Kristin Lavransdatter Part 20

Then one evening a man arrived with whom Lavrans Bjrgulf sn had had a score to settle for many years. Lavrans went out to the storeroom with him. But when he returned to the house, he said, "Everyone wants me to help them. And yet here on my farm you're all against me. Even you, wife," he said angrily to Ragnfrid.

Then Ragnfrid lashed out at Kristin.

"Do you hear what your father is saying to me? I'm not against you, Lavrans. You know full well, Kristin, what happened south of here at Roaldstad late in the fall, when he traveled through the valley in the company of that other wh.o.r.emonger, his kinsman from Haugen-she took her own life, that unfortunate woman he had enticed away from all her kinsmen."

Her face rigid, Kristin replied harshly, "I see that you blame him as much for the years when he was striving to get out of sin as for those when he was living in it."

"Jesus Maria," cried Ragnfrid, clasping her hands together. "Look what's become of you! Won't even this make you change your mind?"

"No," said Kristin. "I haven't changed my mind."

Then Lavrans looked up from the bench where he was sitting with Ulvhild.

"Nor have I, Kristin," he said quietly.

But Kristin knew in her heart that in some way she had changed -if not her decision, then her outlook. She had received word of the progress of that ill-fated journey. It had gone easier than anyone could have expected. Whether it was because the cold had settled in his wound or for some other reason, the knife injury which Erlend had received in his chest had become infected. He lay ill at the hostel in Roaldstad for a long time, and Herr Bjrn tended to him during those days. But because Erlend had been wounded, it was easier to explain everything else and to make others believe them.

When he was able to continue, he transported the dead woman in a coffin all the way to Oslo. There, with Sira Jon's intervention, he found a gravesite for her in the cemetery of Nikolaus Church, which lay in ruins. Then he had confessed to the Bishop of Oslo himself, who had enjoined him to travel to the Shrine of the Holy Blood in Schwerin. So now he had left the country.

There was no place to which she she could make a pilgrimage to seek redemption. Her lot was to stay here, to wait and worry and try to endure her opposition to her parents. A strange, cold winter light fell over all her memories of her meetings with Erlend. She thought about his ardor-in love and in sorrow-and it occurred to her that if she had been able to seize on all things with equal abruptness and plunge ahead at once, then afterward they might seem of less consequence and easier to bear. Sometimes she thought that Erlend might give her up. She had always had a slight fear that it could become too difficult for them, and he would lose heart. But she would not give him up-not unless he released her from all promises. could make a pilgrimage to seek redemption. Her lot was to stay here, to wait and worry and try to endure her opposition to her parents. A strange, cold winter light fell over all her memories of her meetings with Erlend. She thought about his ardor-in love and in sorrow-and it occurred to her that if she had been able to seize on all things with equal abruptness and plunge ahead at once, then afterward they might seem of less consequence and easier to bear. Sometimes she thought that Erlend might give her up. She had always had a slight fear that it could become too difficult for them, and he would lose heart. But she would not give him up-not unless he released her from all promises.

And so the winter wore on. And Kristin could no longer fool herself; she had to admit that now the most difficult trial awaited all of them, for Ulvhild did not have long to live. And in the midst of her bitter sorrow over her sister, Kristin realized with horror that her own soul had been led astray and was corrupted by sin. For as she witnessed the dying child and her parents' unspeakable grief, she thought of only one thing: if Ulvhild dies, how will I be able to endure facing my father without throwing myself down before him, to confess everything and to beg him to forgive me and to do with me what he will.

The Lenten fast was upon them. People were slaughtering the small animals they had hoped to save before the livestock perished on its own. And people were falling ill from living on fish and the scant and wretched portions of grain. Sira Eirik released the entire village from the ban against consuming milk. But no one had even a drop of milk.

Ulvhild was confined to bed. She slept alone in the sisters' bed, and someone watched over her every night. Sometimes Kristin and her father would both sit with her. On one such night Lavrans said to his daughter, "Do you remember what Brother Edvin said about Ulvhild's fate? I thought at the time that maybe this was what he meant. But I put it out of my mind."

During those nights he would occasionally talk about one thing or another from the time when the children were small. Kristin would sit there, pale and miserable, understanding that behind his words, her father was pleading with her.

One day Lavrans had gone out with Kolbein to seek out a bear's lair in the mountain forest to the north. They returned home with a female bear on a sled, and Lavrans was carrying a little bear cub, still alive, inside his tunic. Ulvhild smiled a little when he showed it to her. But Ragnfrid said that this was no time to take in that kind of animal, and what was he going to do with it now?

"I'm going to fatten it up and then tie it to the bedchamber of my maidens," said Lavrans, laughing harshly.

But they couldn't find the kind of rich milk that the bear cub needed, and so several days later Lavrans killed it.

The sun had grown so strong that occasionally, in the middle of the day, the eaves would begin to drip. The t.i.tmice clung to the timbered walls and hopped around on the sunny side; the pecking of their beaks resounded as they looked for flies asleep in the gaps between the wood. Out across the meadows the snow gleamed, hard and shiny like silver.

Finally one evening clouds began to gather in front of the moon. In the morning they woke up at Jrundgaard to a whirl of snow that blocked their view in all directions.

On that day it became clear that Ulvhild was going to die.

The entire household had gathered inside, and Sira Eirik had come. Many candles were burning in the room. Early that evening, Ulvhild pa.s.sed on, calmly and peacefully, in her mother's arms.

Ragnfrid bore it better than anyone could have expected. The parents sat together, both of them weeping softly. Everyone in the room was crying. When Kristin went over to her father, he put his arm around her shoulders. He noticed how she was trembling and shaking, and then he pulled her close. But it seemed to her that he must have felt as if she had been s.n.a.t.c.hed farther away from him than her dead little sister in the bed.

She didn't know how she had managed to endure. She hardly remembered why she was enduring, but, lethargic and mute with pain, she managed to stay on her feet and did not collapse.

Then a couple of planks were pulled up in the floor in front of the altar of Saint Thomas, and a grave was dug in the rock-hard earth underneath for Ulvhild Lavransdatter.

It snowed heavily and silently for all those days the child lay on the straw bier; it was snowing as she was laid in the earth; and it continued to snow, almost without stop, for an entire month.

For those who were waiting for the redemption of spring, it seemed as if it would never come. The days grew long and bright, and the valley lay in a haze of thawing snow while the sun shone. But frost was still in the air, and the heat had no power. At night it froze hard; great cracking sounds came from the ice, a rumbling issued from the mountains, and the wolves howled and the foxes yipped all the way down in the village, as if it were midwinter. People sc.r.a.ped off bark for the livestock, but they were perishing by the dozens in their stalls. No one knew when it would end.

Kristin went out on such a day, when the water was trickling in the furrows of the road and the snow glistened like silver across the fields. Facing the sun, the snowdrifts had become hollowed out so that the delicate ice lattice of the crusted snow broke with the gentle ring of silver when she pressed her foot against it. But wherever there was the slightest shadow, the air was sharp with frost and the snow was hard.

She walked up toward the church. She didn't know why she was going there, but she felt drawn to it. Her father was there. Several farmers-guild brothers-were holding a meeting in the gallery, that much she knew.

Up on the hill she met the group of farmers as they were leaving. Sira Eirik was with them. The men were all on foot, walking in a dark, fur-wrapped cl.u.s.ter, nodding and talking to each other; they returned her greeting in a surly manner as she pa.s.sed.

Kristin thought to herself that it had been a long time since everyone in the village had been her friend. Everyone no doubt knew that she was a bad daughter. Perhaps they knew even more about her. Now they probably all thought that there must have been some truth to the old gossip about her and Arne and Bentein. Perhaps she was in terrible disrepute. She lifted her chin and walked on toward the church.

The door stood ajar. It was cold inside the church, and yet a certain warmth streamed toward her from this dim brown room, with the tall columns soaring upward, lifting the darkness up toward the crossbeams of the roof. There were no lit candles on the altars, but a little sunshine came in through the open door, casting a faint light on the paintings and vessels.

Up near the Saint Thomas altar she saw her father on his knees with his head resting on his folded hands, which were clutching his cap against his chest.

Shy and dispirited, Kristin tiptoed out and stood on the gallery. Framed by the arch of two small pillars, which she held on to, she saw Jrundgaard lying below, and beyond her home the pale blue haze over the valley. In the sun the river glinted white with water and ice all through the village. But the alder thicket along its bank was golden brown with blossoms, the spruce forest was spring-green even up by the church, and tiny birds chittered and chirped and trilled in the grove nearby. Oh yes, she had heard birdsong like that every evening after the sun set.

And now she felt the longing that she thought had been wrung out of her, the longing in her body and in her blood; it began to stir now, feeble and faint, as if it were waking up from a winter's hibernation.

Lavrans Bjrgulfsn came outside and closed the church door behind him. He went over and stood near his daughter, looking out from the next arch. She noticed how the winter had ravaged her father. She didn't think that she could bring this up now, but it tumbled out of her all the same.

"Is it true what Mother said the other day, that you told her . . . if it had been Arne Gyrdsn, then you would have relented?"

"Yes," said Lavrans without looking at her.

"You never said that while Arne was alive," replied Kristin.

"It was never discussed. I could see that the boy was fond of you, but he said nothing . . . and he was young . . . and I never noticed that you thought of him in that way. You couldn't expect me to offer offer my daughter to a man who owned no property." He smiled fleetingly. "But I was fond of the boy," he said softly. "And if I had seen that you were pining with love for him . . ." my daughter to a man who owned no property." He smiled fleetingly. "But I was fond of the boy," he said softly. "And if I had seen that you were pining with love for him . . ."

They remained standing there, staring straight ahead. Kristin sensed her father looking at her. She struggled to keep her expression calm, but she could feel how pale she was. Then her father came over to her, put both arms around her, and hugged her tight. He tilted her head back, looked into his daughter's face, and then hid it against his shoulder.

"Jesus Christus, little Kristin, are you so unhappy?"

"I think I'm going to die from it, Father," she said against his chest.

She burst into tears. But she was crying because she had felt in his caress and seen in his eyes that now he was so worn out with anguish that he could no longer hold on to his opposition. She had won.

In the middle of the night she woke up when her father touched her shoulder in the dark.

"Get up," he said quietly. "Do you hear it?"

Then she heard the singing at the corners of the house-the deep, full tone of the moisture-laden south wind. Water was streaming off the roof, and the rain whispered as it fell on soft, melting snow.

Kristin threw on a dress and followed her father to the outer door. Together they stood and looked out into the bright May night. Warm wind and rain swept toward them. The sky was a heap of tangled, surging rain clouds; there was a seething from the woods, a whistling between the buildings. And up on the mountains they heard the hollow rumble of snow sliding down.

Kristin reached for her father's hand and held it. He had called her and wanted to show her this. It was the kind of thing he would have done in the past, before things changed between them. And now he was doing it again.

When they went back inside to lie down, Lavrans said, "The stranger who was here this week carried a letter to me from Sir Munan Baardsn. He intends to come here this summer to visit his mother, and he asked whether he might seek me out and speak with me."

"How will you answer him, my father?" she whispered.

"I can't tell you that now," replied Lavrans. "But I will speak to him, and then I must act in such a way that I can answer for myself before G.o.d, my daughter."

Kristin crawled into bed beside Ramborg, and Lavrans went over and lay down next to his sleeping wife. He lay there, thinking that if the flood waters rose high and suddenly, then few farms in the village would be as vulnerable as Jrundgaard. There was supposed to be a prophecy about it-that one day the river would take the farm.

CHAPTER 5.

SPRING ARRIVED ABRUPTLY. Several days after the frost broke, the village lay brown and black beneath the torrents of rain. Water rushed down the mountain slopes, and the river swelled and lay like a leaden-gray lake at the bottom of the valley, with small flooded groves at the edge of the water and a sly, gurgling furrow of current. At Jrundgaard the water reached far into the fields. And yet everywhere the damage was much less than people had feared.

The spring farm work was late that year, and everyone sowed their spa.r.s.e seeds with prayers to G.o.d that He might spare them from the night frost until harvest time. And it looked as if He would heed their prayers and lighten their burden a little. June came with favorable weather, the summer was good, and everyone began to hope that in time the traces of the bad year would be erased.

The hay harvesting was over when one evening four men came riding toward Jrundgaard. Two gentlemen and their two servants: Sir Munan Baardsn and Sir Baard Petersn of Hestnes.

Ragnfrid and Lavrans ordered the table to be set in the high loft and beds to be made up in the loft above the storehouse. But Lavrans asked the gentlemen to wait to set forth their purpose until the following day, after they had rested from their journey.

Sir Munan did most of the talking during the meal, directing much of the conversation toward Kristin, speaking to her as if they were well acquainted. She noticed that her father was not pleased by this. Sir Munan was thickset, with a ruddy face-an ugly and garrulous man with a rather foolish manner. People called him Munan the Stump or Munan the Prancer. But in spite of the impression he made, Fru Aashild's son was still a sensible and capable man who had been the Crown's envoy in several matters and who doubtless had some influence on those who counseled the gover nance of the kingdom. He lived on his mother's ancestral property in the Skogheim district. He was quite wealthy and he had made a rich marriage. Fru Katrin, his wife, was peculiarly ugly and she seldom opened her mouth, but her husband always spoke of her as if she were the wisest of women. In jest people called Fru Katrin the "resourceful woman with the lovely voice." They seemed to get on well together and treated each other with affection, even though Sir Munan was notorious for his wayward behavior, both before and after his marriage.

Sir Baard Petersn was a handsome and stately old man, although he was rather portly and heavy of limb. His hair and beard were somewhat faded now, but there was still as much gold in them as there was white. Ever since the death of King Magnus Haakonsn he had lived quietly, managing his vast properties at Nordmre. He was a widower after the death of his second wife, and he had many children, who were all said to be handsome, well-mannered, and well-to-do.

The following day Lavrans and his guests went up to the loft to talk. Lavrans asked his wife to join them, but she refused.

"This must lie solely in your hands," said Ragnfrid. "You know that it would be the greatest sorrow for our daughter if this matter could not be resolved, but I see that there is much to be said against this marriage."

Sir Munan presented a letter from Erlend Nikulaussn. Erlend proposed that Lavrans should decide on all of the conditions if he would agree to the betrothal of his daughter Kristin. Erlend himself was willing to have his properties appraised and his income examined by impartial men, and to offer Kristin such betrothal and wedding gifts that she would own a third of his possessions, in addition to whatever she brought to the marriage herself, and all inheritances that she might acquire from her kinsmen if she should become a widow with no children surviving the father. Furthermore, he offered to allow Kristin to manage with full authority her part of the property, both that which she brought into the marriage and that which she was given by him. But if Lavrans preferred other conditions for the division of property, then Erlend would be willing to hear his views and to act accordingly. There was only one condition to which Kristin's kinsmen would have to bind themselves: if they acquired guardianship over any children that he and she might have, they must never try to revoke the gifts that he had given to his children by Eline Ormsdatter. They must recognize as valid the claim that these properties had been separated from his possessions before he entered into the marriage with Kristin Lavransdatter. Finally, Erlend offered to hold the wedding with all appropriate splendor at his manor at Husaby.

It was then Lavrans's turn to speak, and he said, "This is a handsome offer. I see that it is your kinsman's fervent desire to come to an agreement with me. I also realize that he has asked you, Sir Munan, for a second time to come on such an errand to me-a man of no great import outside this village-and a gentleman such as you, Sir Baard, to take the trouble to make this journey on his behalf. But now I must tell you in regard to Erlend's offer that my daughter has not been raised to manage properties and riches herself, and I have always intended to give her to a man in whose hands I could confidently place the maiden's welfare. I don't know whether Kristin is capable of handling such responsibility or not, but I hardly think that she would thrive by doing so. She is placid and compliant in temperament. One of the reasons that I bore in mind when I opposed the marriage was this: that Erlend has shown a certain imprudence in several areas. Had she been a domineering, bold, and headstrong woman, then the situation would have been quite different."

Sir Munan burst out laughing and said, "My dear Lavrans, are you complaining that the maiden is not headstrong enough?"

And Sir Baard said with a little smile, "It seems to me that your daughter has demonstrated that she is not lacking in will. For two years she has stood by Erlend, in spite of your wishes."

Lavrans said, "I know that quite well, and yet I know what I'm talking about. It has been hard for her during the time she has defied me, and she won't be happy with a husband for long unless he can rule her."

"The Devil take me," said Sir Munan. "Then your daughter must be quite unlike all the women I have known, for I've never found a single one who didn't prefer to rule over both herself and her husband."

Lavrans shrugged his shoulders and didn't reply.

Then Baard Petersn said, "I can imagine, Lavrans Bjrgulfsn, that now you are even less in favor of this marriage between your daughter and my foster son since the woman he was with came to such an end. But you should know that it has now come to light that the wretched woman had let herself be seduced by another man, the foreman of Erlend's farm at Husaby. Erlend knew about this when he journeyed with her through the valley; he had offered to provide her with a proper dowry if the man would marry her."

"Are you sure this is true?" asked Lavrans. "And yet I don't know whether it makes the situation any better. It must be bitter for a woman of good family to arrive on the arm of the landowner, only to leave with the farm hand."

Munan Baardsn put in, "I see, Lavrans Bjrgulfsn, that your strongest objection to my cousin is that he has had this unfortunate trouble with Sigurd Saksulvsn's wife. And it's true that it was ill advised. But in the name of G.o.d, man, you must remember-there he was, a young boy in the same house with a young and beautiful wife, and she had a cold and useless old husband, and the nights last half the year up there. I don't think much else could have been expected, unless Erlend had actually been a holy man. It can't be denied that Erlend has never had any monk flesh in him, but I don't imagine that your lovely young daughter would be grateful if you gave her to a monk. It's true that Erlend conducted himself foolishly, and even worse later on. But this matter must finally be considered closed. We, his kinsmen, have striven to help set the boy on his feet again. The woman is dead, and Erlend has done everything within his power for her body and soul. The Bishop of Oslo himself has redeemed him from his sin, and now he has come home, cleansed by the Holy Blood in Schwerin. Do you intend to be harsher than the Bishop of Oslo and the archbishop or whoever it is down there who presides over the precious blood?

"My dear Lavrans, it's true that pure living is an admirable thing, but it's hardly within the powers of a grown man unless he is particularly blessed by G.o.d. By Saint Olav-you should keep in mind that the holy king himself was not given that blessing until the end of his life on earth. It was evidently G.o.d's will that he should first produce the capable boy-king Magnus, who repelled the heathens' invasion of the north. King Olav did not have that son by his queen, and yet he sits among the highest of saints in Heaven. Yes, I can see that you think this improper talk . . ."

Sir Baard interrupted, "Lavrans Bjrgulfsn, I didn't like this matter any better than you when Erlend first came to me and said that he had set his heart on a maiden who was betrothed. But I have since realized that there is such a strong love between these two young people, it would be a great sin to separate their affections. Erlend was with me at the Christmas feast that King Haakon held for his men. That's where they met, and as soon as they saw each other, your daughter fainted and lay as if dead for a long time-and I could see that my foster son would rather lose his own life than lose her."

Lavrans sat in silence for a moment before he replied.

"Yes, that sort of thing sounds so beautiful when we hear it in a courtly tale from the southern lands. But we are not in Bretland,1 and surely you would demand more of a man you intend to take as a son-in-law than that he had made your daughter swoon with love before everyone's eyes." and surely you would demand more of a man you intend to take as a son-in-law than that he had made your daughter swoon with love before everyone's eyes."

The other two didn't speak, and then Lavrans continued, "I think, good sirs, that if Erlend Nikulaussn had not so greatly diminished both his property and his reputation, then you would not be sitting here, asking so earnestly for a man of my circ.u.mstances to give my daughter to him. But I won't have it said about Kristin that she was honored by coming to Husaby through marriage to a man belonging to this country's best lineage-after that man had disgraced himself so badly that he could neither expect a better match nor maintain his family's distinction."

He stood up abruptly and paced back and forth across the floor.

But Sir Munan jumped up. "No, Lavrans, if you're going to talk about bringing shame upon oneself, then by G.o.d you should know that you're being much too proud-"

Sir Baard cut him off. He went over to Lavrans and said, "And proud you are, Lavrans. You're like those landowners in the past we've heard about, who refused to accept t.i.tles from the kings because their sense of pride could not tolerate hearing people say that they owed anything to anyone but themselves. I must tell you that if Erlend had possessed all the honor and wealth that the boy was born with, I would still not consider it disparaging to myself when I asked a man of good lineage and good circ.u.mstances to give his daughter to my foster son, if I could see that it would break the hearts of these two young people to be kept apart. Especially," he said softly, placing his hand on the other man's shoulder, "if things were such that it was best for the health of both their souls if they were allowed to marry."

Lavrans shook off Baard's hand. His face grew stony and cold. "I don't know what you mean, sir."

The two men looked at each other for a moment. Then Sir Baard said, "I mean that Erlend has told me that they have sworn themselves to each other with the most solemn of oaths. Perhaps you think you have the authority to release your child, since she has sworn without your consent. But you cannot release Erlend. And I can't see that there is anything standing in the way except your pride-and your abhorrence of sin. But in this it seems to me that you wish to be harsher than G.o.d Himself, Lavrans Bjrgulfsn!"

Lavrans answered somewhat uncertainly, "You may be right in what you say, Sir Baard. But I have mainly opposed this marriage because Erlend seemed to me an unreliable man to whom I would not want to entrust my daughter."

"I think I can vouch for my foster son now," said Baard in a subdued tone of voice. "He loves Kristin so much that if you give her to him, I am convinced he will conduct himself in such a manner that you will have no cause to complain of your son-in-law."

Lavrans didn't reply at once.