Margit Sandemo - The Ice People 06 - Evil Legacy

Tarjei was taken aback. “Good God! You don’t mean to say that ...?” he paused as the realisation dawned on him. Then he went on: “Yes, I agree it was terribly stupid of me to write to Tarald. I should have remembered that he’s not the wisest or most reliable person here.”

Tarjei fell into a silent reverie. Was this the reason that Kolgrim had been so anxious to pander to him at every possible moment since his return to Linden Avenue? Wherever Tarjei went, the fourteen-year-old would appear, bright-eyed, polite and offering to help with anything.

A cold shiver ran through Tarjei at the thought. He’d seen at first hand what the Ice People’s curse could do to a person. Now he had no doubt that Kolgrim was also afflicted – even though he’d not yet shown any signs of having supernatural powers.

And what about Kolgrim himself? He had been waiting impatiently for Tarjei to come home since Mattias disappeared. What was Kolgrim thinking about now? He’d almost reconciled himself to the fact that he was unlikely to become the officially chosen heir to that which he most desired. Instead he’d watch Tarjei, observe his every move, listen to his every word in order to try to work out where the treasure, which he so greatly desired, was hidden. He’d already taken an interest in Tarjei’s travelling chest and its intriguing contents – but that couldn’t be everything! No, the object of his dreams and desires lay somewhere close, perhaps under his very nose. That was the prize, he was certain, which would give him the power that he knew was rightfully his.

***

Tarjei stayed at Linden Avenue all through that spring. Juliana wrote to say that Mikael Cornelius was well and he shouldn’t worry about the boy. It would be best for him to rest, she said. He’d worked so hard for the past few years and losing Cornelia and his mother so soon after each other must have been very hard to bear. Tarjei found it impossible to disagree with her. He was not only completely exhausted but also extremely sad.

The winter had been hard on Graastens­holm, Liv told him. The snow had lain heavy on roofs and branches and the winds had howled increasingly, seeking out every nook and cranny that it could penetrate to cause discomfort. All the while, Yrja had tortured herself thinking that somewhere under the snow out there lay the body of a small boy who’d been given no proper grave. Tarald had done his best to push such thoughts out of his mind, said Liv, but nevertheless they would come back from time to time, forcing him to take repeated deep breaths and clear his throat to get his emotions under control. On Christmas Day, Yrja had lit a candle for Mattias and whispered: “Today would have been his tenth birthday.”

Tarjei could see that Liv and Dag were both stronger emotionally than Tarald and Yrja, but they’d obviously taken events badly, too. It was worse for Liv, who watched anxiously as one of the remaining linden trees at the top of the avenue withered more and more because she knew only too well for whom Tengel had originally planted the individual trees.

Tarjei noticed that a strange hush had fallen over Linden Avenue and its residents – and it was a deathly hush. Are would wander about aimlessly, unable to concentrate on anything since he’d lost Meta, the one who’d always pushed and bullied him into action. Brand and his wife, Matilda, fared a little better because they had Andreas, now eight years old, to give them joy in their lives. He was a tough little boy; dependable and very easygoing, just like his dad and granddad.

As Tarjei observed all this first hand, he felt quite helpless. The only person who appeared to be remotely satisfied with his lot was Kolgrim. Of course, he was impatient to get his hands on the hidden secrets of the Ice People, but then one day during the spring of 1635 he stumbled upon something. It wasn’t the treasure he found – but something else that was both intriguing and frightening. Kolgrim had been snooping around in the attics of Graastensholm when, out of sight in a recess, he came across an iron chest. Breaking open the hasp, he found that it contained something that at first glance appeared to him to be meaningless – until he examined it more closely. Indeed, he found it so fascinating that he stayed up in the attic for the rest of the day and went back again the next morning. When at last he came down, he had a sly grin on his face that Liv found quite unnerving. She was reminded of a cat that had just swallowed a large rat.

And as a result of his discovery, Kolgrim’s search for the treasure now became even more relentless.

More than two years had passed since Mattias had disappeared. In some ways for Yrja and Tarald, it seemed like twenty years or more, as if they’d been suffering the anguish and inconsolable sense of loss for most of their lives.

And nobody would ever know how many times Mattias’s parents had wished themselves back to that summer morning when their son had been allowed to go off alone to his unknown fate, how many times they regretted that they’d not done something differently that day to avert the terrible tragedy. Nobody else could possibly understand how often they were living their lives not in the present, but in the happy, carefree days of that summer in 1633 when Mattias was still with them.

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