‘We shall do all we can,’ Charlotte assured him. ‘But you must hurry.’ It was obvious that she had infinite belief in his power to heal.
Entering the parlour, Tengel bumped into Sol. ‘You can have this as well,’ she said handing him her bundle. ‘Hanna marked everything, so you’ll know what it is.’
‘Thank you, Sol. It’ll help.’
In no time at all he was back where Silje lay. Although unable to stop his hands from shaking, he found what he needed to staunch the flow of blood. The strong smell of yarrow and other odours, unknown to them, pervaded the room. When the old surgeon looked more closely at Tengel’s and Sol’s ‘remedies’ he whistled quietly.
‘Not what you’d expect to see every day,’ he muttered. ‘Don’t let the witch-finders see it, else there’ll be trouble! The last time I saw anything like that I was in Paris, at the court of the French King. They belonged to a witch who had been executed.’
Tengel was barely listening, but he knew he could trust this man. They worked for a long time, swiftly and efficiently, not needing to speak. Only the unrelenting crying from the crib in the corner disturbed the silence, but no one had time to pay heed to it. Eventually they stopped the bleeding.
‘We can do nothing more,’ said Tengel, ‘but pray that everything is not too late – and, should she wake, she must have plenty to drink. Someone boil water that I may prepare a brew of herbs to fortify her blood.’
‘Should she wake ...?’ He realised fully in that moment the extreme danger that had been admitted and expressed in his own words. She must awaken, she must! He listened for her breathing. Yes! He could hear it. She was alive. He placed his hands on her chest, hoping to stimulate her heart with his extraordinary warmth.
Charlotte whispered, ‘Will you not look to the child, Tengel?’
‘Later.’ A grimace of distaste clear to see distorted his features. Tengel had no desire to see the ‘monster’ that might have killed his beloved. ‘What happened?’ he muttered, not taking his eyes off Silje’s face.
His answer came from Charlotte Meiden and her voice had a soft, ladylike calmness that he had not heard before. ‘Sol came running to Grastensholm. Silje had sent her to say that she thought her time was very soon. My mother took the two little ones and I sent a rider for the midwife and surgeon before I rushed down here myself I fear that Silje wandered around for too long – but there was no time!’
‘It all went so quickly,’ said the old man apologetically. ‘You know that your wife has already suffered difficulty in childbirth and this child was unusually big.’
‘More than nine pounds, you can be sure,’ asserted the midwife. Tengel gritted his teeth. Nine pounds and more was an unbelievable size, he knew. And for little Silje …
‘Because the child came so quickly, your wife was badly torn,’ the surgeon continued. ‘I had just stepped through the door when I was called to help.’
Normally there would only be women present during childbirth, but they knew Silje’s case might present problems. As a precaution Tengel had made arrangements with this experienced man, for whom he had great respect, to be on hand. He was glad he had done so.
Charlotte said softly, ‘It’s a boy.’
The helpless, forlorn crying continued. Everybody was busy; the surgeon was finishing off, while the midwife performed her rituals to make the room safe from evil spirits. Charlotte was washing herself.
Tengel’s thoughts went back to his own mother. She had been alone and despised when she gave birth to him and then lost her own life to her injuries. It was so different for Silje – at least she was surrounded by love.
And how had he fared? Nobody had wanted to take in the feared motherless child. Finally. his maternal grandfather had been compelled to care for him – and he heard a thousand times and more how he had killed his own mother. As an act of unmitigated spite, his grandfather had named him Tengel – a reminder of the evil spectre of the Ice People. Now he felt like that small boy again; listening to the whispers about him but not grasping what they meant; not being allowed to play with the other children; being kept apart and always, always lonely; and every morning he was beaten with a birch – just in case!
Drawing a deep breath, he got to his feet and summoned the courage to face his own hateful image reflected in the newborn child, or even worse perhaps – the image of Hanna or Grimar! To gaze at the yellow or amber eyes that were the unmistakable sign of a wretched creature, affected by the evil legacy and the hidden powers that it bestowed.
From where he stood, he saw only tufts of pitch-black hair showing above the edge of the blanket. It was not a good sign. He stepped closer and looked down at the boy’s bad-tempered, screaming face. It was not easy to see what he looked like. He pulled back the blanket and the swaddling in which the boy was wrapped and examined his shoulders. They were broad – but not unusually so – and well formed. Undeniably this was a large baby, but he could find no obvious signs of the baneful inheritance he feared. As far as he could tell from this shocked and angry face, the boy appeared to have inherited Tengel’s basic looks, but been spared his more grotesque features.
The infant seemed to sense the closeness of a warm human hand and its cries abated. Tengel put his finger against the tiny cramped fist and the boy grasped it instantly. Who, he wondered, had been there to comfort him when he came into the world? Probably no one.
Tengel drew back the covers and picked up the swaddled bundle. The others in the room said nothing. The quiet hiccoughs and sniffs were the only sounds, as the child struggled to open his eyes. Despite everything, you are my little boy, thought Tengel. No matter what you look like and even if you are tainted, you still deserve to be cared for. You are worthy of my love, and as God is my witness, l believe you have it already!
At last the infant managed to open his eyes – two circles of heavenly blue that tried to find focus on something, blinked at the light and closed again. The crying began once more, this time sounding like the screech from a cartwheel that needed greasing. Tengel did not need to see anything more. Blue eyes and a pretty little face that, although it resembled his, did not have the demonic, wild features that made him so frightening. Everyone heard Tengel’s sigh of relief.
‘She’s stirring,’ a voice said.
Still holding the child he went and sat beside Silje. He could hardly believe his good fortune, as she murmured and turned her head.
‘Silje,’ he whispered. He thought of how his own poor mother had lain dying, with no one to comfort her. He would not let that happen to Silje. ‘Everything has gone well, and see! Such a wonderful little boy we have. I love you both.’
Her smile was very weak. She tried to open her eyes but it was too much for her. All … wen’ so … quick,’ she mumbled. ‘Couldn’t tell … you.’
‘You never have been good at numbers,’ he smiled. ‘Last time you got it wrong as well and surprised us all when we weren’t ready’
She smiled again. ‘I’m s... so c...cold,’ she whispered.
The infant was put back in the crib, where it immediately made its discomfort known by screaming more loudly than before. Tengel placed his hands on Silje’s shoulders and the midwife brought a quilt and spread it over her. When Charlotte arrived, carrying the hot water, Tengel asked them to bring in Sol.
Whilst he warmed Silje with his hands, he told the girl what she should do. ‘Take the comfrey, most of it. Then nettle and lady’s-mantle. Have you found it? Good! Now take some acorn ... There is none? No matter. Then some hawthorn and lots of juniper berry Good! Now do you have everything?’
‘Yes.’ answered Sol.
‘Very good. Mistress Charlotte will help you brew a draught from them.’
Silje was very thirsty and her tongue was sticky and swollen. When it was ready she drank the potion eagerly. Before long she felt strong enough to talk and admire her new-born child, clasping Tengel’s hand in her own.
‘Do you know,’ she whispered, ‘l haven’t dared to think of any names f
or this child? As we have not named any child in honour of our families, would you like him to have a name from your mother’s side?’
‘There is no need,’ he smiled. ‘We have already done it without you knowing. Her name was Line.’
Ah! And Liv is a version of that. ‘Your father then?’
Tengel’s eye’s turned cold. ‘His name was not spoken, neither is he worth being named after. There is your father? His name was Arngrim of course.’
‘Yes, but I think it sounds too serious. What would you say to “Are”? After the osprey.’
‘Yes, that’s it! Oh, and Silje ... he shows none of the signs.’
‘That’s wonderful. So now you will have to plant a new tree, won’t you?’
‘Yes,’ he chuckled, ‘I’ll have to do several at a time, so that you get your “allée” and not just a clump of trees at the end of the track.’
He was overjoyed – ecstatic – and silently he thanked Sol for stopping him on that fateful day from doing what he had planned. But today had been distressing. The girl was standing at his side. The strength of the bond between them was frightening. Their eyes met. ‘It might have gone badly today,’ he said pensively.
Sol shook her head. ‘Hanna once said that both you and Silje would come to be well known people. You are – but she is not.’
‘So you knew that she was to live beyond this day?’
‘Yes, because Hanna said so.’
Hanna – Sol worshipped her as a goddess. ‘Why did you say nothing to me? Have you not known the anxious months Silje and I have endured?’
‘Would you have believed me – or Hanna?’
Tengel had no answer. His struggles with Hanna had always been tainted by prestige. And he had never allowed himself to admit that he had great admiration and respect for the old hag.
Before long Silje developed child-bed fever and they called for the field surgeon again. ‘Well, you’ve done it this time,’ the old veteran told them sharply. ‘This birth was much too arduous. Without doubt your wife will never have any more children.’
‘Is it certain?’ asked Tengel when Charlotte – who now came to help every day – took the children out to the scullery for a bite of food.
The veteran nodded. ‘You know as well as I do that such a difficult birth can have consequences. There will be no more children! It’s out of the question! No matter how hard you try. However, the child-bed fever is healing well.’ And with that he too went out to get some food – and a well-earned tankard of brennevin.
Left alone, the two new parents stared at each other in silence and slowly they both began to smile. Never had a husband and wife received such depressing news with such delight!
‘We shall have an orgy!’ whispered Tengel.
‘A whole night!’ Silje whispered back.
‘A whole lifetime,’ confirmed Tengel.
****
The Dowager Baroness Meiden was in a mood to grumble. Tengel found himself the unwilling audience one day, when he visited the castle to talk about matters on the farms. Grastensholm was not a proper castle, although Tengel and Silje always thought of it as one. It was a country mansion with estate forests and farmland, nothing more. The foundation walls were built of large, grey stone blocks that stood unusually high above ground, lending them a fortress-like appearance. However the enormous mansion which they supported was a normal half-timbered building, boasting a small tower above the entrance upon which a pennant was flown.
‘Master Tengel, we really must have some gilt-leather tapestries in the dining salon. Just look at the walls – they are simply awful! And not a soul in all of Norway makes gilt leather, so one has to get it from the Continent. And then, of course, all their designs are so terribly duty! Honestly I despair; everything is so frighteningly awkward nowadays. I expect it is because I am growing old that I fret so much about everything.’
Had she been expecting Tengel to contradict her about her age, then the wait would have been a long one because he was lost in thoughts of his own. ‘Would Silje be able to learn how to decorate leather?’ he asked at last. ‘Your Grace does know that she has artistic talent? Her fingers itch to do something other than housework – she hates it with a passion.’
The Baroness beamed. ‘But of course! Silje – yes, yes indeed! Have I not always said that household chores are not for her? And how is she?’
‘Better, thank you. Better with every day. She has colour in her cheeks again.’
‘Good – good. And the little one?’
‘He keeps her busy,’ Tengel smiled. ‘He’ll be a fine lad.’
‘Yes, your children are exceptionally fortunate, all of them. But no! I think the work of leather gilding is too heavy and dangerous for Silje – all those acids and heavy lifting it requires. No, Master Tengel, you have given me another idea. I have noticed that in many country houses it has become fashionable to hang hand-painted wall coverings. That is what I shall ask Silje to do! I shall find a couple of girls to keep house for you. So pointless that Silje should wear herself out with washing and cooking and the like when there are others more suited to such work. We must look after our Silje, you understand.’
‘Indeed I do,’ said Tengel.
‘And I admit to a certain selfishness in what I am proposing,’ the old lady added with a grin. ‘I shall have wall coverings superior to everybody else’s.’
Tengel laughed. ‘How goes the children’s teaching? Do they behave well?’
‘Why yes! Charlotte is so happy. She says that both the children are horribly clever! They have their ways, though. Sol is restless and sometimes makes mistakes. She loses patience it seems. But they are both eager to learn.’ She walked over to him and whispered conspiratorially, ‘Is not young Dag just the most delightful boy?’
‘Oh, yes!’ smiled Tengel. ‘We have never had any worries about Dag. Not like ...’
The Baroness sighed. ‘We must all try to understand Sol. She is so good-hearted, really she is. And she has never given us cause to worry.’
‘No. she will remain your friend until death. Yet it is hard to guide her along the right path. She has much that torments her from within.’
‘Ah! But am I not correct in saying that you also. Master Tengel, could sometimes be difficult as a child?’
‘That is true.’
‘So there’s hope for Sol as well!’ she added, giving him the sort of backhanded compliment only possible because of the mutual respect and understanding that had developed between them since he cured her gout.
Silje was thrilled when she heard the Baroness’s suggestion. ‘Oh, Tengel! Is it true? To paint tapestries and wall hangings? Do you believe I can do it?’ Then she paused, thinking, before adding, ‘Girls to help in the house? My how grand we have become! I hope they are not too young and too beautiful!’
‘Silje! What must you be thinking?!’ he exclaimed, grinning. ‘But your jealousy flatters me.’
Tengel moved to embrace his smiling wife but at that precise moment the young Are interrupted their loving banter. They laughed at the coincidence and broke off from a caress to see what the newest member of their family required. Son of Tengel of the Ice People, Are as might have been expected, was an energetic infant with a strong will – and very powerful lungs!
****
In the event they had to wait three months for their ‘orgy’, by which time Silje was her old self again. Charlotte had suggested one night that the three older children be allowed to stay overnight at the castle, and they had gleefully accepted. Tengel and Silje had not objected, but had kept their reasons to themselves. So at long last they were alone in the cottage, except for an infant sleeping peacefully in the next room.
‘Now, Silje!’ Tengel said, his voice full of vulgar anticipation. ‘Now we can make up for all we have missed these past years.’
‘No more cares, no more worries,’ she replied with a high-pitched giggle, feigning horror at the resolute look in his eyes. ‘Tengel – stand still j
ust there, on the rug! I want this to be slow and pleasurable, and I have never seen you properly – you know what I mean – we have always had to do things under the covers, in secret, because of the children. Not now! Stand still and let me undress you.’
He gave a deep and happy laugh. He had hardly been able to keep a straight face. ‘My old Silje is back at last.’
One after the other she slowly removed his garments, kissing every part of his body as she did so: arms, shoulders, neck, hands, torso … Tengel could not help but become aroused. A single candle burned on the table and logs crackled in the open fireplace in the corner, but there was no other light in the room.
He stood in front of her, the glow from the flickering fire highlighting the muscles of his strong body. Silje took his hands in hers and stepped back to admire his enormous shoulders and powerful chest covered in hair, a thin ribbon of which continued downwards towards his narrow hips, long thighs and straight legs. Most of his body in fact was covered in hair.
‘You are truly a demon,’ she whispered. ‘The Green Man, a satyr of the forest who will seduce every amorous nymph.’ Her eyes were teasing him. ‘But that life is over now! You are mine, Tengel, the most attractive and desirable creature on earth. Be my man and my master!’
She sank to her knees in front of him and placed her hands on his hips. He caressed her hair and her forehead while his whole body trembled.
‘I have never told you my second dream,’ she whispered hoarsely, letting her hands glide slowly forwards. ‘Oh, how I have longed for you.’
Then, gently kissing the part of him that her hand clasped so readily, she told him what she had dreamt shortly after they had met for the second time. How she had lain naked and helpless while the soldiers wanted to desecrate her. How the ‘man-beast’ that had saved her in the dream was a real demon. That his long tongue had been hot against her throat and how, finally, he had fallen to his knees, licking her thighs until she awoke, burning with untamed lust.
‘I shall do all those things and more,’ Tengel told her quietly, his passion aroused. ‘Come, my beloved, now I shall undress you! This night belongs to us and there is much we must share before the dawn.’
Witch-Hunt Page 13
