C4 Chapter 4

Mikael could hardly wait until the next day. Finally at dusk he sneaked out in the bluish twilight to the estate.

Behind the house lay an endless plain, and to the east of the estate, the land turned to bogs surrounded by birch trees. Those tall, straight trees seemed to grow everywhere around here. He knew that on the other side of the marshland was Peipus, the big lake on the border with Russia. The Russians would come from there, chasing the Swedes out of Poland in order to take control of this poor, destroyed country. On their way, they would spend time harrying Livonia, taking it away from the Swedes, which was something the Tzar had long dreamed of.

Mikael started at the sound of a voice right next to him.

“So you’re also out this evening, young man?”

It was a soft-spoken, cultivated voice that belonged to the woman in black he had seen several times.

“Forgive me, I don’t seem to be able to keep away from this estate. It’s so beautiful.”

She gave a slightly malicious smile, as if she didn’t quite believe that it was the estate he found attractive.

“Yes, it’s lovely here,” she said in a soft, slightly hollow intonation. “I’ve always loved this place, and now it’s in danger again.”

“Sweden will do what it can to protect its domain, madam.“

Her eyes looked dreamy and older than before. “The danger doesn’t always come from outside, young man.”

They remained standing down by the gate. She didn’t ask him to step inside. It became darker and everything was bathed in a diffuse evening light. They were not even able to see one another clearly any longer. Age was wiped away from her face, and she looked both young and beautiful once more. How old could she be? Thirty-five seemed her right age.

Suddenly she looked him straight in the eyes. “Who are you anyway? I heard when you introduced yourself as Mikael Lind of the Ice People ... But who are you?”

He hesitated. “Well ... um ... I really don’t know. A misplaced fool without roots.”

“You’re not a fool,” she said rather sharply. “But you probably are rootless.”

“I know. But apart from that I think I’m pretty ordinary.”

“No,” she said with a smile. “No, Mikael. You’re most certainly not ordinary. I’d like to know a bit more about your kin.”

He was confused. “My mother was of high German descent. Breuberg.”

She shook her head. “The Breubergs are nothing in particular.”

“In particular?” he repeated, bemused. “My father’s family, the Ice People, are said to be quite unique, only I don’t know so much about them.”

Then she nodded calmly. She seemed to be enjoying herself. “You have hidden sources within you. Seek them – then you’ll find peace.”

“Are you a relative of the von Steierhorns?” he asked gently.

“No,” she answered curtly. “They are my relatives.”

Mikael did not know what he was to make of that.

“So the estate belongs to you then?”

“Yes.” Then she added: “And I fear for my property.”

She placed her slender hands on her bosom. In the darkness, they seemed like two crossed lilies. “Return home, Mikael! You don’t belong in this life, in a soldier’s uniform.”

“I know. What do you mean by ‘home’? I have no idea myself.”

The woman looked pensively at him for a long time. “I think I know what’s wrong with you, Mikael. You sense that somebody is waiting for you, and it’s making you restless. Are you married?”

“Yes I am, and I have a son. But I don’t know them. We were together as man and wife for twenty hours only, and I’ve never seen the boy.”

She nodded. “It could well be them.”

They stood silently for a while. Then Mikael pulled himself together. He was freezing cold. “It’s getting much too cold for us to stand out here. I’d better finish my walk. Thank you for talking to me.”

“Same to you, marvellous Mikael. And remember: Don’t grab the first thing just because it seems to be the closest.”

After these peculiar words of goodbye, she nodded gracefully and went up to the house. Mikael gazed at her for a long while. What did she mean by that?

He longed to see Birgitte again, but it was too late to visit the house now. Deep in his own thoughts, Mikael returned to his detested life as a soldier.

What is it that makes a human being overwhelmed with joy at the thought of a particular person? It didn’t necessarily have to be a crush. Anyone can trigger such emotions in you, leaving you with a wonderful feeling just because such a person actually exists. In Mikael’s case, this emotion felt very much like being in love.

He had met many girls who had not left much of an impression on him. He was married yet lived in a strange non-marriage, but the very moment he met Birgitte von Steierhorn, all his dormant senses were aroused and his vague yearnings were given a concrete objective.

As soon as he got off-duty from standing guard the following day, he went on his usual walk, but more purposefully than usual. Without hesitation, he walked up to the estate and knocked on the door of the house.

It was Birgitte who came and opened the door. She was happy and eager. He was shown into the same drawing room in which candles and tar lights were lit sparingly along the walls. His eyes sought her small agile figure and he felt strange, unfamiliar emotions. He had a warm and lovely feeling in his chest that made him swallow hard.

“How is the puppy doing?” he managed to say at last.

Her smile vanished. “The puppy?” Then she pulled herself together. “Oh, the puppy? Well, it’s doing fine.”

“Can I say hello to it?”

She got an impatient wrinkle between her fine eyebrows. “Er... no, it’s in my mother’s chamber and she hasn’t got up yet. But do sit down, dear Mikael and I’ll make sure you get something to drink ...”

She hurried out of the room, making her wide skirts rustle. Mikael looked around. Thick, dark red velvet curtains hung in front of the windows, and the round table was covered with a tablecloth of the same material. Some portraits of ancestors hung on the wall: a martial gentleman dressed in a knight’s armour and a woman dressed in clothes from the 1400s. Mikael stopped to look at the portrait of the woman more closely. Even in the semi-dark, there was a clear resemblance to the current women of the von Steierhorn clan. The woman in the portrait had high eyebrows and a resolute mouth. Both Birgitte and, most strikingly, the lady in black had the same characteristic features.

An enormous sword hung above the fireplace. Mikael wondered whether he would be able to lift it at all.

Once again, the woman dressed in black stood on the gallery. She always appeared so silently that he was taken by surprise. She nodded to him and sent him a smile of recognition.

“Will you do me a service, Mikael?”

“Of course, madam. With pleasure.”

“Would you – when you’re alone at some point – go out to the cart shed? It’s next to the stables, to the right of the courtyard. Go into the far corner where there’s a door. You must break open the door and bring me something from there, which is of great value to the estate.”

Mikael was confused. “But-”

“I can’t do it by myself and I don’t want to ask my relatives for assistance. It has nothing to do with them. Would you then do me another service as well?”

“Of course.”

She was about to explain it to him when they heard Birgitte enter the room. The lady put her finger to her lips and retired once more.

Mikael felt uncomfortable. It was obvious that the inhabitants in the house did not get on too well with each other, and he didn’t want to get involved in any family disputes. Besides, how was he to get over to their stables on his own? What would they think of him? At best, he would be sent packing. He was not interested in that – he wanted to get to know Birgitte. He shuddered. The room was very cold.

“Who did you speak to? Have my parents got up?”

“No, I-”

“Maybe you were rehearsing a speech?” she laughed. “Come, sit here with me on the sofa!”

She patted the seat next to her invitingly. Mikael had no intentions of being unfaithful to Anette. However, he was too naïve to understand that this was what his yearning for Birgitte involved. All he wanted was to see her, talk with her, and enjoy being close to her – or so he thought.

He had begun, slightly formally, to ask about the two portraits, because he didn’t know how he was otherwise to begin the conversation. All Birgitte had said was that it was Wilfred, a member of the Teutonic Order of Knights, that had been killed at Tannenberg, and his wife, Magda, she who had so gallantly defended the estate and had since died of sorrow. Birgitte had then simply taken over the conversation.

She knew perfectly well what she was doing. In the next half hour she managed to ignite the fire that had been burning in his heart. Now and then she would lean over towards him so that he would get a better view of her generous cleavage. Her voice was soft, exuding unspoken promises.

Mikael was confused, it was as if he was swimming through a whirlpool. What had they spoken about? It was so irrelevant that Mikael remembered nothing of it afterwards. He had completely forgotten that she had asked him how many men there were in that terrible camp where he was forced to live; what the name of his chief commander was; and what they would do if the Russians or the Poles came.

However, he managed to avoid mentioning anything about the woman dressed in black. He understood instinctively that they were not exactly the best of friends and he did not want to see Birgitte frown and wrinkle her beautiful forehead. He wanted her to be bright and happy when she was with him.

Her parents never turned up. It seemed they slept late in the morning. Finally, and with reluctance, he said he had to be on his way. But she asked him if he would be so kind as to come again the following day so that his departure would not be so difficult.

“You see, Mikael, I’m so lonely here. It means so much to talk with a man of my own station in life.”

He didn’t mention that he was only part nobility. It was difficult for him to concentrate when she was sitting so close to him. He could smell her sweet, warm perfume. His protective instinct was immediately awakened.

“S-say hello to the puppy for me,” he stuttered.

“I certainly will.”

Intoxicated with happiness, he walked towards the gate. The lady in black, who was positioned so that she could not be seen from the house, stood outside the gates.

“Come this evening, Mikael. I need some repairs done to my estate, but my relatives think it isn’t necessary. Can you help me?”

“Of course, madam. But I can’t be here until after ten o’clock.”

She nodded. “That’s fine. My relatives will have retired for the night by then.”

“Do you want me to go to the stables? To the cart shed?”

“If it’s possible. But it’s not easy – they live so close to the stables. I have other wishes. I’ll meet you and show you what has to be done.”

“I’ll come,” he promised, shuddering in the winter cold.

Oh, dear. He didn’t like this. But he had been brought up to act like a gentleman. A lady’s will was his law. And there was no doubt that this lady was a true lady. Much more of a lady than Birgitte and her mother, come to think of it. But that meant nothing. Birgitte was lovely just the way she was.

Oh, poor Mikael! He had high thoughts of the girl, but his devotion to her was not as ethereal as he would like to think. Without considering why, he had scrubbed himself clean all over before going to visit her. The emotions which Birgitte aroused in him were more physical than he’d like to admit.

Birgitte’s father wanted to know whether she had managed to get some information out of the young man.

She snorted in derision. “Everything I needed,” she said. ”He’s the most naïve person I’ve ever met.”

She told her father what he wanted to know. “But I haven’t found out anything about the Swedish King’s plans about Poland, or what he intends to do with Livonia. I’ll find out tomorrow. That’s when my little officer will be back. I think he knows a lot because his family has close relations with the King.”

“Don’t lose your head over the boy,” admonished her mother.

Birgitte got a dreamy expression in her eyes and smiled. “He’s sweet but nothing to write home about. Oh, by he way, he inquired about the puppy. I have to show it to him tomorrow. Where is it?”

“Yes, what’s happened to it?” asked her father.

Her mother tutted impatiently. “I ordered the servant to kill it.”

“For heaven’s sake, Mum!” exclaimed Birgitte. “What am I to say to Mikael?”

Her father pulled the bell and summoned the servant. “Well, have you killed the puppy?”

The servant cleared his throat “No, no, I’ll do so as soon as I find it. It’s run off again.”

“No, don’t,” said the mother hastily. “Don’t kill the puppy. Find it and give it a good meal, bathe it and tend to its wounds. This is important. The Swede will be back tomorrow to see it.”

“Will do.”

“By the way, have you heard anything about the Russians in the village?”

“A commercial traveller came today. He’d heard that the Tzar is gathering his troops east of Lake Peipus. A large army.”

The three von Steierhorn members smiled acidly. With news about the movements of the Swedes, they had nothing to fear from the Tzar’s men.

That evening, there was a calm indigo blue sky above the troubled soil of Livonia. Flocks of cranes screeched on their way northward.

The lady in black waited for Mikael by the gate. As always, she was dressed in a cape of fine cloth, which she had wrapped tightly around herself against the frost and cold. Her dark blonde hair was uncovered and put up in a timeless hairstyle. Despite her simple dress, she was more distinguished than a Queen.

“Come with me, Mikael! Disasters threaten my beloved estate,” she said. These words would have seemed theatrical had they been said by anyone else.

They walked together to the side of the house. Without a word she went in front of him but always stopped at the doors, letting him open them, accustomed as she was to being served by a gentleman. They were on their way down into the cellar. The woman lit a torch before they made their way down the cellar steps.

“How’s the little dog doing?” he asked.

She turned towards him with a puzzled expression on her face. “Oh, that. Well, they found it at last. Poor little dog!”

‘I know that perfectly well’, he thought. ‘I was the one who found it.’

“It’s strange” he said, “that puppy touches something inside me. As you know, I have a son whom I’ve never seen nor thought about much. But the puppy has triggered something within me, a tenderness for the defenceless, a sense of responsibility. I’m thinking a lot more about my son in the last few days.”

It was freezing cold under the cellar vaults. Mikael could see that they were extremely old.

“You should return home,” she said. “This isn’t a good place to be!”

He wanted to protest and say that actually this was a good place, because thanks to Birgitte he now felt truly alive. But the woman was right in a way – the life of a soldier was no life for him.

“How am I to do that?” he asked. “For four years, I’ve been moved here and there. It’s been a nightmare. One moment my soul’s blunted and the next it’s harrowed. I have evil dreams at night but in the day I try to shut out my thoughts. My life is quietly passing by to no use whatsoever. It’s as though something within me is disgusted with this life and violently objects to it all. I often need to control myself so I don’t explode in senseless rage. I can’t cope any longer. This can’t be the purpose of my life!”

“Of course it isn’t! Don’t you have a powerful friend you can appeal to?” she asked. Her voice sounded indifferent, as if her thoughts were elsewhere.

“Yes, I do as a matter of fact. My foster father is one of Sweden’s most powerful men. But he’s probably in Poland with the King. He attaches great importance to duty and honour on the battlefield. He’d regard such a request as treason.”

“Which country is your homeland?”

“I don’t know. Sweden has done a lot for me. My mother was German and I spent my childhood in the German Reich. And my heart...? My heart lies in Norway, a country I’ve never seen.”

“That’s leaves you with a difficult choice, Mikael,” she said with a gentle smile, and with this the subject was closed. “Look, do you see those beams that support the floor above? These two aren’t correctly positioned. They should be over here where the floor needs to be supported much more. Can you move them for me? My idiot of a relative doesn’t understand the danger.”

He examined the conditions. Here and there he could see ugly cracks in the old walls and loose stones lay scattered all over the cellar floor. He was not sure that she was right, but then she knew the house better than he did. He had never set foot on the dangerous floors above them.

“What’s upstairs?” he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Just some apartments.”

Mikael did as she had asked him to do. Breaking loose the two beams that were very close to one another was not easy, but she watched him work which he felt gave him strength. The cold of the cellar didn’t seem to bother her.

After an hour, Mikael had managed to move the beams as she had asked. She thanked him warmly for his help and they went out again. Mikael was shivering from the cold. The woman followed him to the gate.

“See you tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll be visiting Birgitte.”

Did she grimace slightly? He wasn’t sure.

“You mustn’t forget the cart shed,” she added. “I’ll let you know when all is clear.”

Mikael nodded. He didn’t like the hostility and secrecy among the family on the estate. He didn’t want to be caught between them. But then again: He couldn’t choose sides either. Birgitte was closest to his heart, but could he refuse this other awe-inspiring lady?

They said goodbye and Mikael went home to his confusing dreams. Tonight they were worse than ever. It seemed to him that he was experiencing a very harsh winter where everything was white as nightmarish faces rushed past and were laughing at him. The Ice Queen appeared, placing her cold hands around his neck. She looked deep into his eyes and kissed him on his neck, drawing all life and warmth out of him. He woke up with a moan and wrapped the tattered soldier’s blanket tighter around him, but he no longer dared to fall asleep.

The small Swedish army didn’t have enough to do and all this idleness was not beneficial to the men. Mikael was so eager to see Birgitte again that he was out far too early the next day. Walking through the village, he realised that he could not turn up that early at the estate, especially as it would seem that the von Steierhorns were in the habit of getting up late. So he slowed down, looking about to see if there was something he could do to pass the time.

He saw a small spire of a building, built in the style that was typical of these regions. The local church was situated in the village, and this building was very small, so it must be a chapel. It lay on the grounds of the estate, and major estates often had their own church. But no roads led up to the chapel and there was no glass in the window frames. Mikael thought he could see that a couple of stones had fallen out of the one wall. Old buildings had always interested him, so he went to take a closer look at the chapel.

He didn’t want to walk through the park, which was near the house. It seemed rude. From what he could see, there was a shorter way that went past a few small houses. They appeared just as deserted as everything else in the village. No, smoke was rising from one of them, so somebody must still be living here. Mikael walked carefully past the house while he looked straight ahead. But he could still feel that someone was watching him. He climbed over an old stone wall and walked to the chapel.

The small building was more dilapidated than he had thought at first. Now he could see the estate from a different angle, looking just as complete and stylish as from the other side.

The snow was pristine before him as he walked towards the chapel door. On either side of him were the contours of a few graves, though none had a cross. Mikael wondered whether those graves belonged to Orthodox or Catholics. They were probably not Protestants because it was such an old chapel.

The chapel no longer had a door, only a few beams in front of the door to prevent the snow from drifting in. Mikael moved them to the side and walked in. It was not completely dilapidated, as he had thought it would be, but all decorations had been removed, which made the place bare. It was easy to see where the altar and pulpit had been, but nothing was left of them. The snow had come in through the windows, lying in small drifts on the floor, where there had probably never been a pew. This chapel was probably from the time when you would alternate between standing up and kneeling on the floor.

Big stone slabs had been placed on the church floor. It was probably the former owners of the estate who had been buried here. Mikael squatted in front of the most magnificent of the slabs, brushing the snow away with his hand. The inscription was somewhat difficult to read. Mikael whispered the words aloud as he spelled them.

“Count Huilfried von Steierhorn ... I see, so here we have Wilfred the Knight,” he muttered to himself. “And what does it say here? Latin? Requiescat ... vict ...mort ...No, this is too indistinct, it doesn’t make sense to me at all. I’ll skip it. Now this must be the gracious madam Magda von Steierhorn. What does it say here? Née Aschenfelder. That’s bound to be a noble name too. Anno Domini MCDX. That’s 1410. This is the famous couple – the hero from Tannenberg and his faithful wife. “So, they managed to bring his body back from the battlefield.”

He couldn’t help thinking how awful the body must have smelled, but quickly pushed this profane thought aside. He saw an even more imposing tomb stone nearby and brushed it free of snow.

“Ah, and here we have the ancestor who fell at Peipus,” he whispered. He could only decipher a few of the letters. The inscription was very old.

He continued looking at other inscriptions and concluded that, for some reason or other, the chapel must have been deserted in the 1500s. Maybe during the Reformation?

At the door, he turned back, bowing deeply and sincerely – not for the chapel itself, but for those who were buried there. He stepped back out into the snowy landscape.

On his way back, he saw a little old man standing by the wayside. Mikael knew that the villagers preferred not to show themselves, so the old man must be very curious. He said hello and the old man, who blinked, said nothing, but did not run away either. Mikael did not speak the local dialect but tried German. “It looks as if the good weather will stay this way.”

”Yes, but I also think we’ll be getting more snow.”

So they could make themselves understood.

“I looked inside the chapel. Why isn’t it in use any more?”

The man looked away. “It wasn’t so good. The church is much bigger.”

“It was the von Steierhorns’ private chapel then? It seems to have been deserted more than a hundred years ago.”

“I believe they had to leave it. There were too many problems.”

Mikael smiled. “Problems?”

The old man looked again towards the sky. “Don’t you think we’ll be getting some snow today?”

Mikael took the hint and changed the subject.

“So you haven’t left the village like everyone else?”

“No, where would I go?”

“Judging by the many empty houses, people seem to fear the Russians the most.”

“This isn’t a good place to live. But I live so far from the main street that I’m not bothered by what goes on here.”

Mikael sat down on a saw bench and the old man sat on a pile of wood, eager to be given the chance to speak.

“What’s wrong with the main street?” asked Mikael.

The old man’s German was not fluent, but Mikael could make out what he meant. He lowered his voice. “Not that I’ve heard anything, but many others have. The funeral, you see.”

The old man clearly had a sense of drama. Mikael gleaned that now he was supposed to ask “Which funeral?”

“People aren’t too sure about it. It might be Mr. Ingemund’s after Peipus, or Mr. Wilfred’s after Tannenberg. Or some other old ancestor. The men in the von Steierhorn family have always been great warriors and extremely proud. Anyway, they say that you can hear them return from the war. If you’re out late on a rainy summer’s night, you can hear the steps of many men and horses, clattering and moaning. Now and then there’s the distant rumbling of funeral drums. But, of course, you can’t see anything. The sounds move in the direction of the estate.”

“Late summer? Now I don’t know much about the Battle at Peipus, it was so long ago, but it must have been during winter? Didn’t they say that the battle took place on ice? And my foster father taught me that the Battle at Tannenberg happened on 15 June, 1410. It must have been gruesome, but surely it’s nothing to be afraid of?”

The old man glanced at him. “The dead aren’t good. One must be careful not to come too close to a ghost.”

“The dead can’t do the living any harm.”

“Is that so? Not visibly, of course, but they can make deep wounds in one’s soul. Melancholy, my young man. It’s a serious disease, which is why people are fleeing this village. They’re living in the birches now.”

“Is that why the Steierhorns don’t have enough staff at the house?”

The man nodded.

“But the young Count manages well enough.”

‘I wouldn’t call the Count young’ thought Mikael, ‘but I suppose it’s all relative. He must seem young to this old man.’

Mikael continued: “But if the procession of ghosts walked towards the estate, surely they would have seen or heard something up there?”

“No, they say it’s absolutely still.”

It made sense to Mikael, as the von Steierhorns didn’t seem to feel threatened by anything. He wished he had had something to offer the old man. He thanked him and said goodbye.

Then he walked toward the main street which was narrow and muddy, with houses pressed against each other on either side. You couldn’t really call it a main street, because it was the only street. There were footprints and the tracks of wheel carts showing in the mud, so there must be some villagers left.

The cold air brought snow with it, but there were also signs that an early spring was on its way. Mikael shuddered. His sense of loneliness was enhanced in this quiet village, with the endless plain and vast expanse of sky. Melancholy? Wasn’t that what he’d been suffering from for so many years? Could Birgitte cure his melancholy and loneliness? Was that asking too much? All of a sudden, he longed to see her again.