The Ice People 3 Read online

  A crowd immediately gathered around her, asking an awful lot of questions so that nobody really understood what was going on. Finally, Judge Strahlenhelm raised his hand for silence and asked for a calm explanation of events.

  The woman managed to explain that her husband lay dead in one of the rooms adjoining the ballroom.

  Oh, dear, thought Sol.

  “He appears to have been poisoned,” shouted the woman. “And since we have only one witch here who’s able to mix powders, it’s not hard to figure out who did it either.”

  That wasn’t wise, thought Sol, but was interrupted in her train of thoughts by the man who’d asked her to go downstairs to Dag, pointing an accusing finger at her.

  “I saw that young woman enter the stateroom,” he shouted, “only a short while ago.”

  “After you’d asked me to go there,” said Sol calmly, trying to sound composed, but inside she was shaking.

  “What do you mean?” The man sounded surprised.

  “You took a message from my brother that he wanted to speak with me, but he wasn’t there. Where is he?”

  “That’s her!” screamed the woman. “She’s the witch I’ve spoken about.”

  At that moment Dag pushed his way through the crowd.

  “Where have you been?” asked Sol, her eyes showing the anxiety which her voice managed to keep in check.

  “I was delayed by a woman who wanted to discuss a legal matter with me.”

  “Which woman?” asked the Count immediately.

  Dag pointed to the woman who’d been yelling about the death of her husband.

  “He’s lying!” she screamed. “It’s a conspiracy – these two siblings are working together!”

  For a short moment everything was chaos, and the atmosphere became increasingly unpleasant. At last, the Count spoke to the crowd, asking the parties involved to go downstairs and examine the deceased. The man lay on the floor in one of the small rooms behind the room in which Sol had waited for Dag. Sol asked to speak to the judge alone.

  She told him everything about the disastrous visit to the sect in the basement. When she’d finished, he took a deep breath. “That was extremely careless of you, Sol! We’ve lived under the same roof all through winter, and we’re very fond of you. I know very well that you have more talents than others, but I’ve chosen to ignore them because you’ve kept them in check and behaved well. Now we find ourselves in an awkward position. You must give me the names of everybody in that basement.”

  “I can’t do that because I don’t know them. Besides, most of them were young, fairly innocent, people, and they were probably so shocked that they stopped that sort of nonsense.”

  She didn’t want to mention Preben because he was one of Dag’s student friends, and she’d more or less forced him to take her with him.

  “What about the man, the wizard, then?”

  “I’d love to teach that horrible man a lesson or two, deceiving other people for his own advantage. I don’t know his name either, but I can describe him.”

  Sol gave a very good description of “the master” to the Count. At that moment a servant entered the room and interrupted her. He whispered something urgently to the Count then turned and left.

  “You’re cleared of any suspicion, Sol. The same applies to you, Dag. I’ll take care of the woman and her lover, but this won’t be the end of it for you, Sol. You’ve been accused of being a witch at a royal gathering, something you can hardly deny and I can hardly decline sentencing you if it were to come to that. But you’ve saved the life of our child and been wonderful to us all since you came to our house. So I’ll repay the debt and save your life, which I can only do in one possible way. Dag, you must take your sister back to our house immediately. Early tomorrow morning, when everyone is still sleeping, two riders will be leaving for Glimmingehus on an errand for the King. They’ll come to fetch Sol from our house before sunrise. Sol, you’ll be travelling from Scania to Norway. It shouldn’t be difficult for somebody as young and pretty as you to get a passage. Do you understand?”

  Sol nodded. She’d already begun to make her own plans. Scania? Well, this was where Brosarp was situated! This was where she wanted to go more than anything else in the world!

  Dag protested: “My sister can’t travel on her own all the way to Norway!”

  The Count gave Dag another rueful smile. “I’m sure your sister is perfectly able to take care of herself. The King’s men will help her find a ship that will take her to Norway. What alternatives do we have?”

  “Don’t worry, Dag. I’ll manage,” said Sol. “I’m deeply grateful, Sir, for everything you’ve done for me.”

  “Then hurry, both of you. This way,” said the Count. “We’ll bring your overcoats home with us. I’ll tell everyone that Sol got away from me. Now please be quick!”

  They hurried through a back door. Dag scolded Sol all the way home but she didn’t listen. Her heart was filled with anticipation. She was going to Brosarps Backar. This was all that mattered at that moment. But she promised Dag that she’d return to Norway by the time he returned after finishing his degree. This was a promise she fully intended to keep. She didn’t want to cause any more trouble for her brother.

  ***

  Early the following morning when it was still so cold that the horses breathed clouds of steam, Sol’s royal escort waited for her outside the Count’s house. She said a hasty goodbye to Albrekt and his parents and promised Dag to behave properly.

  She took a good look at her travelling companions.They were two imposing men dressed in leather, with coats of mail and tall boots. They both carried big wheel-lock muskets and both had powder cartridges strapped across their chests. One of them was quite young, had blonde hair and was paled-skinned. She noticed that he was very shy and that he would blush from time to time.

  Oh, my, thought Sol with some delight. What a sweet boy! I’ll have to seduce him. If only the other one wasn’t keeping such a close eye on the boy!

  The other escort was a well-grown man, who seemed to regard Sol as a punishment and a bother. She put his age at about forty and could tell that he was a seasoned warrior. Sol intuitively felt that it would be difficult to avoid a couple of squabbles with him.

  Dag didn’t like the idea of Sol leaving at all. “I should accompany you, but there’s so much I need to read for my finals. These exams are taking all my time and energy.”

  “Do you think you’ll do well?”

  “I’m pretty certain I’ll do well so long as I keep persevering. But of course I’m nervous.”

  “Good luck, Dag. Soon I’ll be on my way to Norway.”

  “Yes, but you should really have a chaperone with you, an older woman who could accompany you and protect your honour.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” said the older of the two escorts sharply. “She’ll come to no harm from either of us.”

  He made it sound like an insult.

  “But what is this?” exclaimed the Countess. “Sol’s horse has no side-saddle.”

  “We’ll be riding fast, Madam,” explained the man. “The young lady must be prepared to ride astride.”

  Sol’s eyes sparkled. “So much the better. I’ve never liked those uncomfortable ladies’ saddles.”

  “So you know how to ride on a man’s saddle, then?” the older man asked. Sol couldn’t help noticing the sarcastic tone in which it was said.

  “Of course!” said Sol with clenched teeth.

  They managed to set off before sunrise. They rode down to the harbour in the quiet morning. All that could be heard were the horses’ hooves on the cobbles.

  Sol rode up on the side of the two men.

  “What are your names?” she asked lightly. She felt greatly exhilarated at the thought of the adventure that awaited her. “It would be nice to know since we’ll be journeying together for quite some time.”

  Both men turned and looked more closely at her in the growing light and noticed her bright eyes, her radiant
smile and her white teeth.

  The younger man, who was riding closer to her, answered shyly: “I’m Jorgen and my superior here is Jacob Skille.”

  “And I’m Sol. I’m very grateful to you for letting me travel with you.”

  The older of the two men made a grimace.

  A barge-like vessel was to sail them across the Sound with their horses and everything they carried. Once they were under way, Sol stood by the rail, enjoying the fresh air. In the morning mist, she could discern an island in the middle of the straits like a dreamland. This was the island of Ven, Jorgen had said. She gazed ahead towards Sweden, a country in which she would finally meet people of her own kind. People who knew more than others. But she remembered that she’d been disappointed once before, which was in Preben’s basement, so she was afraid of having too high hopes or expectations.

  “Witches gather every Thursday at full moon throughout summer at Brosarps Backer,” Hanna had said. The old woman had always dreamed of going there one day herself.

  But this was many years ago, and who could say whether the witches would still meet there? Who would know whether there were still witches left in the Nordic countries? What if she, Sol Angelica, was the only one left ...?

  What a lonely feeling!

  ‘Every Thursday at full moon ...’ old Hanna had said. In that case, she was a bit early. There were still some days to go yet but the moon was waxing – and she still had some distance to travel.

  At least she was finished with Copenhagen. From what she gathered, she would be unwelcome there forever. Yet she didn’t exactly yearn to return to Copenhagen. New adventures lay ahead of her now!

  Jacob Skille was holding the horses to keep them calm. Young Jorgen was standing alone in the bow.

  Sol went over to him.

  The boy’s cheeks turned bright red, like a poppy.

  “What are you going to do at Glimmingehus?” she wondered, looking him in the eyes with a warm glow.

  He evaded her glance. “We’re couriers with messages from His Majesty King Christian to Mr. Rosenkrantz. There has been unrest in Sweden, and Scania is a part of Denmark which is under threat. I’m sure you know that the Swedes would like to take part of Scania, which they consider a natural part of their country.”

  “What sort of unrest?” asked Sol.

  It was obvious that the young boy tried to talk to her in a natural tone of voice, but he didn’t succeed entirely. He was nervously twisting the end of a thin rope round and round his index finger. “Haven’t you heard about the bloodbath in Lïnköping?”

  “I’ve heard of the Stockholm Bloodbath but not the one in Linköping.”

  “It happened in March. The great Gustav Banér and his brother Sten and several members of the Sparre and Bielke noble families were beheaded during Duke Karl’s purge on those loyal to Sigismund. Many Swedish noblemen have fled out of Sweden, most of them to Poland but also to Scania. King Christian fears that this will lead to a conflict. Duke Karl undoubtedly plans to become king of Sweden now – and just as tough and relentless as his father, Gustav Wasa.”

  “But Gustav Wasa died many years ago, more than forty years ago, in fact!”

  “Yes, but as you’ll remember his son, Erik XIV, followed him. But he was put in prison and killed, probably by his brother, Johan III, who was followed by Sigismund, the Polish son of Johan. Now we have Duke Karl, brother of Erik and Johan.”

  “I see. So there was also a battle of power there just as there is everywhere. Are the people of Scania loyal to the Danish King, or do we risk a stab in the back when we’re over there?”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you. Anyway, he has much support from the Goinge Dynasty.”

  Sol could see that Jorgen was a well educated young man from the upper classes. She herself had never been all that interested in the Swedes and their kings. She asked who the Goinge were. Blushing and twisting his piece of tar-soaked rope continuously, Jorgen explained that the Goinge were a nomadic warrior tribe, who lived mostly in the north-eastern part of Scania, which bordered Sweden and had always been belligerent. They were also known as “Snaphauncers” after the Snaphaunce musket, after the type of weapon they preferred to use.

  “Are the Goinge friendly towards the Danes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s nice to know. Where’s Brosarp situated? Would you know?”

  Jorgen was startled at this blunt question. Sol thought that this young man was the type of person who would still be scared of the bogeyman or the chimney sweep. If he’d known what Sol was capable of, he’d probably faint!

  “B-Brosarp? I don’t know.”

  Sol and Jorgen hadn’t noticed that Jacob Skille had walked over to where they stood.

  “Brosarp is situated on the east coast,” he said in a stiff voice.

  Sol turned to look at the stern man. She had to tilt her head backwards in order to meet his gaze.

  “Is it far from Glimmingehus?”

  “No, it’s not all that far.”

  He took a stick and drew a kind of map on the dark wooden hull. “Here we have Scania’s south-easterly point, and Glimmingehus is situated a short distance inland. If you follow the east coast upwards, you’ll come first to Simrishamn and Brosarp is right north of Kivik. Why do you ask?”

  “This is where I want to go.”

  “What? Good heavens! No, you’re not! I’ve been given orders to put you on a ship for Norway as soon as we arrive in Scania.”

  Sol decided to bluff it out: “Hasn’t my brother said something about me travelling to Brosarp?”

  “No, not a word. What will you be doing there?”

  “Visiting friends.”

  You could easily tell by Skille’s face what he thought of young ladies travelling entirely on their own. “I’ll have none of it!”

  “I can manage on my own,” said Sol.

  “I’ve given my word,” said Jacob Skille. His answer was short and sharp.

  “Don’t make life awkward!”

  Sol lowered her gaze slightly so that her eyes radiated a green cat-like glow.

  Suddenly Skille felt that he’d been unnecessarily strict but couldn’t help being puzzled why he changed his mind all of a sudden.

  “We return to Copenhagen on Sunday,” he said mildly. “Then your visit will be over and you’ll meet us at Glimmingehus. I’ve promised Count Strahlenhelm that I’ll take you safely onboard a Norwegian ship.”

  “Sure,” replied Sol.

  Sol had no intention whatsoever of leaving Brosarp after such a short visit. But wisely she decided to keep that to herself.

  It wouldn’t be long now before Dag had finished his degree and they were to meet in Norway.

  What an awful lot of things she wanted to get done before then.

  They disembarked at Scania. First they rode across wide rolling country away from the coast. The sun had risen and they heard the sound of larks twittering happily.

  Spring had definitely arrived in this part of Denmark. The beech trees were a fresh green; the fields steamed gently from the furrows left by the plough and the ground was warm and dry. Sol felt ready to burst with the energy and feeling of freedom which every new spring brought with it.

  They rode swiftly. Sol’s hair tossed in the wind and now and then her dress showed a bit more of her legs than was appropriate but she couldn’t care less. After all these years she’d been so restrained and now she just wanted to throw off these bonds. She needed to let go of all the seething emotions within her and she leaned back and laughed wildly at the wind.

  If King Christian’s bodyguards had thought that she would be holding them back, then they would have to think again. Sol had no problems in keeping up with them.

  Little by little, they left the plains with the identical, square buildings enclosing a courtyard and entered the dark beech forests where flocks of small birds chirped their morning songs. Sol rode last on the narrow trail, but her horse never lagged behind. She not
iced that from time to time Skille pushed the pace to leave her behind and embarrass her, but she wouldn’t have it. She wouldn’t let him have that satisfaction!

  In the end, he had to slow the pace to a quick trot to spare the horses.

  They came to a meadow where Skille ordered them to stop. They’d ridden a long way and it was time to have something to eat both for the animals and humans.

  Sol soon laid out on the grass the food which the Strahlenhelms had given her to take on the journey. When the two men saw the sumptuous food spread out, their eyes widened. Their own lunch packs contained only meagre soldiers’ rations.

  “Do help yourselves,” said Sol with a smile. “I’ll never be able to eat all this.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, the two men politely took a few small bits of food.

  “No, no! Take as much as you want,” said Sol. “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and I plan to charm you both with my irresistible lunch. And here’s some wine to soften you up even more!”

  All this was said with such irony that Jorgen couldn’t help smiling.

  The men didn’t say much, but Sol chattered on while they ate. Her eyes sparkled as she flirted constantly with Jorgen, making him blush with embarrassment once again.

  “Don’t bother,” said Skille wryly. “The boy only has eyes for a certain Miss Ottilia.”

  Jorgen turned indignantly to Skille.

  “Honestly ...”

  “Oh, how wonderful!” said Sol with delight. “So you have a sweetheart? You must be very happy then. Tell me about her! Do you plan to marry?”

  “He’s too afraid of popping the question,” his superior said mockingly. “He admires her at a distance and sighs for her in the barracks at night so that we can’t drop off to sleep.”

  “What does she look like? Is she sweet?”

  “Oh, yes,” whispered Jorgen. I really don’t know how to approach her. I’ve never courted a young girl before. Can’t you teach me what I should do, Miss Sol?”

  “Of course, but first I need to know what type of girl she is.”

  “Ah, she’s as pure and virtuous as a rosebud – yet as timid as a fawn.”