C1 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 stop 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 family. 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.

When they berthed in Copenhagen, a carriage was waiting for the old lady, and so Sol’s task had been accomplished. The noblewoman was so delighted with Sol that she gave her a purse that jingled with the sound of coins. Sol had to pull herself together not to count the money then and there. She curtseyed and waved after the carriage as it drove away.

But she wasn’t left to her own devices because Dag was already there on the quayside waiting to greet her.

On catching sight of him, Sol ran straight towards him and threw herself into his arms.

“My word, Dag. You’ve become so handsome! You’ve grown too, little brother!”

She pushed him away from her, holding him at arm’s length, and looked him up and down. His features were now more masculine. Although his face was still long and straight, all his features had become better proportioned and more in balance. His light-brown eyebrows were well defined and his eyes were metal-grey, which contrasted with his blonde hair. His clothes were the height of fashion. Gone was the everyday quilted jacket with a patterned front, high neck and cuffs and there was no sign of the short, baggy breeches he’d always worn at home.

Now Dag lived in Copenhagen and he went along with the times and the fashion. He sported a hat with a wide brim, one side held up with a feather. The shirt collar was wide, turned down and had long points. Trousers and jacket were more close-fitting than she’d been used to seeing on him at home, and he wore elegant boots, which so impressed Sol. He was ever so handsome, he really was! Her eye began to inspect the few women she saw on the quay. “Is this the way all people dress in Copenhagen?” she exclaimed. “I must look very old fashioned. I want to hide, Dag.”

Dag laughed. Their admiration for each other was mutual despite her simple Norwegian garb.

“There’s no need for that. My word, how am I to tackle it all?”

“Tackle what?”

“Keeping your admirers at arm’s length.”

“Why would you want to keep them at arm’s length?” Sol chuckled, and although Dag took it as a joke, it wasn’t meant that way.

“We can walk to my lodgings. It’s not very far. Let me take your trunk. I don’t think it’s too heavy – and your bundle as well.”

“No. I’ll carry that myself.”

Dag looked at her sideways but didn’t insist.

“So how are things at home?” he asked eagerly after they’d left the lively quay and entered a street full of traffic.

Sol found it almost impossible to take her eyes off all the extraordinary new things that surrounded her, with people swarming everywhere and even animals in the street, pungent smells of fish, seaweed, garbage, fruit and vegetables ... although she’d been with Tengel to Akershus and Oslo a few times, this was something totally different. This was the great wide world she longed for!

“At home? All is well. They all send their love, especially Charlotte, of course. I’ve brought letters, lots of letters – and money.”

“That’s wonderful,” murmured Dag.

“And Are wondered whether you could get him one of those modern Snaphaunce muskets.” She broke off again, gazing around excitedly. “Look at that house – it’s so big!”

She was bubbling with excitement.

“I suppose that my mother, Charlotte, is feeling alone now?” Dag said thoughtfully.

“Yes, and she’s impatient for you to complete your studies and return home. But she and Silje spend a lot of time together.”

“And the others? How are they doing?”

“Tengel works hard to heal the sick – he tries to do no more than a few days each week, but it isn’t easy. Some have travelled a very long way and he’s never been able to turn anybody down. We had a horrible outbreak of the plague last winter, and he forbade the sick to come to our home because he didn’t want us to catch it. But they still came in swarms, much to Tengel’s dismay. We still pulled through, almost all of us. The Ice People are strong, as you know. Only your grandmother, the Dowager Baroness, succumbed.”

“Yes, I know. I miss her dreadfully.”

“Me, too,” said Sol in a low voice. “She was a fine old lady. Tengel was also very sad as they were very close to one another. But there’s something strange about Tengel. It’s as if time doesn’t seem to show on him.”

“Do you remember Hanna?” Dag asked. “She became incredibly old.”

“Do I remember Hanna?” Sol repeated with a hint of pain in her voice. Then she pulled herself together and laughed loudly. “Of course! I’ll grow to be very old too. I’ll outlive you all!”

“We’ll see,” answered Dag, strangely ill at ease. “And Silje. How are things with her?”

“Silje is the same as ever. Happy and content so long as she has Tengel. She paints and does so many other things. She’s probably put on a bit of weight, but it suits her. And ... by the way! I haven’t told you about it, but Liv has a serious boyfriend!”

Dag stopped suddenly on the cobbled street causing a horse and cart to brake sharply behind them. They jumped to one side.

“What?” he exclaimed. “But she’s only a child, for heaven’s sake!”

“She’s sixteen, almost seventeen, and so gentle and sweet you wouldn’t believe it. Silje wasn’t much older when she fell in love with Tengel.”

Dag wasn’t listening. His face was rigid. “My little sister has a serious boyfriend? What sort of man is he, if I may ask?”

“Don’t get so agitated. Well, what can I say? He’s from a very good family – not of noble birth, but then, Liv is a commoner herself. But his parents are very rich. Merchants. The father is dead and Laurents is carrying on the business.”

“And what do you make of him?”

Sol shrugged her shoulders. “He’s not quite my cup of tea,” she answered evasively.

They continued walking, but Dag didn’t say anything for quite a long time. He always put great faith in what Sol believed about people because nobody was as perceptive as her. “And Liv? What does she say?” He broke off, raising his voice, “Sol, you don’t have to lift your skirt that high. It’s not that filthy here!”

“Well, Liv doesn’t speak so much about it, so I honestly don’t know what she thinks. And we hear that you also plan to get married. Will it be soon?”

“Me? Who says so?”

“Charlotte. We understand that it’s to a certain Miss Trolle.”

“Did my mother say that? To Liv as well?”

“To all of us. She was overjoyed.”

“Oh dear, oh dear,” laughed Dag, but with a hint of resignation. “In a few letters I only mentioned that she was among my circle of friends and that she’s a sweet and nice girl. Yes, I’m interested, but she’s not the only one. I haven’t seen her for weeks! My mother is such a busybody.”

This was all he said, so Sol continued the conversation.

“Are is such a nice boy. He’s so self-assured and kind. More down-to-earth than the rest of us. He’ll do well.”

“Absolutely. I miss them all so much. And what about you, Sol? Have you any suitors?”

“Me?” she laughed as they turned off the main street and into an elegant street. “No. Where would they come from?”

“Oh come on. You’re exaggerating. You must have a swarm of admirers, surely?”

Now she became serious. “I might have, but they don’t interest me. Sometimes it frightens me, Dag, because I don’t seem to be able to fall in love with anybody.”

He looked at her thoughtfully without saying anything. Then he said gently: “You just haven’t found Mr. Right yet. And, anyway, I know that you’re able to love other people.”

“Oh, my closest family, yes. But for me, Tengel overshadows all other men. Not that I’m in love with him. Of course I’m not – but you see, he’s my ideal. Nobody can measure up to him. I compare all young men with him and they all fall hopelessly short of the mark.”

“I can well believe they do. After all, there’s only one Tengel.”

“Yes, and that is precisely what makes it so frustrating.”

Dag was deep in his own thoughts. “Now I’m tempted to say that you’re looking for a father figure because you’ve never had a father yourself. But that isn’t how it is. It isn’t a man with Tengel’s virtues you want but someone with his authority and demonic ways!”

“You’re absolutely right,” Sol said crestfallen.

“Let me tell you one thing, dear sister,” Dag went on quietly, “the power Tengel has doesn’t come from within him. He draws it from Silje.”

Sol was quiet for some time. “Yes,” she said at long last. “But her strength depends on his love for her.”

“That’s also true.”

“So neither of them is complete without the other.”

“No. We’ve been very lucky, you and I, that we’ve grown up in such a home. Anyway, here we are! This door here!”

“My, this is certainly an elegant home,” Sol said as she admired the half-timbered walls and the fan-shaped decoration painted in gold and blue above the door.

“Yes, and the people I live with are nice. You’ll have your own room while you’re here. Unfortunately, you’ve arrived at a difficult time. They’ve just lost their young son.”

“Is he dead?”

“No, he’s lost. He disappeared three days ago.”

“Oh, how awful,” said Sol. “That’s worse than anything else.”

“Yes, the uncertainty. His poor mother is almost out of her mind with worry. They’ve searched everywhere, even the canals around here but without success. Now they believe that somebody has taken the child. There’s no trace of him.”

They entered the house and couldn’t discuss the matter any further. The husband and wife came out to the door to greet them. Dag hadn’t exaggerated: The young mother’s hands were trembling visibly and her face showed that she had shed a great many tears.

Dag introduced them to one another in a gentle voice. “This is my stepsister, Sol Angelica, and these are my kind hosts, Count and Countess Strahlenhelm.”

“Your sister is adorable,” the Count exclaimed and greeted Sol, who dropped a low curtsey. “Have you seen those eyes, Henriette? I’ve never seen this colour of eyes before. They’re the colour of amber!”

His wife could do no more than offer a wan smile and nod.

Sol couldn’t help admiring her clothes. She wore a ruff the size of a mill wheel around her neck and a pearl-embroidered bonnet and, beneath her brocade dress she must have been wearing an enormous farthingale because her hips were so wide she could comfortably rest her arms on it.

The Count said to Dag: “Perhaps you’ll show Sol to her room. Then we’ll serve a light meal shortly. But please excuse my wife. She’ll have to retire because she can’t cope with too much at the moment.”

“Of course, I quite understand,” said Sol quietly.

At that very moment, a strong, unfamiliar feeling seized her. There was an invisible sensation that made her extremely agitated and made her turn quite impatient.

The Countess left the room with a handkerchief pressed to her face.

When she’d left, Sol turned to the Count.

“The room can wait. Maybe I can help you find the child.”

“Sol!” exclaimed Dag with a warning glance. The Count raised his hand, asking him to be quiet. “What do you mean by that, young lady?”

“Dag, I know that I shouldn’t say anything, but you must understand that this is urgent!”

“What are you talking about?” asked the Count. “Do you know something?”

Dag intervened. “This is very dangerous for my sister. I don’t doubt for a moment that she can help, but she could pay for it with her life. Everything depends on your discretion.”

“Will you please both explain?”

“You already noticed my sister’s eyes, Count Strahlenhelm. She wasn’t blessed with them for nothing. If Sol says that the matter is urgent, it means she can feel that the child is alive, at least at this very moment. The fact that she waited until your wife had left the room shows that she knows that she wouldn’t be able to keep her silence.”

The Count looked blankly from one to the other.

“My child’s life is more important than anything else.”

“Will you swear that you’ll never speak about what you’ll now come to experience?” asked Sol. She was so impatient that she could hardly keep quiet. “That you won’t denounce me?”

“I swear.”

“Very well. Then give me something, a piece of clothing which the child has worn recently and which hasn’t been washed since he wore it. But remember: I can’t guarantee that I’ll find him, but I’ll do my best.”

The tall, slender man let out a deep sigh. “I beg you, Miss Sol. I’ll thank you on my bended knee for even the slightest hint of where he is.”

“Can I then trust that you’ll be discreet?”

“I know perfectly well what will happen with you if the authorities were to hear about your ... abilities. Actually, my wife had already said that she wished that I could find a ... so-called ‘wise woman.’ But we didn’t know of any and didn’t dare enquire. Let my gratitude be the guarantor of my silence!”

“And what if I don’t succeed in tracing your son?”’

“Then you’ll have my gratitude for trying. But what if my wife or one of the servants should find out that you’re involved?”

Sol rummaged her pockets. “Give this sleeping medicine to your wife immediately! Make sure she drinks it all. And please order your servants to leave us alone.”

The Count gave Dag a curious look. “This is something you’ve kept to yourself, Dag.”

Dag cut a grimace. “It’s something that one doesn’t speak about openly, Your Honour.”

“No, I’m sure you’re right.”

The Count hurried out with the powder in his hand.

“You shouldn’t have done this, Sol,” Dag mumbled.

“Why not?”

He sighed. “Yes, if this turns out well, you’ll have a friend for life. And he’s powerful, Sol! Much more powerful than you imagine.”

“Really? Who is he then?”

“A judge. One of the most powerful men in the Danish judiciary.”

“Oh dear,” said Sol, putting her hand to her mouth. “I’ve really made a fine mess of things.”

“Well, well. Then it’s no surprise that he doesn’t know of any wise women because he’s sentenced them all to death! That’s why I asked you to keep quiet.”

“But Dag, I couldn’t stop doing something about it. I sensed that the child was alive and that it suffered. I could feel it in the whole room. It was as if all the walls cried out to me.”

“Then, for everybody’s sake, I just hope you’ll find the little boy,” Dag said in a worried voice.