C13 Chapter 13

Saga confided in Belinda. The two of them got on very well. Belinda looked at her with her big, childish eyes. “Do you mean to say that ... that it was that man you ... met on your journey?”

“Yes, Belinda,” replied Saga, beaming like a ray of sunshine. “There’s nothing odious about it because we loved one another more than I thought was humanly possible. He knew our time was short because he was already ... doomed to die.”

Belinda didn’t seem too troubled by that small sin. That wasn’t what bothered her simple way of thinking.

“You’re a married woman,” she said pensively. “You’d better say that it was your husband. You know how nasty people can be.”

Saga made a face. She disliked the thought of Lennart being the father of the child she already loved. But Belinda was right, of course.

“We won’t say anything,” Saga said. “Not until people ask. Then we’ll say that it was my husband. We don’t have to say which one!”

Both women cheered up at the thought of the child that was on its way. Belinda was so sweet and helpful, and Saga was eager as never before. They also told the men in the household, who were really happy for Saga and didn’t blame her for anything.

Saga had regained her zest for life.

Viljar had already begun to build a new farmhouse for Linden Avenue and it would be ready to move into in November. The neighbours had helped them a lot. All the treasures were moved from the old house, including the glass painting that Benedikt Maler had once given to Silje, the four portraits she herself had painted of the children – Liv, Dag, Sol and Are – the Ice People’s quite comprehensive collection of treasures, and the furniture that they had taken from Graastensholm before the grey people took complete possession of the place. And, of course, all their own furniture and domestic utensils.

The new house was larger and considerably warmer.

At long last, Viljar was content with life. The evil years were over.

At Christmastime, he and Belinda asked Saga to do them a favour:

It so happened that Viljar’s half-brother, Jolin, had moved back to West Norway. But not to Eldafjord. He and his family had settled in Jæren in the far south. Viljar and Belinda had wanted to visit Jolin for a very long time, but they had never been able to leave Linden Avenue. Would it be all right if they left just after Christmas? Then perhaps Saga could stay with Henning. The boy was good at running the farm, and he could almost look after himself, at least for a short time. But it would be nice if there was an adult in the house. Would Saga mind taking charge?

Of course, Henning and Saga accepted. The boy couldn’t join his parents because somebody had to stay to tend to the animals. But everything would be fine, he assured Saga. Viljar and Belinda planned to be home in early February, and Saga’s child wasn’t due until April.

Belinda and Viljar were to journey along the coast by boat, which was the easiest way. Saga thought it was the wrong time of year to sail, but they assured her that the Emma was a strong boat that had sailed this stretch dozens of times.

But first of all, there was Christmas.

Saga enjoyed spending Christmas in the country once more after the many years of worrying about her parents. She was already beginning to make plans for her future with the child, because she couldn’t stay at Linden Avenue for the rest of her life. Even if the others told her that she was welcome to do so.

During dinner on Christmas Day, the thought struck her like a lightning bolt. It was something she should have realized a long, long time ago.

She was gazing at Henning, who was explaining something to his father. He was so straightforward and down-to-earth, a wonderful child. Soon she might also have such a child. Her thoughts moved on to Malin, her good friend, who was of Henning’s generation. She was also an exceptionally nice, cordial person.

Then it was that the insight struck her.

Saga had always regarded Malin, who was just about her age, as of the same generation as herself. But that wasn’t the case at all! Malin and Henning were of the same generation, and they were two completely normal young people. The next and only other child that would be born in that generation would be Saga’s. She took a deep breath. The child was moving inside her – it was extremely lively. Nevertheless, she was very anxious.

“What’s the matter, Saga?” asked Viljar. “Aren’t you feeling well?”

“Oh yes. I was just drawing a quite natural conclusion about my child.”

There was silence.

Finally, Viljar spoke. “We wondered how you could take things so calmly. But remember, Saga, that your mother was in precisely the same situation as you. She knew that she would have a stricken child, as she was the last one. But it was something she wished for, something she wanted.”

“So do I! I just feel so sorry for the child! Imagine being born to such a fate!”

“But surely you gave your parents nothing but joy?” said Viljar.

“Yes, but that was because I was one of the chosen.”

“I think you should hope for the same for your child. But please understand that you’ll have to stay with us until you’ve given birth, and preferably a bit longer?”

“Now I’m the one who needs you,” she replied.

“We’re only happy to return the compliment after all your help. We’ll see to it that you get the very best doctor to assist you. You know that nowadays they can do so much. Caesarean sections and all sort of things.”

Saga laughed. “It’s not my own life that I fear for. Of course, I’d very much want to see my child grow up.”

Viljar replied: “There’s no reason why you shouldn’t.”

Nevertheless, a small shadow had fallen over her joy. Marcel hadn’t deserved that she would bring a cursed child into the world. He’d chosen the wrong woman.

Oh, no! She wouldn’t think like that! Nobody could have loved the dark angel more than she had!

Viljar and Belinda left, and Saga was alone with Henning. They got on very well with one another. They thought in the same way and had a lot to think about. Saga became closely attached to Viljar and Belinda’s young son.

She had written to Christer’s daughter, Malin, a long time ago to tell her about the imminent birth – without mentioning who the father was, of course. Malin had replied, congratulating her, and asked whether she should come to Norway to lend a helping hand? She had obviously also thought of the possibility that the child might be stricken. Malin had just finished her nursing training at Sweden’s first Deaconess Foundation, and didn’t yet know how she could use it in the best possible way. Saga wrote back and said that wasn’t necessary at all: Belinda would be a great help. But she added that she would love to see her relative and good friend so they ought to meet quite soon.

Saga and Henning worked well together. He toiled like a fully grown man in the stable and barn, and she took care of all the duties indoors. She felt well and the doctor was pleased with her.

But one day he gave her a small shock. When he had examined her, he said pensively: “It seems you may be expecting twins, Saga. I can’t say for sure, but it feels like it.”

It was a shock but also a happy thing to know! Two little children. Not bad for a woman of the Ice People. The clan needed all the members it could get if it wasn’t to die out completely!

Henning thought it sounded wonderful, but he also looked a bit shy. He was eleven now, and women’s lives were still a mystery to him, though exciting.

In late January, they received a letter from Belinda: Jolin’s sickly wife had fallen seriously ill but they were hoping that she would improve. Would it be all right if Belinda and Viljar stayed on for another month?

Certainly, was the rash reply from Saga and Henning. Everything was fine. They could easily manage it all. They had carded and spun all the wool, and Henning had chopped plenty of wood in the forest so they had no reason to be worried. None of them, not even Henning’s parents, bore in mind that twins are often born earlier than single babies.

Winter passed by in a jiffy. Saga had never been so happy and excited before, and her exuberance rubbed off on Henning. They worked hard during the day and had a cosy time in the evenings, when they played games or just sat talking. Saga had got everything ready for the birth. She had sewn and knitted, and Henning had made a crib. It might be a bit clumsy but it was wide. After all, Saga was expecting twins.

The month of March came with a warm wind that melted the last of the snow. The courtyard was cleared of rubbish and junk. You don’t always see the mess in autumn, but in the pale, sharp light of spring everything shows up with merciless clarity.

Saga said: “Tomorrow, the boat returns to Horten.”

“How about meeting them off the boat?” suggested Henning.

“That might not be such a good ...”

“No, no, you’re right,” Henning replied. “You’d better stay close to the house. When will Mother and Father be back?”

“On ... Thursday, or maybe Friday.”

With renewed energy, they began to clean the fine new house, so that it would look really nice when his parents arrived home.

Henning loitered by the window as much as he could all Thursday and all Friday. He ran down to the gate where he had a better view of the road. But he couldn’t see anybody. The old linden trees along the avenue couldn’t hide the fact that the road was completely deserted.

On Sunday evening, Saga made a decision: “We’ll go tomorrow. We won’t be able to miss them on the road, so we’ll meet them sooner or later.”

Henning jumped up: “Yes! Line at Eikeby can come and tend to the animals. I’ll run over and ask her straight away.”

“Yes, do that.”

Neither expressed openly the anxiety they felt. Having something to do now was much better than just waiting.

Early on Monday morning, they drove off in the gig. The storm that had raged the whole week had finally abated, and it was fairly warm. There was a definite feeling of spring in the air.

They couldn’t think of as much to say to one another as they used to. All they did was wait for the mail coach to appear, the one that Henning’s parents were coming on.

But the road was deserted. Of course, they did meet other coaches from time to time, but not the one they were looking out for.

Then, at last! “There!” Henning shouted. “Here comes the mail coach.”

“Thank goodness,” murmured Saga.

But there was nobody from Linden Avenue on board. Henning was very disappointed.

Saga instinctively felt alarmed. She felt a foreboding that something bad had happened. “They were due to board this coach in Horten, when the coast ship Emma put in on Wednesday. Hasn’t the boat arrived at all?”

None of the passengers knew anything. But the driver did. Emma hadn’t berthed yet. They expected her at any time. They believed that she had put into port somewhere else, seeking shelter.

They thanked the driver and the mail coach drove on.

After a long, long pause, Saga said: “Now that we’re so close to Horten ...”

“Yes,” Henning said quickly, but his voice was strangely dull. Saga put her arm around him and he pressed himself gratefully closer. She felt his small body against hers and wanted so much to say some words of comfort. But what could she say that hadn’t already been said?

At the wharf in Horten, they got the crushing response: the coastal vessel Emma had simply vanished. It had been lost in the storm between Arendal and Tvedestrand. Nobody knew what had happened, but when you considered that it was very close to the feared Målen ...

“What is Målen?” Henning asked in a small voice.

The harbourmaster explained that Målen was a bar of rolling stones. It was extremely tricky because it never stayed still. The stones moved constantly, changing the position of the bar. It was extremely low, so it wouldn’t be visible in a heavy sea. Målen was Norway’s worst ship graveyard, and not very long ago, a big ship had run aground on exactly that spot.

“We’ll go there,” Henning said.

The harbourmaster said: “You mustn’t do that. Several boats are out searching and there’s nothing you can do from land. When Emma sailed past, there was no onshore wind.”

Henning swallowed: “Can we wait here?”

Saga, who was white in the face from the shock, said: “I think we’d better go home. Line can’t tend to the animals for longer than we agreed.”

She didn’t say what she was thinking. She was feeling unwell. The bumpy journey in the small gig hadn’t done her much good.

“We must go home, Henning. Harbourmaster, this is our address. Please write as soon as you hear anything. The boy’s parents were on board the boat.”

The harbourmaster nodded. “I certainly will. We have several relatives waiting for passengers at the hotel here. And I think you would be wise to return home,” he said with a glance at Saga. “You look very poorly, and in your condition ...”

“Yes. We’ll hurry home,” she replied.

As quickly as possible, she thought. There are three weeks left so there’s probably no danger but I would rather be at home with the nice doctor nearby. Here, nobody knows about the Ice People’s curse.

As they left the harbourmaster’s office, Henning put his small hand into hers; he squeezed it so hard that her fingers became quite numb. She returned his squeeze because she knew what he was going through.

The poor little boy! She had an unbearable sinking feeling. Belinda ... that wonderful person, who wasn’t born to cope with life, had nevertheless found a safe haven with Viljar. She was allowed to play her part for him and their beloved son. And Viljar, who had finally got to grips with his life.

Dear God, if there’s any justice in this world, you mustn’t let it happen. I’m one of the few among the Ice People who believes in you. But I must say, you complicate things for me. Is this a test? Are you testing my faith in you? If so, you’re no better than Marcel told me you were: a vain, petty god that is focused only on his own grandeur! But I just don’t think you’re like that. I don’t believe that you can hurt a little boy like that! If the worst happens, I promise that I’ll stay and be like a mother to him. I’ll love him just as much as my own children. It will be easy, because Henning is the sweetest, most lovable child you can imagine.

Henning, it’s impossible to believe that this is really happening! Haven’t you had more than enough on your plate? With your anxiety for your father, who couldn’t cope with the pressure, the horrible shadow of Graastensholm and the neighbours’ unfriendliness? Didn’t you deserve some appreciation for your unfaltering loyalty? No more punishment in the shape of anxiety like this.

Saga put her arm around his shoulders and assured him that everything would be fine. After all, they had each other and she wouldn’t leave him until his mother and father were back.

Her calm assurance helped him, she could tell from his sigh of relief.

The horse had eaten its fodder and had rested, so they began the home journey immediately. They knew that they would be home late, in the middle of the night, but nothing could be done about that. Now they both felt the need to be in familiar surroundings at home.

For the first couple of kilometres, they didn’t say much. Saga tried desperately to think about something else – the baby, or more likely, the babies that were to come.

What a shame that you won’t have the chance to see them, Lucifer, she thought. That saddens me. But otherwise I’m filled with indescribable joy when I think of them. Thank you for them, my dearest. They have given me the strength to live without you. I’ll do everything – everything – for them!

At last, she said to the terror-stricken Henning: “Remember that they haven’t found the boat. Not a single trace. We must take that as a good omen. Its rudder or something else could be damaged and perhaps it’s drifting with the wind. It’s probably somewhere out at sea. Now the storm has abated, many ships are searching for it.”

Henning only nodded. He sat stiffly, staring ahead, as night was falling. Saga heard him whispering to himself: “He shouldn’t have mentioned that bit about Målen!”

“Your mother and father might not even have left Jolin’s farm,” she said lightly. “We might receive a letter from them tomorrow saying that they had to stay a bit longer. That’s quite likely.”

Henning replied: “I won’t begin to think sad thoughts just yet, because I’m sure that they’re alive. Anyway, it really hurts to be scared, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. The uncertainty is what hurts the most.”

At that moment, she felt strong pains in her loins, and she gritted her teeth.

This is nothing, she thought to herself, and urged on the horse. They were in a rural part of the country and this was what it would be like for quite a long while. She knew that. But there was no danger yet. Her babies weren’t due for another three weeks, she told herself calmly. This was just a small reminder that she shouldn’t be sitting in a gig.

But what should she have done? Surely Henning’s welfare meant something as well, didn’t it?

The boy was tired.

“You just lie down and get some rest,” she told him in a loving voice.

He straightened his back immediately. “No, no! I must stay awake! Mother and father ...”

Saga understood.

Ten minutes later, she felt the next shooting pain through her body. It was so strong that she jerked.

Henning was surprised. “Are you in pain, Saga?”

“I hope it doesn’t mean anything,” she said, breathing out. “I can’t really do anything now.”

Three quarters of an hour later, Saga and Henning both realized what was happening. Saga gave Henning’s hand a hard squeeze.

“Don’t be afraid, Saga,” he said bravely. He was holding the reins now. “I shan’t let you down, you’ve always been so wonderful to all of us, and I’ve helped to deliver piglets and all sorts ...”

Saga laughed desperately. “Oh, if only we could come to a house soon! There’s nothing we can do about it if they get to see a stricken child. Now we need help!”

“I don’t think there are any houses nearby,” Henning said, worried. “Saga? Saga!”

She moaned. “I think we’ll have to stop. What are we to do, Henning?”

He looked anxiously about. It was semi-dark, but he could still see their immediate surroundings. They were in the middle of the forest, the place was deserted and there were no houses to be seen. Above them, the sky was a sharp yellow from the sunset. The forest floor was uneven and stony, and probably cold.

“We’ll have to stay in the gig,” he said. “Lie down on the seat.”

A boy of eleven ... Saga didn’t want to show him how embarrassed she was. She said with a sigh: “Oh, Henning, what a good thing that I have you! Are you sure it won’t be too awful for you?”

All of a sudden, the little boy felt enormously grown up.

“You and I can manage this!”

“Oh, dear. We don’t have any clothes for them!”

“Will you sacrifice your shawl? And we have the blanket that was keeping us warm during the ride.”

“Yes, that’s true. Henning: you do realize that there might be two, don’t you?”

“Yes, I’ve heard that.”

“You won’t forget about either of them, will you?” she laughed, despairing.

“No, no. You mustn’t be afraid. You can trust me.”

“Fine, Henning, I know that,” she said gently. “Anyway, I think we’d better drive on. The closer we get to Linden Avenue, the better. We’ll just stop every time I’m in real pain. Is that all right with you?”

“Yes, you just let me know.”

She squeezed his hand in gratitude. She didn’t lie down but stayed sitting up.

The boy was completely stiff with tension and anxiety. But it was good in one sense: now he didn’t have time to dwell so much on his parents.

One thing they did know: this was going to be Henning of the Ice People’s most difficult task so far.