C13 Chapter 13

They found them the following morning, the old patriarch and his much-missed grandson, Tarjei’s Mikael, sleeping peacefully hand in hand.

Andreas quickly found Dominic, then took him with him on his horse and rode at a gallop to Graastensholm. There he left the shaken boy in the care of the maids with a few words to the boy that his father was seriously ill but that he shouldn’t worry. Andreas felt like a coward as he said it, but he didn’t have anything else to say.

He got Mattias and Cecilie, who were visiting Liv just then, to come down. Then the others would follow as quickly as possible.

Mattias quickly examined the two men in the bed. “Uncle Are has passed away.”

“We realised that,” said Brand. “The linden tree has fallen. But what about Mikael?”

“I don’t know. He’s deeply unconscious if he isn’t already dead. I can’t tell.”

“How could it have happened?”

“I think he must have eaten something. I saw something out on the table.”

Mattias went out and came back with an empty vial. “There must have been something in this.” He sniffed at it. “Ah, now I know what it is.”

“Can you help?”

“I’m afraid it’s too late. The poison has spread in his body.”

“I’ll fetch Niklas,” said Brand.

Cecilie stood by the bed, scolding everyone and everything, including herself. The others had come from Graastensholm, filled with remorse.

“He said it himself,” moaned Liv. “While you were all by the water barrel. He spoke about his wife who was a Catholic and how she would have her freedom to remarry. That is something Catholics can only do if their spouse dies. But I didn’t take note of it at the time. Then he spoke about something that tried to pull him down.”

“What was it?” exclaimed Cecilie.

Liv was on her knees by her dead brother, stroking his white forehead, but it was Mikael she was talking about. She tried to explain about the attacks and about it, which he did not want to call by its proper name.

“Idiots,” sobbed Cecilie. “We’ve been a terrible bunch of idiots! Mattias, you said it was melancholy. And you, Mum, asked whether Magda von Steierhorn had touched him. We didn’t understand.”

“Didn’t understand what?”

“What ‘it’ was. That which he could only speak to Mum, Alexander and Brand about. If I’d been there, I would have guessed it immediately.”

“Well, what was it then?”

“A longing to die, of course. Maybe in the shape of Death itself, maybe in the shape of Magda von Steierhorn, maybe just as an attractive force. We don’t know. But that’s your melancholy, Mattias.”

The young doctor was only half convinced. “I think you’re overreacting, Aunt Cecilie, I don’t think we need to resort to the supernatural to solve this enigma. Maybe the answer lies in Mikael himself...”

He was silent as Niklas entered the room. Liv led the boy straight over to Mikael.

“I saw my Dad, Tengel the Good, do this many, many times. Now, Niklas. Place your hands on Mikael’s heart. Like that, yes. Hold them there and pray that he’ll live!”

“But Aunt Liv ...”

“You mustn’t say that he won’t live. I don’t want to hear it. Think of Dominic who could lose his Dad. That mustn’t happen. Besides, Are would never have allowed Mikael to do something like this to himself. That is one thing I’m sure of. He mustn’t die, Niklas! Do you understand?”

The little five-year old boy looked perplexed and sad but did as Liv had told him. She was far too devastated to realise what a burden she had placed on the little boy’s shoulders.

In the meantime, Matilda had released Are’s hand from Mikael’s.

“Are both of them equally stiff?” asked Mattias.

“No,” answered Matilda. ”Mikael isn’t.”

A sigh of relief could be heard from the others.

“It’s at a time like this that we could use all the witchcraft of the Ice People,” said Cecilie.

Mattias looked up. “Hilde,” he said quickly to his wife. “Run as fast as you can up to Graastensholm and fetch the treasure! Yes, all the herbs, the lot! Here’s the key to the chest. There’s something in what Aunt Cecilie just said.”

Hilde left.

“Do you know the secrets of the herbs?” asked Liv, puzzled.

“No,” sighed Mattias. “There’s never been anybody who could teach me about them.”

“I’ll help you as much as I can,” promised Liv.

“Me, too,” said Cecilie. “Tarjei taught me a thing or two.”

“For the first time in my life, I wish I was Hanna, the witch,” said Liv, quite horrified at her own words. “She would have known what to do.”

The younger women in the family readied Are with gentle hands and endless tears. The old man had been the very heart and soul of Linden Avenue. He had been loved by all. Although his death did not come as a shock, it hurt them all deeply. They couldn’t imagine that he would never come back to the farm again.

“And now this bed’s going to be thrown out” said Cecilie. “Enough deaths have taken place in it.”

“Now don’t get hysterical,” said Liv sharply. “Show me the house where there hasn’t been a dead person at some time. Just think of all the beautiful things that have also taken place here.“

Cecilie calmed down. “Well, yes, you’re right. Anyway, we’ll have to move one of them. Who should it be?”

“We’ll carry Mikael to his room. There’s more light in there,” decided Mattias. “Everyone, help to carry him. And then I want only Aunt Cecilie, Liv and young Niklas in there.”

“I’ll be there soon,” said Liv. “But first, I want to say goodbye to Are.”

A little later Liv walked through the parlour where Alexander was leafing through some papers. He looked up.

“Mikael didn’t have the time to write much, but he’s certainly a fantastic writer. Just listen to how he begins: The earliest accounts of the fate of the Ice People sound like the dark notes of a harp string ... and so it goes on all the way through. He’s a poet, Liv!”

Liv sent Alexander a smile, “Maybe that’s why he couldn’t come to terms with life? My mother, Silje, was just like that, lost and insecure until she was allowed to work with art. But Mikael... I hope his poetic vein wasn’t discovered too late. Oh, Alexander, I’m ever so glad that you’re here now!”

He took the old lady in his arms.

“You see,” she went on, drawing a deep breath to clear her voice, “it’s so difficult being the last one left. They’re all disappearing. Are and I had so much to talk about. Now it’s only you and me, Alexander, who were born in the 1500s. May God give you a long life. Cecilie needs you. Your children need you. And so do I, most certainly!”

“I understand, Liv,” he said gently. “You can always count on me.”

“Thank you. I’d hoped that I could have avoided more tragedies. The recent years have been so calm. But then dear Tarald died... Alexander, if there’s one thing a parent doesn’t want, it’s to survive his or her own children.”

“I can well understand that.”

“And now Are and Mikael. How are we going to get through it, Alexander?”

He was not able to answer that one.

Liv straightened her back and sat down in the sofa with him. Her hands rested in her lap. A sad, quiet smile was on her delicate face.

“Are and I talked a lot towards the end. He knew he was about to die, but he wasn’t afraid. He said he longed to see Meta again. Are wasn’t a believer, but even so he was certain that we’d be allowed to meet those we’ve loved after death. But not all the others, he insisted. If there was any justice at all, you wouldn’t have to meet those you didn’t care for in life. So I suppose he believed in some sort of paradise. He called it another level of existence.”

Alexander nodded.

“He actually longed for it,” continued Liv. “The only thing that kept him back was worrying about lost Mikael. So, in his last days, he was happy. We talked about what rich lives we’d both had, in spite of all our sorrows, and he was looking forward to seeing Tarjei again. And Trond, Mum and Dad, Tarald, Dag, and little Sunniva, and Kolgrim. Also Charlotte and Jacob and, not least, Sol. My word, what a lot of deceased we have in our family, Alexander!”

“What about you, Liv. Are you afraid of dying?”

“No. Is it death that we really fear? Isn’t it rather that you’d like to be allowed to live a little longer to see what happens? If I dare believe the same as Are, I long to meet my Dag again. With age, loneliness invariably follows.”

Alexander leafed pensively through the papers on the table. “Mikael had this loneliness in him right from the start.”

“Yes. I do hope Mattias will be successful, so that we get the chance to show Mikael how much he has to live for. Here comes Hilde with the secret treasure. Now I must go and help Mattias. Wish us luck, Alexander!”

“With all my heart!”

He watched her until she disappeared into Mikael’s room. The others were watching over Are. Brand had allowed his sorrow to run a different course: He had gone down to the avenue to fell the fallen linden tree. He was out there now, frantically using his axe. Alexander went out to him.

Then there’s one left, he thought. One single linden tree of the eight which Tengel had cast spells over. He hoped that it would be allowed to stand for a long time yet. Nobody in the family could do without Liv, least of all Cecilie, Alexander’s wife. He knew that she worried constantly about her mother’s health, and living in another country didn’t make it any easier. So, they tried to visit Norway often and not just during tragic events as this one. When Cecilie lost her brother, only Alexander knew just how hard it had been. She did not show it so much to the outside world.

Nobody had had the courage to tell old Are that Tarald had lost his life trying to save him from the falling tree. Tarald had never been a hero – his whole life had been marked by mediocre results – but he had carried out a deed of valour in his final hour.

Are had thought that Tarald was wounded, but not seriously wounded, over at Graastensholm. ‘Send my greetings to Tarald and say thank you,’ the old man had said. They promised to do that. So Are had passed away without knowing that he had caused his nephew’s death. And without knowing that his much loved grandson, Mikael, had chosen to die together with his Granddad. Are died a happy man.

Out in the avenue, Brand asked Alexander to help remove the branches from the fallen linden tree. The margrave set to it, because it would help banish all his dismal thoughts.

They spread out the contents of the big sack out on the table in Mikael’s room with nervous, hectic movements. There was no time to waste.

“Good heavens,” murmured Cecilie. “How are we to find order in all this?”

“Here are the formulas,” said Mattias. “I’ve tried to decipher them before but never got very far.”

“Sometimes I would read them with my Dad,” said Liv. “And Sol spoke a lot about them. I’m sure I still remember something.”

A nervous and improper giggle escaped Cecilie as she picked up a dried member. “Have they kept such an object? There can’t be much power left in it!”

“Now, now, Cecilie,” said her mother. “It belonged to a hanged murderer and comes from Hanna’s collection. Sol told me so herself.”

“Well, what’s it good for?”

“Fertility. That isn’t what we need right now. Put that horrible object away and stop staring at it with such fascination, you shameless girl!”

Cecile pulled herself together. “An antidote – that’s what we must find. But how are we to get him to swallow it?”

Niklas complained apologetically behind them. “I’m so tired in my arms.”

“Hold on a bit longer, please,” asked Liv. “You’re such a good boy, and we’ll soon figure something out.”

Mattias was nervous and fumbling. “There should be something somewhere...”

“Hanna and Sol were bound to have had their own methods,” said Liv. “Pure magic with snake blood and ash and that sort of thing. But that isn’t what we need.”

“Oh, well, surely a small conjuration wouldn’t hurt,” murmured Cecilie.

“We’ll keep ourselves entirely out of that sort of thing!” said Liv sharply. “It worked for Sol because she had the power in her. It wouldn’t make any difference if you or I or Mattias tried.”

“Here’s the recipe I’m looking for,” exclaimed Mattias.

Liv took the thin, frail piece of birch bark with the peculiar signs on. “I don’t see so well any longer, what does it say?”

“Milk from a black cow,” read Mattias with difficulty.

“Never mind the colour! Fetch some milk!”

“No, if it has to be, then it has to be,” objected Cecilie. “There’s a black cow out in the stable, isn’t there?”

“Yes, but-”

Cecilie brushed off all protests. “Niklas, now rest your small arms a little and ask the milkmaid for a drop of milk from the black cow. It has to be from the black cow. Tell her that it’s a matter of life and death!”

“I think we all realise that,” said Liv. “Carry on, Mattias.”

“One ounce dragon’s blood....”

“Do we have any dragons in the stable at the moment?” Cecilie asked.

Liv, who knew that her daughter’s use of humour was just a way of enduring the situation, did not chastise her. “It’s a plant, Cecilie.”

Mattias’ restless hands already searched among all the bags and tins. “I saw it a moment ago... Here!”

“Put it aside. Carry on!”

“One ounce tar...”

“My God, what on earth is it we must torture poor Mikael with?” asked Cecilie. But she called Andreas and asked him to fetch a bit of tar from the cart shed.

“Right, then we need a few more herbs which I’ve got right here. Charcoal from a fire burned at dusk. ”

“No, we haven’t- wait,” exclaimed Liv, “didn’t they burn wood waste here at Linden Avenue a few weeks ago? Up at the yard.”

“And it’s all to be mixed with a mug of schnapps.”

“Now that’s the most sensible thing I’ve heard in a long time” said Cecilie.

They sent people off to fetch the last objects.

“I don’t like using tar,” said Mattias. “Can’t we just leave it out?”

“Just use the smallest amount,” suggested Cecilie.

Niklas was back again, resting his hands on Mikael’s heart. All the other children were at Graastensholm where Gabriella took care of them. Kaleb was with the grown-ups at Linden Avenue.

The brew was ready. It smelled awful.

Now began the difficult process of giving this odd mixture, which none of those present really believed would help, to the deeply unconscious Mikael. But this concoction was the only chance he had left.

Meanwhile the rest of the family waited outside in the parlour, feeling helpless. Suddenly, Yrja exclaimed over by the window, “A carriage is on its way up the avenue.”

“It’s a good thing that I removed the tree,” said Brand.

“Surely we can’t receive visitors now,” objected Matilda. “We must ask them to come again another time.”

“It’s not a carriage from the village,” said Andreas. “It’s so dusty that it must have come from far away.”

“Go out and greet them, Andreas,” said his dad. “Tell them that it doesn’t suit us right now.”

Andreas went out. From the window they could see him say something to the driver. Then a young woman got out of the carriage, helped by her servants. Andreas had turned towards her. They saw him greet her politely and then take her arm and lead her inside.

“I wonder who this could be?” said Matilda, puzzled.

They all went down to the hallway. The young, dark-haired woman hesitated by the door at seeing such a large gathering.

Andreas made a short introduction: “Anette de Saint-Colombe, married name Lind of the Ice People.”

“Oh, God,” whispered Jessica.

“Is my husband here?” asked Anette nervously. “And my son?”

Kaleb was somewhat blunt when he answered her: “Your son is in good hands at the neighbouring farm. But Mikael has taken his own life.”

A small sound came from Anette, and all colour vanished from her face. Matilda hurried to offer her a chair and said tersely and in a low voice: “Kaleb, honestly!”

To Anette she quickly said, “He’s still alive. They’re working on him in the room next door. We’re not sure that they’ll succeed.”

“Will you allow me to see him, please?” whispered the guest. “Please?”

“Yes, if you promise not to get hysterical. Please remain calm and quiet!”

Anette nodded, and Matilda opened the door for her. She blinked lightly because of all the tallow candles in the room. Three people turned towards her – a lady with the poise that comes from being born and bred in a cultured environment, and a young man with the most incredible eyes Anette had ever seen. They radiated so much goodness that she felt a strong urge to lean against him, crying out her anxiety, despair and confusion. The third person was a very old lady with deliberate movements.

But Anette only had eyes for the man in the bed. Next to him sat a little boy with eyes the same colour as Dominic and with his hands on her husband’s chest.

Mikael was not a pretty sight at that moment. Most of the brown-black witches brew had trickled down his neck and chin and onto the bed linen. Cecilie, who understood who the newly arrived person was, hurriedly wiped off the worst of it.

“Oh, Mikael,” whispered Anette in a weak voice. Then she caught sight of the things on the table. She gasped and made the sign of the cross. “Holy Mother of God.”

The skull of an infant, the dried bats, a shrunken hand, and many other objects lay openly on the table.

“You can’t do that, it’s-”

“We have to try everything,” interrupted Cecilie. “What would you have done in our place?”

“I would have prayed to the Virgin Mary.”

“Has she helped Mikael so far?”

“I’m sorry to say that Mikael doesn’t have the right faith. But the Mother of God has always stood by my side.”

‘Against Mikael?’ thought Cecilie, but she didn’t say so. Instead she said in a loud voice: “Well, then I suppose you’d better start praying to the heavenly Mother right here and now. If Mikael is to wake up alive, we need all the help we can get.”

Anette took her at her word. She fell to her knees by Mikael’s bed, took his lifeless hand between hers and said long, whispering prayers in Latin. Although it was against her will, Cecilie could not help feeling quite touched.

Everyone else was busy tidying up after making the brew. Mattias felt quite sorry for the pathetic creature on her knees, praying and wiping her nose and her eyes. When he had finished, he put his hand on her shoulder.

Anette looked up at him with puffy eyes, her face streaked with tears.

“I came as quickly as I possibly could,” whined Anette in her heavy French accent. “I did all I could, but he arrived sooner than me.”

“So you knew then that he would do it?”

“He told me in his letter to me.” She tried to control her tears. “He misunderstood it all.”

Liv spoke gently: “Mikael told us that it wasn’t because of his marriage. He suffered from melancholy. An evil force had taken power over him. A lost soul had touched him.”

Anette looked questioningly at them. She didn’t understand anything of what was going on.

Cecilie was not quite as sensitive. “You’re not entirely without guilt in all this,” was all she said.

“Cecilie, not now!” said Liv in a low and warning voice.

Anette bowed her head. “You’re right,” she whispered to Cecilie. “I feel so guilty.”

Cecilie gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “You just carry on with your prayers, my friend. It certainly can’t do any harm. Who knows? They might even help!”

This was a major confession on Cecilie’s part.

Anette looked puzzled at Niklas, and Liv explained: “He’s one of the specially chosen among the Ice People. He has a rare gift: His name is Niklas and he's Dominic’s grand-cousin. If anybody can save Mikael, it’s him. He has healing powers in his hands.”

Anette made the sign of the cross. “A gift of the Lord! A little saint!”

“Well,” murmured Cecilie, “The little saint can be quite devilish, if he wants to be!”

But Anette had taken Niklas’ hands in her own. “Save him, Niklas, please! He means so much to me, you see.”

The little five-year old looked quite distraught and Anette removed her hands immediately. “Sorry. I shan’t disturb you in your Protestant prayers. We can pray together, you and I.”

Niklas thought that the lady sounded a bit strange but merely nodded. Prayers? He never prayed.

“I’ll go out and take a little rest,” whispered Liv. The others nodded.

Mattias and Cecilie sat down. They were exhausted. After a while, they could see that little Niklas was about to fall asleep. He had also been truly brave and persevering. They placed him next to Mikael with Niklas’ hands lying across Mikael’s chest. Niklas fell asleep at once.

Anette got up. Her knees were hurting and she sat together with the others. “What do you make of it?” she asked, her lips trembling. “Will he survive?”

“That’s impossible to say,” answered Mattias quietly.

“We’ve done everything in our power and all we can do now is wait. At least he’s still alive and he hasn’t become weaker.”

“How did it happen?”

Mattias told her that his and Mikael’s Granddad, Are, had passed away and that they had found them holding hands.

“Oh, my poor Mikael! Are the two of you... are you closely related to him?”

“Not particularly. The old lady you just saw leaving the room is his Granddad’s sister. She’s Baroness Liv Meiden. This is her daughter, Margravine Cecilie Paladin, and I’m the old lady’s Grandson. I’m Baron Mattias Meiden, and I’m a doctor.”

Baron? Margravine? And she had always thought that Mikael’s family was nothing! Like everybody of noble birth, Anette was very particular of distinguishing between nobility and common people. She had agreed to marry Mikael because she knew that his mother was a born Breuberg and was the cousin of the very distinguished Marca Christiana. But his father’s family was also distinguished. She certainly had not expected that.

She felt very much ashamed because she had to admit that she had always looked down on Mikael’s extraction. Not so long ago, she had frowned at the well-kept but somewhat modest farm they called Linden Avenue, wishing that he at least came from Graastensholm instead! Mikael’s wife was having a difficult time of it right now, and her difficulties were far from over.

Anette did not leave Mikael’s sickbed. They barely managed to get her to come down to the meals. She even slept in his room where she sat in a chair all through the night. The following day she was reunited with Dominic. All the boy knew was that his father was seriously ill. The young boy was so shocked and upset that Anette had to assure him that everything would have a happy ending.

Niklas was allowed to run out to the other children now and then, but otherwise Anette would prefer him to be close to Mikael, something Niklas complained about loudly from time to time.

On the morning of the third day, Cecilie came in to keep Anette company. They had all been there to help keep a vigil, and Mattias, because he was a doctor, would turn up several times a day.

“How are you doing?” asked Cecilie compassionately. “You must be totally exhausted.”

Anette sat down next to her, grateful for the words of sympathy. “I haven’t had time to think about that.”

She liked Cecilie’s company, not only because she was a margravine but because she liked her disposition: Cecilie was pleasant, charming and sincere.

“Oh, if only he‘d confided in me,” sighed Anette.

Cecilie looked pensively at her. “Did you give him the impression that you’d help him though? Didn’t you do quite the opposite? You distanced yourself from his behaviour and a part of this is actually your fault. He reasoned that if you were a widow, you could be free to marry somebody else.”

Her words cut Anette like knives.

“But that’s just not true. I love Mikael!”

What a relief it was to say those words! She who had never dared to imply anything like that to the tall stranger who was her husband.

“Well, why didn’t he know that? Why was he so lonely that he couldn’t even confide in his wife?”

“I couldn’t tell him,” sobbed Anette. “I wanted to, so badly, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t allowed to.”

“By whom?”

“By the church.”

“Since when has the church forbidden anybody to talk about love?”

‘Anette,’ thought Mikael. ‘Dearest Anette. I can hear everything you are saying but I’m unable to move anything, even my eyelids.’

“The church...” said Anette. “My mother...”

“Ah! What did your mother say?”

“She said .. No, I can’t say it.”

“Well, I think you should,” said Cecilie, calmly and slightly saddened. “Dear child, you’re probably the worst woman on earth Mikael could have married. He’s so sensitive that he’s suffering for it now. He’s so receptive of other people’s moods, so full of consideration, that it’s made him sick.”

Anette hid her face in her hands. Cecilie was not without compassion, but she went on. This unpleasant conversation was necessary if the girl was ever to wake up.

“How have you lived up to your responsibility as a wife?”

“I’ve never denied him.”

“This may be so, but Mikael can sense whether something like that is genuinely felt. And what have you given him? You see, Anette: Love is giving without expecting to get something in return.”

‘You mustn’t be too hard, Aunt Cecilie,’ thought Mikael. ‘She can’t help it.’

“I couldn’t,” whispered Anette. “My mother said so many horrible things about men.”

“What did she say?”

“That they were pigs. That they tempted and seduced, and I wasn’t to accept that. That we women had to give in a few times, just in order to have children, but apart from that women have no duty to accept their horrible lust.”

Cecilie sat quietly. Then she asked: “Are these words yours or your mother’s?”

“My mother would always say those things. Day in and day out. She was a very strong-willed woman. She knew everything. Everybody asked for her advice. You couldn’t help believing her. What she said was always the right thing.”

“What about your father?”

“Well, he... I hardly remember him. He had so many faults.”

“Do you find Mikael repulsive?”

“No, not repulsive. Just frightening.”

“Well, my dearest,” sighed Cecilie. “I can’t think of anybody less frightening than Mikael!”

“Well, he’s just so tall! So tall and masculine. It makes me feel so uncomfortable when ... he’s near me.”

“How uncomfortable?”

“No, I really can’t talk about that!”

“Is it something you must fight against?”

Anette gave her a surprised look.

“Inside yourself, I mean?” continued Cecilie.

“Holy Virgin Mary, save me from all sin,” whispered Anette, making the sign of the cross.

‘Anette, Anette,’ thought Mikael sadly.

Cecilie understood that she had pressed the girl as far as was possible. She changed the subject. “Now listen: Nobody knows whether Mikael will survive. But if, contrary to expectations, he does, what are your intentions?”

“I’ll ask for his forgiveness. Ask him for permission to begin afresh.”

Cecilie nodded. “Do you hope that he’ll survive?”

Anette burst into tears once more. “More than anything else in the world.”

“What about the other man?”

“The other man? Oh, Henri! This is something Mikael has completely misunderstood. I was a foreigner at the Swedish Court and then a Frenchman arrived and I was happy to have a compatriot to talk to. But that I would want to marry Henri? That I was in love with him? No, it’s an impossible thought. It was precisely because Henri was not a threat that I could talk so easily and effortlessly with him.” Anette laughed a little, sad laughter. “Henri is Mikael’s complete opposite!”

Cecilie smiled. “You’ve just revealed yourself. I didn’t believe you were in love with Mikael until now... I’ll tell you something that nobody else knows, Anette. Something that shows how important it is to be able to give. I once lived in a marriage similar to yours, from Mikael’s perspective. Alexander and I married one another for conventional reasons – not because I did not love him because, believe me, I did! However, it was implicit that I was never to show him love because he would not be able to receive it.”

Anette was wide-eyed.

Cecilie went on. “Can you imagine what it’s like to live, year in and year out, with a person you love, but you’re not allowed to show love for? Can you imagine what it’s like to lie in bed at night when your whole body is yearning for his closeness?”

“But why? Did he have somebody else?”

“No,” smiled Cecilie. “I can’t reveal to you the reason why. It’s too private. But, believe me, I often thought of taking my own life. My only consolation was that Alexander needed me very badly when he was wounded in the Thirty Years’ War. Anyway, we found one another eventually, and our love became deep and mutual. Nevertheless, I’m fighting every day, even today, Anette. It’s not that Alexander’s unfaithful to me, he’d never dream of that. It’s because I can never be completely sure that he won’t fall back into his old tendency again. This is why I have to keep his interest and give of my whole body and soul. Do you understand?”

“Tendency? I don’t understand.”

“Think about it. But this is just between you and me you understand.”

Anette stared at Cecilie. She was shocked. “The margrave? But he belongs to the high nobility.“

”Now I’m beginning to understand what Mikael has been up against. Alexander loves me, and we’re very happy together.”

“But- but-”

“You must be generous, my friend. Really show Mikael that you’re fond of him, and that you like it when he touches you. Let go of yourself and give all you have in you, when he lies in your arms.”

“No!” exclaimed Anette in horror. “That’s something only prostitutes do!”

“Oh, no. The only ones who don’t do it are narrow-minded, prudish and petty women like- Well, I’m sorry, but like your mother. And yourself. What about your father? Was he happy in his marriage with your mother?”

“My father?” Anette thought for a moment. The whispers, the gossip when he passed away... She was so little at the time. Without realising that she was thinking aloud, she said weakly: “They said that he’d committed suicide. And my mother was triumphant! She said that my father was weak.”

When the full impact of what she had just said dawned on her, she was overcome by nausea. Her own mother! And now, Anette herself was committing the same gruesome, loveless murder on Mikael. Her own Mikael!

“Oh, Holy Mother of Jesus,” she whispered with a stifled sob.

“Yes,” said Cecilie with a sad look in her eyes. She put a hand on the unhappy woman’s arm. “I thought so. Dear Anette, you have great strength from your belief in God. That is something that we others don’t have, I’m sad to say. Your heavenly mother is a powerful guide for you. But you mustn’t allow your faith to be a division between you and Mikael any more. Your own mother’s twisted opinions have done that, but Catholicism is more generous than you were brought up to believe. Heaven is well pleased that people love one another, also in a bodily sense!”

Anette was dazed as she turned towards Cecilie.

”How do you know all this? Has Mikael ...?”

“All Mikael has said is that you’re unable to love him, and that your marital life has been very limited because of it. He didn’t want to force anything on you.”

Anette turned her face away and tried to stop her bitter tears. “Oh, Mikael, won’t you please?” She whispered. “Won’t you please come back to me?”

At that moment, Mikael decided to fight against death. For the first time in a very long while, he yearned to be a part of life.