Kristin Lavransdatter Part 3

No one paid any attention to Kristin. She crept up onto the bench behind the headboard of the bed, tucked up her legs, and rested her head on her knees.

Now she felt as if her heart were being crushed between hard fists. Fru Aashild was going to be summoned! Her mother had never wanted them to send for Fru Aashild, not even when she herself was near death when she gave birth to Ulvhild, nor when Kristin was so ill with fever. People said she was a witch; the bishop of Oslo and the canons of the cathedral had sat in judgment on her. She would have been executed or burned at the stake if she hadn't been of such high birth that she was like a sister to Queen Ingebjrg. But people said that she had poisoned her first husband, and that she had won her present husband, Herr Bjrn, through witchcraft. He was young enough to be her son. She did have children, but they never came to visit their mother. So those two high-born people, Bjrn and Aashild, sat on their small farm in Dovre, having lost all their riches. None of the gentry in the valley would have anything to do with them, but secretly people sought out Fru Aashild's advice. Poor folk even went to her openly with their troubles and ills; they said she was kind, but they were also afraid of her.

Kristin thought that her mother, who was otherwise constantly praying, should have called on G.o.d and the Virgin Mary instead. She tried to pray herself-especially to Saint Olav,1 for she knew that he was kind and he had helped so many who suffered from illness and wounds and broken bones. But she couldn't collect her thoughts. for she knew that he was kind and he had helped so many who suffered from illness and wounds and broken bones. But she couldn't collect her thoughts.

Her parents were now alone in the room. Lavrans was lying on the bed again and Ragnfrid sat leaning over the injured child, occasionally wiping Ulvhild's forehead and hands with a damp cloth and moistening her lips with wine.

A long time pa.s.sed. Tordis looked in on them now and then; she wanted so desperately to help, but each time Ragnfrid sent her away. Kristin wept soundlessly and prayed in silence, but every once in a while she would think about the witch, and she waited tensely to see her enter the room.

Suddenly Ragnfrid broke the silence. "Are you asleep, Lavrans?"

"No," replied her husband. "I'm listening to Ulvhild. G.o.d will help His innocent lamb, my wife-we mustn't doubt that. But it's hard to lie here and wait."

"G.o.d hates me for my sins," said Ragnfrid in despair. "My children are in peace where they are-I don't dare doubt that. And now Ulvhild's time has come too. But He has cast me out, for my heart is a viper's nest of sin and sorrow."

Just then the door opened. Sira Eirik stepped inside, straightening up his enormous body as he stood in the doorway, and p.r.o.nounced in his deep, clear voice, "G.o.d help those in this house!"

The priest placed the box containing his medical things2 on the step of the bed, went over to the hearth, and poured warm water over his hands. Then he pulled out his cross, raised it to all four corners of the room, and murmured something in Latin. After that he opened the smoke vent so that light could stream into the room. Then he went over and looked at Ulvhild. on the step of the bed, went over to the hearth, and poured warm water over his hands. Then he pulled out his cross, raised it to all four corners of the room, and murmured something in Latin. After that he opened the smoke vent so that light could stream into the room. Then he went over and looked at Ulvhild.

Kristin was afraid that he would discover her and chase her away-usually very little escaped Sira Eirik's eye. But he didn't look around. The priest took a vial out of his box, poured something onto a tuft of finely carded wool, and placed it over Ulvhild's nose and mouth.

"Soon her suffering will lessen," said the priest. He went over to Lavrans and attended to him as he asked them to tell him how the accident had occurred. Lavrans had two broken ribs and he had received a wound to his lungs, but the priest didn't think he was in danger.

"What about Ulvhild?" asked her father sorrowfully.

"I'll tell you after I have examined her," replied the priest. "But you must go up to the loft and rest; we need quiet here and more room for those who will take care of her." He put Lavrans's arm around his shoulder, lifted up the man, and helped him out. Kristin would have preferred to go with her father, but she didn't dare show herself.

When Sira Eirik returned, he didn't speak to Ragnfrid but cut the clothes off Ulvhild, who was now whimpering less and seemed to be half asleep. Cautiously he ran his hands over the child's body and limbs.

"Are things so bad for my child, Eirik, that you don't know what to do? Is that why you have nothing to say?" asked Ragnfrid in a subdued voice.

The priest replied softly, "It looks as if her back is badly injured, Ragnfrid. I don't know anything else to do except to let G.o.d and Saint Olav prevail. There's not much I can do here."

The mother said vehemently, "Then we must pray. You know that Lavrans and I will give everything you ask for, sparing nothing, if you can convince G.o.d to allow Ulvhild to live."

"I think it would be a miracle," said the priest, "if she were to live and regain her health."

"But aren't you always talking about miracles both day and night? Don't you think a miracle could happen for my child?" she said in the same tone of voice.

"It's true that miracles do occur," said the priest, "but G.o.d does not grant everyone's prayers-we do not know His mysterious ways. And don't you think it would be worse for this pretty little maiden to grow up crippled and lame?"

Ragnfrid shook her head and cried softly, "I have lost so many, priest, I cannot lose her too."

"I'll do everything I can," replied the priest, "and pray with all my might. But you must try, Ragnfrid, to bear whatever fate G.o.d visits upon you."

The mother murmured softly, "Never have I loved any of my children as I have loved this one. If she too is taken from me, I think my heart will break."

"G.o.d help you, Ragnfrid Ivarsdatter," said Sira Eirik, shaking his head. "You want nothing more from all your prayers and fasting than to force your will on G.o.d. Does it surprise you, then, that it has accomplished so little good?"

Ragnfrid gave the priest a stubborn look and said, "I have sent for Fru Aashild."

"Well, you may know her, but I do not," said the priest.

"I will not live without Ulvhild," said Ragnfrid in the same voice as before. "If G.o.d won't help her, then I will seek the aid of Fru Aashild, or offer myself up to the Devil if he will help!"

The priest looked as if he wanted to make a sharp retort, but he restrained himself. He leaned down and touched the injured girl's limbs again.

"Her hands and feet are cold," he said. "We must put some kegs of hot water next to her-and then you must not touch her again until Fru Aashild arrives."

Kristin soundlessly slipped down onto the bench and pretended to sleep. Her heart was pounding with fear. She had not understood much of the conversation between Sira Eirik and her mother, but it had frightened her greatly, and she knew it wasn't meant for her ears.

Her mother stood up to get the kegs; then she broke down, sobbing. "Pray for us, nevertheless, Sira Eirik!"

A little while later her mother came back with Tordis. The priest and the women bustled around Ulvhild, and then Kristin was discovered and sent away.

The light dazzled Kristin as she stood in the courtyard. She thought that most of the day had pa.s.sed while she sat in the dark winter house, but the buildings were light gray and the gra.s.s was shimmering, as glossy as silk in the white midday sun. Beyond the golden lattice of the alder thicket, with its tiny new leaves, the river glinted. It filled the air with its cheerful, monotonous roar, for it flowed strongly down a flat, rocky riverbed near Jrundgaard. The mountainsides rose up in a clear blue haze, and the streams leaped down the slopes through melting snow. The sweet, strong spring outside made Kristin weep with sorrow at the helplessness she felt all around her.

No one was in the courtyard, but she heard people talking in the servants' room. Fresh earth had been spread over the spot where her father had killed the ox. She didn't know what to do with herself; then she crept behind the wall of the new building, which had been raised to a height of a couple of logs. Inside were Ulvhild's and her playthings; she gathered them up and put them into a hole between the lowest log and the foundation. Lately Ulvhild had wanted all of Kristin's toys, and that had made her unhappy at times. She thought now that if her sister got well, she would give her everything she owned. And that thought comforted her a little.

Kristin thought about the monk at Hamar-he at least was convinced that miracles could happen for everyone. But Sira Eirik was not as sure of it, nor were her parents, and they were the ones she was most accustomed to listening to. It fell like a terrible burden upon her when she realized for the first time that people could have such different opinions about so many things. And not just evil, G.o.dless people disagreeing with good people, but also good people such as Brother Edvin and Sira Eirik-or her mother and father. She suddenly realized that they too thought differently about many things.

Tordis found Kristin asleep there in the corner late in the day, and she took her indoors. The child hadn't eaten a thing since morning. Tordis kept vigil with Ragnfrid over Ulvhild that night, and Kristin lay in her bed with Jon, Tordis's husband, and Eivind and Orm, her little boys. The smell of their bodies, the man's snoring, and the even breathing of the two children made Kristin quietly weep. Only the night before she had lain in bed, as she had every night of her life, with her own father and mother and little Ulvhild. It was like thinking about a nest that had been torn apart and scattered, and she herself had been flung from the shelter and wings that had always warmed her. At last she cried herself to sleep, alone and miserable among all those strangers.

On the following morning when Kristin got up, she learned that her uncle and his entire entourage had left Jrundgaard-in anger. Trond had called his sister a crazy, demented woman and her husband a spineless fool who had never learned to rein in his wife. Kristin grew flushed with rage, but she was also ashamed. She realized that a grave impropriety had taken place when her mother had driven her closest kinsmen from the manor. And for the first time it occurred to Kristin that there was something about her mother that was not as it should be-that she was different from other women.

As she stood and pondered this, a maidservant came up to her and asked her to go up to the loft to her father.

But when she stepped into the loft room Kristin forgot all about tending to him, for across from the open doorway, with the light shining directly in her face, sat a small woman, whom she realized must be the witch-although Kristin had not expected her to look like that.

She seemed as small as a child, and delicate, for she was sitting in the big high-backed chair that had been brought up to the room. A table had also been placed in front of her, covered with Ragnfrid's finest embroidered linen cloth. Pork and fowl were set forth on silver platters, there was wine in a bowl of curly birchwood, and she had Lavrans's own silver goblet to drink from. She had finished eating and was wiping her small, slender hands on one of Ragnfrid's best towels. Ragnfrid herself stood in front of her, holding a bra.s.s basin of water.

Fru Aashild let the towel drop into her lap, smiled at the child, and said in a lovely, clear voice, "Come over here to me!" And to Kristin's mother she said, "You have beautiful children, Ragnfrid."

Her face was full of wrinkles but pure white and pink like a child's, and her skin looked as if it were just as soft and fine to the touch. Her lips were as red and fresh as a young woman's, and her big hazel eyes gleamed. An elegant white linen wimple framed her face and was fastened tightly under her chin with a gold brooch; over it she wore a veil of soft, dark-blue wool, which fell loosely over her shoulders and onto her dark, well-fitting clothes. She sat as erect as a candle, and Kristin sensed rather than thought that she had never seen such a beautiful or n.o.ble woman as this old witch whom the gentry of the village refused to have anything to do with.

Fru Aashild held Kristin's hand in her own soft old hands; she spoke to her kindly and with humor, but Kristin could not find a word to reply.

Fru Aashild said to Ragnfrid with a little laugh, "Do you think she's afraid of me?"

"No, no," Kristin almost shouted.

Fru Aashild laughed even more and said, "She has wise eyes, this daughter of yours, and good strong hands. And she's not accustomed to slothfulness either, I can see. You're going to need someone who can help you care for Ulvhild when I'm not here. So you can let Kristin a.s.sist me while I'm at the manor. She's old enough for that, isn't she? Eleven years old?"

Then Fru Aashild left, and Kristin was about to follow her. But Lavrans called to her from his bed. He was lying flat on his back with pillows stuffed under his knees; Fru Aashild had ordered him to lie in this manner so that the injury to his chest would heal faster.

"You're going to get well soon, aren't you, Father?" asked Kristin, using the formal means of address. Lavrans looked up at her. Never before had she addressed him in that manner.

Then he said somberly, "I'm not in danger, but it's much more serious for your sister."

"I know," said Kristin with a sigh.

Then she stood next to his bed for a while. Her father did not speak again, and Kristin could find nothing more to say. And when Lavrans told her some time later to go downstairs to her mother and Fru Aashild, Kristin hurried out and rushed across the courtyard to the winter house.

CHAPTER 4.

FRU AASHILD stayed at Jrundgaard for most of the summer, which meant that people came there to seek her advice. Kristin heard Sira Eirik speak jeeringly of this, and it dawned on her that her parents did not much care for it either. But she pushed aside all thoughts of these things, nor did she pay any heed to what her own opinion of Fru Aashild might be; she was her constant companion and never tired of listening to and watching the woman.

Ulvhild still lay stretched out flat on her back in the big bed. Her small face was white to the very edge of her lips, and she had dark circles under her eyes. Her lovely blond hair smelled sharply of sweat because it hadn't been washed in such a long time; it had turned dark and had lost its sheen and curl so that it looked like old, windblown hay. She looked tired and tormented and patient, and she would smile, feeble and wan, whenever Kristin sat by her on the bed to talk and to show her all the lovely presents she had received from her parents and their friends and kinsmen far and wide. There were dolls, toy birds and cattle, a little board game, jewelry, velvet caps, and colorful ribbons. Kristin had put it all in a box for her. Ulvhild would look at everything with her somber eyes, sigh, and then let the treasures fall from her weary hands.

But whenever Fru Aashild came over to her, Ulvhild's face would light up with joy. Eagerly she drank the refreshing and sleep-inducing brews that Fru Aashild prepared for her. She never complained when the woman tended to her, and she would lie still, listening happily, whenever Fru Aashild played Lavrans's harp and sang-she knew so many ballads that were unfamiliar to the people there in the valley.

Often she would sing for Kristin when Ulvhild had fallen asleep. And sometimes she spoke of her youth, when she lived in the south of the country and frequented the courts of King Magnus and King Eirik and their queens.

Once, as they were sitting there and Fru Aashild was telling stories, Kristin blurted out what she had thought about so often.

"It seems strange to me that you're always so happy, when you've been used to-" she broke off, blushing.

Fru Aashild looked down at the child, smiling.

"You mean because now I'm separated from all those things?" She laughed quietly and then she said, "I've had my glory days, Kristin, but I'm not foolish enough to complain because I have to be content with sour, watered-down milk now that I've drunk up all my wine and ale. Good days can last a long time if one tends to things with care and caution; all sensible people know that. That's why I think that sensible people have to be satisfied with the good days-for the grandest of days are costly indeed. They call a man a fool who fritters away his father's inheritance in order to enjoy himself in his youth. Everyone is ent.i.tled to his own opinion about that. But I call him a true idiot and fool only if he regrets his actions afterward, and he is twice the fool and the greatest buffoon of all if he expects to see his drinking companions again once the inheritance is gone.

"Is something wrong with Ulvhild?" Fru Aashild asked gently, turning to Ragnfrid, who had given a start from her place near the child's bed.

"No, she's sleeping quietly," said the mother as she came over to Fru Aashild and Kristin, who were sitting near the hearth. With her hand on the smoke vent pole, Ragnfrid stood and looked down into the woman's face.

"Kristin doesn't understand all this," she said.

"No," replied Fru Aashild. "But she also learned her prayers before she understood them. At those times when one needs either prayers or advice, one usually has no mind to learn or to understand."

Ragnfrid raised her black eyebrows thoughtfully. When she did that, her light, deep-set eyes looked like lakes beneath a black forest meadow. That's what Kristin used to think when she was small, or perhaps she had heard someone say that. Fru Aashild looked at her with that little half smile of hers. Ragnfrid sat down at the edge of the hearth, picked up a twig, and poked at the embers.

"But the person who has wasted his inheritance on the most wretched of goods-and then later sees a treasure he would give his life to own-don't you think that he would deplore his own stupidity?"

"No bargain is without some loss, Ragnfrid," said Fru Aashild. "And whoever wishes to give his life must take the risk and see what he can win."

Ragnfrid jerked the burning twig from the fire, blew out the flame, and curled her hand around the glowing end so that a blood-red light shone between her fingers.

"Oh, it's all nothing but words, words, words, Fru Aashild."

"There is very little worth paying for so dearly, Ragnfrid," said the other woman, "as with one's own life."

"Yes, there is," said Kristin's mother fervently. "My husband," she whispered almost inaudibly.

"Ragnfrid," said Fru Aashild quietly, "many a maiden has had the same thought when she was tempted to bind a man to her and gave up her maidenhood to do so. But haven't you read about men and maidens who gave G.o.d all they owned, and entered cloisters or stood naked in the wilderness and then regretted it afterward? They're called fools in the holy books. And it would certainly be a sin to think that G.o.d was the one who had deceived them in their bargain."

Ragnfrid sat quite still for a moment. Then Fru Aashild said, "Come along with me, Kristin. It's time to go out and collect the dew that we'll use to wash Ulvhild in the morning."

Outside, the courtyard was white and black in the moonlight. Ragnfrid accompanied them through the farmyard down to the gate near the cabbage garden. Kristin saw the thin silhouette of her mother leaning against the fence nearby. The child shook dew from the large, ice-cold cabbage leaves and from the folds of the lady's-mantle into her father's silver goblet.

Fru Aashild walked silently at Kristin's side. She was there only to protect her, for it was not wise to let a child go out alone on such a night. But the dew would have more power if it was collected by an innocent maiden.

When they came back to the gate, Ragnfrid was gone. Kristin was shaking with cold as she put the icy silver goblet into Fru Aashild's hands. In her wet shoes she ran over to the loft where she slept with her father. She had her foot on the first step when Ragnfrid emerged from the shadows beneath the gallery of the loft. In her hands she held a bowl of steaming liquid.

"I've warmed up some ale for you, daughter," said Ragnfrid.

Kristin thanked her gratefully and put her lips to the rim. Then her mother asked, "Kristin, those prayers and other things that Fru Aashild is teaching you-is there anything sinful or unG.o.dly about them?"

"I can't believe that," replied the child. "They all mention Jesus and the Virgin Mary and the names of the saints."

"What has she been teaching you?" asked her mother again.

"Oh, about herbs, and how to ward off bleeding and warts and strained eyes-and moths in clothing and mice in the storehouse. And which herbs to pick in sunlight and which ones have power in the rain. But I mustn't tell the prayers to anyone else, or they will lose their power," she said quickly.

Her mother took the empty bowl and set it on the steps. Suddenly she threw her arms around her daughter, pulled her close, and kissed her. Kristin noticed that her mother's cheeks were hot and wet.

"May G.o.d and Our Lady guard and protect you against all evil-we have only you now, your father and I; you're the only one that misfortune has not touched. My dear, my dear-never forget that you are your father's dearest joy."

Ragnfrid went back to the winter house, undressed, and crawled into bed with Ulvhild. She put her arm around the child and pressed her face close to the little one's so that she could feel the warmth of Ulvhild's body and smell the sharp odor of sweat from the child's damp hair. Ulvhild slept soundly and securely as always after Fru Aashild's evening potion. There was a soothing scent from the Virgin Mary gra.s.s spread under the sheet. And yet Ragnfrid lay there for a long time, unable to sleep, and stared up at the little sc.r.a.p of light in the roof where the moon shone on the horn pane of the smoke vent.

Fru Aashild lay in the other bed, but Ragnfrid never knew whether she was asleep or awake. Fru Aashild never mentioned that they had known each other in the past, and that frightened Ragnfrid quite badly. She thought she had never felt so bitterly sad or in such an agony of fear as she did now, even though she knew that Lavrans would regain his full health-and that Ulvhild would survive.

Fru Aashild seemed to enjoy talking to Kristin, and for each day that pa.s.sed, the maiden became better friends with her.

One day when they had gone out to pick herbs, they sat down next to the river in a little gra.s.sy clearing at the foot of a scree. They could look down at the courtyard of Formo and see Arne Gyrdsn's red shirt. He had ridden over with them and was going to look after their horses while they were up in the mountain meadow gathering herbs.

As they sat there, Kristin told Fru Aashild about her encounter with the dwarf maiden. She hadn't thought about the incident for many years, but now it suddenly came back to her. And as she spoke, the strange thought occurred to her that there was some resemblance between Fru Aashild and the dwarf woman-even though she realized full well that they did not look at all alike.