Witch-Hunt

by Margit Sandemo

  Through his abstraction, Silje’s voice came to him again. So swiftly had his thoughts come and gone, that he had missed nothing of what she said.

  ‘Then Liv was born. You remember that, don’t you Sol?’

  ‘Yes. When you were sick.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Silje paused, then said, ‘If you like, you can call us mother and father, Sol. We feel as though we are your real kin, and we would be too, if it were possible.’

  The seven year old thought about this for a while. ‘I suppose I could,’ she said, nodding wisely, ‘but l don’t think it would feel right, because I’m used to calling you Silje and Tengel.’

  ‘l understand – and what’s more we have always treated each other as friends – sharing things. You know that you have always been a great help to me, don’t you?’

  Spontaneously, Sol climbed onto Silje’s lap and hugged her tight. Silje smiled at Tengel and the smile seemed to celebrate wordlessly the realisation that they had both been jointly accepted as parents.

  Dag looked serious, almost brooding, but his long, thin face was so typically aristocratic that it lent an almost comical air to his expression. ‘Did my mother come looking for me?’ he asked dejectedly.

  This was a difficult question.

  ‘No one can say,’ answered Tengel quietly. ‘All we know is that you had a noble crest embroidered on your clothes. And that is why we believe you may be a baron or some such. We tried to find your mother, Dag, but l don’t think she’s alive any more.’

  ‘Did she die from the plague?’

  ‘Very likely. Which would explain why she lost you. And your father is certainly dead.’

  It seemed best to Tengel to tell him that. All the evidence suggested that Dag’s mother had not been wed and that he was the result of a short-lived encounter. In any event, right or wrong, Dag appeared to be relaxed about this explanation.

  ‘My real mother and father are dead,’ he said sombrely.

  ‘So are mine,’ said Sol, managing to shed a tear – but this was for no other reason than that she enjoyed the melodrama.

  ‘I hope you’ll both want to stay with us. You will, won’t you?’ asked Silje quietly, feeling more than just a little anxious.

  Both children nodded solemnly.

  ‘Other children’s parents are always quarrelling,’ said.

  Dag in his ponderous, precocious way, ‘as if they didn’t like each other. You two never quarrel. You seem to resc... reps...’

  ‘Respect each other?’ Tengel finished the word for him. ‘Yes, of that you may be certain.’

  His loving gaze met Silje’s and, without exchanging any further words, she knew that he could see the passion in her eyes.

  ****

  Silje stayed up late that evening. After lighting one of their precious resin torches, she took out her diary – the one given to her by Benedikt the Painter so many years before. There were few pages left to write on and she knew she had faint hope of finding another up in these mountains.

  She began the entry: Todae we tolde childrin about ther heritag … and as always. Her spelling was hopeless.

  When she had finished writing, she snuffed out the flame of the torch and went out into the yard. The summer solstice was approaching and the valley was bathed in the magical shimmering light found only on a Nordic summer evening. The mist from the lake had spread across the meadows, where it fluttered like dancing elves, and a diver’s shrill calls might easily have been mistaken for the cries of water nymphs or the souls of lost children. The breeze gently stirred the grass and made unseen eddies around her feet, sighing occasionally as it found its way into the nooks and crannies of the old buildings. In her mind Silje imagined it was the sound of small mischievous trolls or some other supernatural creatures. At that moment an old sway-backed horse plodded along beyond the dry-stone wall, making his way back to his own farm. Could it be that he too was enchanted?

  It’s almost unbearably beautiful here, she mused, remembering what she had written in her diary. And yet I hate it so much – the feeling of being shut in! I love Tengel and I love my family, but with all my heart I wish that we could leave the Valley of the Ice People. I have nothing in common with these narrow-minded people. They call our children bastards and Tengel a sorcerer, a devil, a wizard and much more besides, although he’s never done them any harm – on the contrary – for he never resorts to using the powers I know he possesses. Yet still he remains an outcast in the eyes of many of his kinsmen. There are some that accept us, however, and I thank God for them!

  Our best friend Eldrid, Tengel’s cousin, is leaving the valley. Her husband wants to make a home in the outside world, hoping that people have forgotten his association with the rebels. If only we could go with them! I feel life here is draining our spirit. We know nothing of events beyond the mountains and, because of the hunger and sickness we have suffered here, we could send to one to help Benedikt and his people. I’d really like to see the King just once in my life, as well. But then he never comes to Norway!

  I find my own language becoming poorer and more akin to the Ice People’s. We’ve tried to tutor Sol and Dag, but not only are we reaching the limits of our skills, we are slowly losing what we ourselves have learned. I know Tengel also longs to leave, because he has told me so many times, but he will not put our lives, or the children’s lives, in jeopardy. We would be seized at once if we ventured out of the valley and my loved ones would be condemned to be tortured and broken on the rack. Tengel and Sol can never conceal their faces and their kinship with the first Tengel, the evil spirit of the Ice People.

  Thinking these thoughts, Silje let out a long woeful sigh. The winters! How she hated and feared the winters. Everything froze, including the food in their pantry, and they lived with the constant worry that their supplies would run out. Last winter’s shortage of food haunted Silje like a nightmare – the bewildered look in the children’s eyes when they went to bed at night, no less hungry than when they had woken up in the morning; the loaf of bread she had decorated for Christmas – it had been their only food that day.

  When she thought of how many more such winters there might be in the years ahead, she felt her chest tighten as she was overcome with anxiety. The urge to run away, anywhere, to leave it all behind and not have to worry any longer, began to take hold. All she wanted was for her nearest and dearest to be safe and well.

  She paused and took a few deep breaths to stop herself from suffocating. Whenever the children showed the slightest sign of any illness, she was almost beside herself fearing that they might die. Yet she dared not let anyone see how much it troubled her. The spring thaw, when at last it came, echoed with the awful lament of the melting ice breaking up, while the evenings made her feel despondent and she ached and longed for …

  Tengel’s gentle touch on her shoulder startled her. ‘I saw your bed was empty,’ he said quietly. ‘What thoughts bring you out here, all alone?’

  ‘Oh ... nothing important.’ she replied evasively.

  ‘I know what it is, you don’t need to tell me. You long to leave the valley, don’t you?’

  ‘Tengel, you mustn’t think that I’ve ever had any regrets.’

  ‘Of course I don’t think that. I know you have been happy here.’

  ‘Yes, very happy!’ she assured him.

  ‘But now, like me, I think you’re growing restless, hampered by the way of life here.’

  Silje waved her hand fretfully. ‘If we had not been forced to stay here I would love this valley with all my heart,’ she said fervently. ‘Life would be perfect if we just spent the summers here. But I resent not being able to choose. It makes me so irritable. I think I both love and hate the place at the same time, Tengel.’

  ‘Yes, I know that feeling well. When I was away I longed to be here, but as soon as I returned I wanted to be gone again. But now it’s ...’ He broke off and fell silent.

  Silje looked at him tenderly. ‘You’re worried. I’ve seen it in you f
or many days. I thought it was strange that you did not want to keep any of Eldrid’s livestock here, despite their offer to let us have them. It made me think – and hope. Can’t you tell me what’s wrong, Tengel?’

  The night wind ruffled his black hair. ‘I don’t know,’ he replied slowly, ‘I really don’t know what it is. Have you listened to the mournful wailing of the wind? Do you not hear the terror of the grass as it rustles or the houses groaning?’

  ‘You know I don’t hear those things,’ she smiled. ‘But Sol feels something. She’s so fretful and she often has that faraway look in her eyes.’

  ‘Yes, I sense great peril all around. It haunts me and torments me. If only I knew where it was coming from.’

  Choosing her words carefully, Silje said, ‘I think you decided to let Eldrid take all the animals with her, so some of them would be waiting for us away from the valley.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ he said absent-mindedly. ‘I can’t remember what I was thinking of, although maybe I did say to her husband that if we were to follow them ...’

  ‘Oh, Tengel!’

  He shook his head in another sudden gesture of indecision, then continued uneasily. ‘Well, the people who are moving into their old cottage will let us have all the milk we want, so we really don’t need any livestock now.’

  ‘Yes, they are good people, I suppose, but I don’t think I like their children.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ he asked quickly.

  ‘Well, they join in with the others in the valley to scorn our little ones,’ said Silje with hurt in her voice. ‘They call them terrible names, as you heard this evening. What’s more, their parents won’t let them play with Sol and Dag and Liv. It grieves me so, Tengel.’

  Through gritted teeth he said, ‘they’re scared of Sol, aren’t they? Oh, I well remember that happening to me as a child! Always left out and feared by everyone.’

  ‘Sol is dangerous,’ Silje whispered. ‘Do you remember what she did when the neighbours’ daughter kicked Liv?’

  Tengel shuddered.

  ‘Don’t talk about it. She has awful powers within her.’

  ‘She made a doll that looked like the girl and held it over the fire. The girl burned herself on hot coals that very same day and suffered horribly.’

  ‘Until I managed to make the doll harmless,’ added Tengel grimly.

  ‘Yes, but what made her think of doing such a thing?’

  Tengel took a deep breath. ‘Do you want to know what I’ve found out?’

  ‘What is it? You’re scaring me.’

  ‘You know how Sol often disappears? And we used to think she was out playing. Do you know where she was?’

  Silje shook her head.

  ‘With old Hanna!’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Silje in a hushed voice, looking horrified.

  Then she nodded slowly. ‘It’s true Hanna has always been fond of Sol and Liv too, since she helped to bring her into the world. Whenever we go and take food for her and Grimar she always calls them ”my girls”. She doesn’t seem to care so much for Dag.’

  ‘I’m glad that the girls have always meant so much to Hanna,’ said Tengel nodding. ‘But it scares me as well. I don’t like to think of Sol going there alone.’

  ‘Do you believe that the old witch is … tutoring Sol?’

  ‘I fear she might be. She knows that Sol has powers, of that there can be no doubt.’

  ‘Oh, but that is awful!’

  Silje was standing with her back against the wall of the cottage. Tengel leaned forward and caressed her shoulders.

  ‘Dearest Silje, what fate have I brought upon you?’

  ‘Now, you stop talking like that. No one has brought me as much happiness as you. When I’m away from you, even for an hour. I grow sick just yearning for you.’

  ‘You were no more than sixteen summers when I took you for my own. Now you are twenty-one and have toiled with us all these years. Yet still I know that your destiny lies elsewhere – not in the boredom and hard work found in a lowly cottage.’

  ‘I hope you don’t think I’ve been grumbling too much. I know my skills as a housewife are still poor. The children grow out of their clothes and shoes so fast that it pains me not to be able to find them new ones. I dislike housework so much that I grow tired at the very thought of it, Tengel. You know that. To be able to weave cloth, but not sew it properly into clothes for the children, depresses me. Anyway it won’t matter. Since the winter killed off all the sheep in the valley, there will be no wool to weave. They mock Sol horribly for wearing that old coat I patched up last year – and often I have forgotten to wash the clothes … Oh, I’m sorry for grumbling again – I didn’t mean to.’

  His tender smile displayed limitless understanding, but also helplessness. He pressed his lips against her hair. ‘Do you think I don’t understand you? That I don’t know how much you long to create things or paint pictures? Or that you write in your book at night when we are all in bed?’

  ‘You know about my book?’ she asked, aghast.

  ‘Oh yes. I know where you keep it hidden as well – but I’d never allow myself to read it. You must let no one else know of it! A young woman writing in a book – now that’s truly the work of Satan. They’d have you burned at the stake in the blinking of an eye.’

  ‘There is so much evil in the world! I forget how this valley preserves us from it,’ she said in surprise, as though this was a revelation. ‘I really wouldn’t have minded if you’d read it,’ she continued hurriedly. ‘I was looking through it the other night and every page was filled with love for you and all my family.’

  ‘You like to write, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, yes! It gives me room to breathe. What’s more, when I read what I have written, I am surprised by how well composed it all is.’

  ‘I’m not surprised at all. You speak very well, unlike the other people here in the valley. Now you’re making me curious. I’d love to look at it.’

  She giggled, embarrassed yet pleased and encouraged by what he had said. ‘Oh, I’m sure all the spelling is horribly wrong,’ she replied. ‘I never learned to spell properly – I just write down the words the way they sound … Tengel! What are you doing?’

  His hands had started to move down across her body and, with a soft chuckle, he pressed her harder against the wall. Still heady at the thought he might decide that they should leave, Silje made no attempt to stop his advances. Surrendering to the moment she relaxed gently against him.

  As he leaned closer, his cheek brushed her forehead. Tengel was always clean-shaven. She knew this was because he was well aware of being sixteen years older than she was and did not want to look older than his years. A beard would do too much to emphasize the difference in their ages.

  ‘We really ought to have kept an eye on Benedikt and his farm as well,’ she continued, deciding to press home her advantage now that she sensed his attitude about travelling was changing. ‘I worry about them a lot.’

  ‘Yes, yes I know,’ mumbled Tengel absently. ‘If only I could decide what to do for the best – to take all of us away from here, or to stay. You know that beyond those mountains there is nowhere for us to live.’

  The touch of his fingertips excited her skin; his caresses, light and sensitive, were creating small tremors all through her. Her body began to respond as the sensations grew and converged in one specific part of her. How was it that her passion never diminished for this man, who in the eyes of others appeared so frightening? It was not simply the fact that, as a man, nature had endowed him so well – she could not have known that when they first met. No, it was almost enough just to look at him, for an urgent craving to sweep through her, leaving her weak and completely at his mercy. Indeed at that moment she realised she was having great difficulty concentrating on her train of thought!

  ‘But what about Benedikt?’ she asked breathlessly, ‘couldn’t he find us somewhere to stay?’

  ‘We don’t even know if he’s still alive – and that horrible
Abelone woman will give us short shrift. No, Silje – I have thought many times that we ought to leave here, but the risk is still one I dare not take.’

  Silje’s voice was becoming muffled with her mounting passion. ‘But another winter like this last one – I don’t think I could stand it.’

  ‘Yes, I know. That’s what I have been thinking about.’ Suddenly his lips were everywhere – on her forehead, her temples, and she closed her eyes ecstatically.

  ‘What are we doing?’ she giggled, finding it hard to catch her breath. ‘We are a sensible old couple and we’ve been married for years! Still, it’s quite exciting to be out here in the open.’

  She eased herself up onto the low wall surrounding the cottage and pulled up her skirts. Instantly he grasped her hips, his hands hot and probing, supporting her. His kiss was deep and seemed to last forever.

  ‘This isn’t like you, Silje,’ he whispered breathlessly in her ear, surprised at her unexpected enthusiasm. ‘These past few years you’ve been so – well, so hesitant.’

  ‘Maybe I have.’ she agreed, surprised that he hadn’t already guessed what lay behind her eager passion. Her hands caressed his body until finally she guided him to her, gasping with expectation as she did so. ‘I didn’t mean to be, but I was frightened.’

  Tengel ’s movements were unhurried and gentle. ‘I know. You were afraid of being with child again, it goes without saying. I too felt that same fear a hundred-fold.’

  ‘The memory of Liv’s birth is the worst horror in my life,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t want to go through it again.’