Margit Sandemo: The Ice People 26 - The Secret

Shortly afterwards, he was standing among those people, asking and explaining. Of course, they wondered what this completely unknown stranger was doing in Eldafjord but they didn’t say so. Eskil sensed that they were puzzled.

He told them that a man he had met many years ago had advised him to see this fantastic place, which was no lie. He had become so curious that, since he was in the area, he had decided to take the opportunity to stay here for a few days.

They looked at one another. They didn’t say a word.

One of the small boys said: “Terje sometimes rents rooms,” and the grown-ups shushed him.

“Terje?” asked Eskil.

“Yes,” said one of the men, very slowly and reluctantly. “It’s true that Terje Jolinssøn tends to rent to visitors. But don’t settle for anything! Ask to rent a room in his house. Not in any other place! Not everything he has to offer is ... good!”

His voice died away. Eskil wanted to hear more but he got no answer. He had pricked up his ears when he heard the name Jolinssøn, because that was the name of the man who had built the fabled house.

That was where Eskil wanted to go! But he had better not ask too many questions. For the time being.

He asked: “Will somebody show me the way to Terje Jolinssøn’s house?”

The two young girls reacted quickly: “We can do that!”

“Splendid.”

The elderly men were mildly amused at Eskil’s attempts to moor his boat.

One of them said calmly: “We’ll take care of it.” They were no longer so hostile towards the new arrival, a landlubber who didn’t have a clue about handling a boat.

The grumpy woman was already hurrying up the hill as quickly as her thick legs would carry her, in order to be the first with the news.

Eskil left the bridge with the two girls. They kept staring at him, which concerned him slightly. Eskil Lind of the Ice People had grown into a handsome young man. His dark, copper-red hair was thick and curly, and his greenish-brown eyes had a slightly cheeky look in them, which was extremely charming. And his thousands and thousands of freckles ...? They might have been a problem on the face of an over-sensitive girl, but on Eskil they added to his charm. His short snub nose and radiant smile were also assets, not to mention his long legs and well-proportioned body. He had undoubtedly inherited his pleasant appearance from his maternal grandparents, Elisabet and Vemund Tark. The fact that he was very pale and skinny after his imprisonment meant nothing – it just gave him a more romantic air. Besides, most of the people in the village were undernourished, so he didn’t look unusual. Add in his tendency to blush now and then at his boyish clumsiness, and he was almost irresistible.

The pretty girl was the one who walked beside him – it was her natural right. She told him that her name was Inger-Lise. Eskil might have expected to come across terribly shy girls in such a remote part of the world, but Inger-Lise had the self-confidence that an attractive appearance generates. She had attended the village school for a while, so she was worldly and pleased with herself.

The other girl, Mari, was a more typical product of an isolated settlement in Western Norway. She played the admiring, self-effacing role in the two girls’ relationship, which was bound to be as it always is: as soon as the more popular of the two girls finds a boyfriend, she completely forgets the friend she needed for so long to set her off and support her. Mari noticed Inger-Lise’s new behaviour and felt a twinge in her heart from an anxiety hitherto unknown to her. Both girls were obviously very religious: they weighed their words carefully and would often fold their hands very quickly as if to pray for forgiveness or a blessing for their secret thoughts.

Inger-Lise chatted. She swayed her hips and really played up to Eskil as best she could. He was longing for female company after almost a year behind bars, and the girl was confoundedly pretty. Her presence acted like a tonic for him, while he found the other girl boring because she didn’t say anything and showed no interest in getting to know him better.

Spring had come to Eldafjord. As they walked up the hill, there was a strong smell of the earth coming alive – a sharp, good smell that ignited many different urges and instincts in human beings. It was certainly dark and gloomy, and the mountains brooded threateningly in the twilight; but a narrow strip of cold, yellow light showed that brighter days might be in the offing. If you had time to wait ...

Eskil fooled about with the girls, teasing Inger-Lise so that she slapped him coquettishly on the arm in mock anger, and all the while his senses were absorbing the atmosphere of the little inlet: the houses resting so silently around them; the scents from the tiny gardens; the small, cultivated patches of forest; a small farm in an open field; the mooing from a cowshed; flickering light in a window; the cold evening air from the fjord ...

“Terje lives up there to the right.”

Eskil looked up. He could see that there was light in two windows. It appeared to be a pretty big building with impressive stables.

Could this be Jolin’s house, where the treasure was hidden? If so, it was a rather mundane place to search for treasure.

Eskil said nervously: “The men down at the beach told me to ask to stay in the house itself.”

“Yes, you must definitely do that!”

This was the first time that Mari had spoken of her own free will.

“Why?”

Inger-Lise said quickly: “Oh, don’t worry about that. There’s far too much gossip here in Eldafjord.”

Eskil asked: “Do you mean to say that there are several houses that I can choose from?”

“Yes,” replied Mari.

Inger-Lise didn’t want her new conquest to be frightened away. She whispered tetchily: “Be quiet, Mari,” but not so quietly that it escaped Eskil’s hearing. He reckoned that there must be at least one more house – which he ought not to stay in.

It had to be Mr Jolin’s house!

Eskil strained to get an impression of the surroundings in the twilight. Above that section of forest over there ... that must be the same rooftop that he was sure he had seen from out on the fjord. There was someone up there. A house or ...? Yes, there was a cold, bluish light in one of the windows.

“Is there a house up there?” he asked the girls.

“Yes, but we never go up there,” replied Inger-Lise.

“Why not?”

Inger-Lise shrugged her shoulders. “Terje doesn’t like it. He tends to treat that house as if it were made of gold. He rents it out to rich people who are in poor health and that sort of thing.”

Mari whispered something to Inger-Lise as if to dissuade her from saying any more. Inger-Lise hissed back that it was nothing but stupid superstition.

But Eskil was no longer really listening to them. He was focused intently on the house above them. Now light was twinkling in several windows. Was it a two-storeyed house perhaps? That was certainly most uncommon in this wilderness. Then the house disappeared from view and they came to a gate.

“This is where Terje lives,” said Inger-Lise. Her voice implied a thousand plans, more meetings, the hope that he would stay, and promises if he did. Eskil found the immediate future quite promising. Mari said nothing. She just put out her hand and he thought that he detected a request, or a warning, in her eyes. Be careful. Eskil didn’t think Mari was trying to warn him against getting to know Inger-Lise better. No, it was something else, far more sinister, that she was driving at.

Was it the house up behind the trees she had in mind?

Eskil frowned. Where had he seen Terje Jolinssøn before? No, he had never seen him in person but who was it he resembled? That small feature around the extremely beautiful eyes. Where had he seen that before? No, he couldn’t remember.