Kristin Lavransdatter (132 page)

Finally the meal came to an end. Her sons, who were seated on the inner bench, rose to their feet and came around the end of the table past the vacant high seat, adjusting their belts as they usually did after they had put their knives back in their sheaths. Then they left the room.

When they had all gone, Kristin followed. In the sunshine, water was now streaming off all the eaves. There wasn’t a soul in the courtyard except for Ulf; he was standing on the doorstep to his own house.

His face took on an oddly helpless expression when the mistress approached him. He didn’t speak, and so she asked quietly, “Did you talk to him?”

“Only a few words. I saw that he and Naakkve talked.”

After a moment he went on, “He was a little worried . . . about all of you . . . when the flooding got this bad. So he decided to head home to see how things were. Naakkve told him how you were handling everything.

“I don’t know how he happened to hear about it . . . that you gave away the pelts he sent with Gaute in the fall. He was cross about that. Also when he heard that you had rushed home right after the mass; he thought you would have stayed to talk to him.”

Kristin didn’t say a word; she turned on her heel and went back inside.

 

That summer there were constant quarrels and strife between Ulf Haldorssøn and his wife. The son of Ulf’s half brother, Haldor Jonssøn, had come to visit his kinsman in the spring, along with his wife; he had been married the year before. It was understood that Haldor would now lease the estate Ulf owned in Skaun and move there on turnover day.
³
But Jardtrud was angry because she thought Ulf had given his nephew conditions that were too good, and she saw that it was the men’s intention to ensure for Haldor, perhaps through some kind of agreement, inheritance of the estate after his uncle’s death.

Haldor had been Kristin’s personal servant at Husaby, and she was very fond of the young man. She also liked his wife, who was a quiet and proper young woman. Shortly after Midsummer the couple had a son, and Kristin lent the wife her weaving house, where the mistresses of the estate used to reside whenever they gave birth. But Jardtrud took offense that Kristin herself should attend the woman as the foremost of the midwives, even though Jardtrud was young and quite inexperienced, unable to offer help with a birth or with caring for a newborn infant.

Kristin was the boy’s godmother, and Ulf gave the christening banquet, but Jardtrud thought he lavished too much on it and put too many costly gifts in the cradle and in the mother’s bed. To placate his wife somewhat, Ulf gave her several precious items from among his own possessions: a gilded cross on a chain, a fur-lined cape with a large silver clasp, a gold ring, and a silver brooch. But she saw that he refused to present her with a single parcel of land that he owned, aside from what he had given her when they married. Everything else would go to his half siblings if he himself had no offspring. Now Jardtrud lamented that her child had been stillborn, and it seemed unlikely that she would have any more; she was ridiculed throughout the countryside because she talked about this to everyone.

Ulf had to ask Kristin to allow Haldor and Audhild to live in the hearth house after the young wife had gone to church for the first time after giving birth. Kristin gladly consented. She avoided Haldor because she was reminded of so many things that were painful to think about whenever she spoke with her former servant. But she talked a great deal with his wife, for Audhild wanted to help Kristin as much as she could. Toward the end of the summer the child fell gravely ill, and then Kristin stepped in to tend the boy for his young and inexperienced mother.

When the couple journeyed north in the fall, she missed them both, but she missed the child even more. She realized it was foolish, but in recent years she couldn’t help feeling some measure of pain because she suddenly seemed to be barren—and yet she wasn’t an old woman, not even forty.

It had helped to keep her thoughts off painful matters when she had the childish young wife and her infant to care for and advise. And even though she found it sad to see that Ulf Haldorssøn had not found greater happiness in his marriage, the state of affairs in the foreman’s house had also served to divert her thoughts from other things.

After the way Erlend had behaved on Ascension Day, she hardly dared to speculate anymore about how the whole situation might end. The fact that he had appeared in the village and the church in full view of everyone and then had raced northward again without speaking a single word of greeting to his wife seemed to her so heartless that she felt as if she had at last grown completely indifferent toward him.

 

She had not exchanged a word with Simon Andressøn since the day of the spring floods when he came to help her. She would greet him and often speak a few words to her sister at church. But she had no idea what they thought about her affairs or the fact that Erlend had gone away to Dovre.

On the Sunday before Saint Bartholomew’s Day, Sir Gyrd of Dyfrin came to church with the people from Formo. Simon looked immensely happy as he went inside for mass at his brother’s side. And Ramborg came over to Kristin after the service, eagerly whispering that she was with child again and expected to give birth around the Feast of the Virgin Mary in the spring.

“Kristin, sister, can’t you come home and celebrate with us to day?”

Kristin shook her head sadly, patted the young woman’s pale cheek, and prayed that God might bring the parents joy. But she said that she couldn’t go to Formo.

 

After the falling-out with his brother-in-law, Simon tried to make himself believe that it was for the best. His position was such that he didn’t need to ask how people might judge his actions in everything; he had helped Erlend and Kristin when it mattered, and the assistance he could offer them here in the parish was not so important that he should allow it to make his own life more complicated.

But when he heard that Erlend had left Jørundgaard, it was impossible for Simon to sustain the stubborn, melancholy calm he had striven to display. It was useless to tell himself that no one fully understood what lay behind Erlend’s absence; people chattered so much but knew so little. Even so, he couldn’t get himself mixed up in this matter. But he was still uneasy. At times he wondered whether he ought to seek out Erlend at Haugen and take back the words he had said when they parted; then he could see about finding some way to return order to the affairs of his brother-in-law and his wife’s sister. But Simon never got any farther than thinking about this.

He didn’t think anyone could tell from looking at him that his heart was uneasy. He lived as he always had, running his farm and managing his properties; he was merry and drank boldly in the company of friends; he went up to the mountains to hunt when he had time and spoiled his children when he was home. And never was an unkind word spoken between him and his wife. For the servants of the manor it must have looked as if the friendship between Ramborg and him was now better than it had ever been, since his wife was more even-tempered and calm, never exhibiting those fits of capriciousness and childish anger over petty matters. But secretly Simon felt awkward and uncertain in his wife’s company; he could no longer make himself treat her as if she were still half a child, teasing and pampering her. He didn’t know how he should treat her anymore.

Neither did he know how to take it when she told him one evening that she was again with child.

“I suppose you’re not particularly happy about it, are you?” he finally said, stroking her hand.

“But surely
you
are happy, aren’t you?” Ramborg pressed close to him, half crying and half laughing. He laughed, a little embarrassed, as he pulled her into his arms.

“I’ll be sensible this time, Simon; I won’t behave the way I did before. But you must
stay
with me, do you hear me? Even if all your brothers-in-law and all your brothers were to be led off to the gallows, one after the other, with their hands bound, you mustn’t leave me!”

Simon laughed sadly. “Where would I go, my Ramborg? Geirmund, that poor creature, isn’t likely to get mixed up in any weighty matters, and he’s the only one left among my friends and kinsmen that I haven’t quarreled with yet.”

“Oh . . .” Ramborg laughed too as her tears fell. “That enmity will last only until they need a helping hand and you think you can offer it. I know you too well by now, my husband.”

 

Two weeks later Gyrd Andressøn unexpectedly arrived at the manor. The Dyfrin knight had brought only a single man as an escort.

The meeting between the brothers took place with few words spoken. Sir Gyrd explained that he hadn’t seen his sister and brother-in-law at Kruke in all these years, and so he had decided to come north to visit them. Since he was in the valley, Sigrid felt he should also visit Formo. “And I thought, brother, that surely you couldn’t be so angry with me that you wouldn’t offer me and my servant food and lodging until tomorrow.”

“You know I will,” said Simon as he stood looking down, his face dark red. “It was . . . noble of you, Gyrd, to come to see me.”

The brothers walked through the fields after they had eaten. The grain was starting to turn pale on the slopes facing the sun, down by the river. The weather was so beautiful. The Laag now glittered gently enough, visible as little white flashes amid the alder trees. Big, glossy clouds drifted across the summer sky; sunshine filled the entire basin of the valley, and the mountain on the other side looked light blue and green in the shimmer of heat and the fleeting shadows of the clouds.

A pounding sound came from the pasture behind them as the horses trampled across the dry hillside; the herd came rushing through the alder thickets. Simon leaned over the fence. “Foal, foal . . . Bronstein’s getting old, isn’t he?” he said as Gyrd’s horse poked his head over the rail and nudged his shoulder.

“Eighteen winters.” Gyrd stroked the horse. “I thought, kinsman, that this matter . . . It wouldn’t be right if it should end the friendship between you and me,” he said without looking at his brother.

“It has grieved me every single day,” replied Simon softly. “Thank you for coming, Gyrd.”

They continued walking along the fence—Gyrd first, with Simon plodding behind. Finally they sank down on the edge of a little yellow-scorched stony embankment. A strong, sweet fragrance came from the small mounds of hay that were scattered about, where the scythe had scraped together short stalks of hay mixed with flowers between the piles of stones. Gyrd spoke of the reconciliation between King Magnus and the Haftorssøns and their followers.

After a moment Simon asked, “Do you think it’s out of the question that any of these kinsmen of Erlend Nikulaussøn would be willing to attempt to win full reconciliation for him and clemency from the king?”

“There is not much
I
can do,” said Gyrd Darre. “And they have few kind words to say of him, Simon, those who might be able to do something. Oh, I have little desire to talk of this matter
now
. I thought he was a bold and splendid fellow, but the others think he brought his plans to such a bad end. But I’d rather not talk of this now; I know you’re so fond of that brother-in-law of yours.”

Simon sat gazing out across the silvery white brilliance of the crowns of the trees on the hillside and the sparkling gleam of the river. Surprised, he thought that yes, in a way it was true, what Gyrd had said.

“Except that right now we are foes, Erlend and I,” he said. “It’s been a long time since we last spoke.”

“It seems to me that you’ve grown quite quarrelsome over the years, Simon,” said Gyrd with a laugh.

After a moment he continued, “Haven’t you ever thought of moving away from these valleys? We kinsmen could support each other more if we lived closer to each other.”

“How can you even think of such a thing? Formo is my ancestral estate . . .”

“Aasmund of Eiken owns part of the manor through inherited rights. And I know that he would not be unwilling to exchange one ancestral property for another. He hasn’t yet given up the idea that if he could win your Arngjerd for his Grunde on the terms that he mentioned . . .”

Simon shook his head. “The lineage of our father’s mother has resided on this estate ever since Norway was a heathen land. And it is here that I intend for Andres to live when I’m gone. I don’t think you have your wits about you, brother. How could I give up Formo!”

“No, that’s understandable.” Gyrd blushed a little. “I merely thought that perhaps . . . Most of your kinsmen are at Raumarike, along with the friends from your youth; perhaps you might find that you’d thrive better there.”

“I’m thriving
here
.” Simon had also turned red. “This is the place where I can give the boy a secure seat.” He looked at Gyrd, and his brother’s fine, furrowed face took on an embarrassed expression. Gyrd’s hair was now almost white, but his body was still just as slender and lithe as ever. He shifted rather uneasily; several stones rolled out from the pile of rocks and tumbled down the slope and into the grain.

“Are you going to send the whole scree down into my field?” asked Simon in a stern voice as he laughed. Gyrd leaped to his feet, light and agile, reaching out a hand to his brother, who moved more slowly.

Simon gripped his brother’s hand for a moment after he got to his feet. Then he placed his arm around his brother’s shoulder. Gyrd did the same, and with their arms loosely resting around each other’s shoulders, the brothers slowly walked over the hills toward the manor.

 

They sat together in the Sæmund house that night; Simon would share a bed with his brother. They had said their evening prayers, but they wanted to empty the ale keg before they went to bed.

“
Benedictus tu in muliebris . . . mulieribus
. . . Do you remember that?” Simon laughed suddenly.