Kristin Lavransdatter Part 76

But when she stood before the cross, whispering her Pater noster Pater noster , and she came to the words , and she came to the words sicut et nos dimittibus debitoribus nostris, sicut et nos dimittibus debitoribus nostris, then she would feel her heart harden, the way a hand clenches into a fist to strike. No! then she would feel her heart harden, the way a hand clenches into a fist to strike. No!

Without hope, her soul aching, she would weep, for she could not make make herself do it. herself do it.

And so Erlend Erlendssn died on the day before the Feast of Mary Magdalena, a little less than three months old.

CHAPTER 7.

THAT AUTUMN BISHOP Halvard came north through the valley on an official church visit. He arrived in Sil on the day before Saint Matthew's Day. It had been more than two years since the bishop had come that far north, so there were many children who were to be confirmed this time. Munan Erlendssn was among them; he was now eight years old.

Kristin asked Ulf Haldorssn to present the child to the bishop; she didn't have a single friend in her home parish whom she could ask to do this. Ulf seemed pleased by her request. And so, when the church bells rang, the three of them walked up the hill: Kristin, Ulf, and the boy. Her other sons had been to the earlier ma.s.s-all of them except for Lavrans, who was in bed with a fever. They didn't want to attend this ma.s.s because it would be so crowded in the church.

As they walked past the foreman's house, Kristin noticed that many strange horses were tied to the fence outside. Farther along the road they were overtaken by Jardtrud, who was riding with a large entourage and raced past them. Ulf pretended not to see his wife and her kinsmen.

Kristin knew that Ulf had not set foot inside his own house since just after New Year's. Things had apparently gotten worse than usual between him and his wife, and afterward he had moved his clothes chest and his weapons up to the high loft, where he now lived with the boys. Once, in early spring, Kristin had mentioned that it was wrong for there to be such discord between him and his wife. Then he had looked at her and laughed, and she said no more.

The weather was sunny and beautiful. High over the valley the sky was blue between the peaks. The yellow foliage of the birch-covered slopes was beginning to thin out, and in the countryside most of the grain had been cut, although a few acres of pale barley still swayed near the farms, and the second crop of hay stood green and wet with dew in the meadows. There were throngs of people at the church, and a great neighing and whinneying of stallions, because the church stables were full and many had been forced to tie up their horses outside.

A muted, rancorous uneasiness pa.s.sed through the crowd as Kristin and her escort moved forward. A young man slapped his thigh and laughed but was fiercely hushed by his elders. Kristin walked with measured steps and erect bearing across the green and then entered the cemetery. She paused for a moment at her child's grave and at that of Simon Andressn. A flat gray stone had been placed on top of it, and on the stone was etched the likeness of a man wearing a helmet and coat of mail, leaning his hands on a big, triangular shield with his coat of arms. Around the edge of the stone were chiseled the words: In pace. Simon Armiger. Proles Dom. Andreae Filii Gudmundi Militis Pater Noster.

Ulf was standing outside the south door; he had left his sword in the gallery.

At that moment Jardtrud entered the cemetery in the company of four men: her two brothers and two old farmers. One of them was Kolbein Jonssn, who had been Lavrans Bjrgulfsn's arms bearer for many years. They walked toward the priest's entrance south of the choir.

Ulf Haldorssn raced over to block their way. Kristin heard them speaking rapidly and vehemently; Ulf was trying to prevent his wife and her escorts from going any farther. People in the churchyard drew nearer; Kristin too moved closer. Then Ulf jumped up onto the stone foundation on which the gallery rested, leaned in, and pulled out the first axe he could reach. When one of Jardtrud's brothers tried to pull it out of his hand, Ulf leaped forward and swung the axe in the air. The blow fell on the man's shoulder, and then people came running and seized hold of Ulf. He struggled to free himself. Kristin saw that his face was dark red, contorted, and desperate.

Then Sira Solmund and a cleric from the bishop's party appeared in the priest's doorway. They exchanged a few words with the farmers. Three men who bore the white shields of the bishop took Ulf away at once, leading him out of the cemetery, while his wife and her escorts followed the two priests into the church.

Kristin approached the group of farmers. "What is it?" she asked sharply. "Why did they take Ulf away?"

"Surely you saw that he struck a man in the cemetery," replied one of them, his voice equally sharp. Everyone moved away from her so that she was left standing alone with her son at the church door.

Kristin thought she understood. Ulf's wife wanted to present a complaint against him to the bishop. By losing mastery of his feelings and breaching the sanct.i.ty of the cemetery, he had placed himself in a difficult position. When an unfamiliar deacon came to the door and peered outside, she went over to him, told him her name, and asked whether she might be taken to the bishop.

Inside the church all the sacred objects had been set out, but the candles on the altars were not yet lit. A little sunshine fell through the round windows high overhead and streamed between the dark brown pillars. Many of the congregation had already entered the nave and were sitting on the benches along the wall. In front of the bishop's seat in the choir stood a small group of people: Jardtrud Herbrandsdatter and her two brothers-Geirulv with his arm bandaged-Kolbein Jonssn, Sigurd Geitung, and Tore Borghildssn. Behind and on either side of the bishop's carved chair stood two young priests from Hamar, several other men from the bishop's party, and Sira Solmund.

All of them stared as the mistress of Jrundgaard stepped forward and courtsied deeply before the bishop.

Lord Halvard was a tall, stout man with an exceedingly venerable appearance. Beneath the red silk cap his hair gleamed snow-white at his temples, and his full, oval face was a blazing red. He had a strong, crooked nose and heavy jowls, and his mouth was as narrow as a slit, almost without lips, as it cut through his closely trimmed, grayish-white beard. But his bushy eyebrows were still dark above his glittering, coal-black eyes.

"May G.o.d be with you, Kristin Lavransdatter," said Lord Halvard. He gave the woman a penetrating look from under his heavy eyebrows. With one of his large, pale old man's hands he grasped the gold cross hanging on his chest; in the other hand, which rested on the lap of his dark violet robes, he held a wax tablet.

"What brings you to seek me out here, Mistress Kristin?" the bishop asked. "Don't you think it would be more fitting if you waited until the afternoon and came to see me at Romundgaard to tell me what is in your heart?"

"Jardtrud Herbrandsdatter has sought you out here, Reverend Father," replied Kristin. "Ulf Haldorssn has now been in the service of my husband for thirty-five years; he has always been our loyal friend and helper and a good kinsman. I thought I might be able to help him in some way."

Jardtrud uttered a low cry of scorn or indignation. Everyone else stared at Kristin: the parishioners with bitterness, the bishop's party with intent curiosity. Lord Halvard cast a sharp glance around before he said to Kristin, "Are things such that you would venture to defend Ulf Haldorssn? Surely you must know-" As she attempted to answer, he quickly added, raising one hand, "No one has the right to demand testimony from you in this matter-other than your husband-unless your conscience forces you to speak. Consider it carefully, before you-"

"I was mostly thinking, Lord Bishop, that Ulf let his temper get the better of him, and he took up arms at church; I thought I might aid him in this matter by offering to pay a guarantee. Or," she said with great effort, "my husband will certainly do all he can to help his friend and kinsman in this case."

The bishop turned impatiently to those standing nearby, who all seemed to be seized by strong emotions. "That woman doesn't need to be here. Her spokesman can wait over in the nave. Go over there, all of you, while I speak to the mistress. And send the parishioners outside for the time being, and Jardtrud Herbrandsdatter along with them."

One of the young priests had been busy laying out the bishop's vestments. Now he carefully set the miter with the gold cross on top of the spread-out folds of the cope and went over to speak to the people in the nave. The others followed him. The congregation, along with Jardtrud, left the church, and the verger closed the doors.

"You mentioned your husband," said the bishop, looking at Kristin with the same expression as before. "Is it true that last summer you sought to be reconciled with him?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"But you were not reconciled?"

"My Lord, forgive me for saying this, but . . . I have no complaints about my husband. I sought you out to speak of this matter regarding Ulf Haldorssn."

"Did your husband know you were carrying a child?" asked Lord Halvard. He seemed angered by her objection.

"Yes, my Lord," she replied in a low voice.

"How did Erlend Nikulaussn receive the news?" asked the bishop.

Kristin stood twisting a corner of her wimple between her fingers, her eyes on the floor.

"Did he refuse to be reconciled with you when he heard about this?"

"My Lord, forgive me . . ." Kristin had turned bright red. "Whether my husband Erlend acted one way or another toward me . . . if it would help Ulf's case for him to come here, then I know that Erlend would hasten to his side."

The bishop frowned as he looked at her. "Do you mean out of friendship for this man, Ulf? Or, now that the matter has come to light, will Erlend after all agree to acknowledge the child you gave birth to this spring?"

Kristin lifted her head and stared at the bishop with wide eyes and parted lips. For the first time she began to understand what his words signified.

Lord Halvard gave her a somber look. "It's true, mistress, that no one other than your husband has the right to bring charges against you for this. But surely you must realize that he will bring upon both you and himself a great sin if he takes on the paternity of another man's child in order to protect Ulf. It would be better for all of you, if you have sinned, to confess and repent of this sin."

The color came and went in Kristin's face. "Has someone said that my husband wouldn't . . . that it was not his child?"

The bishop reluctantly replied, "Would you have me believe, Kristin, that you had no idea what people have been saying about you and your overseer?"

"No, I didn't." She straightened up, standing with her head tilted back slightly, her face white under the folds of her wimple. "I pray you, my Reverend Lord and Father-if people have been whispering rumors about me behind my back, then ask them to repeat them to my face!"

"No names have been mentioned," replied the bishop. "That is against the law. But Jardtrud Herbrandsdatter has asked permission to leave her husband and go home with her kinsmen because she accuses him of keeping company with another woman, a married woman, and conceiving a child with her."

For a moment both of them fell silent. Then Kristin repeated, "My Lord, I beg you to show me such mercy that you would demand these men to speak so that I might hear them, to say that I I am supposed to be this woman." am supposed to be this woman."

Bishop Halvard gave her a sharp and piercing look. Then he waved his hand, and the men in the nave approached and stood around his chair. Lord Halvard spoke: "You good men of Sil have come to me today at an inconvenient time, bringing a complaint which by rights should have been presented first to my plenipotentiary. I have acceded to this because I know that you cannot be fully knowledgeable of the law. But now this woman, Mistress Kristin Lavransdatter of Jrundgaard, has come to me with an odd request. She begs me to ask you if you dare say to her face what people have been saying in the parish: that her husband, Erlend Nikulaussn, is not the father of the child she gave birth to this spring."

Sira Solmund replied, "It has been said on every estate and in every hovel throughout the countryside that the child was conceived in adultery and with blood guilt, by the mistress and her overseer. And it seems to us hardly credible that she did not know of this rumor herself."

The bishop was about to speak, but Kristin said, in a loud and firm voice, "So help me Almighty G.o.d, the Virgin Mary, Saint Olav, and the archbishop Saint Thomas, I did not know this lie was being said about us."

"Then it's hard to understand why you felt such a need to conceal the fact that you were with child," said the priest. "You hid from everyone and barely came out of your house all winter."

"It's been a long time since I had any friends among the farmers of this parish; I've had so little to do with anyone here over the past few years. And yet I didn't know until now that everyone seems to be my foe. But I came to church on every Sabbath," she said.

"Yes, and you wrapped yourself up in cloaks and dressed so that no one might see you were growing big under your belt."

"As any woman would do; surely any woman would want to look decent in the company of other people," replied Kristin curtly.

The priest continued, "If the child was your husband's, as you say, then surely you wouldn't have tended to the infant so poorly that you caused him to die of neglect."

One of the young priests from Hamar quickly stepped forward and caught hold of Kristin. A moment later she stood as she had before, pale and straight-backed. She thanked the priest with a nod of her head.

Sira Solmund vehemently declared, "That's what the servingwomen at Jrundgaard said. My sister, who has been to the manor, witnessed it herself. The mistress went about with her b.r.e.a.s.t.s bursting with milk, so that her clothing was soaked through. But any woman who saw the boy's body can testify that he died of starvation."

Bishop Halvard put up his hand. "That's enough, Sira Solmund. We will keep to the matter at hand, which is whether Jardtrud Herbrandsdatter had any other basis for her claims when she brought her case against her husband than that she had heard rumors, which the mistress here says are lies. And whether Kristin can dispute these rumors. Surely no one would claim that she laid hands on the child . . ."

But Kristin stood there, her face pale, and did not speak.

The bishop said to the parish priest, "But you, Sira Solmund, it was your duty to speak to this woman and let her know what was being said. Haven't you done so?"

The priest blushed. "I have said heartfelt prayers for this woman, that she might willingly give up her stubborn ways and seek remorse and repentance. Her father was not my my friend," said the priest heatedly. "And yet I know that Lavrans of Jrundgaard was a righteous man and a firm believer. No doubt he might have deserved better, but this daughter of his has brought shame after shame upon him. She was barely a grown maiden before her loose ways caused two boys here in the parish to die. Then she broke her promise and betrothal to a fine and splendid knight's son, whom her father had chosen to be her husband, and forced her own will, using dishonorable means, to win this man, who you, my Lord, know full well was condemned as a traitor and betrayer of the Crown. But I thought that at last her heart would have to soften when she saw how she was hated and scorned-she and all her family-and with the worst of reputations, living there at Jrundgaard, where her father and Ragnfrid Ivarsdatter had enjoyed the respect and love of everyone. friend," said the priest heatedly. "And yet I know that Lavrans of Jrundgaard was a righteous man and a firm believer. No doubt he might have deserved better, but this daughter of his has brought shame after shame upon him. She was barely a grown maiden before her loose ways caused two boys here in the parish to die. Then she broke her promise and betrothal to a fine and splendid knight's son, whom her father had chosen to be her husband, and forced her own will, using dishonorable means, to win this man, who you, my Lord, know full well was condemned as a traitor and betrayer of the Crown. But I thought that at last her heart would have to soften when she saw how she was hated and scorned-she and all her family-and with the worst of reputations, living there at Jrundgaard, where her father and Ragnfrid Ivarsdatter had enjoyed the respect and love of everyone.

"But it was too much when she brought her son here today to be confirmed, and that man was supposed to present the boy to you when the whole parish knows that she lives with him in both adultery and blood guilt."

The bishop gestured for the other man to be silent.

"How closely related is Ulf Haldorssn to your husband?" he asked Kristin.

"Ulf's rightful father was Sir Baard Petersn of Hestnes. He had the same mother as his half brother Gaute Erlendssn of Skogheim, who was Erlend Nikulaussn's maternal grandfather."

Lord Halvard turned impatiently to Sira Solmund, "There is no blood guilt; her mother-in-law and Ulf are cousins. It would be a breach of kinship ties and a grave sin if it were true, but you need not make it any worse than that."

"Ulf Haldorssn is G.o.dfather to this woman's eldest son," said Sira Solmund.

The bishop looked at her, and Kristin answered, "Yes, my Lord."

Lord Halvard sat in silence for a while.

"May G.o.d help you, Kristin Lavransdatter," he said sorrowfully. "I knew your father in the past; I was his guest at Jrundgaard in my youth. I remember that you were a lovely, innocent child. If Lavrans Bjrgulfsn had been alive, this would never have happened. Think of your father, Kristin. For his sake, you must put aside this shame and cleanse yourself, if you can."

In a flash the memory came back to her; she recognized the bishop. A winter's day at sunset . . . a red, rearing colt in the courtyard and a priest with a fringe of black hair around his flaming red face. Hanging on to the halter, splattered with froth, he was trying to tame the wild animal and climb on to its back without a saddle. Groups of drunken, laughing Christmas guests were crowding around, her father among them, red-faced from liquor and the cold, shouting loudly and merrily.

She turned toward Kolbein Jonssn.

"Kolbein! You who have known me ever since I wore a child's cap, you who knew me and my sisters back home with my father and mother . . . I know that you were so fond of my father that you . . . Kolbein, do you believe such a thing of me?"

The farmer Kolbein looked at her, his face stern and sorrowful. "Fond of your father, you say . . . Yes, we who were his men, poor servants and commoners who loved Lavrans of Jrundgaard and thought he was the kind of man that G.o.d wanted a chieftain to be . . .

"Don't ask us, Kristin Lavransdatter, we who saw how your father loved you and how you rewarded his love, what we think you might be capable of doing!"

Kristin bowed her head to her breast. The bishop couldn't get another word out of her; she would no longer answer his questions.

Then Lord Halvard stood up. Next to the high altar was a small door which led to the enclosed section of the gallery behind the apse of the choir. Part of it was used as the sacristy, and part of it was furnished with several little hatches through which the lepers could receive the Host when they stood out there and listened to the ma.s.s, separated from the rest of the congregation. But no one in the parish had suffered from leprosy for many years.

"Perhaps it would be best if you waited out there, Kristin, until everyone has come inside for the service. I want to talk to you later, but in the meantime you may go home to your family."

Kristin curtsied before the bishop. "I would rather go home now, venerable Lord, with your permission."

"As you please, Mistress Lavransdatter. May G.o.d protect you, Kristin. If you are guilty, then they will plead your defense: G.o.d Himself and His martyrs who are the lords of the church here: Saint Olav and Saint Thomas, who died for the sake of righteousness."

Kristin curtsied once more before the bishop. Then she went through the priest's door out into the cemetery.

A small boy wearing a new red tunic stood there all alone, his bearing stiff and erect. Munan tilted his pale child's face up toward his mother for a moment, his eyes big and frightened.

Her sons . . . She hadn't thought about them before. In a flash she saw her flock of boys: the way they had stood at the periphery of her life during the past years, crowding together like a herd of horses in a thunderstorm, alert and wary, far away from her as she struggled through the final death throes of her love. What had they understood, what had they thought, what had they endured as she wrestled with her pa.s.sion? What would become of them now?

She held Munan's small, scrubbed fist in her hand. The child stared straight ahead; his lips quivered slightly, but he held his head high.

Hand in hand Kristin Lavransdatter and her son walked across the churchyard and out onto the hillside. She thought about her sons, and she felt as if she would break down and collapse on the ground. The throngs of people moved toward the church door, as the bells rang from the nearby bell tower.

She had once heard a saga about a murdered man who couldn't fall to the ground because he had so many spears in his body. She couldn't fall as she walked along because of all the eyes piercing through her.

Mother and child entered the high loft room. Her sons were huddled around Bjrgulf, who was sitting at the table. Naakkve straightened up and stood over his brothers, with one hand on the shoulder of the half-blind boy. Kristin looked at the narrow, dark, blue-eyed visage of her firstborn son, with the soft, downy black beard around his mouth.

"You know about it?" she asked calmly, walking over to the group.

"Yes." Naakkve spoke for all of them. "Gunhild was at church."

Kristin paused for a moment. The other boys turned back to their eldest brother, until their mother asked, "Did any of you know that such things were being said in the countryside-about Ulf and me?"

Then Ivar Erlendssn abruptly turned to face her. "Don't you think you would have heard the clamor of our actions if we had? I know I I couldn't have sat still and let my mother be branded an adulteress-not even if I knew it was true that she couldn't have sat still and let my mother be branded an adulteress-not even if I knew it was true that she was! was!"

Kristin gazed at them sorrowfully. "I wonder, my sons, what you must have thought about everything that has happened here over the last few years."

The boys stood in silence. Then Bjrgulf lifted his face and looked up at his mother with his failing eyes. "Jesus Christus, Mother, what were we supposed to think? This past year and all the other years before that! Do you think it was easy for us to figure out what to think?"

Naakkve said, "Oh yes, Mother. I know I should have talked to you, but you behaved in such a way that made it impossible for us. And when you let our youngest brother be baptized as if you wanted to call our father a dead man-" He broke off, gesturing vehemently.

Bjrgulf continued. "You and Father thought of nothing else but your quarrel. Not about the fact that we had grown up to be men in the meantime. You never paid any heed to anyone who happened to come between your weapons and was dealt b.l.o.o.d.y wounds."

He had leaped to his feet. Naakkve placed a hand on his shoulder. Kristin saw it was true: The two were grown men. She felt as if she were standing naked before them; she had shamelessly revealed herself to her children.

This was what they had seen most as they grew up: that their parents were getting old, that their youthful ardor was pitifully ill suited to them, and that they had not been able to age with honor and dignity.