The Ice People 3 Read online

  “Very well, then!”

  ***

  The wedding between Liv and Laurents Berenius went as planned, but neither Sol nor Dag were able to make the journey home for it. The ships that sailed between Denmark and Norway were very sporadic and random, and there were none that would reach Norway in time for the wedding.

  Liv was the gentlest of Tengel’s and Silje’s four children – more gentle even than Silje herself, whom she resembled a very great deal. It was exactly as Charlotte had written: She was the dream of a wife and daughter-in-law. She was quick to accommodate and would step into the background if need be. She was very accomplished in almost everything.

  Just how clever she was was something Laurents Berenius hadn’t reckoned with.

  Liv walked about as if in a daze. She just listened to what others discussed, often agreeing politely but without saying very much herself. She told herself that “everything will be alright. Laurents is such a nice person and so handsome and I’ve been incredibly fortunate. Now Dag is to marry Miss Trolle, and the whole family is happy for us. Yes, I’ve been very lucky.”

  Charlotte had spent a lot of money on the wedding. Silje wanted it to be celebrated at the farm on Linden Avenue and of course she was allowed to do so. But Charlotte arranged for great wagon loads of food to be driven down to the farm and arranged a procession of the most magnificent coaches to and from the church. However, Charlotte had insisted that the great banquet was to take place at Graastensholm.

  Everyone agreed to this so long as most of the celebrations took place at the farm on Linden Avenue.

  “We must impress the Berenius family,” Charlotte said in an attempt at persuading Tengel and Silje to her way of thinking.

  “The boy mustn’t be allowed to think that he’s marrying beneath himself because that certainly isn’t the case!”

  Liv looked radiant dressed in the rural wedding costume of the district. Her hair had darkened over the years and now had the colour and sheen of unburnished copper. Her complexion was as soft as a petal and her deep blue eyes so trusting that one was moved just by looking into them. Everyone could see just how much Laurents was in love with her.

  Liv smiled shyly and beamed while she tried to hide how nervous she was. She was scared and uncertain and her heart still felt the ache of emptiness. “This must be how all brides feel,” she said to herself. Laurents was ever so elegant: Tall with short shiny brown hair and grey-brown eyes. He had a straight, well-formed nose and resolute mouth. She promised herself that she’d make him happy.

  The only thing that embittered her joy was that Sol and Dag weren’t there. She would have loved to speak with them in the weeks before the wedding if for no other reason than to ask their opinion of Laurents. Sol had seen him but she’d remained unusually passive. She’d always found other things to do whenever Laurents came to visit, so Liv still didn’t know what Sol thought of him. Dag had always been the one that Liv took her troubles and concerns to, but now he was so far away. He had no time for her thoughts now that he had Miss Trolle to think about. A sister could never be as interesting as a beloved.

  The absence of her siblings, Sol and Dag, had left Liv feeling even more than usually unsure of herself.

  As they rode from the church to the farm on Linden Avenue, the road was lined all the way on both sides by people from the estate, the village and the surrounding countryside. All would be invited to attend the main celebrations after they’d been well fed in the large barn. Are and some of the maids had decorated the barn, and it looked ever so splendid!

  The journey from the church was noisy as was the custom: The bride’s horse was pursued with wild shouts and the sound of musket fire so that Liv would escape the bad magic and evil spirits who tried to grab her on her last day as a virgin.

  In the yard she had to drink a large tankard of beer in the presence of the crowd before throwing the empty tankard over the roof of the house. If it landed on the other side of the house, then this was seen as the sign of a good marriage. But the tankard glided out of Liv’s hands and as she pulled back her arm, it slipped. Flying sideways out of her hand, it landed on the front of the roof and fell back again on the same side. Although everybody made light of her mistake, Liv was very upset. She so desperately wanted to make Laurents happy.

  It wasn’t long before everybody had forgotten the ‘mishap’. The wedding celebrations, lasting the customary three full days, were a great success and people in the area spoke admiringly about them for years afterwards.

  ***

  It was not until Liv was alone in the big merchant’s house in Oslo that it dawned on her that there was no going back. Her childhood years with Tengel and Silje were now over and from now on she’d only return to Linden Avenue and Graastensholm as a guest. This left her with an uneasy sadness that she found difficult to put behind her.

  But once again, she told herself that this was probably how all brides felt.

  But they weren’t entirely alone in the house: Laurents’ mother lived there as well. She’d attended the wedding, of course, but had hardly spoken a word. It was as if she sat there looking for something to criticise without being able to find anything. Oh, yes: Liv had heard her utter the same word over and over again: “Extravagance!”

  Liv was convinced that if the wedding hadn’t been as magnificent as it was, then the mother-in-law would have complained about poverty and miserliness.

  Laurents didn’t want to ‘make her a woman’ during the wedding celebrations itself, as was often the custom. He wanted to wait until they were by themselves. “I know what they’re like, those cheats who walk into the couple’s bedroom, as if by mistake. I won’t allow anybody to spoil our first night together, Liv.”

  Instead he’d lain very quietly next to her, looking at her in the candlelight, caressing her slowly and gently, kissing her so carefully until they’d fallen asleep with their honour and virtue intact.

  But now they found themselves together in the big house in Oslo where she was now wife and hostess.

  Liv carefully folded her wedding dress, or more correctly, her “woman’s dress” which she wore the morning after she got married. Now she would have to wear a headscarf as a sign that she was a married woman. She smiled to herself. This was something Silje, with Tengel’s support, had always refused to wear. How strange it was to be alone here with Laurents! She suddenly realised that she didn’t know him at all and was gripped by anxiety.

  No, she mustn’t think along such lines! Not now! She liked him such a lot. Before Liv had left home, Silje had given her some sound advice: “Men need to feel that they’re loved. Give of your whole heart, my child! I believe this is the secret to Tengel’s and my own happiness. We’re completely open with each other. We’re not afraid of showing how much we mean to one another.”

  Yes, thought Liv, Laurents certainly deserves all my love.

  ***

  Back home on the farm on Linden Avenue, Tengel and Silje lay staring into the darkness.

  “It was a fantastic wedding,” said Silje with a happy smile. “Now I feel totally exhausted.”

  “Of course, you’ve worked really hard,” replied Tengel. “You’ve been busy all the time, and you’ve been preparing for months.”

  Silje took his hand. “Have we done the right thing, Tengel? After all, she’s so young.”

  He sighed. “That’s also what I was thinking, but you were just as young when we married and you certainly knew what you wanted. Have you ever had any regrets?”

  She rubbed her head on his shoulder and smiled. “Now you’re fishing for compliments. I was just thinking how small and forsaken Liv appeared. So vulnerable ... confused ... No, I can’t really find the words.”

  Tengel said, “I know what you mean. If Laurents hadn’t been so eager and persistent, I’d never have agreed to it. But he’s a good man; reliable, and desperately in love with her.”

  “Yes, and it was what she wanted. Oh, well. I suppose we’re just normal, worri
ed parents who don’t want to let go of their child. Our love child, Tengel ...”

  “Yes, you were stubborn at the time! You wanted that child, and today I thank you for being so stubborn.”

  “All of them are leaving us, Tengel. First Dag, then Sol – but she’ll come back, I hope – and now Liv. Now we have only Are left.”

  “Yes, and he’ll stay.”

  “Thank God for that!”

  “It hurts to lose one’s children.”

  “We’re not losing them,” she said. “They’re still there even though we can’t see them.”

  “You’re right,” said Tengel. “The farm is a part of them, something they take with them out into the world. And they’ve left something of themselves here. Their laughter is in the breeze, and their footsteps on the floor. They’ve helped make this house and the whole farm what it is today.”

  “Yes, and I think they’ve been happy here.”

  “Of course they have!”

  He wrapped his arms around her and they snuggled closer together.

  ***

  In the merchant’s house in Oslo, the candle was snuffed out. In the bed, Liv lay in Laurents’ arms. He whispered beautiful words to her, softly stroking her body.

  Liv felt that this wasn’t happening to her. She felt that her mind was somewhere else. But remembering Silje’s words, she put her arms around Laurents’ neck and his caresses instantly grew bolder, and Liv felt a new sensation, a pleasant feeling that began to burn inside her. With a murmur of delight she snuggled up to him.

  “Laurents,” she whispered, amazed, in his ear.

  His hand stopped moving. Not a sound could be heard in the room.

  “Lie still,” he said in a muffled voice. “Relax, Liv. You don’t have to say or do anything. It’s a woman’s duty to welcome her husband’s desire. He’s the hunter and she’s his prey.”

  Liv was surprised. Trying to get her point of view across she said unhappily: “My love for you ...”

  “No,” said Laurents. “You can show your love in a thousand other ways by pleasing me in everything. In bed, the man is the active one. The woman is passive, compliant and a source of joy to him. It’s not for her to show her emotions. That’s what prostitutes are for.”

  Liv stared wide-eyed into the darkness of the room, filled with utter despair. It was as if everything inside her died. The flame inside her was extinguished and with a sense of immense shame she gave in to his desire, his caresses and his body.

  Afterwards, when he was exhausted, he fell asleep next to her. Liv lay awake for a very long time, hearing only the sound of her own helpless sobs.

  ***

  Sol followed the secretive Preben as he made his way to a small, dilapidated house on the outskirts of Copenhagen. She’d managed to sneak out without Dag or anybody else in Count Strahlenhelm’s house noticing it.

  Full of his own importance, Preben had said: “They’re very reluctant to let you join the meeting. So I must ask you not to disturb their sacred black mass with idle trivialities. Remember that Satan will be with us this evening!”

  Sol nodded. This sounded exciting.

  They went down a narrow stairway that led to the basement. At the foot of the steps, Preben announced their arrival with a heavy knock on the door. A voice from inside asked for the password.

  “By the gravedigger’s bones,” replied Preben. Sol was just about to burst into laughter.

  A man wearing a black cloak opened the door and they entered.

  Another door led to a vaulted basement where a dozen young people were gathered. They regarded the newcomers in silence.

  One of the men was much older than the others. His cloak was lined with red and he wore a mask to hide the upper part of his face. But the mask couldn’t conceal the look in his eyes when Sol entered the room. She’d seen that look before and knew exactly what it meant.

  She glanced quickly around the room. The arched ceiling was lit up by a great many black candles. Right in front of her stood a long, low altar and over it hung a cross turned upside down. The white-washed walls were covered with magic runes and the names of demons.

  After a moment of silence, a young woman spoke. She lowered her voice to give weight to her words.

  “We’ve allowed a novice from the province of Norway to join our secret meeting tonight. We’ll decide whether she’ll be allowed to come again. As we’re all very expert in the worship of the Devil and all his secrets, we expect the Norwegian ignorant to adhere to our rules and do no more than learn from our skills. You’ve already sworn an oath to Apollyon – that’s Preben – never to denounce us, haven’t you?”

  Sol nodded.

  The first girl was silent and another girl took over: “You were allowed to come here because our friend described your strange eyes. But a pair of eyes don’t make a real witch. You’ll have a long way to go before you’re proficient.”

  Sol said nothing. The masked man whispered something to the first woman.

  She hesitated and her facial expression changed to distaste. Then she nodded and turned grudgingly towards Sol.

  “Our wizard, who’s the incarnation of Satan, wants to initiate you himself already this evening. This is most unusual and a great honour. In order for you to know what is expected of you, our wizard will first perform the ritual with one of the other women present.

  Sol nodded.

  All the women – there were five of them - rushed towards the wizard to offer their services, but he waved them away with a declining gesture.

  One of the young men ran up to the altar, carrying a small bowl. He dipped his finger in the bowl and drew a complicated sign in blood on the altar.

  The wizard walked over and stood in front of the motif and raised his arms. Everyone fell to their knees and began to chant in ecstasy. It sounded awful.

  As the group of people sang, continuing to work themselves into an ecstatic frenzy, the wizard performed a series of rituals. He lighted various candles and placed some objects on the altar. Nothing he did made sense to Sol. To her it all seemed to be a combination of self-invented satanic rituals. She began to feel uneasy. Sol had always been sensitive to her environment and here she felt nothing but exertion in meaningless emptiness. The reek of sweat filled the room.

  Then all of a sudden the wizard raised his arm again and at once the room was quiet. Everybody waited in the strained silence, the women in hectic excitement.

  Then the man moved one arm slowly down until it pointed directly at one of the girls, who obediently took a few steps closer to him. She let her cloak fall from her shoulders and now stood before him, completely naked.

  The man pointed towards the altar, and the girl walked over to it and lay down.

  The others began to chant once more. Their bodies swayed and they had also removed their cloaks. All were naked.

  The wizard was the only one who kept his cloak on. He now began to draw some patterns on the girl’s body. It looked like an archer’s target. Maybe he was afraid of missing the mark?

  The wizard climbed up and lay on top of the girl. His large cloak was draped over the pair of them and hung down over both sides of the altar, but nobody could be in any doubt as to what was being performed beneath it. With loud exclamations of delight, the congregation began to fondle one another with lust, moaning and wailing in a new symphony of sounds.

  As soon as the wizard began to reach a peak of excitement, he stopped abruptly and stood up.

  With his cloak once more concealing his body, he turned to face Sol while the girl climbed down from the altar, disappointed and unsatisfied. The woman, who was clearly the wizard’s spokesperson, said to Sol: “Take the girl’s place. Satan is ready to initiate you now!”

  Sol frowned.

  “Take your clothes off!” said the girl impatiently. It was obvious that she also didn’t like that the newcomer was being treated with special favour.

  Now the disappointment and anger that Sol had been suppressing since she had ent
ered the room reached a peak, exploded. Her eyes flashed.

  “Do you honestly expect me to let this ridiculous humbug have a few moments of cheap excitement at my expense? Not upon my life!”

  Sol saw that the expressions on the faces of those present began to harden.

  “You’ve sworn an oath,” warned the woman. Preben looked scared.

  “How dare you call our wizard a humbug?” shouted the girl who’d been lying on the altar.

  “I’ll call you all a bunch of ignorant fools!” hissed Sol. “What do you really know about witchcraft? You’re a bunch of idiots who, without the least bit of talent, are trying to act dangerously and demonically. If you’d looked at yourselves with at least a touch of irony, I might have stayed and taught you a thing or two, but you’re so self-obsessed and full of yourselves! Has this man really convinced you that he’s in contact with Satan? That he is Satan’s replacement on earth – or even Satan himself?”

  The wizard realised that his prestige was being called into question. At last he spoke aloud for the first time, but his voice was high-pitched and weak.

  “Teach us one or two things?” he asked, mocking her. “I’ll not be challenged by a young girl from Norway, who wishes to placate me. So you question my powers of witchcraft? Watch this!”

  He took a powder out of his pocket in his cloak and threw it on the fire. He did this so quickly that those present didn’t see his movements. The powder created a series of small explosions.

  “Is that supposed to be witchcraft? Throwing black powder on a fire?” asked Sol. “Any child can do that!”

  “I can bewitch you!”

  “Then do so if you can!”

  He took a deep breath. The mood among his disciples had become more hostile. It was obvious that they didn’t like Sol, and the master fought for his position and prestige.