The Ice People 3 Read online

  Walking over to Sol and mustering all his authority, he hissed: “I order you to kiss my hand!”

  Sol looked him straight in the eyes with uncontrolled contempt. She was unbelievably beautiful with her flashing eyes, the wild dark hair, and the warm colour of her skin.

  He stretched out his hand: “Satan says, kiss it!”

  It was so quiet within those four walls that you could hear a pin drop to the floor. Sol’s eyes were now half-open slits.

  “Do you honestly believe that I will do as you bid me?” she asked in an empty tone of voice. “I order you to get down on your knees!”

  The master’s expression was helpless. Then, unable to resist, he fell to his knees.

  “Take off your cloak!” ordered Sol.

  He did as he was told. The group of people gasped. Their hero, their god, obeyed the orders of a stranger!

  “Look at him!” said Sol, pointing at the man, who stared at her as if in a trance. “Look at his small, wrinkled penis; the sloping shoulders and the roll of fat on his belly. Look at him now!”

  With a swift movement, she pulled the strap with the mandrake over her head. As the master caught sight of the grotesque talisman, he flinched backwards in horror, gasping for breath. Sol held the gnarled root over him with both hands.

  “Lie down on the floor! Lie down and creep up to the altar and turn the cross the right way up because this has nothing to do with Satanism! There’s nothing demonic in this room!”

  To the immense shame of his followers, their “Great Master” wriggled across the floor like a snake up to the altar, and when he’d reached it he got to his feet, grasped the cross and turned it the right way round. Then he sat down and gazed at Sol obediently.

  Sol was furious, which was what made her much more powerful. She’d practiced and experimented a lot on her own – and now, in front of an audience, she wanted to try one of the most difficult tricks that Hanna had described to her.

  So she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Everyone stared at her. When she’d gathered her energy again, she opened her eyes and walked slowly up to the altar to take her place on the right-hand side of the ‘master’.

  “You miserable fool,” she said. “Look to your left.”

  A hushed cry immediately rose from the congregation. Sol smiled scornfully. She knew straightway that she’d succeeded.

  “She’s ... she’s standing on both sides of him!” one of the followers moaned. The master’s eyes darted back and forth between the two images of Sol, and she could hear how his teeth were clattering with fear. She was unable to see her alter ego herself because she needed to stand completely still and concentrate. In this state, her conscious mind seemed to leave her body and transfer itself to the other side of the altar.

  Slowly she relaxed, her mind returned to her body, and the image disappeared. She could feel how she was perspiring, and her legs felt weak. Her heart was beating furiously.

  Then she put on the mandrake once more and tucked it away inside her clothes, and walked up to the closest of the wizard’s disciples. Without any warning, she took the leather purse that hung at his side.

  She weighed the purse in her hand and said. “This purse contains two silver coins ... a dried rose and a letter.”

  He could do nothing else but nod frantically in agreement.

  “And you,” she said as she turned to a woman, touching her gently: “You’re expecting a baby with that miserable person at the altar. You’ve been too afraid to tell anyone, but it’s true. You’ll come to suffer for this child, and he won’t help you one bit.”

  Then she turned to another man and put her hands on his shoulders:

  “Your only thought right now is how you’ll get home to your wife to whom you’ve said nothing about this gathering. You have a relationship with the girl standing right next to you and she thinks you’ll marry her.”

  “Stop!” shouted a person. She was the woman that first said something to Sol. “Stop!”

  “She’s a real witch,” whispered one of the men, “a real witch! I didn’t know they existed.”

  “Oh, yes, they do,” said Sol, feeling very weary. “But they’re few and far between. And you’re sick, my good man. You can’t keep your food down.”

  “You’re right,” he nodded.

  “Here, take this powder,” ordered Sol. “Drink some of this every morning and get rid of your debt. Then you’ll feel fine again.”

  She turned round to face the man who’d brought her to the meeting and said, “Preben: Forgive me that I’ve crushed your dreams. But you must trust me when I say that witchcraft isn’t to be meddled with. I don’t want that humbug to take advantage of you in any way he sees fit. I shall not reveal you – and I trust that you’ll remain silent about me.”

  With these words, she left the stinking room. The others sat staring blankly. They’d lost so much: Honour and prestige – and Sol and her secrets.

  ***

  Liv worked hard at making everything perfect in the big house in Oslo, but she had changed. Her inner radiance and the happiness which had always been her trait could no longer be read in her face. Now there was an anxious expression in her eyes, a constant fear that she wasn’t doing exactly as she should. She so desperately wanted to please her husband but she’d had to learn a painful lesson: Everything had to be on his terms.

  She remembered with anxiety her small attempts at surprising him. Take, for instance, the small picture of flowers she’d painted in secret and which was a gift for his birthday.

  He’d studied it closely for quite a while. “That was sweet of you, Liv, and it’s really pretty. Beautiful indeed, but ...”

  “But what?” she’d asked anxiously when he paused.

  “I think you should concentrate on embroidery, my dear. A woman shouldn’t be painting pictures. Leave the great and famous artists to do that. My little wife should do that for which she’s best suited. Is there still no sign that you’re pregnant?”

  Liv shook her head. She felt utterly useless. She couldn’t even get pregnant! Poor Laurents, he must be really annoyed with her!

  She remembered one occasion when they’d been entertaining guests. She was talking to an older man. The lively conversation had covered current affairs and recent events – about the people and what the King had done for Norway. Liv had been delighted, the man was intelligent and interesting; and several more had joined in the conversation.

  Then suddenly she caught sight of Laurents staring at her. He was furious. With a gesture of the head, he ordered her to leave the group and she had to make her excuses.

  Later that evening he’d been merciless. He’d told her what he thought of women who interfered with men’s business. “You must stop making a fool of yourself,” he’d said. “Don’t ever think that you can compare yourself to a man. I don’t want such an unfeminine wife. Oh, dear. I can see that I have a major task before me. You’ve deceived me. I had no idea that you were brought up so badly. But you’re so sweet and adorable, and you’re my greatest treasure, and we’ll get rid of your shortcomings. Just you wait and see! Don’t be upset. I’ll help you!”

  Yes, she was starting to learn her lesson. So long as she did things the way he wanted them to be done, everything was fine.

  But at times it was just so difficult to curb her spontaneity, which was such a great part of her personality.

  Only last week she’d put her foot in it again. They were visiting one of Laurents’ colleagues and as they were leaving the house, Laurents remarked how brightly Sirius was shining in the firmament. Without thinking, Liv had said: “That’s not Sirius, it’s Deneb in the constellation Cygnus, the Swan.”

  When they got home that evening, Laurents had slapped her twice in the face because she’d “humiliated him so much in front of a colleague and his wife.” They all knew very well that the star in question was Sirius, he said angrily. Who did she think she was?

  Liv got the impression that the only star in the firm
ament which Laurents knew was Sirius.

  Afterwards he regretted what he’d done and asked her for forgiveness and made passionate love to her in bed. However, from that moment on, the trust and intimacy between them had been broken forever.

  And although Liv was a talented artist, she couldn’t for anything in the world bring herself to pick up and hold a brush in her hand again.

  Laurents’ mother didn’t do anything to make life easier for Liv. She was a bossy old lady, who was deeply jealous of Liv. She’d prefer to have her son all to herself and wouldn’t have tolerated any daughter-in-law. So gentle and mild-mannered Liv was an easy prey for her to dominate. This was something the mother-in-law soon discovered and she did so with relish.

  Of course, Laurents didn’t notice any of this. He believed there was perfect harmony in the house and if there was the least bit of a clash, he’d side with his mother. After all, Liv was nothing but an ignorant child. Liv wrote home encouraging, short reports to Silje about how good things were. But Liv always wrote her letters at arm’s length because she didn’t want her tears to drip on the pages and smudge the ink.

  Chapter 4

  Sol was supposed to have returned to Norway a long time ago, but the Strahlenhelm family thought so highly of her that they’d offered her to spend the winter with them as a nanny for Albrekt. They had told Sol that they were sorry to offer her such a menial job, but they wanted their son to benefit from Sol’s bubbly personality.

  Sol had thought long and hard about the offer. She hadn’t come to Copenhagen to work as a nanny but, on the other hand, the only alternative would be to return to Norway. She had not yet seen much of the world and she had to stay somewhere. The Strahlenhelm home was as good as anywhere, but there was one place that kept popping up in her mind and it was Brosarps Backar. She desperately wanted to go there because Hanna had told her that this was where true witches could be found.

  She had asked Dag, but he didn’t know of the place, though he thought that it was probably in Scania by the sound of it. Scania lies on the other side of the Sound, the narrow strait that separates Denmark from Sweden. Sol realised that crossing the Sound during winter would be far too long and difficult for her so she accepted the Strahlenhelm’s offer of being Albrekt’s nanny. As a compromise, she was to be known as his governess because although the son was yet too young to learn anything, Sol was intelligent and educated enough to be called a governess. Besides, the Countess was expecting her second child and therefore needed extra help to relieve the other nanny.

  Everything went well and the Count and Countess were most pleased with Sol, who behaved well and was much loved. Nobody was interested in or had any idea what she did in her room in the evenings. This was when she’d open her small bag and practice her craft.

  Two things in particular occupied her mind. First of all, she wanted to visit Brosarps Backar and secondly she wanted to take part in a witches’ ride to Blakulla to meet the Evil One himself. When she was a child, Hanna had planted both these ambitions in Sol’s mind. But to fulfil them properly, she would need a herb that she didn’t yet possess, which was another reason why she wanted to stay until spring.

  Tengel and Silje wrote to say how very pleased they were to hear of her new job and that she could stay there as long as Dag was there. Sol felt that they didn’t say very much about Liv. Although they didn’t say so directly, she could read between the lines that they were disappointed that she never seemed to have the time to visit Linden Avenue, and it was obvious that they’d not been allowed to visit her in Oslo.

  What they didn’t know was that Laurents always made up an excuse for not entertaining his wife’s family. In carefully chosen words, so as not to cause unhappiness, he would forbid her from travelling home to visit them. When Silje sent parcels to them, Laurents would fly into a rage. Surely her parents realised that he was able to provide her with everything she needed? Liv became acutely worried over all the fuss, but she flatly refused to throw the gifts away. She knew how much love and care lay in them, so she hid them far away from Laurents’ searching eyes.

  ***

  Sol met many young men among Dag’s circle of student friends, but she wasn’t interested in young, intellectual men. She instinctively sought out men of high authority and primitive virility. It didn’t make matters any easier that most university undergraduates were studying theology. Being a church minister was considered to be the most prestigious job you could imagine. The faculties of law and sciences were looked down on by the students of theology because they were considered to be of less importance.

  Now and then, Sol would heave many a sigh of despair over this. Primitive, virile men of authority – where would she find one of those, she asked herself? They seemed to be in very short supply.

  The year 1600 began with great religious ceremonies and feasts. Sol didn’t take part in any of them. She had managed to find the perfect excuse for not going to church. She ‘sacrificed’ herself by staying at home to care for little Albrekt so that all the God-fearing servants could go to church and say their prayers. The Countess was a bit concerned for her, but Sol casually explained that she visited the church once a week to receive a blessing.

  The truth was that Sol hadn’t come close to a man of the church since her own fateful baptism when she had spat in the face of the minister, kicking his pious shins so that he had blue marks from it.

  In spring, the Count and Countess invited Sol and Dag to attend a royal ball. They were both very proud of Sol, and were eager to introduce her to their friends.

  So the Countess had found a new ball gown, which suited the colour of Sol’s eyes perfectly. It was made of thick green silk and as she moved the gold lamé petticoat showed through long slits in the skirt. They tried to arrange her hair so that it was not hanging down, but everyone felt that it would be best to just let it hang loose. She was so stunning that you almost lost your breath just looking at her.

  On the way to the castle, Dag had warned her that the men would flock to her like bees around a honey pot. He asked her to keep them at a polite distance.

  Sol whispered back in sneering disdain: “I certainly don’t want a decadent court jester! I want one with claws!”

  “My God,” mumbled Dag, exhausted. “The coarse traits of the Ice People are still with you! You have too much of Hanna in you!”

  “Of which I am very proud,” was Sol’s reply. “But don’t worry, little brother. I shall behave so much like a lady that it’ll make you throw up!”

  Dag couldn’t help laughing.

  Sol had the honour of curtseying deeply to King Christian, a portly twenty-three year old, who certainly had a twinkle in his eye as he looked at her. But since he had been married for three years, and he’d had a minor, extra-marital affair, he was under close scrutiny.

  That didn’t prevent him from quietly making a note of Sol’s name and address.

  There were many noblemen of all ages and appearances who also showed a great interest. A certain Christian Friis proposed to her on the spot as soon as he met her, and two youngsters, one a Gyldenstierne and the other a Bille, both old aristocratic families, began a fight over which of them was most worthy of Sol’s favour.

  Sol was having a great time at the ball. She behaved with great modesty, but still allowed her eyes to flirt wildly. The dance steps which Charlotte had taught her turned out to be terribly old-fashioned, but her dance partners were very eager to teach her new ones, and she was quick to grasp the new steps. She also received the most incredible offers, but found it very easy to act with modesty because she was just not interested in any of these men.

  Then something happened which put an immediate stop to Sol’s fantastic life in Copenhagen.

  There were so many guests at the royal ball that she hadn’t had time to notice them all. But suddenly she felt that she was being watched. Well, it wasn’t just that. Sol was sensitive enough to notice the hatred directed at her.

  She glanced about and qu
ickly singled out the source of these hateful and uncompromising signals. They came from a woman she recognised immediately. It was the wizard’s priestess, the one who had spoken the most. My word, thought Sol. Who would have guessed she ranked so highly in the social hierarchy of Copenhagen? No wonder that she’d wanted to be rid of Sol before too many secrets might be revealed!

  It was obvious that this woman had evil in mind and Sol realised that she needed to be very much on her guard.

  The King was one of the first to retire. He had drunk so much that he had fallen asleep and had to be put to bed.

  Sol had been to parties before and had often seen the excessive eating and drinking that took place, but this royal ball beat everything. As always, the men would go outside, poke a finger down their throats to make room for more food. There were also those who didn’t make it to the door but relied on the servants to go clear up after them. What pigs they are, thought Sol with disgust. She wished she were safely back home in the Count’s house again.

  A man she hadn’t seen before walked up to her and bowed deeply. “Miss Sol? Your brother would like to speak with you. He’s in the room at the end of the great hall.”

  Somewhat surprised, Sol thanked him and went down the stairs and into a room. She waited for a while in the empty room without knowing what to do. There were several doors but they were all locked and Sol didn’t want to crash into a bedroom or some other private room. Maybe she’d gone to the wrong room by mistake? No, this didn’t seem to be the case. Slightly irritated, she went up to the ballroom again to ask the man for an explanation. But he was nowhere to be seen – and neither was Dag.

  She went over to the Count and Countess but they hadn’t seen Dag either for quite a while. Now Sol began to feel very worried indeed. The “devil” woman from the basement wasn’t in the room either and Sol was beginning to feel that something was terribly wrong.

  She didn’t have to wait long for her fears to be confirmed.

  Suddenly the ‘devil’ woman dashed into the ballroom. “My husband’s dead!” she screamed.