Margit Sandemo - The Ice People 13 - The Devil´s Footprint

Niklas was the one who had summoned the men of the clan for a serious talk. They would keep the women out of it for the time being.

“A rumour soon gets distorted,” his dad, Andreas, objected thoughtfully, after Niklas had spoken of his misgivings.

“Yes,” Mattias added. “It’s bound to get worse each time it’s repeated until it becomes quite grotesque. They even say that only very few victims show signs of violence. That they simply ... die!”

“Nevertheless, there are things about this that make me uneasy,” old Kaleb muttered from his seat in the big armchair. His wrinkled face looked pensive.

“Couldn’t agree more, Uncle Kaleb,” Niklas said. “Certain things are absolutely alarming.”

Alv, who was 18, entered the room. Although the blood of the Ice People flowed in his veins, there wasn’t much about him that revealed this relationship. Like his maternal grandfather, Mattias, he was quite short, slight and fair. He had the slanted eyes and high cheekbones of his father Niklas; these and the elf-like expression around his mouth, slightly arched, jolly and full of mischief, were his most characteristic features.

“Excuse me for being late,” he said, panting. “I just needed to repair a broken tool. The farmhands didn’t really know what to do. I heard the last bit of what you said. What did this creature really look like?”

“Oh, it’s nothing but wild rumours,” Andreas said. “We don’t want to believe in such nonsense.”

“All right, but I’d like to hear it nevertheless,” Alv insisted. “You all look so concerned, so there’s bound to be something up, isn’t there.”

Although Niklas lived at Graastensholm and ran the farm there, his son, Alv, preferred to be with his grandfather, and the others agreed. Soon enough he would be in charge of all three farms.

Kaleb straightened his back. “Yes, we’re worried. There’s something alarming about this story that everybody’s talking about. The drunkard in the ditch didn’t manage to explain it properly but from what we’ve gathered the creature was frighteningly big.”

“A human being?” Alv asked swiftly.

“Er ... well, it certainly seemed to have features like those of a human being ...”

“Well, it’s called the Devil. Was it the Devil?”

The others squirmed under the young man’s direct gaze.

“How are we to know what the Devil himself looks like?” Kaleb asked. “Now listen: the man saw a silhouette standing out against the moon, with wild hair hanging in wisps down over his shoulders. It seems that the monster was dressed in a kind of armour with steel gloves and bands on his arms and legs. The drunkard found it difficult to explain. But ...”

Kaleb fell silent.

“Yes, what more did you want to say?” Alv persisted.

“The ... creature had immensely broad shoulders that extended to a point at the front almost like a Chinese collar, if you know what that’s like.”

They all bent their heads uneasily. This was a description that they recognized only too well ...

Alv didn’t say anything for a while. Then he said: “I suppose that was the armour?”

“Well, that was what we thought too. But then the creature came closer. He limped badly but the drunkard couldn’t see his feet from down in the ditch.”

When Kaleb fell silent once more, Alv asked: “Well, what about the face? Did he see the face of whatever it is?”

“Yes, he saw the face,” Kaleb replied after a deep sigh. “He saw the eyes. The moon was behind the monster so that its face was in shadow. However, its eyes glowed like yellow fire, the man said. As if it was filled with fire that shone from the eye sockets. And the monster was dreadfully furious as it seized the man and dragged him out of the ditch. Then he didn’t remember anything else.”

“But he saw no facial features?”

“Well, er ... he asserted that the eyes seemed slightly slanted ...”

Alv looked glum, knowing only too well that his own eyes were slanted.

“The man also said that it seemed as if this creature had ... smelled him,” Kaleb said thoughtfully.

“Like an animal?”

“Surely that goes without saying,” Andreas broke in. “The drunkard was bound to reek of booze! Now, let’s not exaggerate. We must remember that this is only a rumour. It may have grown enormously since the attack occurred.”

“Precisely,” Mattias said. “There’s no need to paint things blacker than they are before we know more. But where did the beast disappear to afterwards? Do we know anything about that?”

“It would seem that he’s heading for Christiania.”

“In that case he’s bound to be arrested there.”

“Time will tell,” Niklas muttered.

Kaleb, who was 77 but still full of good sense, said matter-of-factly: “Anyway, we needn’t pay attention to a drunkard’s fantasies.”

“I don’t know about that,” Andreas replied. “I don’t like that he comes from a small, northern mountain valley ...”

“Ugh,” Mattias said.

Alv, who knew that he was greatly loved in his capacity as the family’s only hope here in Norway and therefore could take quite a lot of liberties, blurted: “Well, for heaven’s sake, who is he then?”

Nobody spoke. Not until Grandpa Andreas slowly said: “I don’t think we should get heaven involved in this. Let’s just forget it all.”

“No,” Niklas interrupted. “I haven’t summoned you all here to discuss superstition. I’ve waited to show you this, and I think we’d be wise to take the matter seriously.”

He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket.

“What do you have there?” Andreas wanted to know.

“A letter. From Villemo.”

“From Villemo?” Kaleb exclaimed. “Why has she written to you and not to us?”

“I received it a few days ago and I didn’t understand much of it. Not until now, when we’ve heard what the drunkard experienced.”

After a short pause, Kaleb went on: “Well then, read it to us, for heaven’s sake!”

The summer weather outside was grey. They sat in the old part of Linden Avenue, with the door to the hall open so that they could see Benedikt’s glass painting and Silje’s portraits of her four children and foster children. From where Niklas sat he could see Sol’s arched smile and he didn’t know how he was supposed to interpret that smile – whether it was encouraging or foreboding ...

He began to read:

Dear Niklas,

How are you all getting on at Graastensholm and Linden Avenue and Elistrand? I can tell you that you’re all very much in our thoughts. The wild relative, the undersigned, has settled down here and is doing very well but even so I dream of seeing the old places once more. Isn’t it awful how old we’ve all become! You and Irmelin will be 40 this year and I’ll turn the same age next year. Dominic is 43, believe it or not! It’s crazy – am I supposed to pretend to be 39, I, who feel so young? Inside I’m just as crazy as I was when I was 17. Well, almost. And my son, Tengel ...! 18! This is surely impossible! You should see him now, he’s so fascinating to look at. He resembles nobody else, he’s very much his own man. Everybody is fine here. They all send their greetings.

But this wasn’t what I wanted to write about.

Niklas, what’s going on with you all? Dominic is completely out of his mind! You know how he can sense things at a long distance. He’s clairvoyant in some way and these days he simply can’t rest. “We must be on our way to Norway, Villemo,” he keeps on repeating. “Niklas needs us!” Then I: “Niklas? What do you mean by that?” Anyway, yesterday Dominic said: “I believe the time has come, Villemo. That for which you and I and Niklas were chosen, now begins. We must be off to Norway!” So please write immediately, dear Niklas, and tell us. I for one think it would be absolutely wonderful to get started on whatever it is. After all this is something we’ve been waiting for ever since we were children. And I, who met Tengel the Good in a vision, I know that we’re needed for something. Please write immediately!