The Girl in the Woods

‘One more time,’ said James in English, as if he could read Sam’s thoughts and wanted to provoke him.

Sam aimed the gun at the target and pulled the trigger. Bullseye.

BOHUSLÄN 1671 (#ulink_c9eb9499-fa4c-57f0-a358-b77a3fa173e1)

‘The girl was inside the big house yesterday. And you know what I have said about that, Elin!’

Britta’s words were spoken harshly, and Elin bowed her head.

‘I will speak to her,’ she said quietly.

Britta swung her legs over the side of the bed.

‘We are receiving a special visitor today,’ she went on. ‘Everything must be perfect. Have you washed and starched my blue dress? The silk brocade?’

She stuck her feet into the slippers next to the bed. Their warmth was welcome. Even though the vicarage was a more splendid house than any Elin had ever seen, it was still cold and draughty, and the floor was ice-cold in the wintertime.

‘Everything is ready and waiting,’ replied Elin. ‘We have scrubbed every nook and cranny of the house, and Boel from Holta arrived yesterday and has already begun to prepare the food. She will start by serving stuffed codheads, followed by capon with gooseberries as the main course, and bread custard for dessert.’

‘Excellent,’ said Britta. ‘Harald Stake’s envoy should be served a meal befitting a lord. After all, Harald Stake is the governor of the county of Bohuslän, and he has been ordered by the king himself to speak to the vicars about this plague of witchcraft. Only a few days ago, Preben told me of a witch who has been imprisoned in Marstrand.’

Britta’s cheeks had flushed crimson with indignation.

Elin nodded. People could talk of nothing else these days. The recently formed witchcraft council had busied itself imprisoning witches all over Bohuslän and soon the trials would begin. All over Sweden, strong measures were being taken against this wickedness. Elin shuddered. Witches and sorcerers. Travels to Blåkulla, witch mountain, and alliances with the devil himself. It appalled her that such evil existed so close to home.

‘I heard from Ida-Stina that it is because of you that Svea of Hult is now with child,’ said Britta as Elin helped her dress. ‘Whatever it is you did for her, I want you to do the same for me.’

‘I can do only what my maternal grandmother taught me,’ said Elin, tightly lacing Britta’s bodice in the back.

She was not surprised by the request. Britta was nearing twenty, and she and Preben had been married for two years, yet her belly had not yet swollen with child.

‘Do whatever you did for Svea. It is time for me to give Preben a child. He has started asking when this might happen.’

‘I made Svea a herbal mixture from one of Grandmother’s recipes,’ said Elin, as she began brushing Britta’s long hair.

The two sisters were very different in appearance. Elin had inherited her mother’s blond hair and pale blue eyes. Britta had dark hair, and her dark blue eyes were like those of the woman who had taken Elin’s mother’s place even before she died. Gossiping tongues in the village still whispered that Elin’s mother Kerstin had died of a broken heart. Even if this were true, Elin wasted no time thinking about it. Their father had died a year ago, and Britta was the only one who could save her and Märta from death by starvation.

‘She also taught me certain words to speak,’ said Elin cautiously. ‘If you are not opposed, I could prepare the mixture for you and say the appropriate prayers. I have everything I need to brew the concoction. I dried plenty of herbs during the summer so that I would have enough to last the winter.’

Britta waved her slender white hand dismissively.

‘Do as you please. I need to give birth to a child for my husband or risk bringing misfortune upon us.’

Elin was about to say in that case perhaps it would be a good idea for her to share the marriage bed with him. But she was wise enough to keep quiet. She had seen the consequences of arousing Britta’s ire. For a moment she wondered how a man as kind as Preben could have married someone like Britta. No doubt their father had had a hand in it, eager as he was to see his daughter make a good match.

‘You may go now,’ said Britta, standing up. ‘I am sure there must be countless things you need to attend to before Stake’s envoy arrives. And speak to that girl of yours, or I shall have to let the rod do the talking.’

Elin nodded, though her sister’s threat of beating Märta made her blood boil. So far Britta had not lifted a hand against the girl, but when she did, Elin knew she would not be able to answer for her actions. She would have to impress upon her daughter the importance of heeding her warning not to enter the big house.

Elin went out to the yard and looked around uneasily.

‘Märta?’ she called.

Britta took a dim view of any servant who spoke too loudly. Yet another thing to remember if Elin did not want to fall into disfavour.

‘Märta?’ she called a little louder as she went into the stable.

This was the most likely place to find Märta, but she wasn’t there either. Unfortunately, Elin’s daughter had inherited not only her father’s green eyes, but also his stubbornness. The girl never seemed to listen to her mother’s admonitions.

‘We are here,’ she heard a familiar voice say.

Preben. She stopped abruptly.

‘Come over here, Elin,’ he said kindly from the darkness of the last stall.

‘Yes, come here, Mother,’ said Märta eagerly.

Elin hesitated but then picked up her skirts to avoid soiling the hem with muck from the ground and quickly moved in the direction of their voices.

‘Look, Mother,’ said Märta, awe in her voice.

She was sitting at the very back of an empty stall, holding three kittens on her lap. They looked to be no more than a day old. They were turning their heads back and forth, blind to the world. Next to Märta sat Preben. He too had a lapful of kittens.

‘Truly one of God’s miracles,’ he said, petting a tiny grey kitten.

The creature meowed pitifully, rubbing its head on his sleeve.

‘Here, take one, Mother,’ said Märta, handing Elin a black-and-white spotted kitten that flailed its paws in the air.

Elin hesitated. She looked over her shoulder. Britta would not be pleased to find her and Märta here. And with Preben.

‘Sit down, Elin.’ Preben gave her a small smile. ‘My dear wife is fully occupied with preparations for our grand visitor this evening.’

Still Elin hesitated. But unable to resist the helpless appeal of the black-and-white kitten, she reached out and took it from Märta, then sat down on the straw and set the kitten on her lap.

‘The vicar says I can choose one to be mine, all mine.’

Märta gave Preben a delighted look. Elin glanced at him as well. He was smiling – a smile that reached all the way to his blue eyes.

‘You must baptize the kitten too,’ he said. ‘But as we have agreed, this must be a secret, just between the two of us.’

He held a finger to his lips and gave the girl a solemn look. Märta nodded, her expression equally solemn.

‘I will tell no one. It will be my most precious secret,’ she said, looking at the kittens. ‘That is the one I want.’

She stroked the head of a tiny grey kitten. It was the smallest of the litter. Elin looked over at Preben, trying to shake her head without drawing Märta’s attention. The poor little thing looked so scrawny, she doubted it would survive. But Preben calmly returned her look.

‘Märta has a fine eye for cats,’ he said, scratching the grey kitten behind the ear. ‘I would have made the very same choice.’