C9 Chapter 9

As was customary, their friends and neighbours came to help them with the 1871 harvest. There had been some desperate years when nobody had wanted to help them – that was when the grey people were causing havoc at Graastensholm – but now everything was fine again. That is to say, provided Ulvar kept out of the way. The helpers had learned from bitter experience that if he interfered, they would be wise to leave.

This year a young girl came with the rest to lend a helping hand. She lived in a nearby villa and had a sudden fancy to help. “Working in the fields is so picturesque, and I’ll be doing something useful.” In the evening, she returned home with romantic dreams. “Oh, isn’t working as a farmer wonderful? Being allowed to work with the earth and get your hands dirty! Throwing yourself in the hay. Feeding little woolly lambs ...”

Her mother was more matter-of-fact: “Sitting up all through a winter night, waiting for calves. Washing heavy, foul-smelling garments in ice-cold water. Getting up before dawn and knowing that everything, absolutely everything and everybody on the farm, is waiting for you to tidy up and get everything ready for them.”

“Well, that’s fantastic! That’s exactly what I long for!”

“Oh? The week before last, the only meaningful thing in life was to go to university – just because you’re not allowed because you’re a girl. And the week before that, it was the balls in Christiania.”

Her daughter wasn’t listening. She was wrapped in her own thoughts. She thought of the nice, safe young farmer at Linden Avenue. The one who had driven home with the load of hay. Who just came driving along and made a few turns around the field to fetch the bales. He had only exchanged a few words with her, but oh, he was so charming! Slightly shy but big and strong and with a deep voice, and bound to be untouched by women. She just had to be there again the following day.

Henning couldn’t help noticing her. She lit up the place like a star among all the drably dressed farm labourers. She was a stranger who didn’t belong in that milieu. He thought she must be about twenty years old. Blonde, with small curls on her forehead and her thick hair arranged in a plait around her head. She was dressed in a white blouse and a frivolous, flowery skirt with braces. The other women tended to wear boring grey or brown checks, and an even stricter fashion seemed to be the vogue: black and high-necked.

Her name was Anneli, and Henning knew where she lived. Her father was a businessman; he traded shares on the stock exchange and was pretty full of himself. He and his wife had many children.

That afternoon, Anneli had looked so brightly and flirtatiously at Henning that he had become rather embarrassed. His serious advice that she should hold the rake under the hay when she lifted it had prompted a reply that was almost risqué, which had made him blush. But had she just misinterpreted his words?

Next morning, he registered the restlessness in his body from the very moment he woke up. Would she turn up today? It might just have been a whim that made her want to lend a helping hand at Linden Avenue.

She was there again! He felt quietly happy when his searching glance found her. Anneli had certainly intended to show up! She giggled when she told her two girlfriends about the manly young farmer at Linden Avenue, and one of them said: “Oh, him? I set my cap at him a long time ago, but he’s too scared to look at girls! They say that the men of the Ice People are very good in bed. Because they have ...” The sentence finished in unrestrained giggles.

“Isn’t that just the case with the stricken ones? People like Ulvar?” wondered the other girl. The three agreed that it was something you just couldn’t tell.

Anneli’s girlfriends seemed to be a lot more knowing than she had realized. They were also older than her. She got a ticklish wish to see what the men of the Ice People were like – well, only Henning really! She became more interested. Dangerous, dangerous, an inner voice told her. But of course she had no intention of crossing the line! That was something a well brought up girl didn’t do. Although her girlfriends ...?

Henning didn’t dare to talk to Anneli out in the field. He thought he would be found out. He had better wait till the lunch break. Sadly, he ended up on the same side of the kitchen table – far from her. He couldn’t even see her. All he got that day were a few fleeting smiles out in the meadow. It was as far as he dared go.

Only one day left ...

Henning was suffering. He wasn’t used to talking to girls. He always felt like an idiot in their company. But this one had caused his heart to flutter, which threatened to exhaust him. All that evening, he was so restless that his parents, Viljar and Belinda, looked at him in surprise. Their big boy of twenty-one, who was always so calm. What on earth had happened to him?

Malin understood. She had seen the girl and immediately gathered that Henning was smitten. She was a pretty, charming girl, but was she right for him? Malin wasn’t at all sure about that.

The farmhands had flirted quite openly with her and she had given them tit for tat and put them in their place. Her entire demeanour told them that she was well brought up – don’t lay your coarse hands on me.

Malin saw that Henning had found favour in Anneli’s eyes, which didn’t surprise her at all. He had grown so much in the past year. He was such a nice person and his eyes showed no trace of deceit. He had a warm, shy expression, which touched her. Henning was a man who was very easily hurt. He was broad-shouldered with a narrow waist, and had big hands that were bound to be very gentle with a girl. Malin understood Henning and Anneli so well.

But they weren’t a good match! They were incompatible. Surely they must see that?

Henning finally got his chance to speak to her on the last day of the harvest. Anneli had taken the initiative. After work, he showed her around the farm and spoke tenderly and proudly about his buildings and animals. She twittered as young girls do and was intensely aware of the impression each of her movements would make.

“Oh, you’re so very lucky!” she whispered, cradling a suitable kitten in her arms. “I’ve always dreamed of being allowed to really be in the country and work with animals ...” With a discreet grimace, she wiped the hand that the pig had sniffed at.

“Have you?” Henning said naively. “I thought you were very sophisticated. A proper city girl, who’s afraid of dirtying her clothes.”

“No, not at all. I can take anything,” she said. Her eyelashes fluttered. Henning walked towards the door, terribly embarrassed by his blushing and with a heart that was beating like crazy.

“You must say hello to the horse,” he said, with a voice that sounded affected because he was unable to hide his big, happy smile.

Belinda invited Anneli to stay for supper, which rendered Henning silent. He certainly couldn’t converse with her at table with everybody listening! Ulvar was also there, and he was neither discreet nor gracious in his remarks about her. Several attempts were made to keep him quiet or get him to leave the room, but in vain. Ulvar suddenly seemed deaf to all such hints. Not even when Viljar took him by the collar to throw him out of the room did he give in. He merely repeated what he had said so many times before: “Are you going to slap your foster-child? Do you want me to report you to the police?”

They all knew that he was able to recite a long lamentation about how dreadfully the poor orphaned boy was treated at home. So they had to ask Anneli to ignore his horrible assertions.

Then Henning’s little romance ended. What was left now that the harvest was gathered in? He pined day and night, standing by the window and gazing in the direction of her house. Until Ulvar asked him whether he was going to begin roaring like an elk on heat? Then he would blush, his eyes brimming with tears, and dash into his room.

Anneli was more daring. She made her overtures, standing in the little square in the evening, chatting to the other young people, all the time keeping an eye on the road from Linden Avenue. But Henning never came, he didn’t know how to do so. He was unfamiliar with the habits of the other young people.

Finally, Ulvar was the one who took action.

His eyes would twinkle teasingly as he walked down to the square in the evening. The other young people there followed him uneasily with their eyes. Far too many of them had slightly unpleasant memories of incidents in their younger days, when Ulvar would hurt them in his sneaky fashion. Although they were quite a crowd, they would never have dreamed of attacking him. He would have become a thousand times more dangerous in his revenge.

He was sauntering past Anneli when, out of the corner of his mouth, he murmured casually: “Henning wants to meet you in the barn at Linden Avenue at eight this evening.”

Anneli looked with disgust at the horrible creature. But Ulvar’s words appealed to her.

“If I feel like it,” she replied cheekily.

You will, Ulvar thought, with a green-yellow light in his eyes. Then he walked home again. He said the same thing to Henning. Anneli would like to talk to him. Could he go out into the barn at eight o’clock?

Henning turned as stiff as a pillar of salt. He blushed. All he could do was nod. Oh, he dressed in his finest clothes! Wet-combed his hair so that it looked unattractive, and stole some of his father’s shaving lotion, which smelled so heavenly.

At eight in the evening, Ulvar sat crouched up in his hiding place, looking down from the hay in the barn. Now he was going to have some fun and see a couple make love. Not bad at all!

He rubbed himself and could feel that he was getting an erection and opened his trousers. Later, when they were in full swing, he would jump down right in front of them and laugh at them as they struggled to break loose and get dressed. His excitement increased at the thought and he laughed quietly in expectation.

But things didn’t turn out the way he had imagined.

Henning and Anneli turned up, but a few words, spoken almost simultaneously – “You wanted to talk to me?” – revealed Ulvar’s intrigues.

“Then he’s bound to be here somewhere,” Henning muttered. “Come, let’s go outside!” Which they did. Ulvar was annoyed when he saw them going out into the open newly mown meadow, where he couldn’t follow them without being seen. He was livid. Instead of making devilry with them, he had brought them together. And Henning, the naive young man with the pure heart, believed Anneli’s assurances that she couldn’t wait to be allowed to work on a farm. Perhaps she even believed it herself.

A month after their first rendezvous, their feelings for each other had become very passionate. Anneli’s girlfriends, who received daily reports, were impatient. “Haven’t you made him fall for you yet, Anneli?”

“Bother it, he’s such a coward, so chivalrous! Never touch a woman until she’s married, seems to be his motto."

One of the friends said: “Surely you don’t have to wait that long? That’s what’s such fun – to excite the men so that they can’t control themselves anymore.”

The other girl nodded eagerly. Neither of them had dared to go the whole hog, but now they could get first-hand information from Anneli about what it was like to have a man with you, which was why they exaggerated their own experience somewhat. To make her loosen up. Anneli spared no effort to drive Henning out of his mind. Surely her powers of seduction couldn’t be less than what those two nondescript girls possessed! That was really out of the question! Besides, she was extremely curious about most things in a love relationship, especially as far as Henning was concerned. She enticed and tempted him beyond all limits. One evening in the forest, the inevitable happened – without Ulvar being there, as he was asleep in his bed. Having Anneli so close next to him made Henning dizzy; he, who had tried to be the sensible one and fight against it, suddenly became totally overwhelmed. Anneli did nothing to stop Henning’s eager, fumbling hands: she was willing, and the qualms of conscience he might have had were drowned in the emotions in his head and veins, and in the aching yearning he felt here and there. Afterwards, he despaired, asking her to forgive him. But Anneli was quite pleased. What a triumph to report tomorrow! Exciting, exciting!

It wasn’t quite so exciting a few months later when she had to admit what had happened. She sobbed. Henning took it calmly: they could get married a bit earlier than planned. It was worse with the girlfriends. She lost them the very same day she told them about her conquest. They immediately made it clear that they were certainly capable of behaving themselves. Once they had enjoyed her detailed account of the first rendezvous, she had to watch them walk off arm in arm with their heads in the air. They didn’t want anything at all to do with a fallen woman! And having to admit it to Mother and Father. Oh, dear!

It was a discreet, hastily arranged wedding, with the bride’s father looking like a thundercloud and a sobbing mother, with Belinda and Viljar long-faced with shame, and a concerned Malin. They were the only guests. Anneli moved into Linden Avenue and didn’t think that country life was at all exciting anymore. She felt nauseated all the time and sorry for herself until late in the afternoon, and was of no help whatsoever. She just sulked. She had lost her slim figure and had to accept Ulvar’s sharp remarks whenever he got the chance. He gave her a detailed account of how she had brought her present state on herself, and he went on talking about the bastard she would have. Anneli could have screamed at him.

Malin, who had thought of marrying her Per, postponed the wedding for a while because life at Linden Avenue hadn’t been made any easier when Anneli moved in. On the contrary. Malin had to stay to help and mediate between all parties. Once, Anneli went back to her parents, but they weren’t particularly understanding. The only consolation she received was: “You’ve made your bed and now you have to lie on it,” and they chucked her out. One of her brothers had already moved into her room, so there wasn’t any space for her at home any longer.

Henning, Malin, Viljar and Belinda, everybody at Linden Avenue, really tried to make Anneli feel welcome and at ease, and so did Marco. But Anneli didn’t see their kindness. All she saw was Ulvar’s cruelty; she felt that he targeted her most of all. Perhaps he did. He tried to tease and bother her secretly and she let herself be provoked. The others had learned to ignore his spiteful remarks a long time ago. But Anneli complained about more than Ulvar. She complained about everything.

“It’ll blow over, Henning,” said Belinda. “Women are often a bit troublesome when they’re pregnant. Afterwards, everything will be much better.”

“I hope so,” said Henning. He was so sad, blaming himself for everything.

They managed to convince Malin that they could manage perfectly well at Linden Avenue so she could now marry Per. She was also to have a proper honeymoon, all by herself with Per in their new home. In the meantime, the boys could stay at Linden Avenue. After some hesitation, Malin accepted the offer. She wanted so much to settle down; the years were passing by and she wasn’t getting any younger.

Malin married Per in the early summer of 1872. The wedding, in the old church at Graastensholm, which now had a different name, seemed splendid. Half the parish was in attendance, either as a guest or just to watch. Most of the congregation undoubtedly had their eyes on the young eleven-year-old up in the choir. Such a handsome boy couldn’t be real. Anyway, there he sat with his stepbrother, Henning Lind of the Ice People, who was soon to take over Linden Avenue. His parents wanted very much to retire and let him run the farm while he was still young. Now he had a wife, but she wasn’t there today. Her child was due in a month’s time. They said that she had locked herself in her room and she was often sick.

Christer and Magdalena were horrified when they saw Ulvar. True, they had received descriptions of him but they had never imagined ... They treated him in the same kind way as they did Marco. Not that Ulvar seemed to appreciate their presence, but at least he left them in peace.

Viljar Lind was in church, and so was his wife, Belinda. She seemed nervous, but she had never liked a crowd of people. The congregation could see that she was a sweet, well-presented lady.

They made a splendid bridal couple, both of them. By the look of things, she had made the serious civil servant loosen up considerably, which was a good thing! The bride was radiant. More heavily built than actually beautiful, but she certainly wasn’t fat. To say that she was would have been a lie. Pleasant was the word that best described her.

One person was missing.

Thank goodness, thought most of the congregation. They had undoubtedly stolen anxious glances around the church, looking for the terrible Ulvar of the Ice People. But then, a devilish child like him wouldn’t enter a church, would he?

Everything was peace and serenity. Only Marco seemed restless and uneasy when he met Henning’s glance, as if he just wanted the ceremony to be over. Marco’s unease was so exceptional that it frightened Henning, because he knew only too well where the boy’s thoughts were.

The truth was that Ulvar had flatly refused to come to church, despite the fact that Malin had specifically asked him to sit with the two other boys in the side pew in the choir. Ulvar was adamant. No! He had more important things to do than to enter such a madhouse, whatever the occasion. In the end, they had to leave him, and the smart new clothes he had been given to wear were left unused.

Ulvar sat crouched up on the ridge, looking down on all the people making their way to church.

Damn idiots, he giggled. Hell, what a bunch of damn idiots! I ought to rape them all, children and men and old cows.

Imagine Malin throwing herself into the arms of that pompous, arrogant ass! That she could be such a damn fathead! But then, she is just as stupid herself! Completely worthless.

That marriage will never be a success! I ought to ...

His eyes brightened.

“Yes, of course. That’s what I ought to do!”

He got up and sprinted down through the forest. He dashed through the village without paying any attention to staring people or angry dogs.

Everything was calm when he reached the churchyard. Everybody was inside, and the wedding ceremony was in progress.

Ulvar found an open side door.

Just at the moment when Malin and Per had made their vows and the priest had said his final words, the death bell began to toll heavily over the village, echoing inside the church.

Malin and Per stared at each other; he was as white as a sheet. The congregation was profoundly shocked, and so were the families of the bridal couple. The only one who moved was Marco. He was already on his way down from the choir.

Then Malin regained her composure. “Ulvar,” she said angrily. “Come down!”

But Henning held her back as she stood there in her beautiful bridal gown.

“Marco and I will handle this. You stay here!”

Viljar and Christer also joined Henning and Marco and, after some hesitation, so did the vicar and some other men. The bell continued its ominous tolling. As they made their way into the tower, they saw the bellringer lying there. He put his hand to his head and moaned dreadfully.

“The devil himself was here,” he groaned.

“Of course he wasn’t,” said Viljar. “Not in church.”

“A little abomination, it was. A little imp!”

Henning and Marco were already up in the tower. Henning tore the rope out of Ulvar’s hand and stopped the ringing. The echo roared in their ears.

“Are you completely out of your mind?” said Henning, and for a change, the calm young man seemed angry. “Has Malin ever done you anything but good? Are you determined to ruin the best day of her life?”

Ulvar made a dreadful face and was about to say something bad when he saw the expression on Marco’s face.

There was no severity, no anger, in Marco’s eyes. Nevertheless, Ulvar shrank a bit, and with a hissed “Hypocritical idiots!” at them, he dashed down the steps of the tower, making his way ruthlessly through the men on the stairs so that they had to grope for support in order not to fall. He pushed his way through the crowd in the porch. Then he was gone, running across the churchyard, jumping over gravestones and over the wall.

Inside the church, Malin was standing right at the back. She said firmly: “I don’t intend to weep on my wedding day. No, you mustn’t weep either, Belinda! We must bear in mind that the boy can’t help it.”

“My mother, Tula, was also one of the stricken ones,” said her father. “But she was always so charming. I wanted to be one of them when I grew up. But now I’m grateful that I wasn’t. Ulvar must be in a very bad way. Malin is right. We must show compassion.”

But in their hearts, they all remembered the macabre hour when the death knell tolled at Malin’s wedding.