Margit Sandemo - The Ice People 08 - Under Suspicion

“No,” said Brand. “There must also be something left for the bailiff to do.”

The people from Graastensholm had arrived now. And at the edge of the forest half a mile away, those who stood on the ridge could see the lonely figure of a woman. She stood completely motionless, taking in the crowd in amazement. The bailiff’s assistant was nowhere to be seen.

“It’s getting dark,” said Are, looking at the clouds.

“It doesn’t normally get so dark at this time of the year,” mumbled one of the men.

“No, but it’s rainy, which means something.”

The bailiff and the vicar arrived. The people of the village followed them in small, scattered groups.

“What’s happened now?” asked the bailiff grumpily. Like most bailiffs he was German and spoke Norwegian badly. He was a big man, both tall and stocky. He was absolutely revolting to look at with his small pig’s eyes and large, weak mouth. It was as if all he expected was hatred from his surroundings - and hatred was all he radiated. They said that his great passion was money, wealth and power. He was not particularly gifted in any way.

Andreas explained the situation. The bailiff looked as if this was nothing more than what one could expect of Norwegian peasants. The vicar was wringing his hands, clearly ill at ease.

“Won’t you please say a prayer for these dead souls and clear the air of any stray spirits, Vicar?” asked Brand.

“But we still don’t know who these women are,” moaned the vicar. “I can’t say requiems over fallen women.”

“Then there’s even more reason to say requiems over them,” said Are bluntly. “Jesus didn’t turn his back on sinners.”

You didn’t argue with a son of Tengel of the Ice People in this village. Even the new vicar knew this. He just cast a glance at Are and then prayed that the unblessed spirits would be given peace. When that was done, everybody breathed a little easier.

But it didn’t last long because the next moment the bailiff lifted the head of one of the women and said. “Good God! Could this be ...?”

Then he calmed down again. “No, of course it can’t be!”

But they had all heard him. Kaleb’s calm, confident figure appeared, and many instinctively went over to him.

“What are you talking about?” asked Brand bluntly.

“No, it can’t be.”

“Speak up!”

“In the wilderness up here, in the small valleys... people have been speaking in recent years about a wolf-like human being. We call it a werewolf. About a year ago, a woman was flayed, and a three-legged wolf has been seen in the forest ... “

A young girl put her hand to her mouth and screamed: “Oh, Mummy!”

“A werewolf,” said Are with an angry glance. “Now you must be careful that you don’t scare people.”

“What I’m telling you is just gossip.”

“Nevertheless there seem to be four graves here that haven’t been consecrated,” one of the men said slowly. “Maybe all the deceased are women? Maybe this is where the werewolf lives and catches lonely women? During the full moon ...”

A few of the girls let out loud screams. Some looked up to find out in which phase the moon was in, but the moon couldn’t be seen. Others looked over their shoulder towards the forest.

“A three-legged wolf?” another man said. “Why does it have three legs?”

“Don’t you know that?” barked the bailiff. “The werewolf is a human being that changes into a wolf at full moon - and other times. Since he’s a human being, he has no tail. That’s shameful for a wolf. And that’s why he stretches out his one leg backwards like a tail – and then there are only three legs left to run on.”

“Ugh,” shivered someone in the crowd.

The bailiff looked sternly at the crowd. “So keep an eye on your husbands, women! If they’re out at night, you must summon me! Look carefully at his teeth. Maybe there’s a thread from a piece of garment – or maybe he has traces of blood on his face ...”

Are moaned quietly.

“And pregnant women should stay indoors in the evening,” the bailiff continued. “The werewolf finds them particularly attractive.”

“Oh, stop with all this nonsense!” Andreas blurted out thoughtlessly. “It’s something you’ve brought with you from Germany. We don’t have werewolves in Norway.”

“You’re absolutely wrong,” said the bailiff, who had turned quite red in the face. “You even have bears who can flay women and children to death, which we don’t have.”

“Yes, Andreas,” said Are calmly. “Even the old Vikings told of wolf-like humans. Only I don’t think there’s any reason to make a lot of fuss about it before we know more about these women. And I’d like to know – if it is a werewolf that is rife – why he’s dragged unknown women here?”

“But are the women unknown?” asked another man.

“What about Gustav’s Lisen? She left home to look for work last year at harvest-time and she promised to write home. No letter was ever received and she didn’t return home for Christmas as she’d promised.”

“Did she leave home at nightfall?” asked the bailiff.

“I don’t know. You must ask Gustav about that.”

“Yes, I will,” snapped the bailiff.

The forest stood dark and silent behind them. Nobody wanted to stand alone. They clustered in pairs and groups. The grey-black clouds lay heavily over the fir trees. It was easy to imagine that something was hiding between the trees.

Are ordered torches to be lit as the day was waning. Men with spades came from Linden Avenue and Graastensholm and then they began to carefully dig. The spectators excitedly followed everything that was going on in the field, but more and more were glancing towards the lonely house at the edge of the forest.

However, the bailiff was interested in a larger area.

“Who lives near here? Which farms are there?” he shouted into the calm meadow.

“Linden Avenue and Graastensholm,” answered Mattias. “And the hut of the bailiff’s assistant. And Klaus’ small farm up in the forest.”

“Klaus passed away a long time ago,” said the vicar. “And so did his Rosa.”

“After his sister married, Jesper lives on his own up there,” said Mattias.

“More farms?”

“No, not in the neighbourhood.”

“Hmm.” The bailiff let his sharp-eyed gaze wander over Are, Brand and Andreas from Linden Avenue, to Mattias and Tarald from Graastensholm. He fixed his look on Andreas.

“You’re clearly familiar with this meadow,” he said inquisitorially.

“Yes, but if you believe I’m stupid enough to dig up my own, carefully hidden corpses, then I don’t know which one of us is more stupid,” answered Andreas sharply.

It seemed that the bailiff could see the logic to that answer.

“You also have another farm within the family now, don’t you? Elistrand? This Kaleb – where does he actually come from?”

“I don’t think we should get him involved in all this,” said Andreas coolly. “He’s a very fine person, and we all respect him. Why don’t you ask him himself? He’s standing right behind you.”

The bailiff turned around. He didn’t know everybody in the parish personally and he had never met Kaleb before. Now he stepped back a bit from the blond giant.

Andreas continued with a malicious undertone: “Kaleb’s a great expert on law. He can be of assistance to you in this case.”

The bailiff mumbled something about amateurs.

“You’d hardly call Kaleb an amateur,” said Andreas. “Kaleb was the apprentice of Judge Dag Meiden and he’s been an MP for many years.”

That silenced the bailiff. After that he didn’t say much during the digging. He was not used to cases like this one and put his trust in Mattias and Kaleb and the people at Linden Avenue. His authoritative voice sounded like an echo of theirs, repeating what had already been said as if the words were his own. Nobody cared much for the bailiff because they found him conceited and only interested in wringing money from people.