Winter storm, p.6
Winter Storm, page 6
“But then it’ll never end, will it?”
“No. Not until one of the families is completely wiped out. And I intend to see to it that it’s not our family.”
Villemo stood there, slightly bewildered. “But we haven’t tried to wipe you out.”
“No.”
“Well, why do you hate us then?”
He looked at her for a moment with a fairly cruel gaze. “Maybe because you’re too sweet-natured.”
“What a strange reason that is!”
“No, it’s very logical. We’re a proud people, we of the Black Forest.”
“Well, guess what? I know that perfectly well. Yet I still don’t understand.”
“What do you prefer yourself? To give or to receive as a beggar?”
She ignored his last three words and thought for a moment. “To give, of course,” she then said.
Eldar merely nodded. In Villemo’s childish admiration, he seemed so grown-up and awe-inspiring.
“You’re pretty intelligent, actually,” she said pensively. “I thought that you were nothing more than a simple lout.”
She noticed that the muscles of his jaw tightened. But he composed himself.
“And I took you for being a bird brain,” he said curtly.
“Do you still think that I am?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t interest me.”
Andreas shouted from the courtyard. “Anybody seen Eldar?”
He quickly walked out of the stable. Villemo could have throttled Andreas had he been close by. She went out with her load. Niklas laughed at her.
“My word, look at you, Villemo!”
“What?”
“You have a black smudge all the way down your chin.”
She could have howled with embarrassment. So she had been standing in there all that time, looking ridiculous and not knowing it as she had lowered her eyelids and tried to look seductive. And all the while there had been an ugly smudge on her chin! How embarrassing.
She worked like a donkey all morning. When the dinner bell rang at three o’clock, she followed the crowd to the big table in the kitchen. She hoped she could squeeze down next to Eldar, but she was a little delayed as she had spent a long time washing herself. Besides, there was no room next to him. To her great dismay she had to sit far away from him, on the same side of the table, without the possibility of having any contact. But she could see his hands when he broke the bread and put the spoon down in the soup. She had to be grateful for that.
Villemo proceeded to talk far too loudly with Niklas so that Eldar could hear how spiritual she was. Afterwards she was ashamed at her stuck-up, empty talk.
The people from Linden Avenue wouldn’t allow her to go out again after the meal. They didn’t want to be blamed for her going home to Elistrand in dirty clothes. Protests were of no use. She was told to do the washing up with the other women. She tried to listen to their conversation, but none of them so much as mentioned Eldar. And she wouldn’t say his name because that would be too conspicuous.
After finishing the dishes, she went in to old Brand. He was sixty-four with silver stripes in his black hair. Or maybe the other way round. With black stripes in his silver hair. He was taking his nap after inspecting the stable building all morning. Now he was ready to go out again.
“Uncle Brand. What kind of people are the Woller People?”
He looked up in surprise from the boot that he was lacing. “The Woller People? You mean the people at Woller in the Parish of Eng?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know them particularly well,” he said slowly. “I’ve only met them a few times at large gatherings. They’re of Danish stock.”
“Are they kind?”
“No, heaven forbid!” he exclaimed spontaneously. “Well, since I don’t know them I can’t really say.”
“Please tell me what you know, Uncle! It’s important for me to know!”
“Why? Are you friendly with anybody from there?”
“No, quite the contrary!”
“Well, then it’s alright for me to be candid. The estate owner is an extremely unpleasant person. They say that he flogs his subordinates, and he won’t tolerate any interference or contradiction. I believe that they got Woller in a pretty dishonest way, and his sons are trigger-happy, so they say.”
“What about those who lived there before?”
“At Woller? I don’t know who they were ... Wait, come to think of it, weren’t they the people of the Black Forest? Oh, well, it’s an intricate and unpleasant story, Villemo. I don’t think we should get involved in it.”
“A person from the Black Forest says that the Woller People are trying to wipe them out.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me in the least. I believe they’re involved in a terrible blood feud. But it’s just rumours, Villemo. We shouldn’t take it seriously.”
“But it is serious!”
Brand furrowed his brow. “I must have a word about this with Mattias. But there isn’t much we can do about it. The Black Forest people aren’t exactly in love with us, as you know.”
“Maybe the bailiff can help?”
“The bailiff we now have is only interested in women and brandy, and he’s so corrupt that the Woller People might well have bought him off. But I can ask the people of the Black Forest today. And now I think it’s about time for you to be on your way home. Your dad’s bound to be worried about you.”
She agreed. After all, she had spoken with Eldar. Twice on the same day would be asking too much.
“Will you be working in the stable for many days?” she asked.
“At the current speed they’ll be finished the day after tomorrow. The men from the Black Forest are good workers. When they’re willing to work that is.”
She wished that they wouldn’t work quite so fast. She would need some more days if she was to thaw out Eldar’s armour of ice. As she walked across the courtyard, she turned and waved a thank you to them all. Eldar stood on the roof of the stable. After hesitating for a long while, he lifted his hand in a half-hearted greeting.
Jesper’s son, who was the same age as Niklas, stood next to Eldar. He watched Villemo as she left.
“Lovely girl,” he said approvingly as if he had tasted a nice dessert. “I wouldn’t mind lying in the bed straw with her!”
Eldar turned away in disgust. “I’d rather go to bed with a hedgehog!”
Jesper’s son found this extremely funny. “A hedgehog? In the bed? Yuck!”
Eldar didn’t send Villemo so much as a glance.
Villemo returned to the same spot the next day, but Eldar wasn’t there. She helped, though not with quite the same enthusiasm as the day before. She kept close to Niklas but at some point she managed to pull one of Eldar’s brothers aside for a one-to-one talk.
“You’re not that many today,” she said searchingly.
“Aren’t we?” the brother said grumpily. “No, Eldar isn’t here today.”
“Oh, so he’s missing, is he? Where might he be hiding?”
“He had something else he had to do.”
Villemo would have liked to ask whether he would turn up the next day, but that would have been a bit too obvious. That much she realised. She soon gave up her voluntary work and plodded up to Graastensholm.
There she had Mattias to herself. He was now close to fifty, but you couldn’t tell. He would never be able to erase the childlike innocence from his features, no matter how much sorrow and misery he had seen among the people in the parish.
Villemo continued to skirt the issue and carried out a series of diversions so that her questions would appear spontaneous and irrelevant.
“By the way, Uncle Mattias, may I be allowed to see the Ice People’s secret treasure? I’ve never seen it.”
Mattias jerked. This was going to be difficult. Villemo was possibly the most likely candidate for wanting to dabble with danger. If she was told that the treasure was to be passed on to Niklas, jealousy might flare up. They had seen that before.
In order to win time, Mattias said, “Well, there isn’t much to see. What is it you want to know?”
“Is it true that it contains nothing but magical potions?”
‘Be careful,’ Mattias thought.
“There are certainly many curious items in the collection.”
“Which Sol and Hanna made use of?”
“Yes, I suppose they did. But we don’t know much about their effect.”
“I’ve heard that those two witches were absolutely fantastic.”
“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”
“Yes, but Grandma Cecilie said so!”
Mattias laughed. “My Aunt Cecilie has always had a lively imagination. She always exaggerates. To impress. Just like you.”
Villemo felt that she was getting nowhere. Uncle Mattias had answered all her questions but managed each time to divert her from the topic.
“Why am I not allowed to see the treasure?”
“Because it’s awfully complicated to dig it out.”
“Don’t you ever use it, Uncle Mattias?”
He hesitated and looked thoughtfully at the sweet, well-dressed girl and didn’t for a moment trust the angelic look on her face. Her eyes were too ‘Ice People-yellow’ for that.
“Now and then I may fetch something or other from it,” he said. “But otherwise I tend to use modern herbs. I operate where they used incantations.”
Villemo hesitated for a long time before she came to the point. She didn’t intend to ask, but since Uncle Mattias was so stupid and unwilling ...
“Is it true what Grandma said – that Sol would use some sort of love herb from time to time? In order to make men’s desire focus on her?”
Mattias’s mild eyes lit up in a smile. There were wrinkles there now, but they radiated just as much life as before.
“Sol didn’t need to use such ploys. She was so intoxicatingly beautiful that she could get hold of anybody she wanted. You’ve seen the portrait of her. Although you’re very different in colour and facial features, I do believe that you have certain traits in common. Especially an impatience to experience things.”
Now he had changed the topic again, but she was insistent.
“Did they never use those kind of herbs on other people? In order to help them?”
“What kind of herbs?”
Did he have to make it so difficult for her?
“The ... love herbs?”
“Oh, those. I don’t know.”
Villemo was feeling increasingly irritated. “Are there such herbs in the collection?”
Finally the penny seemed to drop. She wasn’t interested in the whole collection. All she wanted was to have a man fall in love with her. That was a serious matter in itself, but his relief was so great that he got up, laughing.
“Well, then. Let’s take a look at the collection!”
Villemo jumped up and followed Mattias into the small section of the house at Graastensholm where he kept his healing herbs.
‘Who’s been fortunate enough to capture Villemo’s heart?’ he thought, enjoying it. There had been some parties this past summer at the large estates and here at Graastensholm. She had undoubtedly come across some obstinate youth from the better circles of Akershus. Mattias mostly wanted to give Villemo a love potion that would do no harm, really. He was just curious to see how matters would turn out. But, of course, that wouldn’t be a good idea. He opened a series of locks while Villemo looked on excitedly. Finally he pulled out a whole box and placed it on his desk.
“I’ve arranged and catalogued it all,” he explained. “I’ve already put a lot of the things in my own supply of medicines because they were sensible and very effective drugs. These are the extremely old recipes and a lot of curiosities. I don’t think we should believe too much in them.”
Villemo let her hand glide over the collection. She was delighted at all these exciting, eerie and occasionally silly things. However, much of it gave her a deep sensation of awe. She realised that the collection certainly was a treasure.
Mattias said sternly, “Officially, we’ve destroyed all this. If it becomes known that we still possess the collection, it would be most unfortunate for us as I’m sure you understand. So I trust that you’ll never mention to anybody what you’ve seen here.”
“Of course not,” said Villemo with a thick voice. “But where’s the ... ?”
Mattias took out some small vials. “What I’m holding in my right hand are pure aphrodisiacs, and I don’t think you should get involved in them.”
“Why not?” Villemo said, immediately thinking that she would like to get hold of them. Anything that was forbidden had always appealed to her.
“Because they ignite men’s carnal instincts. You can’t defend yourself against someone who’s taken this.”
Villemo grimaced. She was so young that she still drew back from the thought of erotic love. That wasn’t what she was seeking.
“Ugh, yuck,” she said, childishly. “And the other?”
He stretched out his left hand. “I don’t believe in this. It’s supposed to ignite a man’s yearning so that his heart is filled with pure and beautiful love for the first woman he sees after having taken it. There was a similar brew which, in the legend about Tristan and Isolde, King Mark wanted to give to his future bride. He sent his nephew, Tristan, to fetch her, but an evil creature saw to it that the two young people drank the love potion on their way and the first person Isolde saw when she woke up was Tristan. And that triggered the tragedy.”
Villemo had only listened with one ear. Since they had a Tristan in the family, she knew the old legend well. Her eyes were glued to the concoction in Mattias’s hand.
‘I want that,’ she thought to herself. ‘That’s exactly what I’m looking for!’
“So you don’t believe in it, Uncle Mattias? Could I then have a very tiny bit of it and try it on somebody? Anybody at all?”
Mattias smiled. “What if it works? You shouldn’t just choose anybody. Not Jesper’s son – or any of those working at Linden Avenue right now. That would be terrible,” he laughed, as if her choosing any of them was completely out of the question.
“No, of course not,” she replied with a smile, which she felt was stiff and artificial. “No, I could try it on Niklas.”
Mattias turned serious. “I really don’t think you should try. That wouldn’t be right because–”
Villemo didn’t pay attention to what he was about to say. She was far too absorbed in her own thoughts. “So you believe in the preparation after all, Uncle Mattias,” she broke in triumphantly.
“No. It’s just that I feel you shouldn’t experiment with people’s emotions.”
He began to put the things back into their place again.
“I could try it on myself, couldn’t I?” she suggested quickly.
Mattias regarded her with a determined look on his face. “Villemo, I believe we should abandon this crazy idea now. I’ve been told that Hanna, the witch, offered my great-grandmother, Silje, a love potion so that she could win Tengel to which she had replied, ‘If I can’t win him without the help of sorcery, then I’m not strong enough to win him.’ Think about that! What does love actually mean if it’s won by ... cheating?”
Villemo was crestfallen and had to agree with him. She was forced to return to Elistrand with no love potions. Mattias stood by the window as he sent her a thoughtful glance. Had he done the right thing by showing her the treasure? What if he’d ignited that dangerous fire in her soul?
Villemo was difficult to fathom. Nobody was as unstable, as difficult to make out or understand as her. Kaleb and Gabriella often said so themselves. They loved their only child and were ever so proud of her – but they couldn’t deny that she had witchcraft in her.
“Exactly like Sol,” a worried Liv had said. “But a sweet and angelic Sol. Provided nothing changes her personality because then she could be lethal.”
Had he triggered the transformation? He didn’t think so. Nothing indicated that this was the case. She had been angry and crestfallen, but that was just the way Villemo was. Her eyes didn’t shine with an evil glow. No, he was sure that Villemo would do no harm. Only you could never be absolutely sure. Not with her.
‘I seem to be in favour with the younger generation,’ thought Mattias when another visitor came to see him. This time it was Tristan, a trembling, pale, blushing fifteen-year-old, who called on him. He said that he wanted to speak with Uncle Mattias in private. It had to do with health matters.
Tristan sat hunched in a chair with his elbows on the armrest, fists clenched. Now and then, he would look up sadly at Irmelin’s dad, but mostly he would look away. Uncle Mattias had such comforting eyes, which gave the boy a bit more courage. He had been in a cold sweat for several days on end. Alone, baffled, scared – and with a bleak conscience. Remorse was tearing at his soul. Finally, he had realised that he would have to see Uncle Mattias. He was hardly able to conceal his misery any longer.
“Well?” said the kind man. “I can understand that you’re feeling under the weather.”
Tristan swallowed so that his Adam’s apple jumped up and down. He was unable to utter a sound. Mattias saw tears in the boy’s eyes.
“Well, my dearest friend, what’s the matter?”
His voice was so tender, his hand, which glided over Tristan’s curls, was so gentle that it brought about more tears. The young Count sat there in the chair, sobbing violently, unable to speak. Instead he stretched out his hands. Mattias looked at them. He took the one hand, studying it carefully. Then the other.
“You’ve got scabies, my boy. We’ll cure that before you travel back home to Denmark.”
Tristan calmed down. “Are you absolutely sure? Mum and Dad won’t have to know?”
