Kristin Lavransdatter Part 8

When they came out onto East Lane again, the sun was quite gold, and the dust from all the traffic in the town hung like a faint haze over the street. It was so warm and lovely, and people were arriving from Eikaberg with great armfuls of new foliage to decorate their houses for the holiday. Then Ingebjrg decided that they should walk out toward Gjeita Bridge. On market days there was always so much entertainment going on in the paddocks along the river, with jugglers and fiddlers. Ingebjrg had even heard that a whole ship full of foreign animals had arrived, and they were being displayed in cages down on the sh.o.r.e.

Haakon had had some German beer at Miklegaard and was now quite amenable and in good spirits, so when the maidens took him by the arm and begged so nicely, he relented, and the three of them walked over toward Eikaberg.

On the other side of the river there were only a few small farms scattered across the green slopes between the river and the steep incline. They went past the Minorites' cloister, and Kristin's heart shrank with shame, for she suddenly remembered that she had wanted to offer most of her silver for Arne's soul. But she had not wanted to speak of this to the priest at Nonneseter; she was afraid of being questioned. She had thought that perhaps she could go out to visit the barefoot friars in the pastures to see whether Brother Edvin had returned-she would have liked so much to meet him. But she didn't know how properly to approach one of the monks or to broach the topic. And now she had so little money left that she didn't know whether she could afford a ma.s.s; maybe she would have to settle for offering a thick wax candle.

Suddenly they heard a terrible roar from countless voices out at the paddock on the sh.o.r.e-it was as if a storm were pa.s.sing over the swarm of people gathered down there. And then the whole crowd came rushing up toward them, shrieking and hollering. Everyone was running in wild terror, and several people screamed to Haakon and the maidens that the leopards were loose.

They raced back toward the bridge, and they heard people shouting to each other that a cage had tipped over and two leopards had escaped; someone also mentioned a snake. The closer they came to the bridge, the greater the crowd. A baby fell from a woman's arms right in front of them, and Haakon stood over the little one to protect him. A moment later Kristin and Ingebjrg caught a glimpse of the old man far off to one side, holding the child in his arms, and then they lost sight of him.

At the narrow bridge the mob surged forward so fiercely that the maidens were forced out into a field. They saw people running along the riverbank; young men jumped into the water and began to swim, but the older people leaped into the moored boats, which became instantly overloaded.

Kristin tried to make Ingebjrg listen to her; she screamed that they should run over to the Minorites' cloister. The gray-cowled monks had come rushing over and were trying to gather the terrified people. Kristin was not as frightened as her friend, and they saw nothing of the wild animals, but Ingebjrg had completely lost her head. The swarms of people surged forward again, and then were driven back from the bridge because a large crowd of men who had gone to the nearest farms to arm themselves was now headed back, some on horseback, some running. When Ingebjrg was almost trampled by a horse, she gave a shriek and took off up the hill toward the forest. Kristin had never imagined that Ingebjrg could run so fast-she was reminded of a hunted boar -and she ran after her so that they wouldn't become separated.

They were deep inside the forest before Kristin managed to stop Ingebjrg on a small pathway which seemed to lead down toward the road to Traelaborg. They paused for a moment to catch their breath. Ingebjrg was sniffling and crying, and she said she didn't dare go back alone through the town and all the way out to the convent.

Kristin didn't think it a good idea either, with so much commotion in the streets; she thought they should find a house where they might hire a boy to accompany them home. Ingebjrg recalled a bridle path to Traelaborg farther down near the sh.o.r.e, and she was certain that along the path were several houses. So they followed the path downhill.

Distressed as they both were, it seemed to them that they walked for a long time before they finally saw a farm in the middle of a field. In the courtyard they found a group of men sitting at a table beneath some ash trees, drinking. A woman went back and forth, bringing pitchers out to them. She gave the two maidens in convent attire a surprised and annoyed look, and none of the men seemed to want to accompany them when Kristin explained their need. But finally two young fellows stood up and said they would escort the girls to Nonneseter if Kristin would pay them an rtug rtug.2 She could tell from their speech that they weren't Norwegian, but they seemed to be decent men. She thought their demand shamefully exorbitant, but Ingebjrg was scared out of her wits and she didn't think they should walk home alone so late in the day, so she agreed.

No sooner had they come out onto the forest path than the men drew aside and began talking to each other. Kristin was upset by this, but she didn't want to show her apprehension, so she spoke to them calmly, told them about the leopards, and asked them where they were from. She also looked around, pretending that at any minute she expected to meet the servants who had been escorting them; she talked about them as if they were a large group. Gradually the men said less and less, and she understood very little of their language anyway.

After a while Kristin noticed that they were not headed the way she had come with Ingebjrg; the path led in a different direction, more to the north, and she thought they had already gone much too far. Deep inside her, terror was smoldering, but she dared not let it slip into her thoughts. She felt oddly strengthened having Ingebjrg along; the girl was so foolish that Kristin realized she would have to handle things for both of them. Under her cloak she pulled out the reliquary cross that her father had given her, clasped her hand around it, and prayed with all her heart that they might meet up with someone soon, as she tried to gather her courage and pretend that nothing was wrong.

A moment later she saw that the path led out onto a road, and at that spot there was a clearing. The bay and the town lay far below them. The men had led them astray, either willfully or because they were not familiar with the paths. They were high up on the slope and far north of Gjeita Bridge, which Kristin could see. The road they had reached seemed to lead in that direction.

Then she stopped, took out her purse, and began to count out the ten penninger penninger into her hand. into her hand.

"Now, good sirs," she said, "we no longer need your escort. We know the way from here. We give you thanks for your trouble, and here is your payment, as we agreed. G.o.d be with you, good friends."

The men looked at each other for a moment, quite foolishly, so that Kristin was almost about to smile. But then one of them said with an ugly leer that the road down to the bridge was a desolate one; it would not be advisable for them to go alone.

"No one would be so malicious or so stupid as to want to stop two maidens, especially two dressed in convent attire," replied Kristin. "We prefer to go alone," and then she handed them the money.

The man grabbed hold of her wrist, stuck his face close to hers, and said something about a "Kuss" and a "Beutel." Kristin understood that they would be allowed to go unharmed if she would give him a kiss and her purse.

She remembered Bentein's face close to hers, just like this, and for a moment fear seized her; she felt nauseated and sick. But she pressed her lips together, calling upon G.o.d and the Virgin Mary in her heart-and at that moment she heard hoofbeats on the path coming from the north.

Then she struck the man in the face with her coin purse so that he stumbled, and she shoved him in the chest so that he toppled off the path and tumbled down into the woods. The other German grabbed her from behind, tore the purse out of her hand, and tugged at the chain around her neck, breaking it. She was just about to fall, but she seized hold of the man, attempting to get her cross back. He tried to pull away; the robber had now heard someone approaching too. Ingebjrg screamed loudly, and the hors.e.m.e.n on the path came racing as fast as they could. They emerged from the thickets; there were three of them. Ingebjrg ran toward them, shrieking, and they jumped down from their horses. Kristin recognized the gentleman from Didrek's loft; he drew his sword, grabbed the German she was struggling with by the scruff of his neck, and struck him with the flat of the blade. His men ran after the other one, seized him, and beat him with all their might.

Kristin leaned against the rock face. Now that it was over she was shaking, but what she felt most was astonishment that her prayer had been answered so quickly. Then she noticed Ingebjrg. The girl had thrown back her hood, letting her cloak fall loosely over her shoulders, and she was arranging her thick blonde braids on her breast. Kristin burst out laughing at the sight. She sank down and had to cling to a tree because she couldn't hold herself up; it was as if she had water instead of marrow in her bones, she felt so weak. She trembled and laughed and cried.

The gentleman came over to her and cautiously placed his hand on her shoulder.

"No doubt you have been more frightened than you dared show," he said, and his voice was pleasant and kind. "But now you must get hold of yourself; you acted so bravely while the danger lasted."

Kristin could only nod. He had beautiful bright eyes, a thin, tan face, and coal-black hair that was cropped short across his forehead and behind his ears.

Ingebjrg had managed to arrange her hair properly at last; she came over and thanked the stranger with many elegant words. He stood there with his hand on Kristin's shoulder as he spoke to the other maiden.

"We'll take these birds along to town so they can be thrown in the dungeon," he said to his men who were holding the two Germans, who said they belonged to the Rostock ship. "But first we must escort the maidens back to their convent. I'm sure you can find some straps to tie them up with. . . ."

"Do you mean the maidens, Erlend?" asked one of the men. They were young, strong, and well-dressed boys, and they were both flushed after the fight.

Their master frowned and was about to give a sharp reply. But Kristin put her hand on his sleeve.

"Let them go, kind sir!" She gave a small shudder. "My sister and I would be most reluctant to have this matter talked about."

The stranger looked down at her, bit his lip, and nodded as he gazed at her. Then he gave each of the prisoners a blow on the back of the neck with the flat of his blade so that they fell forward. "Get going," he said, giving them a kick, and they took off as fast as they could. The gentleman turned back to the maidens and asked them if they would like to ride.

Ingebjrg allowed herself to be lifted up into Erlend's saddle, but it turned out that she couldn't stay in it; she slipped down again at once. He gave Kristin a questioning look, and she told him that she was used to riding a man's saddle.

He grasped her around the knees and lifted her up. She felt a thrill pa.s.s through her, sweet and good, because he held her away from himself so carefully, as if he were afraid to get too close to her. Back home they had never paid attention if they pressed her too close when they helped her onto her horse. She felt so strangely honored.

The knight-as Ingebjrg called him, even though he wore silver spurs3-offered the other maiden his hand, and his men leaped onto their horses. Ingebjrg now wanted them to go north, around the town and along the foot of the Ryen hills and the Marte outcrop, not through the streets. Her excuse was that Sir Erlend and his men were fully armed, weren't they? The knight replied somberly that the ban against bearing weapons was not so strictly enforced for those who were traveling, or for all the people in town who were now hunting wild beasts. Kristin realized full well that Ingebjrg wanted to take the longest and least traveled road in order to talk more with Erlend.

"This is the second time we have delayed you this evening, sir," said Ingebjrg.

Erlend replied gravely, "It doesn't matter; I'm going no farther than to Gerdarud tonight-and it stays light all night long."

Kristin was so pleased that he neither teased nor jested but spoke to her as he would to an equal, or more than that. She thought of Simon; she had never met any other young men of the courtly cla.s.s. But this man was probably somewhat older than Simon.

They made their way down into the valley below the Ryen hills and up along the stream. The path was narrow, and the young leafy bushes flicked wet, fragrant branches at Kristin. It was a little darker down there, the air was chill, and the foliage was wet with dew along the streambed.

They moved slowly, and the hooves of the horses sounded m.u.f.fled against the damp, gra.s.s-covered path. Kristin swayed in the saddle; behind her she could hear Ingebjrg talking, and the stranger's dark, calm voice. He didn't say much, answering as if preoccupied-as if he were feeling the same as she was, thought Kristin. She felt so strangely drowsy, but safe and content now that all the events of the day had slipped away.

It was like waking up as they emerged from the forest, out onto the slopes below the Marte outcrop. The sun had gone down and the town and the bay lay below them in clear, pallid light. The Aker ridges were limned with bright yellow beneath the pale blue sky. Sounds carried a long way in the quiet of the evening, as if they were coming from the depths of the cool air. From somewhere along the road came the screech of a wagon wheel, and dogs barked to each other from farms on opposite sides of the town. But in the forest behind them birds chirped and sang at the top of their voices now that the sun had gone down.

Smoke drifted through the air as dry gra.s.s and leaves were burned, and in the middle of a field a bonfire flared red; the great fiery rose made the clarity of the night seem dim.

They were riding between the fences of the convent's fields when the stranger spoke to Ingebjrg again. He asked her what she thought would be best: Should he escort her to the door and ask to speak with Fru Groa, so that he could tell her how this had all come about? But Ingebjrg thought they should sneak in through the church; then they might be able to slip into the convent without being noticed. They had been gone much too long. Perhaps Sister Potentia had forgotten them because of the visit from her kinsmen.

It didn't occur to Kristin to wonder why it was so quiet in the square in front of the west entrance of the church. Usually there was a great hubbub in the evening as people from the neighboring area came to the nuns' church. And all around stood houses where many of the lay servants and corrodians lived. This was where they said farewell to Erlend. Kristin paused to pet his horse; it was black, with a handsome head and gentle eyes. She thought it looked like Morvin, the horse she had ridden back home when she was a child.

"What's the name of your horse, sir?" she asked as the animal turned his head and snuffled at the man's chest.

"Bajard," he said, looking at Kristin over the horse's neck. "You ask the name of my horse, but not mine?"

"I would indeed like to know your name, sir," she replied, with a little bow.

"Erlend Nikulaussn is my name," he said.

"Then we must thank you, Erlend Nikulaussn, for your good a.s.sistance tonight," replied Kristin, giving him her hand.

Suddenly her face flushed bright red; she pulled her hand halfway out of his grasp.

"Fru Aashild Gautesdatter at Dovre-is she your kinswoman?" she asked.

She saw with surprise that he too turned blood red. He let go of her hand abruptly and replied, "She is my mother's sister. It's true that I am Erlend Nikulaussn of Husaby." He gave Kristin such a strange look that she grew even more confused, but she pulled herself together.

"I should have thanked you with better words, Erlend Niku laussn, but I don't know what to say to you."

Then he bowed, and she thought she should say goodbye, even though she would have preferred to talk with him longer. At the entrance to the church she turned around, and when she saw that Erlend was still standing next to his horse, she raised her hand and waved.

Inside the convent great fear and commotion reigned. Haakon had sent a messenger home on horseback while he himself walked through the town searching for the maidens, and servants had been sent out to help him. The nuns had heard that the wild animals had supposedly killed and devoured two children in town. This turned out to be a rumor, and the leopard-there was only one- had been captured well before vespers by several men from the king's castle.

Kristin stood with her head bowed and kept silent as the abbess and Sister Potentia vented their anger on the maidens. She seemed to be asleep inside. Ingebjrg wept and spoke in their defense: they had gone out with Sister Potentia's permission, after all, with the proper escort, and they were not to blame for what had happened afterward.

But Fru Groa told them to stay in the church until the clock struck midnight and try to turn their thoughts to spiritual matters and thank G.o.d, who had saved their lives and honor. "G.o.d has clearly shown you the truth about the world," she said. "Wild beasts and the Devil's servants threaten His children every step of the way, and there is no salvation unless you cleave to Him with entreaties and prayers."

She gave each of them a lit candle and told them to go with Sister Cecilia Baardsdatter, who often sat in the church alone, praying into the night.

Kristin placed her candle on the altar of Saint Laurentius and knelt down on the prayer bench. She stared steadily into the flame as she said her Pater noster Pater noster and and Ave Maria Ave Maria. Gradually the glow of the taper seemed to envelop her, shutting out everything else surrounding her and the candle. She felt her heart open up, br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with grat.i.tude and promises and love for G.o.d and His gentle Mother-she felt them so near. She had always known that they saw her, but on this night she felt felt that it was so. She saw the world as if in a vision: a dark room into which a beam of sunlight fell, with dust motes tumbling in and out, from darkness to light, and she felt that now she had finally moved into the sunbeam. that it was so. She saw the world as if in a vision: a dark room into which a beam of sunlight fell, with dust motes tumbling in and out, from darkness to light, and she felt that now she had finally moved into the sunbeam.

She thought she would gladly have stayed in the quiet night-dark church forever-with the few tiny specks of light like golden stars in the night, the sweet fragrance of old incense, and the warm smell of burning wax. With herself resting inside her own star.

This sense of joy seemed to vanish when Sister Cecilia silently approached and touched her shoulder. Curtseying before the altar, the three women slipped out of the small south entrance into the convent courtyard.

Ingebjrg was so sleepy that she got into bed without talking. Kristin was relieved; she was reluctant to be disturbed, now that she was thinking so clearly. And she was glad they had to keep their shifts on at night-Ingebjrg was so fat and sweated heavily.

Kristin lay awake for a long time, but the deep current of sweetness which had borne her as she knelt in the church would not return. And yet she still felt its warmth inside her; she fervently thanked G.o.d, and she sensed a feeling of strength in her spirit as she prayed for her parents and her sisters and for the soul of Arne Gyrdsn.

Father, she thought. She felt such a longing for him, for all they had had together before Simon Darre had entered their lives. A new tenderness for Lavrans welled up inside her, as if there were a presentiment of maternal love and maternal sorrows in her love for her father that night. She was dimly aware that there was much in life that he had not received. She thought of the old black wooden church at Gerdarud, where at Eastertide she had seen the graves of her three little brothers and her grandmother-her father's own mother, Kristin Sigurdsdatter-who had died as she gave birth to him.

What could Erlend Nikulaussn be doing at Gerdarud? She could not fathom it.

She wasn't conscious of giving any more thought to him that night, but the whole time the memory of his thin, dark face and his quiet voice had hovered somewhere in the shadows, just beyond the radiance of her soul.

When Kristin woke up the next morning, the sun was shining in the dormitory, and Ingebjrg told her that Fru Groa herself had sent word to the lay sisters that they should not be awakened for matins. They had permission to go over to the cookhouse now to have some food. Kristin felt warm with joy at the kindness of the abbess. It was as if the whole world had been good to her.

CHAPTER 3.

THE FARMERS' GUILD at Aker was dedicated to Saint Margareta, and every year began its meeting on the twentieth of July, which was Saint Margareta's Day. On that day the brothers and sisters would gather with their children, guests, and servants at Aker Church to attend ma.s.s at the Saint Margareta altar. Afterward they would go to the guild hall, which stood near Hofvin Hospice; there they would drink for five days.

But because both Aker Church and Hofvin Hospice belonged to Nonneseter, and since many of the Aker peasants were tenant farmers of the convent, the custom had arisen for the abbess and several of the eldest sisters to honor the guild by attending the celebrations on the first day. And the young maidens of the convent who were there to be educated but who were not going to enter the order were allowed to go along and dance in the evening; and for this celebration they would wear their own clothes and not their convent attire.

So there was a great commotion in the young novices' dormitory on the evening before Saint Margareta's Day. Those maidens who were to attend the banquet rummaged through their chests and laid out their finery, while the others looked on and moped. Some of the girls had set small pots on the hearth and were boiling water to make their skin soft and white. Others were brewing something that they rubbed in their hair; afterward, when they had wound strands of their hair tightly around leather straps, they would have wavy and curly tresses.

Ingebjrg took out all that she owned of finery, but she couldn't decide what to wear. Not her best leaf-green velvet dress, anyway; it was too costly and too elegant to wear to such a farmers' guild. But a thin little maiden who was not going along-Helga was her name, and she had been given to the convent as a child-pulled Kristin aside and whispered that Ingebjrg would of course wear the green dress and her pink silk shift.

"You've always been kind to me, Kristin," said Helga. "It's most improper for me to get involved in such things, but I'm going to tell you anyway. The knight who escorted you home on that evening in the spring-I have both seen and heard that Ingebjrg has talked to him since then. They have spoken to each other in church, and he has waited for her up along the fenced road when she goes to visit Ingunn at the corrodians' house. But it's you that he asks for, and Ingebjrg has promised to bring you out there with her. I'll wager that you've never heard about this before, have you?"

"It's true that Ingebjrg has never mentioned this to me," said Kristin. She pursed her lips so the other maiden wouldn't see the smile that threatened to appear. So that's the kind of girl Ingebjrg was. "I expect she realizes that I'm not the type to run off to meetings with strange men behind house corners and fences," she said haughtily.

"Then I could have spared myself the trouble to tell you this news, since it would have been more proper for me not to mention it," said Helga, offended; and the two parted.

But all evening Kristin had to try not to smile whenever anyone looked at her.

The next day Ingebjrg dawdled for a long time, wearing only her shift. Kristin finally realized that the other maiden was not going to get dressed until she herself was done.

Kristin didn't say a word, but she laughed as she went over to her chest and took out her golden-yellow silk shift. She had never worn it before, and it felt so soft and cool as it slid over her body. It was beautifully trimmed with silver and blue and brown silk at the neck and across the part of the bodice that would be visible above the neckline of her dress. There were also matching sleeves. She pulled on her linen stockings and tied the ribbons of the dainty blue-violet shoes, which Haakon had fortunately managed to bring home on that tumultuous day. Ingebjrg looked at her.

Then Kristin laughed and said, "My father has always taught me that we should not show contempt for our inferiors, but you are no doubt so grand that you won't want to dress up for peasants and tenant farmers."

Her face as red as a berry, Ingebjrg dropped the woolen shift from her white hips and put on the pink silk one. Kristin slipped her best velvet dress over her head; it was violet-blue and cut deep across the bodice, with slit sleeves and cuffs that trailed almost to the ground. She wrapped the gilded belt around her waist and slung her gray squirrel cloak over her shoulders. Then she spread out her thick blond hair over her shoulders and placed the circlet studded with roses on her forehead.

She noticed that Helga was watching them. Then she took from her chest a large silver clasp. It was the one she had worn on her cloak the night that Bentein had confronted her on the road, and she had never wanted to wear it since. She went over to Helga and said softly, "I realize that you meant to show me kindness yesterday; you must believe I know that." And she handed the clasp to Helga.

Ingebjrg was also quite beautiful when she had finished dressing, wearing her green gown with a red silk cloak over her shoulders and her pretty, curly hair falling loose. They had been in a race to outdress each other, thought Kristin and laughed.

The morning was cool and fresh with dew when the procession wound its way from Nonneseter, heading west toward Frysja. The haying season was almost over in that area, but along the fences grew cl.u.s.ters of bluebells and golden Maria-gra.s.s. The barley in the fields had sprouted spikes and rippled pale silver with a sheen of faint rose. In many places where the path was narrow and led through the fields, the grain brushed against people's knees.

Haakon walked in front, carrying the convent's banner with the image of the Virgin Mary on blue silk cloth. Behind him walked the servants and corrodians, and then came Fru Groa and four old nuns on horseback, followed by the young maidens on foot; their colorful, secular feast attire shimmered and fluttered in the sun. Several corrodian women and a few armed men brought up the rear of the procession.

They sang as they walked across the bright meadows, and whenever they met others on the side roads, the people would step aside and greet them respectfully. All across the fields small groups of people were walking and riding, heading toward the church from every house and farm. In a little while they heard behind them hymns sung by deep male voices, and they saw the cloister banner from Hoved rise up over a hill. The red silk cloth gleamed in the sun, bobbing and swaying with the footsteps of the man who was bearing it.

The mighty, sonorous voice of the bells drowned out the neighs and whinnies of the stallions as they came over the last hill to the church. Kristin had never seen so many horses at one time-a surging, restless sea of glossy equine backs surrounded the green in front of the entrance to the church. People dressed for the celebration were standing, sitting, and lying on the slope, but everyone stood up in greeting when the Maria banner from Nonneseter was carried in amongst them, and they all bowed deeply to Fru Groa.

It looked as if more people had come than the church could hold, but an open s.p.a.ce closest to the altar had been reserved for the people from the convent. A moment later the Cistercian monks from Hoved came in and went up to the choir, and then song resounded throughout the church from the throats of men and boys.

During the ma.s.s, when everyone had risen, Kristin caught sight of Erlend Nikulaussn. He was tall, and his head towered above those around him. She saw his face from the side. He had a high, narrow forehead and a large, straight nose; it jutted out like a triangle from his face and was strangely thin, with fine, quivering nostrils. There was something about it that reminded Kristin of a skittish, frightened stallion. He was not as handsome as she thought she had remembered him; the lines in his face seemed to extend so long and somberly down to his soft, small, attractive mouth-oh yes, he was handsome after all.

He turned his head and saw her. She didn't know how long they continued to stare into each other's eyes. Then her only thought was for the ma.s.s to be over; she waited expectantly to see what would happen next.

As everyone began to leave the crowded church, there was a great crush. Ingebjrg pulled Kristin along with her, backward into the throng; they were easily separated from the nuns, who were the first to leave. The girls were among the last to approach the altar with their offering and then exit from the church.

Erlend was standing outside, right next to the door, between the priest from Gerdarud and a stout, red-faced man wearing a magnificent blue velvet surcoat. Erlend was dressed in silk but in dark colors-a long, brown-and-black patterned surcoat and a black cape interwoven with little yellow falcons.