Dag was staring intently down the road. ‘Can’t you see that it’s a procession of some kind?’
‘Yes, but why are they all walking like that?’
They could not take their eyes off the gloomy cortège. It was the blackest thing they had ever seen, mostly men in huge black hooded cloaks mounted on black horses. The breeze ruffled their cloaks and gave them the appearance of bats’ wings. Behind the horses, a large body of men marched with ponderous, solemn steps. They were all making their way towards the church. There was a cart pulled by a team of dark-grey horses and the children could clearly see some people tied up inside it. Then followed a crowd of peasants, all dressed in dark clothes, looking very drab and sombre. They all seemed like small dolls from where Dag and Liv were watching.
‘You’re right, it is a very ghostly sight,’ Dag agreed, without realising that his voice had become a whisper. ‘Like a cortège from a hundred years ago – except that it isn’t!’ Dag was always so precise; so all-knowing.
‘What do you think they’ve done?’ Liv whispered back.
‘Hmm, could be anything at all. Murder, stealing, heresy – I couldn’t say. They are probably going to be hanged.’
‘There’s a woman there too.’
‘Probably a witch, then.’
‘Don’t say that!’ Liv took a deep breath and reached for his hand.
Dag knew what was running through her mind. He was having similar thoughts. So they stood there, hand in hand, watching the macabre procession. The day was gripped by utter silence, disturbed only by the squeaking of the cartwheels. No voices could be heard through the heavy mantel of doom that surrounded the procession – emphasizing the determination of the righteous and the resignation of the captives.
Softly Liv said, ‘In some ways, Dag, we had a good life in the Valley of the Ice People, didn’t we?’
‘Yes, but grown-ups are evil, Liv,’ he said incisively. ‘All of them. And I believe we are living in a time of evil.’
Chapter 12
Master Johan was suffering great pangs of dissatisfaction. Above all else he was ill at ease, because he felt he was getting nowhere. Yes, he had found masses of things at Lindenallée that were out of the ordinary, that much was true. But still he hadn’t uncovered anything that was really worth putting in his notes. He lacked evidence that would conclusively condemn a witch or a sorcerer of high standing. Of course, he had seen one or two suspicious items and appropriated them too, but somehow he had then misplaced them most carelessly.
He had not yet written a single word to complement his fine list of questions that were so cleverly compiled and full of intrigue. These people he was investigating were such friendly folk, living together so harmoniously! The two small children were so polite and well brought up. Always happy and contented, they could never do enough for him.
The parents, too, were special. Never had he known such empathy, such a sense of belonging between two human beings; they were always so considerate of each other. He had tried hard to find a weak point in this family home because he regarded such harmony with grave suspicion – but without success. It must be an apparition – or his imagination playing tricks. There was no doubt that Mistress Silje was a God-fearing woman and as honest as the day was long. So it was unthinkable that she would be associated with one of Lucifer’s sorcerers. What of the old Baroness? Had she not been very irritated by his careful, but pointed, questions? When he had asked her whether or not Mister Tengel might be in danger, because of his special ability to so wondrously heal the sick, she had scoffed at him.
‘Mister Tengel?’ she had exclaimed in a shocked voice. ‘If he were ever to be accused of practising the black arts – well then there would truly be no justice in this world of ours! He is worth more than a hundred of those pompous old men who sit on that holier-than-thou Inquisition!’
Master Johan recalled that he’d had the good grace to blush when she said that. So the only weakness would seem to be the foster daughter, Sol. That was where he would find the answers. Of that he was sure. But he was in no great haste.
Once again, in his mind’s eye, he saw her eager vibrant face before him. It radiated such unbounded confidence and openness, and deep inside himself he was well aware that he was pursuing her – but not for anything related to the courts. Young Sol’s appetite for life was tremendous, as though she wanted to experience everything before it was too late. He would have to look after her and see that she did not fall prey to evil men who desired only her youthful beauty. Naturally he was above such things, being first and foremost wedded to the righteous service of the inquisitorial court. All he wanted to do was …
As he pondered this thought, he felt a sudden pounding in the pit of his stomach again. This dark realisation told him that his inner self had slithered back into torment. It was most vital that he now pull himself together and focus fully on his duties: dig deep, explore, analyse the human mind – and denounce!
He wondered where Sol would be at that moment. She had already left the house but had not been down to her place beside the stream – he had checked. She had been gone a long time now and the cat was still here. That was unusual. Would she be long?
Sol, in fact, had gone far away from the farm, and now sat in the shimmering heat of that summer’s day, waiting beside a small half-ruined hut, halfway up the ridge. She had brought bread-cakes and wine that lay in a basket on the grass at her feet. The wine had been laced with mother
Hanna’s best aphrodisiacs – herbs of love, leaves and bark from secret plants, dried mushrooms. Although Sol was positive that these would not be required, she thought it best to be doubly sure. After all, she only had this one day, this one moment.
Then at last she heard footfalls approaching from further up the ridge. Gathering her basket onto her arm she stood up and, with her heart pounding, began to walk homewards very slowly. He caught up with her in no time – it would have been impossible for him not to at the speed she was walking. As though hearing his footsteps for the first time she turned and appeared scared.
‘Oh, it’s you!’ she said with a sigh of relief ‘You frightened me.’
The expression on Klaus’s manly face was a statement of uncertainty and betrayed more than a trace of shyness.
‘I didn’t mean to.’
‘Oh, of course! You were going to drive the cattle up to the ridge today. But wasn’t that on Monday?’
‘This is Monday.’
‘Is it?’ Sol took time to ponder this. ‘So it is! Well I’ve been for a walk through the woods to collect herbs that my father will need for medicaments.’ This was not a complete lie – she did have two pitiful stalks in her basket. ‘I was about to look for a place to eat my food. Will you join me? Surely you are hungry too?’
Klaus’s heart had been racing since he first glimpsed the girl on the path in front of him and he was only now beginning to steady himself. But his confusion was also simultaneously starting to mount once more. ‘Yes, I am quite hungry – but is it seemly to stop here?’ he asked doubtfully.
Sol frowned slightly. Dear God, she’s beautiful, he thought. He was helpless; he felt abandoned to his fate with no one to guide him. Desire rose within him again, although he dearly wished it would subside. He must not forget who she was. Fourteen years, fourteen years old, he mumbled quietly to himself as if repeating a spell. Fourteen years – and who knows what uproar there would be from amongst the landed gentry!
‘Why would it not be seemly?’ she asked with surprise. ‘Come on! Behind that knoll it will be sunny and peaceful. And I have a flask of wine ...’
She had picked out the spot earlier in the day. It was secluded and could not be seen from the path, which in any event was rarely used. Neither would any casual passer-by hear any sound unless of course one was to scream for help – something Sol did not plan to do.
Without further resistance, Klaus gave in. He felt suddenly overwhelmed by a wonderful light-headed dizziness. Most all he wished to
continue gazing endlessly into her bright sparkling eyes, which now seemed to be a deep shade of amber, absorbing the radiance of the sun itself And a swig or two of wine couldn’t do any harm, could it? Some food as well. Yes, he did feel hungry after his long and laborious trek.
Half an hour later the pair were stretched out in the tall sun-kissed grass behind the bank of earth, listening to a lark trilling high above the fields that lay like a quilt all around and below them. Klaus had been telling how solitary his life was and of the companionship he found working with the animals. He said he had never been with a girl – not properly anyway. The occasional kiss on the cheek perhaps, and clumsy hands groping the bodies of giggling reluctant servant girls. But nothing more. He had never dared try to go further.
Sol had persuaded him to talk about himself coaxing him to satisfy her curiosity. Upon hearing how inexperienced he was, she smiled like a contented kitten. As he spoke, she lay gazing into his eyes, her soft fingertips lightly stroking his cheek and neck. She had run her hand down the opening of his shirt, fingers dancing across his chest, tickling the few hairs of which he was so proud. Once or twice he let out a little yelp, a mixture of pleasure and pain.
Sol was profoundly curious about this adult side of life, what happened between a man and a woman, because she knew so little about it. She had worked some things out for herself, of course: how babies were made; how men functioned and why they were needed; that it would hurt the first time, something she decided she would gladly endure.
The sight of the horses that day they had been together had sparked her growing desire and led her into repeated imaginings of what it might be like. She wanted desperately to ask him to display his manhood for her, but perhaps he would be too shy. She knew it would not be as large as the stallion’s, but it was the focus of her curiosity.
The wine they were drinking had begun to have an effect. Alone it would have eased Klaus’s inhibitions, but mixed subtly with Sol’s secret spices, it served to kindle a raging fire within him that demanded urgently to be snuffed out. She was the only one who could do it – it would not be enough this time to go behind the barn or hide in his room. This time it had to be real.
He felt dizzy and faint – somewhere deep inside a voice rumbled on, repeating ‘Fourteen years – punished – punish’ but the words no longer held any meaning for him.
Gently he allowed his fingers to touch the hem of her skirt and as he was doing so he grinned foolishly, his cheeks on fire. At once Sol moved closer and he felt her hip pushing against him. Without hesitating he took hold of it in a fierce grip. Her eyes were bright, strangely aglow – with her moist lips half open and almost without breathing, she waited expectantly. She did not care that he reeked of the smell of stables and animals. It gave him that earthy untamed quality that Sol found so attractive.
With a deep trembling intake of breath, Klaus lifted himself up on one elbow and began brushing his hand across her breasts. She did not shy away or slap his hand like the other stupid girls did. He pushed his hand inside her blouse and fondled her. As he did so, this lonely boy saw in her expression an understanding and compassion that he had never known before. A mist seemed to cover his eyes and his pulse pounded in his ears. He gripped her breast with such force that she would still carry the marks from his fingers two weeks afterwards.
His mind was in turmoil – vaguely he realised that her knees were raised and that he had not lifted them. But then the uncontrollable urge overwhelmed him and all he heard was a groan, a feral cry that might have come from him.
Without realising what had happened, his hand was seeking out the secret place he so urgently wanted to touch while he gazed at Sol’s aroused, glowing features beneath him. She shuddered – one long, exquisite shiver running down the whole the length of her body. Then for a brief moment things went awry, as Klaus, fearing that she might change her mind, fumbled clumsily, catching himself in his clothing. In the end his trembling fingers were so inept that she had to help him.
When his manhood was finally exposed, the only recollection he would have was of her dazed voice, ‘Oh, God! It’s so wonderful – I can stand it no more. I shall die! Oh, God! I am dying!’
At the age of fourteen Sol had seduced her first lover.
****
With a blissful smile Sol wandered back home. The newly sober Klaus had been racked with guilt. He would surely have given his life to undo what he had done. To Sol he had looked somewhat pathetic as he sat bemoaning his fate. She succeeded in calming him, assuring him that no one would ever know about what had taken place. He could leave Grastensholm and take up his duties at the procurator’s stables in the knowledge that he would soon forget all about her.
‘Never!’ he told her. ‘Never! But if I am found out it will mean the gallows!’
‘If you say nothing, no one will find out. I have no interest in letting others know, of that you can be sure.’
He nodded, said a hasty farewell and ran off through the trees as if the Evil One himself were at his heels.
So that was one more experience, another encounter, thought Sol. as she sauntered along in the sunshine. Not bad – not bad at all – even if it all seemed to be over before it had really started. Yet somehow she knew that there had to be something more, something better than merely the down-to-earth domination that Klaus had recently consummated. She had been in too much of a rush as well and ought to have played and coaxed and teased a lot more. But Klaus was so ignorant and so inexperienced. She imagined there was a wide variety of things in which she could delight and, with different men, such meetings would undoubtedly prove very pleasant indeed! The future seemed to be irresistibly attractive.
The trees thinned as she reached the edge of the forest and she suddenly saw a figure standing against a tree with his back to her, quite clearly spying on Lindenallée. Without making a sound, she moved closer. ‘I’m coming to get you!’ she shouted in deep voice as she clawed at his back.
The man cackled hysterically and spun round. Sol laughed and this seemed to upset him still more, as if she was ridiculing his dignity.
‘Are you trying to frighten old folk out of their wits, you young hussy?’ he yelled at her.
‘Folk always make fools of themselves when they think no one’s looking,’ said Sol. Anyway, I know who you are. You’re the verger, aren’t you?’
‘You know nothing of the sort. You, who never set foot in a church.’ The verger sneered at her unpleasantly as he brushed off the pine needles, sap and bark from his coat. ‘But you just wait! Your time will soon come!’
‘To go to church?’ mocked Sol. ‘I don’t think so.’ She was supremely calm and confident and still filled with the assurance of the passion she had just experienced.
‘No, just the opposite. And it is usual to address a man of the church with respect, by his title. Have you no manners?’
‘l see no reason to show respect to a snake in the grass. And be careful what you say about manners. It is not right to spy on other people.’
The man shut his eyes. His fists were clenched in rage but he could not return Sol’s glare. Master Johan’s delays were a thorn in his side and he wanted something done now, right now!
‘I know what I know,’ he mumbled, his eyes flitting to and fro until they finally settled on the girl’s narrow waist and proud breasts. ‘I know full well what you are. You and your demon father will soon see! Judgement now awaits both of you!’ (Oh! What enticing hips she has!) ‘The stake, you hussy!’ You shall burn! For now it is my turn to do what must be done. There will be no more weakness and grovelling.’
Indignantly, with frantic movements of his hands, he brushed off his hood. If he had known Sol a little better, he would have chosen his words with more care. He had threatened those close to her, the only people in the world about whom she cared. In her view, this gave her the right to act in self-defence and at once her expression changed.
She smiled softly and her eyes, half-closed, glowed alarmingly
. She rummaged in her basket until her hand touched the item she wanted: a small thorn from a rose bush that was fixed to a twig and easily concealed in her hand. ‘Here, let me help you. There are so many needles on the back of your neck,’ she said considerately. ‘There, that’s better. Oh! Forgive me, did that one stick into you?’
‘Yes, it did,’ he whined, aggrieved, but unable to take his eyes off her cleavage, which was so close to him. ‘Leave it! I’ll manage by myself!’
He felt the saliva begin to dribble from the corners of his mouth and his voice took on a different tone. He thrust his sallow face into Sol’s and she drew back from him in disgust as his bad breath hit her. But he continued to move closer and whispered ingratiatingly, ‘You see, my dear, I am an important person, second only to the clergy. It is within my power to save you from the stake if you co-operate.’
Sol looked at him with loathing and pushed away his hands as he tried to touch and fondle her.
‘I can teach you all of life’s little secrets,’ he said soothingly, his eyes protruding from their sockets. ‘Would you like to see what a man – a real man – looks like, my dear? I can show you, if you come to my home this evening. Or better yet, here! Now!’
‘Take your hands off me!’ screamed Sol angrily. ‘Go to hell, you horrible old pig! Don’t you dare touch me with your repulsive fingers!’
She tore herself from his grasp and started to run away although she was not in the least afraid of the despicable old creature. Nonetheless her conscience reminded her that she should not have cursed out loud. The church’s manservant stayed where he was, feeling for all the world as though somebody had doused him in cold water.
‘I am leaving now!’ he cried indignantly. ‘And tomorrow is the day that judgement awaits you! I know that you are both servants of the Devil! Whore! Harlot! Do you think I don’t know that you consort with Satan himself? That is the way with all witches. I would not even want to touch you with a long stick, you – you ...’ He struggled without success to find a final word, but his voice faded and died away as he walked towards the road.
Witch-Hunt Page 20
