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  The Step Daughter

  The Legend of The Ice People 3 - The Step Daughter

  © Margit Sandemo 1982

  © eBook in English: Jentas A/S 2017

  Series: The Legend of The Ice People

  Title: The Step Daughter

  Title number: 3

  Original title: Avgrunden

  Translator: Anna Halager

  © Translation: Jentas A/S

  ISBN: 978-87-7107-313-3

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchase.

  All contracts and agreements regarding the work, translation, editing, and layout are owned by Jentas A/S.

  Acknowledgement

  The legend of the Ice People is dedicated with love and gratitude to the memory of my dear late husband Asbjorn Sandemo, who made my life a fairy tale.

  Margit Sandemo

  The Ice People - Reviews

  ‘Margit Sandemo is, simply, quite wonderful.’

  - The Guardian

  ‘Full of convincing characters, well estabished in time and place, and enlightening ... will get your eyes popping, and quite possibly groins twitching ... these are graphic novels without pictures ... I want to know what happens next.’

  - The Times

  ‘A mixure of myth and legend interwoven with historical events, this is imaginative creation that involves the reader from the first page to the last.’

  - Historical Novels Review

  ‘Loved by the masses, the prolific Margit Sandemo has written over 172 novels to date and is Scandinavia’s most widely read author...’

  - Scanorama magazine

  The Legend of the Ice People

  The legend of the Ice People begins many centuries ago with Tengel the Evil. He was ruthless and greedy, and there was only one way to get everything that he wanted: he had to make a pact with the devil. He travelled far into the wilderness and summoned the devil with a magic potion that he had brewed in a pot. Tengel the Evil gained unlimited wealth and power but in exchange, he cursed his own family. One of his descendants in every generation would serve the Devil with evil deeds. When it was done, Tengel buried the pot. If anyone found it, the curse would be broken.

  So the curse was passed down through Tengel’s descendants, the Ice People. One person in every generation was born with yellow cat’s eyes, a sign of the curse, and magical powers which they used to serve the Devil. One day the most powerful of all the cursed Ice People would be born.

  This is what the legend says. Nobody knows whether it is true, but in the 16th century, a cursed child of the Ice People was born. He tried to turn evil into good, which is why they called him Tengel the Good. This legend is about his family. Actually, it is mostly about the women in his family – the women who held the fate of the Ice People in their hands.

  Chapter 1

  The wind wailed and moaned through the treetops of the dense pine forest. It sounded like the rhythmic chanting of monks performing a solemn liturgy of sorrow and anguish in a giant cathedral. As they bowed unwillingly before the wind, it seemed that the branches twisted and screamed in protest. Overhead, the pale full moon appeared only fleetingly between ragged clouds that were chasing each other in a wild frenzy across the heavens.

  Sol laughed as she ran through the forest. The raging bad weather was arousing all the deepest passions in her, making her feel alive and exhilarated.

  She was a woman now – as free as the storm that tore at the treetops above her. In her hand she held Hanna’s bundle, which Tengel had handed over to her that very same day. She clutched it very tightly to her chest. Earlier in the day she’d taken leave of them all at home on Linden Avenue.

  All this symbolised for her a very important fact – her time had come at last!

  Her younger brother, Are, had accompanied her a part of the way towards the harbour in Oslo where a ship was ready to sail her to Denmark. They’d ridden together, but when they’d reached about half the distance, Sol had insisted on taking a shortcut alone through the forest. Finally, Are had given in, carrying her small trunk, leading her horse in order to meet her on the other side of the forest. He wanted to make absolutely sure that she got safely onboard the ship.

  Charlotte Meiden had arranged Sol’s voyage to Denmark. Sol was to accompany an elderly noblewoman, who was afraid of making such a long journey on her own. The family had decided that Sol would be right for this role because she’d behaved so impeccably these past five years. But now she was so restless that they felt they could no longer hold her back.

  Yes, she’d behaved well – but only so that she could devote her life to her beloved craft – when she reached adulthood!

  It had certainly been difficult at times. There had been occasions when she’d been itching to pick a poisonous herb or hemlock at the roadside if somebody had insulted those she loved. On one occasion she’d made a doll of a haughty noblewoman, who’d spoken disparagingly about Charlotte. Sol had managed to get hold of a strand of the noblewoman‘s hair, which she’d sewn into the doll, and she was just about to pierce its ‘heart’ with a needle when she came to her senses at the very last moment. This was the sort of thing she’d promised to stop doing. This was something she’d solemnly promised Tengel. She’d destroyed the doll and did so with a clean conscience. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help fretting afterwards, wondering whether or not she still had the power.

  Well, she thought, I believe I still have the power – and that I’ll have it forever! Tengel was most pleased with her work among the sick. They relied almost just as much on Sol as they did Tengel. From time to time, she’d used slightly drastic means to cure them, but she’d done it so very carefully that nobody had noticed anything.

  Besides, she hadn’t killed anybody whom she thought should be spared a life of martyrdom to sickness and pain, except perhaps a couple of times, but they were merely trifles and didn’t count against her. She’d only acted that way to make sure that her powers didn’t stagnate.

  Now, at long last, her time of doing penance was over.

  So she hadn’t wanted to ride through the forest. She wanted to feel the wind against her face and the earth under her feet and to know that all this was hers. She wanted to listen to the storm as it engulfed her and to laugh at the moon.

  “I’m free, Hanna,” she whispered. “I’m free! Now our era begins!”

  Her own plans for the journey to Denmark were markedly different from those of the family ...

  She’d enquired here and there and had been told that the authorities were hunting witches incessantly in Denmark. However, most often these were just normal women with no knowledge of the black arts whom spiteful neighbours had branded as witches. Sol, on the contrary, knew where the real witches and wizards were to be found. Hanna had once spoken the name of the place with great reverence.

  This was where she wanted to go – this was where she had to go!

  There weren’t many real witches left. There couldn’t be when one thought of the zeal with which the authorities persecuted them. But those who had managed to survive were real enough.

  And she was one of them. One of the very few, she and Tengel. But Tengel had always been unwilling to practice the true craft, wasting his powers instead on “good” deeds. How could he be bothered? Five years of goodness and decency had been more than enough for her!

  She just had to s
top for a moment and gaze at her precious objects, which she’d missed for so long. She smiled with glee and anticipation. There was the skull of a poor child found buried under the floor of a barn one hundred years ago. There was the finger of a hanged criminal. A heart of a black dog. Earth from a graveyard. Snakes’ tongues ...

  And there it was. The most prized of them all: The mandrake – an heirloom discovered in a Mediterranean country, long, long ago, pulled out of the earth beneath a gallows tree where a murderer had spilled his semen at the moment of death. This was where the mandrake had grown, and this root, which so resembled a human form, had screamed so piercingly when it was pulled from the earth. As a result, the master sorcerer, who had unearthed it one Thursday night under a full moon, had been driven insane.

  This was the story as Hanna had told it to her and she knew that she must take great care of the mandrake – it was priceless!

  Sol felt the weight of the grotesque dried root in her hand. It was big – longer than her hand – and there were marks where someone had cut small pieces from the ends of the root. Could it have been her much feared ancestor, Tengel the Evil, who’d done this? They said that the mandrake had belonged to him. It was certainly true that the pieces had been used in black magic. Sol knew very well the power of the mandrake and how it could be used in so many ways – as a love potion or perhaps to destroy an enemy or even to create wealth for its owner.

  A thin leather strap was tied round it. She nodded in approval. Now it was hers. Now she could use it for its true purpose!

  She untangled the leather strap and hung it around her neck, tucking it out of sight. It felt heavy and rough against the skin between her breasts, as if it was shaping itself to her body. She shuddered as if it was alive. But she soon got accustomed to it.

  Now she was protected by the most powerful amulet of all, the greatest known talisman of good fortune.

  She felt safe – and for her it was a solemn occasion.

  Dag was already in Copenhagen. It would be lovely to see him again. He’d been studying law at the university there and planned to get a good job for himself when he returned to Norway.

  Dag had been in Denmark for a year and a half. The family trusted him to look after Sol. Perhaps something good might come out of the trip – an offer of a job or useful contacts? By social contacts Silje, always the romantic one, had naturally thought of a suitable marriage. Dag could introduce Sol to the right circle of people at Court and in other high places. They knew that many of his academic friends were of noble descent.

  She would spend one month with Dag and then she would return to Norway.

  Sol giggled as she hurried on through the howling, wind-torn forest. It would certainly be comforting to have her stepbrother close by. But “the right people”? She felt that those were the ones she’d choose for herself. Even so, she reflected, one shouldn’t discount the Court altogether. There might be a few handsome fellows there. Sol had remained chaste and modest ever since, at the age of fourteen, she’d seduced the stable lad, Klaus. Now she felt very much ready for a new adventure. After all, the episode with Klaus had been somewhat unsatisfying and had been nothing more than a conquest. She knew that there were far more exciting emotions to explore in a relationship between a man and a woman.

  She ran her hands down the curves of her body, knowing how beautiful she was. Far too many had told her so.

  Poor Hanna, she thought, with a sudden pang of regret. She’d never had the opportunities that Sol had. She’d been ugly, so hideous, in fact, that people had turned their backs on her. Besides, she’d been so lonely and shut away in the small mountain valley ...

  For Sol, on the other hand, the world was her oyster!

  And she intended to use all her talents to the full.

  Everybody at home had been sad when she left, but they also realised that she needed to have the freedom to spread her wings or else she’d be stifled by her surroundings. The last six months had been pretty difficult. She knew very well that she was impatient and restless. Tengel and Silje had hugged her tightly as they said goodbye, and her little sister, Liv, had had tears in her eyes. Charlotte Meiden had come to see her off and to send good wishes to her beloved son, Dag.

  She and Are had ridden off down the avenue of linden trees, Silje’s beloved avenue.

  There was a gap in the trees that lined the avenue where the Dowager Baroness’s tree had withered and died. The old lady had passed away, and now she was buried in the cemetery at Graastensholm.

  Tengel had planted a new sapling in place of the old tree. Sol remembered when he had done it and Silje’s unusual outburst of anger, which had followed the event.

  “I don’t want you to cast a spell over more trees, Tengel,” she’d said, trembling all over. “I can’t stand this constant watching over them all the time.”

  “They’ve helped me many times,” he replied defensively. “I’ve discovered hidden sicknesses in you all just by looking at them.”

  “Yes, I know, but I still find it frightening. If I see a yellow leaf or a twig lying on the ground, I begin to panic.”

  “As you wish,” Tengel had said. “I promise that I shan’t cast a spell over any more trees. Besides, we haven’t got any new family members that we can dedicate trees to.”

  “No. All our four children are almost grown up, but in a few years’ time we may have grandchildren.”

  Tengel had smiled lovingly at her and given her his word that the new trees would be trees and nothing else.

  Sol had reached a clearing in the forest and was approaching a cluster of small cottages. The smell of salt in the air told Sol that she was getting closer to the fjord. In the far distance she could see smoke from many houses. There, on the other side of Akershus fortress, lies Oslo, she said to herself.

  Dawn was just breaking and the glow of the moon was beginning to fade as a curtain of light grew brighter and stronger along the horizon. As Sol left the forest darkness behind her, the new grey light seemed to shimmer above the sleeping village, and the deep silence of the surrounding fields contrasted sharply with the deafening roar of the wind that had filled her ears among the trees.

  She moved quietly past the low-roofed houses where there was not yet any signs of life to be seen. Only the wind whistling over the grass broke the immense silence. When she reached a lane that lead up to a church, Sol stopped, brushing aside the locks of long black hair that the wind was blowing across her face.

  For a short moment she stood without moving, looking about, and then she turned slowly several times. What she could see was the pillory, the whipping pole and the place where people were stoned to death. A little further away stood the block, the place of execution where the condemned would bow their heads one last time to await the fall of an axe. An empty gallows could be seen way off but still close enough for the entire congregation to see.

  These were the things that Sol saw, but she could sense so much more. She stood motionless – now facing the wind to keep it from blowing her hair into her face. She was quite surprised at how much she could sense. She felt anguish and the fear of death from all those who had ended their days here, shame twirling like an invisible mist round the pillory; the sorrow and sadness of relatives; the curiosity of the spectators; the malicious pleasure and the drooling desire at watching the ultimate spectacle.

  Sol wasn’t afraid of the dead. She couldn’t remember it herself, but once she’d laughed at a corpse that twisted slowly on a gallows. Silje had believed it was just a child’s ignorance, but she was wrong. Sol’s world was the night, darkness and death. The name she’d been given as protection, Sol, which means the sun, didn’t help at all. The moon, not the sun, was the light she truly followed.

  The only time Sol had been truly afraid was when Tengel had turned his rage upon her. On that occasion, she’d killed a worthless wretch of a verger, who was intent on harming her famil
y. She had enormous respect for Tengel because she loved him immensely.

  But Sol was anxious not to be a victim of Tengel’s wrath again and that had made her keep her composure for so long.

  Apart from that, nothing else on earth could frighten Sol.

  A gust of wind whistled through the forest behind her.

  She was twenty years old now. It was the year 1599, and now she was about to begin her real life.

  Are was waiting for Sol at the other end of the forest, as agreed. He was Tengel’s only son, with the callow features of a thirteen-year-old, wide cheekbones and jet-black hair. While Tengel’s and Silje’s other three children and stepchildren were creations of beauty, Are wasn’t exactly handsome. To make up for this, he certainly had an air of invincibility about him, which Sol considered was worth far more in the long run.

  He accompanied her down to the harbour and saw to it that she got onboard safely together with the elderly noblewoman, who was most pleasantly surprised. “Imagine having such a beautiful and well accomplished young girl as a chaperone.” Sol in her turn responded with her ‘be nice to old ladies’ manner. Her manner became soft and respectful and she was immensely helpful.

  She stood on deck for a long time, waving to Are, who waved eagerly back. Now the adventure had begun.

  The voyage to Denmark was quite strenuous with the harsh wind that tossed the ship from side to side. But Sol had prepared a potion against seasickness which the old lady was extremely grateful for. She probably felt very brave, standing there and boasting to Sol, that they seemed to be the only passengers who hadn’t been seasick.

  If Sol had hoped for her first small adventure during the voyage, she was to be sadly disappointed. All the male passengers hung over the rail or lay curled up in some corner while the crew was only made up of dried-up old sea dogs without any sex appeal at all. Still, the voyage itself was unbelievably exciting for a young woman like Sol, who was eager for new adventures. She went out on deck as often as she could and whenever the waves crashed over the bows, spraying her with water, she would scream with joy. When the ship dived down headlong between giant waves, she let out an ecstatic yell and when it pulled itself out again, awash with salt water, she cheered heartily. At last she understood how dreary life at Linden Avenue had been all those years.