Neither Lavrans nor Gunnulf Nikulaussn liked the fact that the boy was called Naakkve; he had been baptized Nikulaus. Erlend maintained that it was the same name, but Gunnulf disagreed; there were men in the sagas who had been called Naakkve since heathen times. But Erlend still refused to use the name that his father had borne. And Kristin always called the boy by the name Erlend had spoken when he first greeted their son.

In Kristin's view there was only one person at Husaby, aside from herself, who fully realized what a splendid and promising child Naakkve was. That was the new priest, Sira Eiliv. In that way, he was nearly as sensible as she was.

Sira Eiliv was a short, slight man with a little round belly, which gave him a somewhat comical appearance. He was exceedingly nondescript; people who had spoken to him many times had trouble recognizing the priest, so ordinary was his face. His hair and complexion were the same color-like reddish-yellow sand-and his round, watery blue eyes were quite dull. In manner he was subdued and diffident, but Master Gunnulf said that Sira Eiliv was so learned that he could have attained high standing if only he had not been so una.s.suming. But he was far less marked by his learning than by pure living, humility, and a deep love for Christ and his Church.

He was of low birth, and although he was not much older than Gunnulf Nikulaussn, he seemed almost like an old man. Gunnulf had known him ever since they went to school together in Nidaros, and he always spoke of Eiliv Serkssn with great affection. Erlend didn't think it was much of a priest they had been given at Husaby, but Kristin immediately felt great trust and affection for him.

Kristin continued to live in the little house with her child, even after she had made her first visit back to church. That was a bleak day for Kristin. Sira Eiliv escorted her through the church door, but he didn't dare give her the body of Christ. She had confessed to him, but for the sin that she had committed when she became implicated in another person's ill-fated death, she would have to seek absolution from the archbishop. That morning when Gunnulf had sat with Kristin, her spirit in anguish, he had impressed upon her heart that as soon as she was out of any physical danger, she must rush to seek redemption for her soul. As soon as she had regained her health, she must keep her promise to Saint Olav. Now that he, through his intercession, had brought her son, healthy and alive, into the light and to the baptismal font, she must walk barefoot to his grave and place there her golden crown, the honored adornment of maidens, which she had guarded so poorly and unjustly worn. And Gunnulf had advised her to prepare for the journey with solitude, prayers, reading, meditation, and even fasting, although with moderation for the sake of the nursing child.

That evening as she sat in sorrow after going to church, Gunnulf had come to her and given her a Pater noster Pater noster rosary. He told her that in countries abroad, cloister folk and priests were not the only ones who used these kinds of beads to help them with their devotions. This rosary was extremely beautiful; the beads were made of a type of yellow wood from India that smelled so sweet and wondrous they might almost serve as a reminder of what a good prayer ought to be-a sacrifice of the heart and a yearning for help in order to live a righteous life before G.o.d. In between there were beads of amber and gold, and the cross was painted with a lovely enamel. rosary. He told her that in countries abroad, cloister folk and priests were not the only ones who used these kinds of beads to help them with their devotions. This rosary was extremely beautiful; the beads were made of a type of yellow wood from India that smelled so sweet and wondrous they might almost serve as a reminder of what a good prayer ought to be-a sacrifice of the heart and a yearning for help in order to live a righteous life before G.o.d. In between there were beads of amber and gold, and the cross was painted with a lovely enamel.

Erlend would give his young wife a look full of longing whenever he met her out in the courtyard. She had never been as beautiful as she was now-tall and slender in her simple, earth-brown dress of undyed homespun. The coa.r.s.e linen wimple covering her hair, neck, and shoulders merely showed even more how glowing and pure her complexion had become. When the spring sun fell on her face, it was as if the light were seeping deep into her flesh, so radiant she was-her eyes and lips were almost transparent. When he went into the little house to see the child, she would lower her great pale eyelids if he glanced at her. She seemed so modest and pure that he hardly dared touch her hand with his fingers. If she had Naakkve at her breast, she would pull a corner of her wimple over the tiny glimpse of her white body. It seemed as if they were trying to send his wife away from him to heaven.

Then he would joke, half-angrily, with his brother and father-in-law as they sat in the hall in the evening-just men. Husaby had practically become a collegial church. Here sat Gunnulf and Sira Eiliv; his father-in-law could be considered a half-priest, and now they wanted to turn him into one too. There would be three priests on the estate. But the others laughed at him.

During the spring Erlend Nikulaussn supervised much of the farming on his manor. That year all the fences were mended and the gates were put up in good time; the plowing and spring farm work were done early and properly, and Erlend purchased excellent livestock. At the new year he had been forced to slaughter a great many animals, but this was not a bad loss, as old and wretched as they were. He set the servants to burning tar and stripping off birch bark, and the farm's buildings were put in order and the roofs repaired. Such things had not been done at Husaby since old Sir Nikulaus had had his full strength. And he also sought advice and support from his wife's father-people knew that. Amidst all this work Erlend would visit friends and kinsmen in the villages along with Lavrans and his brother, the priest. But now he traveled in a suitable manner, with a couple of fit and proper servants. In the past, Erlend had been in the habit of riding around with an entire entourage of undisciplined and rowdy men. The gossip, which had for so long seethed with indignation at Erlend Nikulaussn's shameless living and the disarray and decline at Husaby, now died down to a good-natured teasing. People smiled and said that Erlend's young wife had achieved a great deal in six months.

Shortly before Saint Botolv's Day, Lavrans Bjrgulfsn left for Nidaros, accompanied by Master Gunnulf. Lavrans was to be the priest's guest for several days while he visited Saint Olav's shrine and the other churches in town before starting his journey south to return home. He parted from his daughter and her husband with love and kindness.

CHAPTER 6.

KRISTIN WAS TO go to Nidaros three days after the Selje Men's Feast Day. Later in the month the frenzy and tumult in town would have already started as Saint Olav's Day neared, and before that time the archbishop was not in residence.

The evening before, Master Gunnulf came to Husaby, and very early the next morning he went with Sira Eiliv to the church for matins. The dew, gray as a pelt, covered the gra.s.s as Kristin walked to church, but the sun was gilding the forest at the top of the ridge, and the cuckoo was singing on the gra.s.sy mountainside. It looked as if she would have beautiful weather for her journey.

There was no one in the church except Erlend and his wife and the priests in the illuminated choir. Erlend looked at Kristin's bare feet. It must be ice cold for her to be standing on the stone floor. She would have to walk twenty miles with no escort but her prayers. He tried to lift his heart toward G.o.d, which he had not done in many years.

Kristin was wearing an ash-gray robe with a rope around her waist. Underneath he knew that she wore a shift of rough sack-cloth. A homespun cloth, tightly bound, hid her hair.

As they came out of the church into the morning sunshine, they were met by a maidservant carrying the child. Kristin sat down on a pile of logs. With her back to her husband she let the boy nurse until he had had his fill before she started off. Erlend stood motionless a short distance away; his cheeks were pale and cold with strain.

The priests came out a little while later; they had taken off their albs in the sacristy. They stopped in front of Kristin. A few minutes later Sira Eiliv headed down toward the manor, but Gunnulf helped her tie the child securely onto her back. Around her neck hung a bag holding the golden crown, some money, and a little bread and salt. She picked up her staff, curtseyed deeply before the priest, and then began walking silently north along the path leading up into the forest.

Erlend stayed behind, his face deathly white. Suddenly he started running. North of the church there were several small hills with scraggly gra.s.s slopes and shrubs of juniper and alpine birch that had been grazed over; goats usually roamed there. Erlend raced to the top. From there he would be able to see her for a little while longer, until she disappeared into the woods.

Gunnulf slowly followed his brother. The priest looked so tall and dark in the bright morning light. He too was very pale.

Erlend was standing with his mouth half-open and tears streaming down his white cheeks. Abruptly he bent forward and dropped to his knees; then he threw himself down full length on the scruffy gra.s.s. He lay there sobbing and sobbing, tugging at the heather with his long tan fingers.

Gunnulf stood quite still. He stared down at the weeping man and then gazed out toward the forest where the woman had disappeared.

Erlend raised his head off the ground. "Gunnulf-was it necessary for you to compel her to do this? Was it necessary?" he asked again. "Couldn't you you have offered her absolution?" have offered her absolution?"

The other man did not reply.

Then Erlend spoke again. "I made my confession and offered penance." He sat up. "I bought for her her thirty ma.s.ses and an annual ma.s.s for her soul and burial in consecrated ground; I confessed my sin to Bishop Helge and I traveled to the Shrine of the Holy Blood in Schwerin. Couldn't that have helped Kristin a little?" thirty ma.s.ses and an annual ma.s.s for her soul and burial in consecrated ground; I confessed my sin to Bishop Helge and I traveled to the Shrine of the Holy Blood in Schwerin. Couldn't that have helped Kristin a little?"

"Even though you have done that," said the priest quietly, "even though you have offered G.o.d a contrite heart and been granted full reconciliation with Him, you must realize that year after year you will still have to strive to erase the traces of your sin here on earth. The harm you did to the woman who is now your wife when you dragged her down, first into impure living and then into blood guilt-you cannot absolve her of that, only G.o.d can do so. Pray that He holds His hand over her during this journey when you can neither follow her nor protect her. And do not forget, brother, for as long as you both shall live, that you watched your wife leave your estate in this manner-for the sake of your sins more than for her own."

A little later Erlend said, "I swore by G.o.d and my Christian faith before I stole her virtue that I would never take any other wife, and she promised that she would never take any other husband for as long as we both should live. You said yourself, Gunnulf, that this was then a binding marriage before G.o.d; whoever later wed another would be living in sin in His eyes. So it could not have been impure living that Kristin was my . . ."

"It was not a sin that you lived with her," said the priest after a moment, "if it could have been done without breaking other laws. But you drove her into sinful defiance against everyone G.o.d had put in charge of this child-and then you brought the shame of blood upon her. I told you this too, back when we talked of this matter. That's why the Church has created laws regarding marriage, why banns must be announced, and why we priests must not marry man and maiden against the will of their kinsmen." He sat down, clasped his hands around one knee, and stared out across the summer-bright landscape, where the little lake glinted blue at the bottom of the valley. "Surely you must realize that, Erlend. You had sown a thicket of brambles around yourself, with nettles and thorns. How could you draw a young maiden to you without her being cut and flayed b.l.o.o.d.y?"

"You stood by me more than once, brother, during that time when I was with Eline," said Erlend softly. "I have never forgotten that."

"I don't think I would have done so," replied Gunnulf, and his voice quavered, "if I had imagined that you would have the heart to behave in such a manner toward a pure and delicate maiden-and a mere child compared to you."

Erlend said nothing.

Gunnulf asked him gently, "That time in Oslo-didn't you ever think about what would happen to Kristin if she became with child while she was living in the convent? And was betrothed to another man? Her father a proud and honorable man-and all her kinsmen of n.o.ble lineage, unaccustomed to bearing shame."

"Of course I thought about it." Erlend had turned his face away. "Munan promised to take care of her-and I told her that too."

"Munan! Would you deign to speak to a man like Munan of Kristin's honor?"

"He's not the sort of man you think," said Erlend curtly.

"But what about our kinswoman Fru Katrin? For surely you didn't intend for him to take Kristin to any of his other estates, where his paramours live. . . ."

Erlend slammed his fist against the ground, making his knuckles bleed.

"The Devil himself must have a hand in it when a man's wife goes to his brother for confession!"

"She hasn't confessed to me," said the priest. "Nor am I her parish priest. She told me her laments during her bitter fear and anguish, and I tried to help her and give her such advice and solace as I thought best."

"I see." Erlend threw back his head and looked up at his brother. "I know that I shouldn't have done it; I shouldn't have allowed her to come to me at Brynhild's inn."

The priest sat speechless for a moment.

"At Brynhild Fluga's?"

"Yes, didn't she tell you that when she told you all the rest?"

"It will be hard enough for Kristin to say such things about her lawful husband in confession," said the priest after a pause. "I think she would rather die than speak of it anywhere else."

He fell silent and then said harshly and vehemently, "If you felt, Erlend, that you were her husband before G.o.d and the one who should protect and guard her, then I think your behavior was even worse. You seduced her in groves and in barns, you led her across a harlot's threshold. And finally up to Bjrn Gunnarssn and Fru Aashild . . ."

"You mustn't speak of Aunt Aashild that way," said Erlend in a low voice.

"You've said yourself that you thought our aunt caused the death of our father's brother-she and that man Bjrn."

"It makes no difference to me," said Erlend forcefully. "I'm fond of Aunt Aashild."

"Yes, so I see," said the priest. A crooked, mocking little smile appeared on his lips. "Since you were ready to leave her to face Lavrans Bjrgulfsn after you carried off his daughter. It seems as if you think that your affection is worth paying dearly for, Erlend."

"Jesus!" Erlend hid his face in his hands.

But the priest continued quickly, "If only you had seen the torment of your wife's soul as she trembled in horror of her sins, unconfessed and unredeemed-as she sat there, about to give birth to your child, with death standing at the door-so young a child herself, and so unhappy."

"I know, I know!" Erlend was shaking. "I know she lay there thinking about this as she suffered. For Christ's sake, Gunnulf, say no more. I'm your brother, after all!"

But he continued without mercy.

"If I had been a man like you and not a priest, and if I had led astray so young and good a maiden, I would have freed myself from that other woman. G.o.d help me, but I would have done as Aunt Aashild did to her husband and then burned in h.e.l.l forever after, rather than allow my innocent and dearest beloved to suffer such things as you have done."

Erlend sat in silence for a moment, trembling.

"You say that you're a priest," he said softly. "Are you such a good good priest that you have never sinned-with a woman?" priest that you have never sinned-with a woman?"

Gunnulf did not look at his brother. Blood flushed red across his face.

"You have no right to ask me that, but I will answer you all the same. He who died for us on the cross knows how much I need his mercy. But I tell you, Erlend-if on the whole round disk of this earth he had not one servant who was pure and unmarked by sin, and if in his holy Church there was not a single priest who was more faithful and worthy than I am, miserable betrayer of the Lord that I am, then the Lord's commandments and laws are what we can learn from this. His Word cannot be defiled by the mouth of an impure priest; it can only burn and consume our own lips-although perhaps you can't understand this. But you know as well as I, along with every filthy thrall of the Devil that He has bought with His own blood-G.o.d's law cannot be shaken nor His honor diminished. Just as His sun is equally mighty, whether it shines above the barren sea and desolate gray moors or above these fair lands."

Erlend had hidden his face in his hands. He sat still for a long time, but when he spoke his voice was dry and hard.

"Priest or no priest-since you're not such a strict adherent of pure living-don't you see . . . Could you have done that to a woman who had slept in your arms and borne you two children? Could you have done to her what our aunt did to her husband?"

The priest didn't answer at first. Then he said with some scorn, "You don't seem to judge Aunt Aashild too harshly."

"But it can't be the same for a man as for a woman," said Erlend. "I remember the last time they were here at Husaby, and Herr Bjrn was with them. We sat near the hearth, Mother and Aunt Aashild, and Herr Bjrn played the harp and sang for them. I stood at his knee. Then Uncle Baard called to her-he was in bed, and he wanted her to come to bed too. He used words that were vulgar and shameless. Aunt Aashild stood up and Herr Bjrn did too. He left the room, but before he did, they looked at each other. Later, when I was old enough to understand, I thought . . . that it might be true after all. I had begged for permission to light the way for Herr Bjrn over to the loft where he was going to sleep, but I didn't dare, and I didn't dare sleep in the hall, either. I ran outside and went to sleep with the men in the servants' house. By Jesus, Gunnulf-it can't be the same for a man as it was for Aashild that evening. No, Gunnulf-to kill a woman who . . . unless I caught her with another man . . ."

And yet that was exactly what he had done. But Gunnulf wouldn't dare mention that that to his brother. to his brother.

Then the priest asked coldly, "Wasn't it true that Eline had been unfaithful to you?"

"Unfaithful!" Erlend abruptly turned to face his brother, furious. "Do you think I should have blamed her for taking up with Gissur, after I had told her so often that it was over between us?"

Gunnulf bowed his head.

"No. No doubt you're right," he said, his voice weary and low.

But having won that small concession, Erlend flared up. He threw back his head and looked at the priest.

"You take so much notice of Kristin, Gunnulf. The way you've been hanging about her all spring-almost more than is decent for a brother and a priest. It's as if you didn't want her to be mine. If things hadn't been the way they were with her when you first met, people might even think . . ."

Gunnulf stared at him. Provoked by his brother's gaze, Erlend jumped to his feet. Gunnulf stood up too. When he continued to stare, Erlend lashed out at him with his fist. The priest grabbed his wrist. He tried to charge at Gunnulf, but his brother stood his ground.

Erlend grew meek at once. "I should have remembered that you're a priest," he said softly.

"Well, you have nothing to repent on that account," said Gunnulf with a little smile. Erlend stood there rubbing his wrist.

"Yes, you always had such devilishly strong hands."

"This is the way it was when we were boys." Gunnulf's voice grew oddly tender and gentle. "I've thought about that often during the years I was away from home-about when we were boys. We often fought, but it never lasted long, Erlend."

"But now," said the other man sorrowfully, "it can never be the same as when we were boys, Gunnulf."

"No," murmured the priest. "I suppose it can't."

They stood in silence for a long time. Finally Gunnulf said, "I'm going away now, Erlend. I'll go down to bid Eiliv farewell, and then I'm leaving. I'm heading over to visit the priest in Orkedal; I won't go to Nidaros while she she is there." He gave a small smile. is there." He gave a small smile.

"Gunnulf! I didn't mean . . . Don't leave me this way."

Gunnulf didn't move. He breathed hard several times and then he said, "There's one thing I want to tell you, Erlend-since you now know that I know everything about you. Sit down."

The priest sat down in the same position as before. Erlend stretched out in front of him, lying with one hand propped under his chin and looking up at his brother's strangely tense and rigid face. Then he smiled.

"What is it, Gunnulf? Are you about to confess to me?"

"Yes," said his brother softly. But then he fell silent for a long time. Erlend noticed that his lips moved once, and he clasped his hands tighter around his knee.

"What is it?" He gave him a fleeting smile. "It can't be that you-that some fair woman out there in the southern lands . . ."

"No," said the priest. His voice had a peculiar gruff tone. "This is not about love. Do you know, Erlend, how it happened that I was promised to the priesthood?"

"Yes. When our brothers died and they thought they were going to lose us too . . ."

"No," said Gunnulf. "They thought Munan had regained his health, and Gaute was not ill at all; he didn't die until the next winter. But you lay in bed and were suffocating, and that's when Mother promised that I would serve Saint Olav if he would save your life."

"Who told you that?" asked Erlend after a moment.

"Ingrid, my foster mother."

"Well, I would have been an odd gift to offer to Saint Olav," said Erlend, with a laugh. "He would have been poorly served by me. But you've told me, Gunnulf, that you were pleased even as a boy to be called to the priesthood."

"Yes," said the priest. "But it was not always so. I remember the day you left Husaby along with Munan Baardsn to journey to our kinsman, the king, to join his service. Your horse danced beneath you, and your new weapons gleamed and shone. I would never bear weapons. You were handsome, my brother. You were only sixteen winters old, and I had already noticed long ago that women and maidens were fond of you."

"All that glory was short-lived," said Erlend. "I learned to cut my nails straight across, to swear on the name of Jesus with every other word, and to resort to my dagger to defend myself when I wielded a sword. Then I was sent north and met her her-and was banished with shame from the king's retinue, and our father closed his door to me."

"And you left the country with a beautiful woman," said Gunnulf in the same low voice. "We heard at home that you had become a chief of guards at Earl Jacob's castle."