Margit Sandemo - The Ice People 06 - Evil Legacy

Anna Christiane, the king’s eldest daughter by Kirsten Munk, didn’t enjoy a long or happy life. Her fiancée, Frans Rantzau, died in 1632. The young fop was with the king at Rosenborg Castle, celebrating his appointment as Chancellor and was determined to match Christian’s consumption of wine, glass for glass. Rantzau became so drunk that he fell from the castle wall, hit his head on a stone and drowned in the moat. Anna Christiane became gravely ill shortly afterwards. Some said that she was overcome with grief, others that it was due to smallpox. She asked that Countess Paladin be at her side and Cecilie Meiden of the Ice People duly left her five-year-old twins at Gabrielshus and set off to Court again.

Meanwhile, dark clouds were continuing to gather over Graastensholm.

Tarald Meiden, Cecilie’s brother, had never been known for being astute. It was when he was having lunch with his wife, Yrja, his two sons and his parents one summer’s day in 1633 that he said the fatal words that were to trigger the terrible change in his son, Kolgrim.

“I received a letter from Tarjei today,” he announced at the table. Tarjei was the eldest of Are’s three sons, who had distinguished himself as a brilliant doctor at an early age. So far, the conversation had only been about trivial matters, but this statement made his parents give him a sharp look.

“You did?” said Liv to her son. “Why? I thought Tarjei had applied for a position in Erfurt to work with a scholar or some learned man, as his assistant. What did he write?”

“He said that he’s dealing with a terrible outbreak of smallpox. And he worries that like so many others, he’ll be infected.”

“Yes!,” said Yrja. “I’ve heard that smallpox is terribly dangerous.”

“Tarjei is too good to be taken by an epidemic,” replied Tarald’s father, Dag Meiden. “But why does he write to you about it?”

“He asked me to look after the Ice People’s secret supply of herbs and potions – but only if something were to happen to him, of course. He told me he’d write a final letter describing the hiding-place and that he wanted Mattias to inherit it all in due course.”

Almost before her son had finished speaking, Liv, horrified at the significance of his words, pretended to have a violent choking fit, which immediately alerted Tarald to his indiscretion. Kolgrim, who sat opposite his grandmother, glanced furiously round the table, a dangerous amber glow showing briefly in his eyes.

“Of course he must have everything with him in Germany, you understand,” Tarald added, trying to save the conversation. “I’m sure of that.”

“What secrets are you talking about?” asked his younger son, Mattias, speaking with the wide-eyed innocence of any eight-year-old. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ll tell you all about it when you’re older,” muttered Tarald hastily. “We won’t go into it now.”

The answer seemed to satisfy the boy. He was not inquisitive. If his dad said so, then so be it, was his attitude. But this wasn’t the case with Kolgrim. What he’d just heard had sparked off a burning rage inside him. His parents and grandparents were keeping something from him. The secrets of the Ice People! And why was Mattias to have the supply? After all, wasn’t he, Kolgrim, the older of the two half-brothers?

All through that day, the fury burned deeper and deeper into his soul. There was something he hadn’t been told! Was the secret knowledge only with Tarjei? Oh, no – he’d seen how Grandma Liv had tried to warn his dad about his indiscretion, so he was almost certain that Tarjei didn’t have the precious things with him. No, they must be somewhere at Linden Avenue!

All the effort Tarjei had put into keeping the existence of the Ice People’s knowledge and recipes of herbs, plants and potions a secret had now been undone. Tarjei had heeded Tengel’s warning to him as the newborn Kolgrim lay in his cradle. “Never, ever allow that child to have even the smallest herb. He mustn’t have any of them!” he’d said. “And teach him nothing!”

Now, in his hour of need, with his own life possibly in danger, Tarjei had turned to his cousin, Tarald, the father of the two half-brothers. But in many ways, Tarald was the worst person he could have possibly chosen.Despite being a responsible family man, he’d always shown a remarkable inability to think before speaking. Now, because of Tarald, Kolgrim had heard things he was never supposed to have heard, and unlike his dad, he was extremely sharp-witted in his own evil way.

He had to find out more, but who was he to ask? Certainly not Grandpa or Grandma because they weren’t easily fooled. His dad, for his part, was too weak and he’d never go against his own parents. Stupid Yrja, his stepmother and mother of Mattias, wouldn’t know anything. He’d swear to that. After a lot of thought, his intuition told him that he should approach the one member of the family who wasn’t too clever but not too stupid either. So the next morning he walked nonchalantly into the yard at Linden Avenue.

“Hello there!” Are called pleasantly on catching sight of him. “Out for a stroll, are you?”

“Yes, I want Brand to mend something for me. He’s very strong.”

“And am I not strong enough, then?”

“No, not like Brand.”

Are laughed. “Did you hear that, Meta? I’m of no use any more!”

Meta simply shook her head. She’d grown thin and tetchy over the years and old age didn’t become her. She complained of stomach pains all the time and had never stopped grieving for Trond, who’d been her favourite son. As Kolgrim walked off, her glance followed him anxiously.

“I don’t know why, Are, but that boy always sends shivers down my spine.”

“Oh, come on! He’s come on in leaps and bounds!”

“You might think so,” she mumbled. “I’m not so sure.”

***

A short while later Kolgrim found Brand tending a field of peas. They exchanged pleasantries for a short while, then without any warning Kolgrim asked him bluntly: “Have you ever seen the Ice People’s secret herbs, plants and potions?”

Brand walked a few steps to the edge of the field and sat down, deep in thought. Now twenty-four years old, he was the size of a bear and moved in the same lumbering way. He and Matilda hadn’t had any more children since the birth of their son, Andreas. The boy was the image of his dad and granddad, Are, and somebody to be proud of.

“No, I’ve never seen the supply,” replied Brand. “I think my brother, Tarjei, is the one who has it.”

Sitting beside his dad’s youngest cousin, Kolgrim looked tiny and much like a cunning little lizard.

“What exactly is in the supply?” Kolgrim asked.

“Have you never heard the story?”

“Only bits of it. I don’t know why everyone else is allowed to hear the story except me.”

It was common knowledge that the family had been careful not to say too much to Kolgrim about the Ice People and after a moment’s thought, Brand sniffed and took a deep breath.

“Trond and I always felt that you’d been treated unfairly, Kolgrim. If anybody should know the legend of the Ice People, it’s you.”

“I think so too,” agreed Kolgrim, his bottom lip quivering. He really managed to look unhappy and ready to burst into tears. “I’ve heard about Tengel the Evil, of course, as well as your granddad, Tengel the Good, and my Grandma, Sol, who was able to do magic. But I don’t know any more than that.”

So there and then, Brand told him everything about all the accursed members of their clan and as Kolgrim listened, his eyes grew wider and wider. But not for one moment did he see himself as cursed. In his view, he’d been chosen!

“Did Tengel the Evil really go and seek out Satan?” he asked at last. “If so, where did he go?”