C2 Chapter 2

Tarjei had no plans to turn up at Linden Avenue as Kolgrim was hoping. At least not for the moment.

Fortunately, he’d survived the smallpox epidemic he was treating and he’d graduated from the University of Tübingen with flying colours. This enabled him to choose among several very attractive job offers.The Ice People had never been short of money since Tengel the Good had practiced his skills as a healer and physician. On top of that, Silje’s oil paintings and tapestries had fetched more money than she’d ever needed. So Tarjei had felt that he was free to choose whatever path he wanted without worrying about money. He had turned down a tempting offer to teach medicine at Tübingen and for some obscure reason decided instead to accept a less lucrative post in Erfurt as assistant to a very learned physician, who was researching a number of different illnesses.

During his time at Tübingen, one of Tarjei’s childhood dreams had been fulfilled. He’d met Johannes Kepler, the famous mathematician and astronomer, who had visited the university towards the end of his life. He and Tarjei had been drawn into profound personal debate that went on long into the night.

During those final years, Kepler, who by then was troubled by illness and exhausted from people’s ignorance and obstinate foolishness, had become very disillusioned. But he found the conversation with the young and idealistic Tarjei revived his spirit, and the two of them discussed science and philosophy until their eyelids drooped.

Almost as soon as they began talking, they found that they had something in common. It turned out that Kepler’s mother had died in 1622 after having been denounced as a witch and put in prison for thirteen months. Tarjei told the great man how his relation, Sol, had suffered a similar fate. The discussions that started on the subject of the witch hunts had ended with Kepler’s latest hobby horses: logarithms and atmospheric refraction.

Tarjei had already been in Erfurt for a while and was enjoying his work despite such obvious risks as the recent smallpox epidemic, which he’d come through unharmed due to great care in hygiene and some good fortune. His mentor was very pleased with his progress and considered that he had a brilliant future ahead of him – as long as their churchmen and great leaders, in their stupidity, didn’t burn him at the stake for heresy because of his wide knowledge and skills. After all, they’d burned Jan Hus, a Czech religious philosopher and reformer at Prague’s Charles University. And they had judged the Italian astronomer Galileo guilty of heresy, hadn’t they, for propagating the theory that the earth revolved around the sun? Because of all these things, Kepler warned that Tarjei would need to be careful.

When he had the time, Tarjei would make occasional visits to his old friends at Löwenstein Castle. There he found that Countess Cornelia Erbach am Breuburg was no longer the chubby young girl he’d first met. In the intervening years she’d grown into a very pretty, strong-willed and self-confident young lady of seventeen. Her benevolent aunt and uncle had planned to arrange a marriage for her to a redundant German duke, but Cornelia was having none of it.

Little Marca Christiana was eight years old. She was a bright and well-behaved child who would sit close to Tarjei’s chair whenever he was visiting, listening intently to the exchanges between him and her parents without understanding very much at all. Cornelia, on the other hand, often involved herself in the conversations, making confident assertions that Tarjei found a little irritating.

One day Cornelia asked her uncle: “Tarjei has a great future ahead of him, isn’t that right?”

“A brilliant one, I should think.”

“Then wouldn’t he be a fine match?”

“For the right girl of his own class, certainly. But not for you, Cornelia, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Why not?” Cornelia demanded.

“Because, my dear Cornelia, you’re a countess and Tarjei isn’t even a nobleman.”

“But the name Lind of the Ice People would fool any of those old fossils who decide who’s to be included on the list of royals and landed gentry in the Almanach de Gotha.”

“A match between you and Tarjei is out of the question, Cornelia! Does this mean that he’s proposed to you?”

“No, but ...”

“Well, there you are! Maybe he doesn’t even want you.”

“Of course he does!” she retorted. “I’ll just have to elope with him, then!”

“Don’t be so stupid, Cornelia! If you do that, you’d destroy his future.”

“Wouldn’t you be able to grant him a noble rank, uncle?”

The Count of Löwenstein and Scarffeneck shook his head.

“Only a noble of princely rank can do that.”

“Princely?” repeated Cornelia thoughtfully. “Tarjei has a cousin who’s married to a prince.”

“Really?”

“Yes, well almost - if one has to be more precise. His name is Paladin and he’s a marquis, although his grandmother, or some such, was certainly a princess.”

The Count nodded. “Paladin is a good name. It must be the sovereign house of Schwarzburg.”

“Yes, that’s it! Then I’ll ask him.”

Her uncle smiled “I doubt that he can do very much. And in any case it would be better first to ask Tarjei what he thinks.”

“I intend to – you can be sure of that!”

Unfortunately, Tarjei reacted unsympathetically to her plans. “Why in all the world should I be ennobled?” he asked her.

Cornelia’s jaw dropped and for a few moments she was speechless. She could only stare back at him, shaking her head in a little gesture of disbelief. Unaware of the effect of his question, Tarjei continued his line of thought: “Besides, I could never approach Alexander with such a request – you must understand that! Even if he was able to persuade his princely relatives in Schwarzburg, I should be mortally ashamed to have shown such bad manners! I’m sorry, Cornelia, but today I really don’t understand you.”

Cornelia flew into a rage and turned on her heel, shouting: “Oh! You’re so stupid! So stupid.” Half-sobbing with anger and frustration, she stormed angrily out of his presence, grinding her teeth.

“Have I ever been anything but stupid in your eyes?” he called after her.

After that exchange, she refused to speak to him for several weeks, deliberately keeping herself out of his sight whenever he visited. She did, however, spend a lot of time up in the gallery, watching him from behind a drape, whenever he came to visit. So a stalemate developed between them that for a time seemed unbridgeable. Then, quite unexpectedly, misfortune came to her rescue.

Tarjei had never quite understood what it was that made his time at Löwenstein so enjoyable. But during his last few visits he’d felt ill at ease because something was clearly missing – though he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was. It only became clear to him when disaster struck.

Mercenaries, who had served under Wallenstein, were heading for Erfurt – a large marauding band of them. News of their approach went ahead of them, saying that they were completely undisciplined and spurred on solely by a desire to plunder and pillage. On hearing this, the Count, as Commander of the Erfurt garrison, set off to prepare the town’s defences and hastened to meet the rampaging throngs – but by doing so, he inadvertently left Löwenstein vulnerable to an assault.

The Count anticipated that they would make directly for Erfurt, which offered richer spoils, so he believed that the castle would be of no interest to them because it was situated a long way outside the town. So he’d not expected them to strike from that direction.

With only a handful of servants and the Count’s own family left behind, Löwenstein was, to all intents and purposes, undefended.

When it came, the attack was as unexpected as it was brutal. Countess Juliana took the women and children with her to hide in one of the towers, but she hadn’t been able to find Cornelia. She’d sent one of the servant girls off on a search, only to hear the poor girl’s anguished cries from below the tower as she was raped by the soldiers. Unable to leave Marca Christiana, the Countess had been powerless to save her servant.

Tarjei was on his way to the castle when he discovered he had company. He spotted a large group of mercenaries on the road ahead of him and reined in his horse. As he came to a halt, he saw a frightened young boy of about fifteen lying half hidden in the ditch where he’d managed to escape being seen by the men on foot.

“Here, quickly!” Tarjei ordered him. “Take my horse and ride straight to the Garrison Commander – he’ll most certainly be in town by now. Tell him that soldiers are on their way to Löwenstein and that I’ll do what I can. My name’s Tarjei.”

The boy was in the saddle and galloping away almost before Tarjei had finished speaking. When he and the horse were out of sight, Tarjei remained standing in the road, his heart pounding. He’d never had any burning desire to play the hero – intellectual challenges appealed much more to him. He could see that there were a great many soldiers and they’d already broken through the castle gate, but what could he do? He was on his own, with no experience or training for such a situation.

Then his thoughts turned to those unfortunate souls left in the castle. Even though he could do very little, it was still his duty to try and help them. He shuddered and took a deep breath.

“Don’t lose heart!” he muttered to himself.

It was not difficult to enter the castle unseen and he could hear the men yelling and shouting while he was still some way off. It sounded to him as if they were ransacking the banqueting hall and, keeping an eye out for anyone he knew, Tarjei tiptoed warily around the inside walls. Had he not been feeling so worried and frightened, he would have thought his antics quite ridiculous. Then all of a sudden, he heard a young girl’s terrified screams.

“Oh, dear God, it’s Cornelia!” he whispered to himself in horror – and it was at that very moment that he realised the reason for his low spirits in recent weeks. The reason was indeed Cornelia and her absence during his visits! Now she was helpless in the brutal hands of the marauding troops.‘Cornelia, my dearest! My dearest!’ he repeated in his mind over and over again as he raced towards the sound, his thoughts in turmoil. If he’d taken the time to listen more attentively, he would have realised that those whining, pathetic screams would never have come from Cornelia, but in his anxiety, Tarjei was no longer thinking clearly.

Running down a long wooden-floored passageway, he could tell he wasn’t far from where the girl was screaming. It had occurred to him that no matter how courageous he might be where Cornelia’s life and virtue was concerned, alone against an armed bunch of mercenaries he could do very little.

He saw a bardiche – an ancient long-poled axe – standing against a wall, part of a decorative display, and he grabbed its handle and started banging it violently on the floor. At the same time, he stamped his feet as hard and as fast as he could, to make it sound as if he wasn’t alone. In no time at all, the passageway was echoing with what sounded like dozens of running feet.

“This way, Commander!” yelled Tarjei at the top of his voice, addressing imaginary castle defenders. “Here they are, the mercenary blackguards! Shoot them down! Show them no mercy!”

The sound of Tarjei’s voice, apparently giving orders, took the invading soldiers in the banqueting hall by surprise and they began bumping into each other as they ran helter-skelter to leave by the far door. They shouted raucously to each other: “The garrison troops are here! Flee!”

Tarjei continued banging and stamping his feet for a few more minutes until he considered it was safe to stop.

Then he went quickly to the distressed girl where she lay sobbing in a heap. He saw at once that it wasn’t his Cornelia, but any relief he may have felt was swept aside by his concern and pity for the disheveled and trembling young girl huddled on the flagstones in front of him.

“Aah, my dear child,” he said softly, “let me help you up. Here, hold my arm. Where’s your mistress?”

“In the tower,” she said, holding back her tears.

“Is everyone there?”

“No, not Miss Cornelia. I was sent to see if I could find her – and then without any warning they broke in!”

“Well, you hurry straight back to the tower now,” he told the girl. “And leave it to me to try and find Cornelia.”

Tarjei’s heart quickly filled with dread as he contemplated what he might do next. He was quite sure that he knew where Cornelia would be hiding. She’d once shown him her secret little hiding place on the second floor, close to the large spiral stairway that led to the battlements.On remembering this, he raced through the castle like a madman, taking no notice of what was happening outside. If he’d done so, he would have noticed that the panic and uncertainty he’d started was spreading through the mercenaries’ ranks and they’d already begun to flee the castle. Unfortunately for them, they met the Count’s troops as they crossed the drawbridge over the moat.

The town garrison had already been told of the irregulars near Löwenstein and they’d begun marching towards the castle when they met the young rider Tarjei had sent back. On hearing the boy’s news, the Count had pressed his men onward at an even faster pace.

Now the mercenaries tried to turn back into the castle courtyard but this time one of the servants had been very quick on the uptake and dropped the portcullis, trapping a confused bunch of troops on the bridge. Many chose to jump into the moat, and few were left alive after the encounter. There were still a small number of stragglers inside the castle – men who’d been too far away to hear the warning shouts of their comrades.

Tarjei had almost reached Cornelia’s hiding place when he heard a bad tempered woman’s voice and this time there was no mistake. This was Cornelia at her best – or maybe her worst.

“You keep your hairy arms to yourself, you monkey!” she was shouting in a tone that would have been ice-cold with contempt had her voice not risen in anger to a falsetto pitch. “Do you honestly think that I’d let something as ugly and dirty as you lay a hand on me? And that goes for you, too!” she added in an even sharper tone. “Your mother must have been serviced by a boar to give birth to you, you deformed wretch!”

‘Good God!’ thought Tarjei as he approached the door behind which he could hear her voice. ‘It’s a good job that the polite Aunt Juliana is in the tower and can’t hear any of this.’

He didn’t stop at the door but flung it open and stormed in without thinking, ready to protect a damsel in distress. They say that fortune favours the brave, but in this case it favoured the fool. He was still carrying the heavy bardiche and he rushed headlong into the antechamber, swinging the weapon recklessly back and forth in front of him in an alarming way.

The two soldiers – who were neither ugly nor deformed – fled from the room in an instant when they caught sight of Tarjei. But it was sounds from the bridge below rather than fear of Tarjei that made them withdraw rapidly. This minor detail was of no importance to Cornelia, who saw in him her hero and she immediately threw herself straight into his arms.

“Oh, Tarjei, Tarjei. You came! I just knew you would!”

‘What awful melodramatics!’ he thought to himself, slightly irritated by her, but now that the danger was over, he was finding the situation quite funny.

He was about to speak, but was suddenly stopped by the unexpected closeness of Cornelia’s embrace. She wasted no time in taking full advantage of the moment, and with instinctive female cunning she made Tarjei think that he was the one who’d kissed her and not the other way round. Women have known how to use such glorious deceptions since mankind took its first steps, and Cornelia wasn’t about to waste such a golden opportunity.

Tarjei was far from an unwilling partner. The preoccupied scientist and scholar had never imagined that anything could be as heavenly as this. Now their lips had met, he couldn’t bring himself to end it and Cornelia was certainly not one to deny herself a pleasure like this either - but he was dragged reluctantly back from his flight of passion by the sound of a voice he couldn’t ignore.

“Well, well. What have we here?” asked Commander-in-Chief Georg Ludwig Eberhardsson of Löwenstein and Scharffeneck.

Tarjei gasped in horror and disentangled himself from Cornelia’s artful embrace.

“Oh, uncle!” she squealed enthusiastically. “Tarjei has compromised me! But like the true nobleman he is, his intentions were honourable, of course!”

“Now just wait a minute,” said Tarjei, taken by surprise. “Let’s reflect on what exactly happened here ...”

“Of course, you’ll ask for my hand, Tarjei, won ‘t you?” she prompted in a loud whisper. “That’s unavoidable now.”

“Your hand! Certainly not!”

“What? ” Cornelia gulped for air while her uncle watched their antics with a broad, amused grin.

Tarjei had regained his composure. “Stubborn young ladies make stubborn wives,” he told her.

For once in her life, Cornelia looked utterly helpless and vulnerable. Not even Tarjei, it seemed, wanted her. Her face had become a study in childish disappointment and rejection. Without Cornelia realising it, this was far more effective than all her determined arguments. At that moment, Tarjei’s heart softened and he touched her cheek gently with one hand.

“I didn’t mean to say that, Cornelia,” he apologised hastily. “I was only mocking you.” Then, thinking he was definitely going to be rebuffed, he turned to her uncle. “Sir, may I respectfully request the honour of your young ward’s hand in marriage?”

But to his amazement, the Count didn’t respond as he’d anticipated. He’d just seen with his own eyes how Tarjei was one of the few people able to keep a rein on Cornelia, in part at least. He was a man with prospects and his name had a certain aristocratic ring to it. Most importantly, he was entirely honourable. So, why not? There was no way out for Tarjei now.

***

The young couple was deeply in love and at first their life together was blissfully happy. Tarjei no longer worked into the small hours as he had done before they were married. Instead he hurried home because he wanted so desperately to be with Cornelia whenever possible. Even in his wildest dreams he’d never imagined that life could be so sweet, especially since he’d often watched and wondered at the seemingly strange behaviour of his fellow human beings who’d fallen in love. Then Cornelia became pregnant and it seemed that there was no limit to their happiness. In fact, it took quite a long time before he came to realise how dominated, some would say subjugated, he’d become.

Then in the autumn of 1634, Tarjei was handed a letter. It had been sent from Norway in the late summer of 1633 and contained the shocking news that little Mattias had disappeared. Tarjei was heartbroken and sat down to write a reply, saying that he’d come home immediately. Then he went to tell Cornelia the news.

“Cornelia, I’m sorry to say I have to travel home most urgently,” he said. “A young relative of mine has gone missing and I must know if he’s been found and give comfort to his parents. They’re my cousins.”

But of course another thought was also preying on his mind: Mattias was due to have inherited the treasures of the Ice People. If Mattias was gone, who was left for Tarjei to choose from? There was no doubt that the matter was extremely urgent.

Cornelia flew into a furious rage. How could he think of leaving her now when she was due to give birth in a few short months? Was he thinking of nobody but himself as usual?

By now, she’d shown herself to be uncompromising in many other ways. They lived in the castle because she didn’t like the idea of moving into a ‘wretched physician’s house.’ She bathed in his reflected glory now that he was gaining recognition, but didn’t want him to spend his days at work – his place was with her. When he was busy with a project, she would insist that he attend outings she’d arranged and which they ‘simply had to take.’ She had even pretended that she was ill in order to manipulate him, but adopted another strategy when she found that her husband had an uncanny knack of diagnosing sickness – or more importantly feigned sickness – very quickly.

Cornelia also enjoyed making Tarjei jealous for no other reason than to see how he reacted. Then when it suited her, she’d pretend to be jealous of him, and took great pleasure in hearing him explain how she had no reason to question his fidelity. She often started minor lovers’ quarrels just to delight in being reconciled afterwards. But Tarjei always had to be the first to make amends, even though she’d started the argument for no reason other than a fanciful whim. When at last he’d begged for forgiveness, she was cuddly and affectionate as a kitten, telling him that nobody on earth could be as perfectly happy as they were. As always, Tarjei would relax and slowly his nerves would settle down again – but it took longer and longer each time.

He attributed her behaviour to her impending motherhood. But deep down he knew all too well that this was the real Cornelia, just as she’d been the first time they met when she was nothing more than a child. She’d been just as self-assured and obstinate then as she was now.

So after having talked the matter over with Cornelia, Tarjei changed his reply to the letter from home. Instead he wrote that Cornelia’s pregnancy made it impossible for him to leave her and how he hoped with all his heart that Mattias had come back to them by now. He assured them of his sympathy and told them he’d be thinking of them all, day and night. He asked them to please write again as soon as they could.

Although he’d written letters home previously to tell them of his marriage to Cornelia and the baby they were expecting, he had no way of knowing whether or not they’d been received. However, on this occasion the postal services were swift and he soon received a reply from his dad, Are. The letter had been written with great self-control, but even so Tarjei was deeply upset when he read it.

The letter said that Mattias hadn’t been found. Yrja had become terribly sluggish and lethargic because she could find no joy in life any more. The letter added that Kolgrim was the one who helped them a lot so now everybody at Graastensholm put their trust in him. After all the violent arguments and suspicions when Mattias first went missing, emotions had calmed down and Tarald and Yrja now treated Kolgrim as their only son. Yet heartache still lingered in every corner of Graastensholm.

It hardly seemed possible but the letter said that things were becoming even worse at Linden Avenue. On top of the grief of losing Mattias, Meta had fallen seriously ill. Was it possible for Tarjei to come soon, his dad asked? They were putting their faith in him because there was nobody else to ask.

Only now it was much more difficult for Tarjei to leave. The baby was due in only a few weeks’ time and Cornelia had been feeling poorly – although her every symptom was grotesquely exaggerated. He quickly made up his mind that he’d travel home as soon as the baby was born no matter what Cornelia said because he was beginning to feel very worried indeed. Although he didn’t have very much in common with Meta, she was, after all, his mother, and he loved her dearly. Then there was poor little Mattias, of course, who’d always made him feel so happy and at ease. All in all, Tarjei felt that it was almost too much to take in.

Cornelia said nothing about his plans to leave after the baby was born. In fact, Cornelia said nothing about anything ever again. At the very moment that Tarjei’s son came into the world, his mother departed from it as quickly and as quietly as a candle being snuffed out. Despite all his skills as a physician, Tarjei could do nothing. Her life simply slipped through his fingers and he never knew why. He could do no more than guess that his Cornelia had a weak heart.

It wasn’t until after her death that Tarjei understood just how much he’d loved her. Her impertinent babble, her humour, the gentle touch of her hands and the way her arms so willingly and frequently wrapped around him in a lazy embrace. She could certainly be arrogant and manipulative at times but always, he reminded himself, she acted out of love for him.

As he pondered all these things in his deep sadness, he also gradually came to realise that in time Cornelia would almost certainly have destroyed his willpower. She would have watched his scientific pursuits fall to pieces without remorse provided he continued to love her loyally – and she would almost certainly have turned him into a disillusioned and embittered man. Yet despite realising all this, he remained inconsolable. It was Cornelia’s Aunt Juliana who sustained him.

“Go home to your family, Tarjei,” she said softly. “Go back home and take care of your ailing mother! You mustn’t allow yourself to mourn any longer. It’ll be your ruin. Cornelia has been laid to rest and I promise to take good care of your little son while you’re away.”

She paused before asking: “Have you given any thought to what his name will be?”

Tarjei reacted with a little expression of shocked realisation. He’d barely had time to look at the child since his birth and he realised he’d neglected him.

“His name? I don’t know. Mikael, I think, approximately after my dear mother, Meta – and Cornelius of course. Mikael Cornelius ... Yes! Those will be his names.”

“Very well!” said Juliana. “Then I’ll wish you a safe journey back home. You were a good man for Cornelia. She was happy right to the end, and she didn’t suffer at her death.”

Tarjei left shortly afterwards, leaving his grief behind him but feared that new sorrows lay ahead. Aboard the ship, as it fought its way across the open waters of the Kattegat, he lay listening to the wind whining as it tugged and beat at the rigging and the sails. The jarring sounds echoed his deep-seated conflict of emotions until eventually they seemed to swamp his consciousness. Was the noise coming from within him – or was nature’s harsh chorus a reflection of his own torment?

Until the ship set sail, he’d not found time to think much about his newborn son, Mikael Cornelius Lind of the Ice People. Now he tried to remember how he looked ... He had dark hair, of course, like both his parents. It was thick and black but with a tinge of the copper-brown that Silje’s auburn hair had contributed to the family and was still stubbornly making its appearance among her descendants. This was unusual because Tengel’s colouring, the jet-black hair and swarthy features of the Ice People, should have dominated. Dag’s and Meta’s blonde hair and blue eyes had little chance of making their mark on the following generations.

Like any newborn baby, Mikael’s face was largely devoid of character and had no distinguishing features that he could recall. He regretted now that he hadn’t spent more time cradling the boy in his arms, showing him from the start how much love he truly felt for him. Throughout his life, Tarjei realised, Mikael Cornelius would only ever have the love of one genuine parent due to the unfortunate circumstances of his birth. Growing drowsy in his cabin berth, Tarjei vowed quietly to himself that he’d never forget this and would always do his best to compensate for Cornelia’s absence. But as he fell into a troubled sleep, he wondered how he could care adequately for a young child on his own.

***

Tarjei returned to Linden Avenue on a dark and rainy day in April 1635. He arrived too late for him to do anything to save his mother because her condition had deteriorated and now she was beyond help. Nevertheless, she was delighted at seeing him again and his presence filled her with fresh hope. She was absolutely certain that her Tarjei could work wonders.

While he comforted her and made her final days free from pain, he contemplated the life that was ebbing away from the tiny frail body lying in that bed. Meta, born to a village whore, had grown up unhappy and alone. Rescued by Sol in the countryside in faraway Scania and brought back home, she’d become a good, well-respected, hardworking farmer’s wife at Linden Avenue where she’d borne three sons. Two of them had done well – one as a farmer and the other as a man of science – while the third, Trond, whom she’d also worshipped, had succumbed to the enduring curse of the Ice People.

Meta died shortly after Tarjei’s arrival. It was as if she’d been waiting to see him before she passed away. Her funeral was a magnificent affair and everything she could have wished for. It wasn’t until it was over that Tarjei felt able to address the tragic matter of Mattias. After he’d been told the whole sorry tale, short as it was, because nobody knew what had really happened that day, he went to speak to his Aunt Liv and Uncle Dag.

“I must choose a new heir to the Ice People’s secret treasures,” he said distractedly. “And I’d thought ...”

“Ssh” Liv said quietly, even though she knew that everyone was working in the fields. “Don’t say the name out loud!”

“Why not?” Tarjei frowned. “What do you mean?”

Liv told him of the ominous conversation two years before when Tarald had received Tarjei’s letter and spoken openly of Mattias being chosen for the inheritance.

“We’ve always suspected that Kolgrim greatly resented Mattias being chosen to inherit the occult treasures instead of him. It’s just possible that this is the reason why the little boy’s disappeared. And while such misgivings are too terrible to be spoken of, I owe it to you to share them with you now.”

Tarjei was taken aback. “Good God! You don’t mean to say that ...?” he paused as the realisation dawned on him. Then he went on: “Yes, I agree it was terribly stupid of me to write to Tarald. I should have remembered that he’s not the wisest or most reliable person here.”

Tarjei fell into a silent reverie. Was this the reason that Kolgrim had been so anxious to pander to him at every possible moment since his return to Linden Avenue? Wherever Tarjei went, the fourteen-year-old would appear, bright-eyed, polite and offering to help with anything.

A cold shiver ran through Tarjei at the thought. He’d seen at first hand what the Ice People’s curse could do to a person. Now he had no doubt that Kolgrim was also afflicted – even though he’d not yet shown any signs of having supernatural powers.

And what about Kolgrim himself? He had been waiting impatiently for Tarjei to come home since Mattias disappeared. What was Kolgrim thinking about now? He’d almost reconciled himself to the fact that he was unlikely to become the officially chosen heir to that which he most desired. Instead he’d watch Tarjei, observe his every move, listen to his every word in order to try to work out where the treasure, which he so greatly desired, was hidden. He’d already taken an interest in Tarjei’s travelling chest and its intriguing contents – but that couldn’t be everything! No, the object of his dreams and desires lay somewhere close, perhaps under his very nose. That was the prize, he was certain, which would give him the power that he knew was rightfully his.

***

Tarjei stayed at Linden Avenue all through that spring. Juliana wrote to say that Mikael Cornelius was well and he shouldn’t worry about the boy. It would be best for him to rest, she said. He’d worked so hard for the past few years and losing Cornelia and his mother so soon after each other must have been very hard to bear. Tarjei found it impossible to disagree with her. He was not only completely exhausted but also extremely sad.

The winter had been hard on Graastens­holm, Liv told him. The snow had lain heavy on roofs and branches and the winds had howled increasingly, seeking out every nook and cranny that it could penetrate to cause discomfort. All the while, Yrja had tortured herself thinking that somewhere under the snow out there lay the body of a small boy who’d been given no proper grave. Tarald had done his best to push such thoughts out of his mind, said Liv, but nevertheless they would come back from time to time, forcing him to take repeated deep breaths and clear his throat to get his emotions under control. On Christmas Day, Yrja had lit a candle for Mattias and whispered: “Today would have been his tenth birthday.”

Tarjei could see that Liv and Dag were both stronger emotionally than Tarald and Yrja, but they’d obviously taken events badly, too. It was worse for Liv, who watched anxiously as one of the remaining linden trees at the top of the avenue withered more and more because she knew only too well for whom Tengel had originally planted the individual trees.

Tarjei noticed that a strange hush had fallen over Linden Avenue and its residents – and it was a deathly hush. Are would wander about aimlessly, unable to concentrate on anything since he’d lost Meta, the one who’d always pushed and bullied him into action. Brand and his wife, Matilda, fared a little better because they had Andreas, now eight years old, to give them joy in their lives. He was a tough little boy; dependable and very easygoing, just like his dad and granddad.

As Tarjei observed all this first hand, he felt quite helpless. The only person who appeared to be remotely satisfied with his lot was Kolgrim. Of course, he was impatient to get his hands on the hidden secrets of the Ice People, but then one day during the spring of 1635 he stumbled upon something. It wasn’t the treasure he found – but something else that was both intriguing and frightening. Kolgrim had been snooping around in the attics of Graastensholm when, out of sight in a recess, he came across an iron chest. Breaking open the hasp, he found that it contained something that at first glance appeared to him to be meaningless – until he examined it more closely. Indeed, he found it so fascinating that he stayed up in the attic for the rest of the day and went back again the next morning. When at last he came down, he had a sly grin on his face that Liv found quite unnerving. She was reminded of a cat that had just swallowed a large rat.

And as a result of his discovery, Kolgrim’s search for the treasure now became even more relentless.

More than two years had passed since Mattias had disappeared. In some ways for Yrja and Tarald, it seemed like twenty years or more, as if they’d been suffering the anguish and inconsolable sense of loss for most of their lives.

And nobody would ever know how many times Mattias’s parents had wished themselves back to that summer morning when their son had been allowed to go off alone to his unknown fate, how many times they regretted that they’d not done something differently that day to avert the terrible tragedy. Nobody else could possibly understand how often they were living their lives not in the present, but in the happy, carefree days of that summer in 1633 when Mattias was still with them.