Margit Sandemo - The Ice People 26 - The Secret

The Secret

The Legend of the Ice People 26 - The Secret

© Margit Sandemo 1984

© eBook in English: Jentas A/S, 2018

Series: The Legend of The Ice People

Title: The Secret

Title number: 26

Original title: Huset i Eldafjord

Translator: Anna Halager

© Translation: Jentas A/S

ISBN: 978-87-7107-638-7

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

He sat high on a ridge, crouched like a predatory beast, looking down on the village tucked under the high mountains at the farthest end of the fjord. He was a frightening figure: dark, twisted and bent. Perhaps he looked most like a wisp of hair that blended with the natural world. If it hadn’t been for his eyes, which glowed treacherously with hatred and the anticipation of revenge, no one would have believed that he was a human being. Occasionally those eyes could glint almost red, as if an inner dark fire of hatred, and nothing else, kept him going.

He waited.

He looked down on the tiny creatures down there. From his vantage point, they looked like ants.

“They’re moving in,” he whispered. “They’re moving into my house! A man and a woman. How dare they! What are they doing now?”

He got to his feet. His pent-up anger abated slightly as he observed what they were doing down there.

What was happening now? Weren’t they going to move in after all? Strangely, he felt immense disappointment. Didn’t anybody want to move in? Weren’t there any presumptuous invaders of his house that he could take revenge on?

Once again, he crouched down on his heels with his long arms around his knees, a brooding colossus, like a mountain troll that had sat there for a thousand years.

Down by the fjord, the middle-aged couple were speaking to the man who lived in the valley. What an exceptionally handsome man, the wife thought. He’s so good-looking that he frightens me. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Dark, curly hair, light blue-grey eyes, and a mouth that you couldn’t take your eyes off: perfect, arrogant and alluring.

A male animal! Handsome – but dangerous.

He handed a bunch of keys to her husband. “I’d like to welcome you to Jolinsborg,” he said, with a bright smile that made her go weak at the knees. “I hope you’ll feel at home here!”

“I’m sure we will,” she replied. “My husband’s doctor prescribed fresh country air so this will be perfect!”

Her husband, who, judging by his appearance, was a businessman not quite out of the top drawer, said with a creaky voice: “I see this place is called Jólinsborg? I thought it was Jólin?”

The young man replied with a smile: “No, it’s nothing to do with the surname. Jolin is an old Norwegian boy’s name. All the owners of this farm have been given the name, from the first Jolin, who built the place in the seventeenth century, right up until the present.”

“And now there’s nobody left?” the woman asked.

The peasant looked down. “Er ... yes, there is but ... he had to be taken care of. He was declared unable to manage his own affairs.”

“Oh?”

“He wasn’t quite ... normal. After the house was taken from him, he would peer through the windows and frighten the tenants. So now he’s ... well, he’s securely locked up.”

The wife said: “That’s sad. When did it happen?”

“Two or three years ago.”

The husband was rather sharp. “Tenants, did you say? Have there been several tenants then? One after the other?”

The handsome peasant muttered: “Well, ... er ... a couple. People have found it difficult to settle in this isolated fjord.”

The man said nothing, merely tightened his lips. The assumption that he wasn’t a very particular businessman was correct. It wasn’t for reasons of health that they had come to godforsaken Eldafjord. Unless health grounds included fear of being attacked by embittered customers whom he had swindled. The couple had thought it best to make themselves scarce for a while, and Eldafjord was the best place for that because nobody had ever heard of it. A tiny hamlet at the farthest end of an inlet that couldn’t be seen from the boats sailing past out on the big fjord. The hamlet had existed for centuries, but it was impossible to build any new houses on the steep slopes above the narrow beach.

A perfect hiding place!

The wife said: “The house is beautiful, even though it’s not exactly a castle.”

They were standing on a hilly plateau a bit above Jolinsborg. The wind was playing in the delicate birches below them, the grass was bright green and everything breathed wonderful spring calm. Here there was nothing to be afraid of – on the contrary! Terje Jolinssøn, the farmer, couldn’t have chosen a better day to get rid of that horrible old house.

Somebody was shouting. They looked down to the barely visible road through the meadow, where a young woman came running. The peasant muttered something short and sharp and hurried down to meet her.

The couple followed slowly.

“I think we’ll be able to settle down here,” said the woman. “Just look at this house! Yes, there have been later additions, but the entire ground floor dates back to the seventeenth century. The house is spacious, and just look at the well-preserved windows! And I think the first-floor extension blends in well.”