C1 Chapter 1

As time went by, things happened just as Sol had predicted. In the very year when she went to her death, a baby girl was born. She was Liv and Dag’s second child and was named Cecilie after Silje and Charlotte. She might even be described as a second Sol but she was completely without Sol’s cold-heartedness and deep sense of torment.

But not so far from where this gorgeous newborn baby girl was born, on a farmstead at Eikeby, a far less fortunate and deformed child was also seeing the light of day for the first time. The Eikeby farmstead was one of many that made up the Graastensholm estate, and it was a continuous source of worry to its landlord, Baron Dag Meiden and his mother, Charlotte. They did their best to prevent the tenant family from starving, but their task was made more difficult by the fact that the old crofter who lived there had taken the words of the Bible that commanded mankind to “go forth and multiply” literally. His youngest children were still toddlers when his eldest son got married and took over the daily running of the farm. He also turned out to be very much his father’s son in his determination to populate the world as quickly as possible. By 1607, the son had produced fifteen children, all of whom struggled for food along with their older aunts and uncles at the dinner table.

One of these fifteen children was named Yrja. She was a baby who’d caused Tengel much trouble at her birth by trying to make her entrance feet first. It was an arrival that was to prove symbolic and typical of her young life: almost everything she put her hand to in her early years seemed to be done the wrong way.

Yrja didn’t have a good life as a baby. Her exhausted mother was unable to produce enough breast milk to feed the little weakling. Her childhood years weren’t much better because Yrja was always left the last scraps of food on the table. As a result, her body hadn’t developed properly. She’d suffered the condition that would come to be known centuries later as the “English sickness,” which was rickets. All the neighbours said that this was because while her mother was pregnant with Yrja, she’d met a crippled man on the road and this had undoubtedly caused the illness.

Yrja’s mum regarded her as a nuisance. She already had several other young children to care for and felt that Yrja contributed little or nothing to the family and was therefore useless.

Her dad was still obliged to perform some extra duties for the Graastensholm estate as part of his tenure. One day, as he was leaving for the manor, his wife asked him in sheer frustration to take the girl with him.

“Then I’ll have one less to take care of,” she yelled. “At least for one day!”

Yrja’s dad was irritated and told his wife that it was impossible to take a child out working with him.

“Then tie her to a tree while you work!” his wife said. “It’s the day when I do my laundry and I just can’t look after all these little ones – and the older ones will be helping me with the laundry.”

So this was how it was decided that Yrja was to go with him. She was six years old at the time, and it was already clear that she’d inherited her dad’s heavy peasant shape and face. Every time her mum looked at her, she felt that she was staring at a mutilated and deformed thistle.

The landlord’s children, Tarald and Cecilie, and their cousin, Sunniva, were playing at Graastensholm when they caught sight of the little girl, who was tied to a tree not far from the barn. She was standing, head bowed, kicking her toe idly in the dirt, casting furtive glances at the children as they played. The look on her face and her behavior betrayed what she thought: What fun they’re having! If only I could join in! ...

Her aunts and uncles had often told her about children’s parties at Graastensholm. They’d all been invited but that had been when Dag was a little boy.

Cecilie – who despite her being the youngest of the three was the one who often made the decisions – stopped and stared when she realised that Yrja was tied to a tree.

“She can play with us, can’t she?” she asked the others.

Tarald and Sunniva looked at Yrja. It was obvious to them that she wasn’t exactly smashing to look at, heavily built, undernourished and deformed as she was. But just as the roots of a pine tree can often grow on an exposed craggy outcrop and still find the nourishment to grow strong and tower over its neighbours, Yrja, despite all the odds against her, managed to thrive. She was indeed a tall thistle.

“Yes, why not?” chirped Tarald. “We can ask.”

They ran over to the girl and stopped a few yards away from her. Yrja’s toe was now digging frantically in the dirt in embarrassment.

“Hello,” said Tarald. “What’s your name?”

She whispered something without looking up.

“What did you say?” asked Cecilie, taking a step closer.

The girl swallowed hard again and she tried to speak but the words were clearly stuck in her throat. Overcome by shyness, she covered her face with her arm.

Then at last she managed to say “Yrja.”

“Yrja? Was that what you said?”

She nodded but was too shy to look at them.

“Yrja?” repeated Sunniva. “Surely nobody’s called that.”

The girl looked as if she wanted the earth to swallow her up.

“What do you know about it?” said Cecilie scornfully. “You don’t know every name in the world”

“Would you like to come and play with us?” asked Tarald. Yrja raised her head to look at him and at that very moment she’d gladly die for him if he were to ask.

Then she lowered her glance again without answering.

“We’ll ask your dad,” decided Cecilie. “He’s the Eikeby crofter, right?”

Yrja nodded eagerly. She thought that her dad would say no. But at least they’d asked me. They’d actually asked!

The three of them ran towards the barn where Yrja’s dad and some other workers were repairing the entrance ramp, and only then did Yrja have the courage to glance in their direction.

The boy was so handsome with dark hair and eyebrows like seabirds in flight, she thought, remembering how they swayed upwards at their centres. One of the two girls was very pretty and as graceful as a porcelain vase that Yrja had once seen. And the other girl, the youngest, was a bundle of energy who’d already dirtied her fine dress although it was still early in the morning.

Now they were all standing eagerly around Yrja’s dad and she could see that he wasn’t going to be easily persuaded.

At that moment a lady came towards the barnyard. She was a gentle, fine lady and Yrja recognized her immediately. She was the lady from Linden Avenue, and all three children ran over to her at once.

“Grandma, Grandma, can Yrja play with us? Tell her dad that she may – he doesn’t believe us.”

Hearing the urgency in their voices, Silje gave them a warm smile. “Of course she may. I’ll go over and speak with him. But isn’t that the little girl who ... Yes, I’m sure it is!”

She waved the Eikeby crofter to join her and they all walked over to the child who was tied to the tree.

“Now, children,” said Silje. “I want you to know that young Yrja was born the morning after you, Tarald. My husband, Tengel, helped to bring both of you into the world almost at the same time. He rode back and forth between Eikeby and Graastensholm all through the day and night. There’s only seven hours difference in your ages. And you, Sunniva, were born five days after them.

“What about me, then?” asked Cecilie, who was the alert and attentive one. “How come I don’t belong in this group as well? How come it’s only the others that are special?”

“Dear Cecilie,” laughed Silje. “You’re only five years old. You’ve been reminding me for several weeks that your birthday is coming soon. But one year isn’t a great difference. What’s more, there’s something else that binds you to the others – you’re a true image of Sunniva’s mum, Sol, although she was darker – and maybe just a little more beautiful. She was the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Tarald nodded. “I’ve seen a portrait of her at Linden Avenue.”

“Oh, that doesn’t do her justice at all,” said Silje who realised that Sunniva needed to know that her mum had been remarkable. “Sol sparkled with so much life and vitality that it took your breath away.”

“Sol was my mum,” said Sunniva proudly. “But am I not as beautiful as she was?”

Silje gazed at her for a moment. “You’re not really like her at all, Sunniva. You’ve got blonde hair and blue eyes and you’re as delicate as a butterfly. But you can be sure that you’ve got your own very special beauty.”

None of the children had heard about Sol’s terrible fate; how she was due to be burned at the stake as a witch after murdering Sunniva’s father, Heming the Bailiff-killer, with a pitchfork, or how Tengel had managed to send her poison on her last night in prison in order to spare her the agony and torment of the fire. All they knew was that she had died shortly after Sunniva was born.

From time to time, Sunniva had asked about her dad only to be told that he was dead and that she’d inherited his fine and handsome looks. Nobody ever spoke of how he’d met his cruel end. And nobody ever uttered even part of his despised name out loud.

“Tarald, you must untie Yrja now,” said Silje kindly, “and then, when you’ve finished playing, invite her to have dinner with us.”

This was how Yrja was introduced to Graastensholm, and from then on she would often spend her days there. The four children, so close in age, stuck together through thick and thin. It was as if the three Graastensholm children needed to have Yrja with them, though they didn’t know why.

It had to be said that they divided up the workload somewhat unevenly: Yrja was always given the boring, less glamorous roles in all their games like running errands, standing watch and other menial tasks. Sunniva could do nothing she was assigned – the others decided that she was hopeless – while Tarald and Cecile waged a continuous battle over who was in charge. This was a battle which Cecile consistently won since she always refused to be beaten by an older sibling.

The adults couldn’t conceal their surprise at how completely Yrja had been integrated into the group. Liv believed that maybe they needed somebody to impress; a phenomenon not unknown either to children or adults. From Yrja’s point of view and that of her family, this new lifestyle brought great improvements for her. She was well fed at Graastensholm, sometimes getting extra helpings, and she began to grow and get stronger. After a few months Silje decided to take Yrja under her wing, moving her into service at Linden Avenue. Yrja would come a few days every week to help Silje with lighter tasks in the studio and around the house. Everyone was pleased with the arrangement, especially because Silje would reward the girl with a treat now and then – an item of clothing or a small coin.

Surprisingly, Sunniva was also keen to help her grandmother, at least in the studio where exciting things happened. So the two girls took it in turns to help Silje who wasn’t quite as agile as she had been in her younger days. This arrangement worked fine, especially since Silje could just ask them to leave if she thought it was too much bother to have the two girls around in the room.

It had been several years since Sunniva had moved to Graastensholm where she was brought up together with Dag and Liv’s two children. Silje had been forced to give up pretty quickly because she no longer had the energy to have young children in the house and Liv had gladly offered to take care of the orphaned girl.

Silje had been somewhat concerned for her youngest child, Are, who showed no signs of wanting to marry and settle down with a family. All that he was focused on was the farm, the animals, the harvest, the houses and the forests. This worried Silje and she fretted and put pressure on him. She wanted more grandchildren, and the farm needed a capable housewife.

When the moment finally arrived ... the ‘proposal’ took on a ludicrous aspect. It happened during Yrja’s first year at Linden Avenue. One day all the grandchildren were spending time with their grandparents, Silje and Tengel, at Linden Avenue where they were playing hide-and-seek. For some reason or other, they became distracted and they’d forgotten Yrja, who had hidden in the cowbarn. She sat as quiet as a mouse in the calving stall, wondering why nobody came to find her.

Then yes, she heard a noise. Somebody was coming. But these were heavier footsteps than those of a child – so she drew back deeper into the shadows.

Peeping through a crack in the cowbarn’s wooden partition, she saw that it was Klaus, the stable boy at Graastensholm, who had come down to Linden Avenue and was searching for an old bridle but he didn’t notice Yrja. Suddenly another of Sol’s protégés also entered the building on an errand of her own. It was Meta, who over the years had been of immense help to the family.

Klaus had never been very quick on the uptake. For many years he’d bitterly mourned Sol, overcome at her loss. He’d been devoted to her but then without warning he’d taken a liking to the diminutive Meta, who had hair the colour of ripened corn. Now, meeting her so unexpectedly like this alone in the barn, temptation became too strong for him.

Proudly he caught hold of Meta and asked abruptly if she would like to see his manhood with no clothes on. Meta wasn’t the least bit interested and her screams began to pierce Yrja’s eardrums. Yrja panicked and crept on all fours towards the door where she was almost run down by Meta. The two girls dashed out and met Silje who was coming towards them on her way to the barn. Meta was a sickly green in the face and hurried into the gap between two of the farm buildings and vomited violently. In the heat of the moment, nobody noticed little, inconspicuous Yrja.

“Good heavens,” said Silje in an alarmed tone of voice, “what’s wrong? Are you sick?”

Meta turned to face Silje, teeth clattering, but she shook her head.

“It was Klaus ... He unfastened his trousers and ... it was big!” She turned away suddenly and vomited once more.

“Oh, my goodness!” gasped Silje in a horrified voice and ran into the barn. Klaus was still standing in the same place with an embarrassed grin on his face. He had refastened his clothes again.

“You mustn’t do things like that, Klaus!” said Silje in a calm and determined voice. “Especially not to Meta!”

Unseen inside the shadowy doorway, Yrja stood listening, but still nobody noticed her presence.

“But I like her so much,” replied Klaus sheepishly.

“Forget it,” snapped Silje. “You must understand that Meta was terribly frightened and injured once by a group of soldiers. They all exposed themselves to her as you just did – and they did much worse things besides! So when you acted in a similar way just now, she remembered that awful day and was so shaken that she became sick. Do you understand?”

Klaus was very upset. “But Sol liked it. And now I want to lie with Meta.”

Silje gritted her teeth at hearing about Sol. “That will never happen! Forget Meta, my boy! Haven’t you noticed that there’s a girl here on the farm who always tries to catch your eye?”

“Tries to catch my eye ...?”

“Who likes you!”

“Me? Somebody who likes me?”

Silje was making things up as fast as she could go – she’d never acted as a matchmaker before. But she was determined to save Meta from the attentions of a man who was totally unsuitable for her.

“Who is it?”

“Rosa! Rosa with the red cheeks and the friendly smile. Haven’t you noticed her working in our kitchen?”

Watching the workings of Klaus’ mind as he tried to think was torture. Obviously he hadn’t noticed the chubby kitchen maid with the stocky legs who worked for Silje. Like Klaus, Rosa was also a simple soul with no family and too many summers behind her to be a temptation to most of the young, single men. She was certainly five years older than Klaus but she was so good-hearted. And Silje had no idea what Rosa thought of Klaus but she had every reason to believe that Rosa would be grateful for the attentions of almost any man.

As a result of this impulsive intervention, Silje sought out Rosa later in the day as she was cleaning some pots and pans in the kitchen. Taking her aside, she asked gently: “Have you ever noticed that you have an admirer, Rosa?”

The well-rounded maid blushed, her cheeks turned bright crimson. “An admirer – me? No, you must be joking. Who could that be?”

“Klaus, the stable boy who sometimes comes here from Graastensholm.” Silje paused, giving the maid time to reflect. Sure enough, as soon as Silje had told Klaus about Rosa, he’d found a reason to linger outside the kitchen window to find out more about Rosa and catch a glimpse of her. Now, if Meta kept quiet about Klaus’ little indiscretion – and she probably would – and he also kept his secret, then Rosa would never know he’d tried to shame another girl.

“Mm ... yes, well I suppose I did see him outside the kitchen window earlier. But I wouldn’t have thought such a big, strapping, handsome boy as him would be ...”

“He’s not very bright, you know, Rosa,” interrupted Silje, “but he’s nice.”

“I don’t suppose I’m all that bright either, come to think of it. Did he say if he’d soon be coming here again?”

“Not in so many words, Rosa. But he often has to come here on errands.” Rosa was silent for a moment. “Then would it be alright for me to offer him some pancakes? I can take the stale ones, of course.”

Silje smiled. “Offer the best our house can offer. He’s worth it even if he’s no genius.”

You should be ashamed of yourself said Silje to herself, giggling as she entered the parlour. What have you started now?

As soon as Silje had left the kitchen, Rosa grabbed hold of Yrja to keep her from following Silje. “Yrja, you’re often at Graastensholm, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Couldn’t you take a message to Klaus, the stable boy – he’s the handsomest on the whole farm. You can’t miss him – and say that if he comes down, I’ll treat him to a feast – oh, say it’s because he did such a good job of curing Tengel’s lame horse last winter.”

Yrja nodded and promised to pass on the message. She knew who Klaus was but to say that he was the ‘handsomest’ at Graastensholm – well, no, that was something she couldn’t understand! Rosa’s eyes followed Yrja’s little, twisted body as she went in search of her revered Silje. Rosa could hardly wait until Klaus had an opportunity to visit her. Imagine! Such a fine-looking man!

Quietly, Yrja entered the parlour at just the moment that Silje was about to get her second surprise that day. Tengel – big, brooding and frightening to behold – was walking over to them. Yrja knew that behind his ugly appearance there was nothing but goodness and decency. She also knew that next year he’d turn sixty. Yet he looked far younger than her own dad, who still had some way to go before his fiftieth year.

“What’s going on, Silje?” asked Tengel. “I’ve just heard that Meta has walked out and left us! She’s gone to a family in Tønsberg that has been asking her to work for them as a kitchen maid. She said that either she or Klaus must leave and because she’s worth less to us, then she’d be the one to go.”

Are came in just in time to hear Tengel’s last few words and he immediately looked alarmed. “What? Has Meta left? But we can’t do without her! We need her!”

“Looks like we’ll have to do without her if she doesn’t want to stay here,” answered Tengel. “Besides, you’re always complaining about her work although she does exactly the same amount of work as you do. So why are you so upset?”

The maid, who had told Tengel about Meta’s departure, said: “Something must have happened between Meta and Klaus because she was so terribly upset. She was crying her eyes out and wanted to leave as quickly as possible.”

“When did she leave? And how?” shouted Are.

“She left with a small bundle in her hand about one or two hours ago.”

Are was absolutely livid. “I’ll ride after her – straightaway!”

Silje followed him into the hallway. “Are ... please be careful! Remember what once happened to Meta. This is why she’s left. Klaus merely showed himself, which awakened bad memories for her.”

“I’ll beat him into a pulp with my own two hands!”

“No!” said Silje forcefully. “I’ve taken care of Klaus. She won’t have anything to fear from him any more.”

“Are you absolutely sure about that?”

“Completely sure. He has other interests now.”

Are merely nodded. He knew very well that there was no harm in Klaus – he was just simple and not very bright.

Shortly afterwards, Yrja heard the sound of hooves galloping down Linden Avenue and she knew Are was on his way to find Meta and bring her home.

Yrja never found out what Are did after he’d left the yard. Quite honestly, she didn’t know what all the fuss had been about anyway. Klaus had done something nasty in the barn – but whatever it was she hadn’t been able to see from her hiding place. What’s more, Silje and Tengel wouldn’t ever know the full truth of Are’s bid to save Meta .

They didn’t know that Are rode like mad in the direction of Tønsberg, his mind full of turmoil, full of regret for the years he felt he’d lost.

Before long, he caught up with Meta and slowed his horse a little to collect his thoughts. Dear me, he thought, she looks so tiny. He remembered that day seven years ago when Sol had come home with this little, wretched, lost individual. How angry he’d been then at her Scanian dialect and how unpleasant he’d been to her.

He jumped off the horse, and Meta turned to look up at him, wide-eyed and frightened, her eyelids swollen from all her bouts of sobbing.

“Why, Meta?” he asked in a tone of voice that was a shade too harsh. “Why are you running away like this?”

Her lips began to tremble again and he realised that he’d expressed himself badly. “We can’t do without you on the farm, Meta. Surely you realise that?” he almost shouted.

She turned away.

“What I mean to say is that I can’t do without you, Meta.”

“You? But you’ve always scolded me. You’ve always disliked me.”

“Have I?” he asked aggressively. “Yes, maybe at first I did – but have I done so these past years?”

Meta paused to reflect. “No,” she answered in surprise. “It just felt that way.”

“This is something you’ve imagined,” said Are. “Because you and I have always worked well together, haven’t we?”

“Yes,” she whispered, head bowed.

Are remembered the little shadow who’d followed him everywhere in the fields and outbuildings. And now she was about to disappear!

Without pausing for breath, he suddenly blurted out as though it were one long word: “Metawillyoumarryme?”

Are hadn’t ever seen such a perplexed expression on anybody’s face as he saw then. He was taken aback at his own outburst.

“Me?” she whispered. “But I’m just a maid on a farm!”

“You’re much more than that. It wasn’t until you were gone that it dawned on me how much you meant to me!”

Tears began to drop from her half-closed eyes. Are didn’t understand where his courage came from or where he’d found the words. Girls and ‘things like that’ hadn’t been part of his life until that moment. He had no experience to tell him how to act, which could be the reason why he sounded brusque.

“Maybe you don’t want to, then?” he asked quietly.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“Is this because of what happened all that time ago?”

She nodded her head rapidly.

“But ...” Are paused, agonizing over how to express himself. “But you do like me, don’t you, Meta? Just a little bit?”

In a muffled, squeaky voice, she replied: “I like you a lot.”

“So, if ... what happened years ago ... hadn’t happened, would you have said ‘Yes?’”

“I’m not worthy of you.”

“Oh, come on!” His words just poured out and again he thought: Oh, no. I was too harsh with her again. This wasn’t going very well at all. Why wasn’t there anybody here to help him get out of his dilemma? The country road was deserted as far as the eye could see. Although if he was honest, he didn’t want anybody to witness this embarrassing mess he’d created for himself.

“My own parents weren’t always so well respected,” he said at last, speaking slowly and more quietly. “There was a time when they were outcasts themselves, a bit like you. And Aunt Charlotte was the only one who saved us from starvation. What do you say to that?”

“I don’t know what to say, Sir ” said Meta.

“Please call me Are.”

“A ... Are,” she repeated breathlessly, unaccustomed to addressing him by his first name.

“Listen to me, Meta, he said, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. “If you have no wish ... to share a bed with me, then you won’t have to. I’m not a ... passionate person.”

Did that sound foolish, he asked himself? He was sure it did but he was afraid of using other words.

“If only you’ll marry me ... and let me ... surround you with my love, then that will be enough.”

Now she’ll certainly laugh at me, he thought feverishly. But no, she wasn’t laughing. Taking a deep breath, he continued in a firm voice, “Although I’ve said that, I ... er ... would dearly like to have a child ... or two. I’m sure you understand – Mum nags me all the time about it.”

Meta bowed her head so that he saw only the blond hair on her neck. “I’m not without feelings,” she whispered. “It’s just that when certain things happen – like they did today – I freeze inside.”

“Do you compare me with Klaus?”

Meta was aghast at the thought as she looked up at him. It struck her how handsome he was; tall and strong, with black hair and classic, prominent cheekbones. It was his down-to-earth, earnest manner that she trusted and which made her feel safe – and she wanted to stay close to him.

“Oh, no! I’d never do that!” she exclaimed.

With a gentle gesture, he pulled her close and kissed her forehead. He wasn’t moved to do anything more. He was pleased to have achieved that much at least. Meta trembled but remained pressed close to him.

“Think about it,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. “But at least come back home. Mum seems to have ‘dealt’ with Klaus so you have no reason to fear anything from him any more.”

***

Of course, Silje had no idea about all this. All she – and a wide-eyed Yrja knew was that Are came riding back into the yard with Meta sitting in front of him, beaming happily. They’d ridden slowly back, deep in conversation.

“Mum, we’re going to get married,” he cried from a distance as if trying to prevent any objections.

But there were no objections at all. On the contrary, both Tengel and Silje and the whole family were very happy for them.

And Klaus? A few days after Silje had conspired to bring him and Rosa together she caught sight of them secretly making their way towards the barn. Silje chuckled softly – Rosa wouldn’t be so afraid to see what Klaus was so proud of showing her.

“Are they going to thresh corn at this time of the year?” Yrja asked in surprise.

“Yes, I suppose you could say that,” smiled Silje.

After talking things over, Tengel and Charlotte decided to give Klaus a smallholding that had been standing empty for some years, and Klaus made an honest woman of Rosa just in time to avoid a scandal. They had two children before Rosa’s childbearing years were behind her- two children who, while they made no epoch-breaking discoveries, were blessed with far greater intellect than both their parents.

Meta wasn’t about to disappoint the family either. She produced three boys in rapid succession, which proved that she wasn’t lacking in passion for her Are.

Although little Yrja loved everyone in the family at Linden Avenue, she was especially fond of Silje, whom she placed high above all the others.

She was unable to understand her own parents. She still lived at home, yet each morning her mother would ask: “Won’t you be off to Linden Avenue today?”

And when Yrja answered that Sunniva would be helping her mum today, Yrja’s mum would become irritated, wondering why ‘that spoilt girl’ had to stick her nose in everywhere.

Before working at Linden Avenue, Yrja had always been too weak to care for and carry her small brothers and sisters. Now that she was stronger and healthier, she asked many times if she could do work around the house. But her parents always refused to hear of it.

“Mind you don’t lift things that are too heavy,” they would say, seemingly full of consideration. Instead they insisted that she look after Are and Meta’s three young sons. Yrja couldn’t understand this at all. She couldn’t get into her head that she was their most important source of income. Every small thing she was given at Linden Avenue – and occasionally at Graastensholm – was of no value in her eyes and she handed all of these to her parents. They, in turn, were afraid that she would hurt herself and that they’d lose all the good things Yrja provided – food, clothes and, above all, the coin that Silje would regularly give her.

For her part, all that mattered to Yrja was being at Linden Avenue. As she spent more and more time there, the signs of low self-esteem, lack of self-confidence and hunger that she’d suffered at the hands of her parents began to disappear. Somehow she seemed to absorb knowledge from Tengel and Silje, simply by being around them. Meta taught her housekeeping skills and she enjoyed and benefited from the company of her three friends.

Very quietly and in her own way, Yrja’s personality continued to grow and develop but because she was so quiet and shy, nobody took notice of it - at first.