as it trudged into the courtyard.

Henning, who was eleven years old, could feel the stiffness in every fibre of his body. The lack of expression on his face reflected the fact that he felt completely paralysed inside.

He couldn’t think. Didn’t dare to. Didn’t dare to think of the future before him – he just had to live in the now, act and not speculate.

He had his precious cargo in the gig: Saga’s newborn, orphaned twins, Marco and Ulvar. The farm was very quiet. No one was there to welcome him. Perhaps no one else would ever come home there anymore?

No, he mustn’t think now! The babies ... they had to be taken indoors. That was the most important thing.

During his short life, Henning had learned more about hardship than most adults, and he feared that he would need all the energy and resourcefulness that life had taught him.

He jumped down from the gig and lifted up one of the babies. It whimpered softly inside the blanket, which was still nice and warm. Without that warmth, the little ones would never have survived the night journey.

Henning saw that he was holding Marco. The dark, remarkably handsome one.

They were so different ...

He held the infant securely as he fetched the key from its hiding place in the wall. Twenty-four hours had passed since he and Saga had left the farm to meet his parents, and what a lot had happened during that time.

A single day and night had felt like a whole year of violent events.

The door stood wide open. The house was cold inside.

“You mustn’t be afraid,” he said in his innocent child’s voice. “Henning will soon make this place nice and warm for you.”

Henning laid Marco in his parents’ big double bed with the high sides. He gulped and hurried outside again. He had wiped away his tears a long while ago. Now there was no time for them. But although he had banned himself from thinking, he couldn’t prevent his brain from working. Completely independently of his will, it thought about what had happened ... Yesterday afternoon, Saga and I learned that the ship that Mother and Father were coming on had disappeared. Near Målen, the terrible shingle bar – Norway’s worst ship graveyard.

Then, on the way home, the utterly unfathomable happened. For as long as Henning lived, he would never, ever be able to understand it! The travel rug the other baby was wrapped in was also inexplicably warm, protecting the tiny creature from the cold of the night. Henning ran indoors with the child and placed him on the bed next to his brother.

“The horse,” he muttered, both to himself and to the two newborn babies. “I need to bring in the horse: it mustn’t stand outside. I’ll be back in a jiffy!” He dashed out and got the horse into the stable, removing its harness. The warmth from the cowshed spread into the horse’s stable. It was given some hay and a grateful pat on its back.

The cows mooed impatiently.

Henning promised: “I’ll be back straightaway to milk you.”

Then there were the babies. They had begun to scream as they were brought into the cold house. Feeble, helpless little cries.

“Just a moment,” Henning said, and now he felt harassed. And nervous. What clothes could he put on the babies? And how was he to feed them?

He fumbled with the sticks trying to light a fire in the fireplace; he was far too hectic. And all the while, there were treacherous thoughts at the back of his mind. Above all, he didn’t want to think, but everything was overwhelming him.

The children’s birth, which he had had to handle all on his own. Saga, who had bled so terribly, slowly slipping out of the world of humans. And then ...

Had he really experienced all that? Those two black, winged creatures that had fetched her just as she was about to die. Who had given her life back only to lead her to ... had she said Lucifer? The dark angel – who wasn’t Satan? Surely that hadn’t happened! It was just impossible!

Nevertheless, she was gone. They had taken her with them, carrying her in their strong arms. They had told him that what was left were the two children: Lucifer’s gift to the Ice People. Those dark angels had touched the miserable blankets the two babies were wrapped in, making them so lovely and warm, which they still were. One of the men had placed his hand on Henning’s head and said that he must replace the chosen one. The chosen one was Saga. Was Henning to take Saga’s place? Surely he couldn’t do that, could he?