C14 Chapter 14
“Dad,” said Benedikte, “why doesn’t Agnete come here anymore?”
“I’ve no idea,” replied Henning in a tired voice. “I’ve no idea.”
But he knew why. It was his own fault. He should never have mentioned his feelings for her. He had received a letter three weeks ago. A very emotional letter from Agnete. He had read it so many times that the paper was almost worn to pieces.
Dear Henning,
Please don’t think that I’m ungrateful because you asked me so kindly for my hand in marriage. But we must forget that conversation now, Henning. I’m not worthy of you and I can never, ever marry you. Nor anybody else.
I’m sorry if I’m hurting you, but all I can do is to write this letter. My lessons with the children must also cease, so I shan’t be coming to Linden Avenue again. Give my love to the dear little ones.
Forever your devoted
Agnete.
He was baffled. He didn’t understand why. He had planned to go to the vicarage and ask her. But when he met the priest’s wife after church, all she would say was that Agnete had been sick recently and didn’t want any visitors. What was wrong with her? Her mother murmured something about her nerves and left. It was obvious that she knew no more than he did about what was wrong with Agnete.
Henning had considered writing her a letter. A matter-of-fact one in which he just enquired about her health. But he couldn’t compose it the way he wanted. Because it would show that he didn’t understand and was hurt by her sudden refusal.
She had written “devoted”. Not just affectionate good wishes. “Devoted” meant so much more ...
No, no wishful dreams now!
Henning couldn’t get her out of his mind.
A few days after Benedikte had asked about Agnete, Henning heard an alarming rumour. It came from the kitchen, as the servants in the various houses had been talking to one another and at long last the news had reached Linden Avenue.
Everything wasn’t as it ought to be with the pious daughter at the vicarage. People were whispering that all her piety certainly hadn’t stopped her allowing a man to get under her skirts ...
Henning was utterly speechless. Impossible! Not Agnete of all people. It was impossible. She wasn’t like that at all! He told the servant girls not to listen to or spread such rumours. Did they really believe what they had heard?
Yes, it must be true because the maid at the vicarage had said so. And just wait until the priest and his wife found out, because then she would be thrown out on her ear!
Henning hated himself for the question that rushed into his mind. How did the maid at the vicarage know? She said you could tell from the appearance of Agnete’s clothes.
Agnete ... sick? There must be another reason. Henning refused to believe the gossip. He felt loyal to Agnete. He pondered what she had written in her letter – “I’m not worthy” – and he struggled to make head or tail of what he’d heard.
Above all, the first thing he needed to do was to visit Agnete. Her parents might confiscate a letter, so he dared not write.
But he didn’t have time to call on Agnete before something else happened.
Ulvar was wise enough to realize that his assault on the priest’s daughter would cause an uproar. So he took with him what he needed and hid in the forest above the smallholding. He didn’t want to move farther away, because he wanted to get his hands on the treasure at all costs.
Five days passed and nothing happened. So he moved back down to the smallholding because there was still food there. Agnete had provided him with plenty from the vicarage pantry.
The days went by. His food was running out. Damn cow, when was she coming back with more food? Would she let him lie here and die of hunger?
However, a vague thought in his miserable soul told him that she wasn’t likely to turn up again.
The memory of what had happened was quite unpleasant for Ulvar. It had been nice to be able to punish Henning like that, because he probably wouldn’t touch that fine lady now, that bastard. But she had humiliated Ulvar terribly. She was damn well going to pay for that!
No, no need, he giggled to himself. She had undoubtedly been punished enough!
Anyway, he couldn’t just go on lying here. Now he had to get hold of the treasure.
Ulvar left the smallholding when the food ran out. He hadn’t drawn up a watertight plan. But Marco could help him. Marco could be stupid, and he had a kind of elevated idealism, but he had always been kind to his brother. Loyal to Ulvar. Yes, he could certainly use Marco.
Tengel the Evil had had to wait for a long time, but now was the time!
He walked to the edge of the forest and looked down at Linden Avenue. It was Sunday, and he knew that they would all be gathered there. Stupid Malin and her even stupider Per, and their brat – and Marco. “Now they’re jolly well going to see me,” he said, hitching up his trousers.
Henning had been getting ready to go to the vicarage when Malin and her family arrived. Malin’s face showed great anxiety.
“What’s the matter?” Henning asked urgently.
“Henning, I feel so sad. I’ve just heard that Agnete has been thrown out of the vicarage.”
“What? Where is she?”
“I don’t know. It happened this morning. The priest sent a curate to take the service, and everybody knows about it.”
“What on earth has happened to dear Agnete? What’s happened to her? I must find her. She needs me.”
Malin put her hand on his arm. “Yes, do!” she said. “Because now Agnete has confessed everything. She told her parents she had been raped, but they didn’t believe her.”
Henning was white. “Raped? By whom?”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking? You see, she told her parents – and the maid heard this – that she had been taking care of a man who was ostracized by everybody else. She had wanted to do something good, and she wanted her close friend, Henning Lind of the Ice People, to be proud of her. And then this man raped her.”
“Oh God!” whispered Henning.
“I’m afraid that’s not all. The rape seems to have had consequences.”
“What kind of consequences?” Henning’s lips wouldn’t obey him so the words were unclear.
“I’m afraid, much more afraid than I can say,” sighed Malin. “When I say consequences, I mean the usual kind. But he was sick. You remember that they said so, don’t you?”
They hadn’t yet pronounced Ulvar’s name, but they were both sure that he was the one Agnete had been looking after.
“Yes, I remember that,” Henning replied. He could have wept at this moment. “They didn’t want to keep him at the hospital because they were afraid he would infect others. Oh, little Agnete! What can I do for you? I must find you ...”
But then Viljar came rushing in. “Ulvar is outside in the courtyard,” he said nervously. “He’s taken Benedikte hostage.”
Henning’s world collapsed. “Benedikte,” he said quietly, but it sounded like a scream.
“Yes, and he is threatening to cut her throat if he doesn’t get the Ice People’s treasure!”
Then they were all out in the courtyard. All of them making a big circle around Ulvar, who stood right behind a baffled Benedikte. Ironically, the little girl was taller than her assailant. He compensated for this with his frightening, hateful words and threats against them all.
Viljar and Belinda were there. And Henning and Marco and young Christoffer. And Malin and Per.
Nobody could do anything. They could do nothing to help Benedikte.
It was a blowy but warm day. The linden leaves rustled in the avenue, and loose straw and twigs danced across the courtyard. The old courtyard where Tengel the Good had once walked, happy at being the owner of all this. The buildings had changed since then, but the field was the same. The downtrodden grass where people had taken a shortcut and the gravel paths that hadn’t been raked. The smells of the stable and barn and the swallows whirring in the air.
Now the atmosphere was thick with evil, the curse of the Ice People.
Henning was beside himself. “You’ve taken everything that I held dear, Ulvar. You’ve betrayed my confidence in you. All your life, you’ve repaid good with evil. You’ve taken my future wife from me and ruined her life. And now you want to rob me of the very dearest thing I have on earth!”
“This?” Ulvar said, laughing mockingly. “Is this worth having? I’ve never seen an uglier brat than this one. But it was the best you could make, you clumsy fool!”
Benedikte ... young, awkward, unfortunate Benedikte, in her Sunday best with the pattern of little red hearts. How she loved that dress! Now she was growing too big for it. But if ... Perhaps she would never have the chance to grow out of it?
No, such thoughts would wear him to pieces!
Per said sharply: “Hand over the child, Ulvar. Or we’ll call the police!”
“I’m afraid that’ll be too late for her. Viljar, you maimed old weakling. Give me the treasure now! You won’t get the girl until you give me the treasure.”
The wind played with Viljar’s grey hair. “You can’t have it,” he said, trying to sound calm. Actually, he was shaking with agitation. “That’s what I promised Heike on the ship from Denmark. And you know that you can’t use it properly.”
“But that is exactly what I can do. I want it.”
“What do you want to do with it?” asked Malin.
“That’s none of your business, you pathetic whore! I want to go to the Valley of the Ice People. Because Tengel the Evil has chosen me to set him free.”
“What nonsense!”
“But I’ve seen him. You didn’t know that, did you, eh? I was about to succeed, had got hold of a flute ...”
Viljar whispered: “Good grief!”
The penetrating laughter was back. “Yes, I fooled you all didn’t I! You didn’t know, did you? That I read all those damn books about the Ice People. Right under your noses!”
They held their breath. Ulvar’s hand was waving a knife dangerously close to Benedikte’s throat.
“Some busybodies burnt the flute. So now I want the treasure. Quick now! I haven’t got time to stand here forever.”
Henning said: “The treasure isn’t here.”
“I know that, you pathetic old creature! You, Viljar, you must come with me and this brat and fetch it. And if you don’t do as I say, then ...”
He made a swift movement with the knife and Benedikte screamed. They saw blood trickle from her throat.
“Ulvar!” said Marco. “Let her go!”
Ulvar wheeled round to face him. “You shut up! You haven’t lifted a finger to help me and you’re supposed to be oh, so kind to people! You’re coming with us too. If anything goes wrong, I’ll cut her throat.”
Ulvar made a threatening, demonstrative movement.
Nine-year-old Christoffer could see that his best playmate Benedikte was crying. He saw the blood on her throat and before anyone could stop him, he had run over to her.
“You can’t cut Benedikte!” he shouted, pulling at Ulvar’s arm.
Everyone shouted, taking a step forward. They saw Ulvar flexing the muscles in his arm and the hand around the knife. Then they heard a shot, which roared between the house walls.
Ulvar opened his eyes wide, staring in disbelief at his brother. Then he collapsed and the knife slipped out of his hand.
Marco stood with a smoking pistol in his hand.
All Henning could do was wonder how he had got hold of it, because his brain couldn’t take anything else in.
Benedikte ran to her father. She was crying and Henning embraced her almost desperately.
“Father,” she asked pathetically, “am I horrible?”
“No,” he said through his tears. “No, not at all, Benedikte. To me, you’re the most beautiful person in the whole world.”
“And to us,” Malin said, putting an arm around her. “To all of us.”
In the middle of the commotion, they noticed that Marco was weeping. They had never seen that before. The handsome young man had pulled his brother’s body up on to his lap and was crying bitterly.
Belinda said softly: “You had to do it, Marco.”
“Yes, but he was my brother. He always looked up to me and then I had to do this to him. I loved him, Belinda. In some strange way, I loved him.”
“We know that. So did we, Marco.”
“Do you think he had time to see who ...?”
“No, Marco,” said Viljar. “Ulvar died instantly.”
“Thank you,” whispered Marco, and bowed his head over his twin brother. He gently stroked Ulvar’s stiff hair.
“How did you do it?” asked Viljar, surprised. “After all, that pistol is kept locked up.”
Marco shook his head. “Don’t ask,” he said, choking. “It doesn’t matter. But if you must know, I saw Ulvar with Benedikte through the window and I brought the pistol outside with me because I was so worried. But I didn’t want ... Ulvar ...”
Viljar nodded. But no one was satisfied with Marco’s explanation. They knew that Viljar was the only one who could have got hold of the pistol. He was the only one who had the key.
Henning remembered that Sølve had been able to do things like that. He could summon objects or people he wanted – by pure telepathy.
They looked at the remarkable Marco and realized they didn’t really know him, because he was so withdrawn and quiet. He had always just shown a mild, gentle façade, which they had accepted.
He got up. They helped him lay Ulvar neatly and carefully on the ground, arranging his clothes. Viljar laid his jacket over the body. Because there was still a lot that hadn’t been said ...
“Marco,” said Malin. “I think there’s something you need to explain to us.”
They moved a little away from the covered body. Marco wiped away his tears and looked questioningly at her. The others waited in anticipation.
“I was always so grateful to Ulvar,” Malin said. “Because, in spite of his hateful attitude, he protected us with those wolves. Yet he would never admit it. That’s what I thought.”
Marco smiled sadly. “I thought it was for the best. That you thought well of him.”
“Were you actually the one ...?”
Suddenly they noticed how quiet it was. The wind had died down, and far away they could hear a train whistle, long and sad. This was a crucial moment for the Ice People, and time was unimportant. They felt that they might have belonged to any century.
Marco stood in front of them, a little apart. He made a small, almost invisible gesture and two huge wolves suddenly appeared from behind the house and stood on either side of him.
The others gasped.
Per said: “Sometimes there were three.”
“If you look behind you ...”
They all turned immediately but saw nothing. When they turned back to Marco once more, he had vanished. Instead, they now saw three wolves. Then he was there again and the other two wolves had disappeared.
“So it was you,” said Malin. “Then it was you who saved Per and me from burning inside Mr Johnsen’s villa?”
“Yes. I couldn’t stop Ulvar torching the villa. I didn’t have complete power over him.”
“And you kept watch over Christoffer when he was a baby?”
“No, that was one of my ... helpers. I had to be in school.”
They instinctively felt that they weren’t to ask about the helpers.
“And it was you who rescued Viljar from the river,” said Malin. “But why did the wolf stop me when I ran after Ulvar up in the forest?”
“That was where he was the least dangerous. I’m sorry about that man who ran home from Linden Avenue. The one who died at his own front door. I had no idea that he had a weak heart. I was too young to understand at the time.”
Belinda looked at him thoughtfully. “Marco ... When Viljar and I returned home completely burnt out in body and soul, one mentally confused and the other one dying ... Do you remember that somebody came into our room during the night? No, you wouldn’t because you were so small at the time. But whoever that was made us better.”
Marco gave them a dazzling smile. “That was me. I remember it very well. I’m sorry I was so strict with you! But I spoke to you like that because I wanted to get a reaction. To wake you up to make you act.”
“And those roaring, loud flashes of lightning that so impressed Henning and me, which we thought that Ulvar was responsible for – was that also you?” Malin asked.
“Do you want me to show you?” Marco said with a smile. “It was me. Ulvar loved it when I practised witchcraft. It would always make him laugh.”
Now everything seemed to make much more sense.
The children looked at Marco with startled eyes. They probably didn’t understand very much of what was going on, so to be on the safe side, they held onto their fathers. To make sure nobody would take Henning or Per away from them.
Henning frowned. “And yet you let Ulvar continue? He’s done awful things, and I’m afraid we only know the half of it.”
“As I said, I had neither full control nor power over him, so I had to wait. He was destined to carry out a task.”
“Yes, and now it’s too late.”
“No, not at all. He did it.”
Henning stiffened. The others could see that he was deep in thought. “Agnete,” he whispered. “Then it’s true. But that she had to be the victim ... So this was destiny. Calculated in advance. To bring her under the protection of the Ice People ...”
Malin tried to follow his train of thoughts, but she didn’t really succeed.
Henning lifted his eyes and gazed at the tops of the linden trees. The wind had returned so that the leaves waved in different shades of green and golden-yellow. He recalled the night when Saga died after giving birth to her sons, and the words of the dark angels: “The greatest descendant shall come from one of them. The other one ... has a different task.”
Henning met Marco’s eyes. How much did the handsome twenty-two-year-old really know?
“So Ulvar was the one destined to continue our family! Our saviour was to come from him. What about you, Marco?”
The breathtakingly handsome young man smiled sadly. “The time has now come when I must take leave of you ...”
“Leave us?” they all cried:
“Yes.”
“Was this your task?” burst out Henning in his disappointment. “To kill your brother once his role was accomplished?”
“No, not at all. But Henning, if you want to find Agnete, she’s on her way out of the parish. She’s out on the main road to Christiania.”
“I must find her straightaway!”
“Yes, and you mustn’t be afraid. Ulvar’s terrible sickness has infected neither her nor the child.”
Malin, who had studied medicine as a deaconess, said: “Sooner or later, the sickness would have killed him.” She had recognized the shocking and debilitating signs of syphilis a long time ago.
“Undoubtedly,” Marco replied. “But before that it would have made him mentally ill, and he was already dangerous.”
Then Marco went over to Henning and hugged him.
“Thank you, Henning, for being the best foster-father that two orphaned boys could ever have wished for! Thanks to you, we survived a harsh, difficult entry into this world. And we had a calm and secure upbringing. I also thank you on behalf of Ulvar. He was allowed to be as happy as someone like him could have been.”
“You can’t leave us now, Marco!”
“Yes. This is precisely the year when I must leave you. Find Agnete quickly before she vanishes!”
Henning hugged Marco for the last time, secretly brushing away the tears in his eyes. Then he handed over Benedikte to Malin to take care of, and ran down through the avenue, the old linden avenue, which had been allowed to remain during all the upheavals in the parish.
Marco turned to Malin. “I also want to thank you, Malin. You’ve been a wonderful foster-mother to both of us. Please forgive my brother for all the evil he did to you.”
Malin was unable to say a word because she was so moved. She thought of Marco as a little boy ... How his skin would have a dark glow like ebony in the light from the open fire when she changed his nappy or turned him over. That glow had disappeared – and yet she had seen something similar at the Midsummer Night bonfire out in the field a few years ago.
Malin had always wondered about this boy and his origins.
Marco, who was moved, said: “And you, Per. Although you’re not one of the Ice People, you took care of us. I now take leave of you all with a heavy heart.”
“What about your fine education? Will it be wasted?”
“Definitely not. It was absolutely necessary. It was a step on my way.”
They were all surprised by his words. What way? Yet something prevented them from asking.
Marco went over to Viljar, who was now sixty-three years old. “Now, my dearest friend, your long period of pain is over. You’ve suffered so much. The blows were many and hard. You were the one who lived through the worst period for the Ice People. Now the darkness is giving way to dawn. Ulvar was the final cross you had to bear; from now on, nothing evil can touch you and your beloved Belinda.”
Marco put his hand on Benedikte’s head. “This little girl will be fine. She is stronger than we can ever imagine! Remember that, Viljar and Belinda, and let Henning know! He needs to be told because he worries unnecessarily about his daughter’s future.”
Belinda said: “That’s good to know.”
Marco hugged her for a long time and called her the loyal girl who married into the Ice People in their unhappiest era. Never for one single moment had she let them down.
These words warmed Belinda’s heart.
Marco hugged Benedikte, then he lifted up Christoffer. “And you, you little daredevil, you’re almost as crazy as your grandfather Christer was as a young boy. And yet, much more is required of you if you are to become exactly like him. You are to take care of the others in your generation! Be the strong knight for them both: Benedikte and Ulvar’s little daughter – my niece.”
They all started. How did he know whether it would be a boy or a girl?
Marco had taken leave of them all. He stood for a moment next to the body of his dead brother.
“We’ll take good care of him,” Viljar said quietly. “We’ll give him a proper funeral. Among the fathers of the Ice People.”
“Thank you,” said Marco, and began to walk in the direction of the forest.
Malin called: “Aren’t you going to take your things with you?” She was sniffing a lot.
He turned around and shook his head so that the black curls danced. Never had they seen anything so beautiful as the smile he gave them.
Then he disappeared behind the buildings.
The two dark angels were waiting for him up in the forest.
“Greetings,” they said. “Your parents are very pleased with you.”
“But I had to kill my brother,” said Marco in despair.
“That was necessary. Ulvar had too much of Tengel the Evil’s blood in his veins. We couldn’t fight him because the evil power had chosen him. And you know that Tengel the Evil is strong. Much stronger than most powers on earth and beyond.”
“Nevertheless, I come with a heavy heart.”
“We know that. Your parents are also grieving.”
“Why did you allow him to carry on for so long?”
One of the angels had a faraway look in his dark eyes. He stared out into nothingness. “The child that the girl is carrying will have a grandchild ...”
“I see,” Marco said after a slight pause. “And then the hour will come?”
“That is when the Ice People must be prepared to fight Tengel the Evil. So you see that the time is drawing closer.”
“The Ice People won’t be fighting on their own, will they?”
The angel smiled slowly: “No. They won’t be fighting on their own: they will need assistance. Never before has the world met such a terrible force as this evil Tengel. He, who was so presumptuous that he touched the source of life and drank of the water of evil.”
They were silent for a little while. The forest roared around them.
“This is when your apprenticeship begins, Marco.”
He straightened his back. “I’m ready. Lead me where you will!”
Down at Linden Avenue, Henning opened the door for the devastated Agnete.
It had been a long and difficult time out on the road. They had sat for almost an hour by the roadside, with attempts at persuasion and bitter self-reproach and denials. Many tears had been shed and much warmth and compassion shown; Agnete’s cheek blushed with shame from time to time. Loneliness, confusion and a forbidden, dawning hope had come and gone in her mind.
With a kind gesture, Henning welcomed her through the door of Linden Avenue.
Agnete bent her head, trying to return his smile. Her gratitude was boundless, but right there and then, all she was able to show was immense despair.
Together with Agnete, Saga’s grandchild had entered. They were where they belonged, with their kinsmen at Linden Avenue.
