Margit Sandemo - The Ice People 08 - Under Suspicion

Andreas and Mattias exchanged telling glances. The daughter of the executioner’s assistant had no friends.

“Four women?” she said in her thin voice. She was somewhat braver now as none of them had mocked or teased her.

But she was still on guard because her shifty glance betrayed it. Like a snail which is always ready to draw into its shell at the least sign of danger.

“Yes, four women,” answered Andreas. “They were killed. Do you know anything about it? Have you seen or heard anything this spring or last autumn?”

She tried to think and now that they were waiting for an answer, they could allow themselves to look at her openly. Her eyes were thoughtful, with a slightly sad and dreamy expression in them. She gave a strangely confused, despondent impression. But she was clean, beautiful and straight-backed, definitely attractive to look at.

“Nooo,” she answered nervously.

“If something comes to mind, please let us know,” said Mattias.

She nodded and then once more was reminded of her place in society and blushed. She restrained herself before she could apologise for having had the nerve to say something.

“I think it’s best if we pretend that your father is dying,” said Mattias. “People are agitated right now, and they’ve found a scapegoat. If we say that he’s close to death, they’ll stay away, and the guilty ones will have a bad conscience. But, to be on the safe side, keep the door locked for the next couple of days. ”And ...” he hesitated, “You’d better not go out when it’s dark.”

When she understood that they were about to leave, she got a nervous and eager look in her eyes.

“Oh, but please don’t refuse a refreshment,” she said shyly. “I’ve got cakes and honey juice. I’ll bring them in a moment.”

They sensed that she made an effort to speak in a well-educated manner. She was already on her feet and dashed to and fro between the kitchen corner and the pantry.

They looked at each other. Both were sufficiently understanding to say thank you although they were late in their various tasks.

She was so eager. She placed a bowl and a wooden plate with beautifully, artistically made cakes on the table.

‘Oh, for heavens sake!’ thought Mattias. ‘They were baked for Christmas. Weren’t they nice! And nobody had eaten them. Nobody had seen them at all.’

Then she asked them, her hands waving nervously, to sit on the planks that served as the seats in the house. She herself stood in the background, checking that her guests were not short of anything. She was restless and was quite unable to stand still. She went over to the table time and again to correct something, move the plate, the flower vase ...

The cakes were as hard as stone but they dipped them discreetly in the honey juice and praised Hilde for making them look so attractive. She turned away but they saw her happy, radiant smile. So they forced themselves to eat a few more of the rock-hard cakes before they said thank you and prepared to leave.

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” promised Mattias. “To see how your father’s doing.”

She nodded and found a slender purse to pay the doctor. But he smiled and refused to take any money.

“We can always talk about that later. I may need to call in several times before your father’s well. Goodbye, Hilde Joelsdatter, and thank you for a lovely meal.”

The two men walked silently down the hill, each one deep in his own thoughts. They didn’t need to turn round to know that Hilde stood in the farmyard, gazing at them.

“One knows so little about one’s neighbours,” said Andreas.

“Yes,” said Mattias. “I heard that you mentioned the werewolf and did so very gently. That was good ...”

When they were out of sight, Hilde went inside again. She looked about the place and was surprised. She felt that something had changed.

This was where they had sat. She knew that those places would never be the same. She gently touched the beams in the wall which they had leaned their shoulders on. They had touched her wooden bowl. And this was where the doctor had bent over her father. Now the blanket was crumpled, he had said, so they had both smoothed it out.

He had noticed the flowers on the table. A shame she hadn’t picked some more. In preparation for tomorrow, she would... Tomorrow they would be back. Or maybe only the doctor? The one with the kind eyes.

Hilde went in to check on her father, but he was sleeping or was unconscious. Then she went outside and gazed towards Linden Avenue.

Brand waited for Andreas and Mattias just as they were arriving at home.

“Dad has summoned the whole family,” he said. “You’d better go over to Linden Avenue.”

The entire Norwegian part of the family sat in Brand’s and Matilda’s parlour. Matilda had baked a barley cake and served it with thick cream. The two young men looked at each other, moaning quietly. Hilde’s Christmas cakes lay heavily in their stomachs.

Are breathed heavily. His grey-white beard made him appear masterful and patriarchal.

“The discovery of the dead women has put us in a fix,” he said. “I want to discuss the matter with you in detail before the bailiff interrogates us. You know how vulnerable we are when it comes to witchcraft. So we need to know who we can rule out entirely.”

“But Dad,” replied Brand. “Surely you don’t suspect any of us? And you don’t believe in werewolves, do you?”

“Of course not! But we’re exposed and must be able to defend ourselves. Those who are under suspicion must count on our support. Now and in the future. What worries me is the witch rope.”

The others nodded. The slender and agile Eli, who was sixteen, sent a questioning glance at her foster mother, Gabriella: May she take another barley cake? Gabriella nodded absentmindedly. The girl still needed to put on some weight. Kaleb sent Eli a stern glance but said nothing. Both he and Eli stood outside the circle of suspects as did Yrja and Matilda. However, all four of them felt deep loyalty towards their dear ones.

“We must discuss the relatives of the Ice People one after the other,” began Are. “Above all, we can exclude Cecilie and Tancred and his young daughter, Lene. Surely we agree on that?”

“Yes,” replied Gabriella. “And the same goes for Tarjei’s son, Mikael.”

“Yes, of course,” said Are, who always looked sad when Mikael was mentioned. “On my side there’s me, Brand and Andreas to discuss. Shall we agree that we exclude Andreas, who found the deceased and was quite shaken afterwards? Actually, I’ve never seen him so agitated.”

“Yes,” said the others. “We’ll rule him out.”

“Good!” continued Are. “On Liv’s side of the family there’s herself, Tarald, Mattias and Gabriella. Is there anybody I’ve forgotten?”

No, nobody had been left out. Then Tengel and Silje’s descendants were listed one after the other.

“What’s all this business about witchcraft anyway?” said Kaleb. “Nine different pieces of string tied together – what does that mean?”

Are smiled. “This is where it would have been nice if we could have asked one of the afflicted. But there’s nobody we can ask now. The only one who has a small amount of supernatural powers is Cecilie because she masters the art of telepathy. But she’s in Denmark and hardly knows about witchcraft. And Mattias, who keeps the Ice People’s supply of witchcraft remedies, has probably never used them, have you?”

“No,” answered Mattias.

“I think there’s somebody you’ve forgotten,” said Liv gently. She was still dignified and youthful even at seventy one. “You forget that I possess quite a lot of knowledge, although I always try to suppress anything that’s evil.”