Margit Sandemo - The Ice People 26 - The Secret

Heike wrote back to her, in his bad handwriting, telling her that she was not to blame herself. He knew about her serious problems.

But Heike was sad. A strange house in Eldafjord, which was somewhere in the northwest.

That wasn’t much to go on.

Several times, he had been on the verge of getting on his horse and searching anywhere and everywhere, but Vinga had forbidden him to do so. That winter was extremely harsh, and things could turn out badly for the horse, and for Heike as well. So he gave in to common sense.

But he was itching to be on his way!

He had spoken to experts on the geography of Norway, and to all the itinerant labourers he met, to try to find out where Eldafjord was, but nobody knew. Depressingly enough, several people suggested Iceland. But if that were the case its name would have been Eldafjørdur. Perhaps it was in Sweden instead? No, Vinga didn’t think so. Eldafjord was a very old Norwegian name. Maybe it was farther north. It was like searching for a needle in a haystack. But now Heike couldn’t wait any longer: anxiety for their son was eating away at him and Vinga.

It is a fact that spring comes to Western Norway before it reaches Eastern Norway. Eskil’s letter had been in transit for a long time when it reached Graastensholm, just before Heike was due to set off on his journey.

“Thank goodness,” exclaimed Vinga, and burst into tears. Heike looked at the date on the letter. “It’s a long time since he sent it,” he established. “This letter has taken a fortnight to get here.”

Vinga asked: “Well, what does it say? Let me see!”

They read the letter together.

“What does he mean when he says he’s been to hell?” she asked, confused.

“So he did write to us earlier but his other letters didn’t reach us.”

“What is it that he has really been through?” she wailed. “Oh, poor boy, and he thought we had let him down. Where is he?”

Heike turned the letter over and back again. “It doesn’t say. The postmark is blurred. Oh, bother. He could have said, couldn’t he?”

“Perhaps he didn’t know.”

Heike sighed. “Then I’ll just have to search at random ...”

The following day another letter arrived. It was a grubby letter that had been written in haste, but it did have a stamp!

Heike said: “Good.” He was dressed and already on his way out of the door. “So now we know, and that makes everything so much easier.”

“I’ll join you now you know where you’ll be going,” Vinga said determinedly. “Well, open the letter then!”

Heike was focused on the date. “This one has reached us much faster,” he said, pleased. “It was sent this week.”

Vinga grabbed the letter out of Heike’s hand and opened it impatiently.

They read it together, with mounting anxiety:

For God’s sake, help me! Help me, Father, quickly! I’ve landed in the middle of the most appalling horror. This place is awful and I don’t understand any of it. Help me, I think I’m about to die. Help us all, we’re lost! I’ve accidentally stirred up something that was supposed to remain hidden forever!

Chapter 2

Eskil was concerned from the moment he saw Eldafjord. This wasn’t at all how he had imagined the place. A fisherman had lent him his boat – Eskil had paid him a tidy sum, which would enable him to use it for a week or so. He reckoned that was about as long as he would need it for. He had left his horse with the fisherman as security.

He hadn’t said where he was going because this was his own adventure. He also had precise directions to get there. However, it had taken longer than he expected! And weren’t those steep mountains high! The snow shone brightly on their lofty pinnacles. He hadn’t taken into account that he would be so unfit after his long imprisonment. He got big blisters on his hands from the rough handles of the oars and he rowed more and more slowly. He had been out on the open sea for a while and the boat had rocked alarmingly. Then he entered the fjord and everything was calm again.

This was just the main fjord. As the sun disappeared behind the mountains and the shadows fell on the water, he reached the entrance to Eldafjord, the small side-fjord between the soaring cliffs.

If he hadn’t known it was there, he would never have guessed that there was a narrow, deep fjord right there.

He swung the rowing boat around the cliff and turned around in the boat. He wanted to see where he was going. His face flushed in shock and surprise. The mountains were tall with shiny flanks: it looked as if numerous rock falls had been wearing the stone smooth for thousands of years. At the far end of the narrow inlet lay a cluster of houses, helplessly crouched under the enormous weight of the mountain walls. There were a few farms and modest houses and a small fish farm. That was all there was room for.

Wait ... wasn’t that the roof of another house sticking up through the trees to the right? With slopes above it rising up to the mountain wall?

It was hard to tell.

Eskil realized that this place must be very beautiful in daylight, but he had been unfortunate to arrive at the gloomiest time of the day, when dusk had its most oppressive grip on human hearts.

What could this place be like in winter, when storms whipped up the waves and the snow swept around the corners of the houses in the silent darkness?

He shuddered.

There was something else about this fjord that frightened him. What could it be? Something lurking somewhere. Now he was allowing himself to be carried away by the shadowy blue atmosphere of twilight. He was weak and exhausted, partly because of his many months in prison eating miserable food, and partly because of the unfamiliar exertion of rowing. Now he registered that he was hungry as well. And rather seasick.

And then there was this fog rolling down the mountains. He was freezing cold. Losing heart in such conditions was easy. What on earth was he doing here? Why hadn’t he ridden straight back to nice, warm, lovely Graastensholm? But Mother and Father hadn’t written; they hadn’t even tried to get him out of prison. Perhaps something had happened to them?

He had been absolutely stupid to insist on searching for the treasure first. He ought to have ridden home straight away!

But now he was here. He had reached his destination.

Oh, what a destination! Was there a gloomier place in the whole of Norway than this? Without turning round to look any more, he fought his way onwards, clutching the oars with his blistered hands. The hair at the back of his neck tickled as if somebody was watching him with dangerous, evil eyes from Eldafjord’s little harbour.

He was too scared to turn around again.

Instead, he stared at the main fjord. It would soon disappear and all he would have to look at would be the naked mountain walls.

That wasn’t an uplifting thought.

The water around the rowing boat seemed bluish-black and cold, as it reflected the slopes of the massifs. Who could know what lay hidden in the depths here? Perhaps a lurking monster would suddenly tip up the boat?

Eskil started and nearly screamed when the boat hit something and stopped with an eerie, scraping sound. For a moment, he thought that his heart would stop from sheer fright, but then he saw what had happened. He had reached land. He had hit a stone under the water, some distance out in the fjord.

A little group of people stood on a small bridge, watching him. There were a couple of children, some elderly men leaning against the parapet, a stout, grumpy woman, and two young girls who put their heads together and giggled. They weren’t looking at Eskil in an unfriendly way – on the contrary! One of the girls was actually quite a beauty.

That was all that Eskil had time to see. He hurriedly moved to the back of the boat so that it lifted off the rock. With a very stiff and shy smile, he nodded to the group on the bridge and began to pole the boat. The small boys immediately ran out into the water and grabbed the bow of the boat, almost making Eskil lose his balance. The girls laughed again.