Winter Storm, page 7
“I promise.”
Scabies was the disease of the poor and miserable. The aristocracy never got scabies, which would be unthinkable and a great scandal. Tristan’s eyes were brimming with tears once more.
“I’m so awfully ashamed!”
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of. But how did you get it?” Tristan battled with his conscience and the lie won. Half a lie, at any rate. “It must have happened up in the Black Forest. When we carried corn into the barn.”
Mattias nodded pensively. “That’s possible.”
“I just wish I could die.”
Mattias squatted down in front of him. “Now listen, Tristan. I know exactly how you feel. Because I’ve also had scabies.”
Tristan looked very surprised. “Really, Uncle Mattias?”
“Yes, much worse. I suppose you know that Uncle Kaleb and I once worked in a mine?”
“Yes.”
“This was where we caught fleas and lice and other nasty things. You know Oline, don’t you? The one who worked at Graastensholm?”
“Yes.”
“We found her in the worst slum in Christiania. She had scabies and many things that were worse than that. But we managed to cure her completely, and pretty quickly at that.”
A cautious smile spread across Tristan’s face.
“I’ll prepare an efficient remedy,” promised Mattias. “But we’d better ally ourselves with Kaleb because you’ll stink of tar and you’ll need to have your own bed linen that can get dirty. Kaleb will understand.”
“But what about Villemo?”
Mattias thought for a moment. “She also needs to be told. But I don’t think she’ll gossip.”
“No,” Tristan said thoughtfully. “No, Villemo won’t gossip.”
The popular doctor in the Parish of Graastensholm sent him a gentle look. “Tell me, my friend, have you only got it on your hands?”
“Yes,” said Tristan, far too quickly.
“Not on your elbows? Knees?”
“No, not at all.” His relief was feigned.
“Elsewhere?”
“No.”
Mattias wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t want to put pressure on the poor boy. “Today, I’ll rub you and dress your hands. Then I’ll give you some more tar – if the rash pops up elsewhere.”
Tristan was so grateful that Mattias thought that the rash had spread to at least one more spot. He instructed the boy in how he was to apply the tar.
“Can’t I have the whole treatment that cured Oline so quickly?”
“No, she had many other horrible diseases as well.”
“But I’ll soon be leaving for Denmark. I’ve got so little time. Maybe it’s best to use all the methods for a fast cure.”
Mattias laughed. “Well, that wouldn’t hurt.” He produced a packet. “This dates back to the Ice People’s secret treasure and will cure most skin diseases, including scabies. I’ll give you some of it in a small parcel. This may calm you down, if nothing else.”
Not in his wildest dreams could Mattias imagine that this shy, helpless, innocent boy badly needed the Ice People’s miracle ointment! Tristan greedily accepted the parcel with the medicine. He found it difficult to conceal how relieved he was.
“And on top of that, I’ll also give you a mixture to take. It cleanses the blood. I’ll go with you to Elistrand and I’ll explain how you’re to go about it all. I want to make sure that none of the others have caught it.”
“I don’t think so. I’ve kept to myself since I discovered it.”
“That makes sense.”
Tristan blew his nose and left with Mattias. An enormous burden had been lifted from the young boy’s shoulders.
Late that same evening, when he was sure that everybody had retired for the night, he took out the medicine that Mattias had given him. He took a crafty swig of the mixture and then he rubbed on the tar and the Ice People’s miracle ointment where the damage was the worst. He grit his teeth against the pain and let the tears of shame run freely down his cheeks.
Afterwards he fell on his knees by the bed, praying fervently to the Lord for help and forgiveness for his great sin. Christianity and pagan ointments. Young Tristan saw to it that he had taken all possible precautions.
Chapter 5
Eldar Black Forest came to Linden Avenue the next day and Villemo was thrilled. What need did she have for a love potion? Her own allure eradicated all obstacles, she thought recklessly. Hadn’t he returned to Linden Avenue where he was bound to meet her?
But Eldar was a hard nut to crack. He didn’t look in her direction at all although she swarmed like a bee round the honey pot when she was near him. Instead he would talk to the young servant girls, who went back and forth among the houses and who served the meals. He had the gift of the gab and would laugh a lot and the girls would return his interest. He had nice teeth and a broad smile, and her soul pined.
The weather had turned worse and as usual this affected Villemo’s mood. But, worst of all, it badly affected her self-confidence. All through the morning, she became increasingly silent and introverted. Even Villemo’s uncontrollable zest for life could be thwarted sometimes.
And then it began to rain. Very suddenly and violently, the rain poured down over the district. They all threw down what they had in their hands and rushed into the stable, which lacked both a wall and roof on the one side. They ended up having to crowd together in one corner. It was unthinkable to walk across the courtyard and into the house. Nobody wanted to become that wet. It was obvious that it was only a shower, so they decided to wait until it was over.
Villemo stood feeling lonely and unhappy as she leaned against the wall. As lonely as it is possible to be when a dozen men are fighting for space with you. But she was sad. She had never been in love before and she was unprepared for the pain that can emerge if love doesn’t run its desired course. Maybe this is the greatest agony that a young person can feel. To have so much to give – and the person at the receiving end merely turns their back on it. To be rejected, to be found unworthy ...
All of a sudden she felt that she was being observed. Eldar was standing by the wall which was at a right angle from hers. Apparently he was gazing at her uninterruptedly, although he looked away as soon as she discovered him.
Villemo wiped her eyes. “I think I got some rain in my eyes,” she laughed shyly.
He looked at her again and then turned away indifferently. Shortly afterwards he took off his jacket and gave it to the man who was standing between them and said sharply, “Throw this over the young lady. I don’t think she can take being exposed to a few rain drops!”
The man placed the jacket over her head and shoulders so that she wouldn’t get wet from the splashes coming from the holes in the walls. Then Eldar began to talk with the other men – with his back towards her.
Villemo was stunned and speechless with joy. She breathed in the smell of his grey homespun jacket. It was a strong, close smell, not unpleasant. Just different. So this was how a man smelled. When the rain ceased, she took off the jacket and gave it back to him.
“Thanks a lot for your kindness. That helped an awful lot,” she whispered ambiguously.
“What? Oh, the jacket. I’d forgotten it.”
Was he so disinterested? Villemo refused to believe it. She lived in a frenzy of enthusiasm all day long. Never had she experienced more exciting days than during the building of the stable at Linden Avenue. She would soon have to be on her way home. There would be an extra day because the rain had delayed them, even though they worked hard until late at night.
Eldar hadn’t had time to talk to her and it was also doubtful whether he wanted to. But his eyes met hers from time to time. She saw it and was delighted. She was so bubbly, so exhilaratingly happy inside that she was unable to utter a word. She just walked about and was euphoric!
Her dad, Kaleb, came to fetch his daughter. He felt that she was taking an extraordinary interest in the building of the stable. Usually, well-connected girls didn’t take part in that kind of pastime. What a thought! But Villemo had always been one of a kind, a tomboy, who did as she wanted. Kaleb and Gabriella had always left her in peace – but they kept a watchful eye over her. Especially since Grandma Liv had had a serious conversation with them before she passed away.
“Be careful with Villemo,” she had said. “She’s just like Sol and my parents always found it difficult to tame that girl. Give Villemo a loose rein but without letting her go too far. Provided she doesn’t harm herself or others, let her follow her own impulses. Otherwise it can backlash in very unpleasant ways. Fortunately, she is only a fraction as dangerous as my Sol. If my foster sister didn’t get her way, she would make sure to get her revenge in a terrible way. Villemo would never do that. But she needs to be free. Do you understand?”
They understood and they had always acted accordingly. And surely there wasn’t anything wrong with her wanting to help at Linden Avenue, was there? Kaleb fell into the same trap as thousands of fathers have during the ages: he regarded his daughter as a child and wouldn’t dream that his little lump of gold thought of men! Or that men were beginning to notice his little, innocent child. He would have been shocked had he known about Villemo’s thoughts.
So far, they were clean enough. Villemo only harboured a vague idea about tender love between her and Eldar Black Forest. Of how a sympathy of souls would bring them together, how they would end up close – she in his arms – oh, they were bound to be strong! And they would be able to talk about everything. She would let him in on her dreams, her yearnings in life, and he would share his thoughts with her. And maybe, maybe he would ... no, first he would caress her hair. He would praise it, and say that it was beautiful and she would look up at him, at his ice-blue eyes, which would smile warmly at her – and then ... well, he would probably kiss her. Villemo let out a trembling sigh at the thought of that wonderful kiss. She never thought any further than that. It never occurred to her that a relationship of love could involve more. If only he would show her a bit more interest! She felt ostracised in a cold world when he didn’t notice her.
The next morning, she could see from a long distance that the stable had been rebuilt, with the roof almost finished. The farmhands must have worked long into the night.
She entered the courtyard, flushed with anticipation. The men stood in a group talking seriously to one another. Eldar wasn’t there.
“What’s happened?” she asked.
Niklas answered. “One of the farmhands at Graastensholm was killed yesterday evening. The one who shot at the thieves that morning. They found him dead by the forest opposite Elistrand. And the other farmhand says that Eldar killed him. They had been out walking late yesterday evening on their way back from the lake where they had put out traps. On their way towards the lake, they had seen Eldar’s silhouette against the sky. He had been looking down in the direction of Elistrand. And when they were going to walk home from the lake, one of them walked ahead. The other followed after and found his friend lying with a knife in his back. Eldar’s knife.”
Villemo’s senses were suddenly heightened. Never before had she seen the autumn colours so sharply. She could hear the men’s voices echo in the emptiness in the courtyard. She could sense the tiniest sound in the grass when a frozen blade broke.
The only sensible thing that came to her mind was, “How could he be so stupid as to leave his knife in the dead man’s body?”
“Well, that’s a very good question,” said Niklas.
She felt totally numb in her whole body, and this sensation persisted.
“Where’s Eldar now?”
“He’s run off into the forest. The bailiff and his men are after him.”
Niklas went over to talk to somebody and Villemo remained standing in the middle of the courtyard in the unbearably clear, transparent air.
Then the paralysis disappeared all of a sudden and thoughts were rushing through her mind like a cascading waterfall. She was unable to keep them separated because there were so many thoughts all at the same time. Doubt – he didn’t do it, he couldn’t have done it, it’s a lie, a lie! Anxiety – but what if ...? What if it’s true? No, it can’t be right, he’s mine! The latter was a strange argument, but Villemo wasn’t in the mood for logic right now. Underneath it all was an abysmal sorrow. But sadly, above it all, she was excited and filled with joy. Eldar had stood, looking down at Elistrand! Looking for her, Villemo?
The chaos in her head brought tears to her eyes. She felt a pain in her chest from everything that had overwhelmed her in a matter of minutes. She wanted to turn the clock back to the wonderful moment when she had come walking through the avenue and realised that she might see him. Now it was all over.
Was Eldar a murderer? She didn’t believe it. But the farmhand was the man who had wounded Eldar and killed his relative that morning when they tried to steal food on the estate. Vendetta. No, not Eldar! There had never been a vendetta before. The Black Forest people had hated them, threatened them – but they had never taken action. But now one of them had been killed. By the Graastensholm people. No, no, no, she kept on repeating to herself. That wasn’t sufficient reason for Eldar to do something like that!
Then why do it, why? She got a quick answer. Irmelin came from Graastensholm to speak to Niklas and Villemo immediately grabbed her.
“Is this true? That your farmhand is dead? And that Eldar has done it?”
Irmelin looked at her wild eyes in astonishment.
“You shouldn’t take that farmhand’s death so badly,” she said. “We had nothing but trouble with the two of them. They were very dangerous!”
Villemo didn’t like the farmhand. It wasn’t him she was concerned about. “I don’t think Eldar did it. He wasn’t like that. He doesn’t hate us.”
Nothing makes a person so blind as when he or she wants to defend a loved one.
“No, maybe not us,” admitted Irmelin. “But you see, those two farmhands were sent from Woller. They had been thrown out from there and Dad has always had a soft spot for the weakest in society.”
From Woller? Once again, the air buzzed with something crisp and frail, which is typical of clear autumn days. The rowan tree over by the roadside shone with blood-red berries and the trees up on the mountain ridge were covered in white frost.
Woller? That’s where the object of the vendetta lay because Eldar had said so himself. So if he had found out that the farmhands came from Woller ... No, no, not Eldar! Eldar who had allowed her to borrow his jacket, admittedly followed by some sharp, sarcastic remarks, but with good intentions. He who had stood in the hills close to Elistrand and looked down towards her house!
Irmelin caught sight of Niklas and excused herself.
Villemo swept into action. She walked resolutely over to Eldar’s younger brother, the one she had spoken to a couple of times in the last few days.
“Where’s Eldar?”
The brother turned round slowly, full of disgust towards her. He looked her up and down.
“I won’t tell you. Or anybody.”
“I know he’s innocent,” said Villemo.
“How do you know that?”
“I just–”
She had no ready answer to his question. The young man wouldn’t be able to understand her intuitions. She knew that. She also realised that the brother would never let on where Eldar was. Not to her. She belonged in the enemy’s camp and might go straight to the bailiff. Oh, they knew so very little! But Villemo didn’t give in so easily. She knew that a mountain pasture belonged to the Black Forest ... On second thought she realised that this was where the bailiff would search first of all. And Eldar wasn’t that stupid.
So he just had to be somewhere else. Was he roaming about in the forest? Not at this time of the year. The autumn wind howled at night and the snow could come anytime. Had he returned to the place where he had worked for some years? Villemo didn’t know where that was. Besides, he hadn’t spoken kindly about those people, so he wouldn’t be there. She had to find him and tell him that she trusted him. She wanted to hear him say that he was innocent.
There was a short break in the work while Niklas and Irmelin drove to Graastensholm for some materials. Villemo didn’t catch what it was. She was completely lost in her own thoughts. The men settled down by the stable wall in order to enjoy the last of the weak autumn sun.
The men from the Black Forest sat in serious conversation by themselves. Villemo took note of their spot by the wall and then she walked calmly into the stable. If there was hay on the ground by the wall where they sat, she might be discovered by the crunching sound of the hay below her feet. She was fortunate. The floor was bare with a few tools placed here and there. She tip-toed over to the wall in the dark barn. She could hear the mumbling voices outside.
Careful now! Then she was by the wall, resting her hands against it. She said a silent prayer that nobody would come into the barn. She must have looked rather suspicious, sitting there with her ear against the wall.
Oh, darn, they were talking about the servant girls at Linden Avenue and assessing them. This wasn’t what Villemo had come to hear.
Then one of the men said all of a sudden, “I think it’s a shame that the people at Elistrand allow their daughter to run about here among men. That isn’t right for a girl of her station in life.”
“Our girls would never be allowed to do that sort of thing,” another said.
“She’s a good worker though,” said a third.
“But she’s a bit peculiar,” said the first, full of contempt. “You’d think that she had a crush on somebody.”
“Well, she has,” said number two. “And it’s easy to see who for.”
Villemo swore under her breath. They lowered their voices.
