PART II.

DEBTORS.

CHAPTER 1.

KRISTIN DID NOT hear a full account of what had happened between Erlend and Simon. Her husband told her and Bjrgulf what Simon had said about his journey to Dyfrin, and he said that afterward they had exchanged words and ended up parting as foes. "I can't tell you any more than that."

Erlend was rather pale, his expression firm and resolute. She had seen him look that way only a few times before, in all the years she had been married to him. She knew that this was something he would refuse to discuss any further.

She had never liked it when Erlend countered her questions with that expression. G.o.d only knew she didn't consider herself more than a simple woman; she would have preferred to avoid taking responsibility for anything but her own children and her household duties. And yet she had been forced to deal with so many things that seemed to her more appropriate concerns for a man to handle. But Erlend had thought it quite reasonable to let them rest on her shoulders. So it didn't suit him to act so overbearing and to rebuff her when she wanted to know about things that he had undertaken on his own that would affect the welfare of them all.

She took this enmity between Erlend and Simon Darre greatly to heart. Ramborg was her only sister. And when she thought about losing Simon's companionship, she realized for the first time how fond she had become of this man and how much grat.i.tude she owed him. His loyal friendship had been the best support she had in her difficult situation.

She knew that now people would be talking about this all over the countryside: that the folks of Jrundgaard had quarreled with Simon of Formo too. Simon and Ramborg were liked and respected by everyone. But most people regarded Kristin, her husband, and her sons with suspicion and ill will; this was something she had noticed long ago. Now they would be so alone.

Kristin felt as if she would sink into the earth from sorrow and shame on that first Sunday when she arrived at the green in front of the church and saw Simon standing a short distance away, among a group of farmers. He greeted her and her family with a nod, but it was the first time he didn't come over to shake hands and talk with them.

Ramborg did come over to her sister and took her hand. "It's dreadful that our husbands have fallen into discord, but you and I need not quarrel because of that." She stood on her toes to kiss Kristin so that everyone in the churchyard could see it. Kristin wasn't sure why, but she seemed to sense that Ramborg was not as sad as she might have been. She had never liked Erlend; G.o.d only knew whether she had set her husband against him, intentionally or not.

And yet Ramborg always came over to greet her sister whenever they met at church. Ulvhild asked in a loud voice why her aunt didn't come south to visit them anymore; then she ran over to Erlend, to cling to him and his oldest sons. Arngjerd stood quietly at her stepmother's side, took Kristin's hand, and looked embarra.s.sed. Simon and Erlend, along with his sons, vigilantly avoided each other.

Kristin greatly missed her sister's children as well. She had grown fond of the two maidens. One day when Ramborg brought her son to ma.s.s, Kristin kissed Andres after the service and then burst into tears. She loved this tiny, frail boy so dearly. She couldn't help it, but now that she no longer had any small children of her own, it was a comfort to her to look after this little nephew from Formo and pamper him whenever his parents brought him along to Jrundgaard.

From Gaute she learned a little more about the matter because he told her what words were spoken between Erlend and Simon on that night when they met at Skindfeld-Gudrun's hut. The longer Kristin thought about it, the more it seemed to her that Erlend was most at fault. She had felt bitter toward Simon because he ought to have known his kinsman well enough to realize that Erlend would not have betrayed and deceived his brother in any dishonorable way, no matter how many strange things he might do out of recklessness or on impulse. And whenever Erlend saw what he had done, he usually behaved like a skittish stallion that has torn its reins loose and become wild with fright at what is dragging along behind.

But Erlend never seemed to understand that sometimes other people needed to protect their own interests in the face of the mischief that he had such a rare talent for stirring up. Then Erlend would fail to guard his tongue or watch how he behaved. She remembered from her own experience, back when she was still young and tender; time after time she had felt as if he were trampling on her heart with his reckless behavior. He had driven away his own brother. Even before Gunnulf entered the monastery, he had withdrawn from them, and she knew that Erlend was to blame. He had so often offended his pious and worthy brother, even though Gunnulf had never done anything but good for Erlend, as far as she knew. Now he had pushed Simon away, and when she wanted to know what had caused this animosity between him and their only friend, Erlend merely gave her a stubborn look and said he couldn't tell her.

She could see that he had told Naakkve more.

Kristin felt dismayed and uneasy when she noticed that Erlend and her eldest son would fall silent or change the topic of their conversation as soon as she came near, and this was not a rare occurrence.

Gaute and Lavrans and Munan kept closer to their mother than Nikulaus had ever done, and she had always talked more to them than to him. And yet she still felt that of all her children, her firstborn son was in some sense closest to her heart. After she had returned to live at Jrundgaard, memories of the time when she bore this son under her heart and gave birth to him became strangely vivid and alive. For she noticed in so many ways that the people of Sil had not forgotten the sins of her youth. It was almost as if they felt she had tarnished the honor of the entire region when she, daughter of the man who was regarded as their chieftain, had gone astray. They had not forgiven her, or the fact that she and Erlend had added mockery to Lavrans's sorrow and shame when they fooled him into giving away a seduced maiden with the grandest wedding that had ever been seen in Gudbrandsdal.

Kristin didn't know whether Erlend realized that people had begun gossiping about these old subjects again. If he did, he probably paid them no mind. He considered her neighbors no more than homespun farmers and fools, every one of them. And he taught his sons to think the same. It pained her soul to know that these people who had wished her so well back when she was Lavrans Bjrg ulfsn's pretty daughter, the rose of the northern valley, now despised Erlend Nikulaussn and his wife and judged them harshly. She didn't plead with them; she didn't weep because she had become a stranger among them. But it hurt nevertheless. And it seemed as if even the steep mountains surrounding the valley that had sheltered her childhood now looked differently at her and her home: black with menace and stone-gray with a fierce determination to subdue her.

Once she had wept bitterly. Erlend knew about it, and he had had little patience with her back then. When he discovered that she had walked alone for many months with the burden of his child under her frightened, sorrowful heart, he did not take her in his arms and console her with tender and loving words. He was bitter and ashamed that it would come out how dishonorably he had acted toward Lavrans. But he hadn't thought about how much more difficult it would be for her on that day when she stood in disgrace before her proud and loving father.

And Erlend had not greeted his son with much joy when she finally brought the child into the light of life. That moment when her soul was released from endless anguish and dread and torment and she saw the hideous, shapeless fruit of her sin come alive under the fervent prayers of the priest and become the most beloved and healthy of children, then it felt as if her heart would melt with humble joy, and even the hot, defiant blood of her body turned to sweet, white, innocent milk. Yes, with G.o.d's help the boy would doubtless become a man, Erlend had said as she lay in bed, wanting him to rejoice with her over this precious treasure, which she could hardly bear to let out of her arms when the women wanted to tend to the child. He loved the children he had by Eline Ormsdatter-that much she had both seen and sensed-but when she carried Naakkve over to Erlend and tried to place him in his father's arms, Erlend wrinkled his nose and asked what he was supposed to do with this infant who leaked from both ends. For years Erlend would only grudgingly look at his eldest, lawfully born son, unable to forget that Naakkve had come into the world at an inopportune time. And yet the boy was such a handsome and good and promising child that any father would rejoice to see such a son grow up to succeed him.

From the time he was quite little, Naakkve loved his father so dearly that it was wondrous to behold. His whole small, fair face would light up like the sun whenever his father took him on his knee for a moment and spoke a few words to him or he was allowed to hold his father's hand to cross the courtyard. Steadfastly Naakkve had courted his father's favor during that time when Erlend was more fond of all his other children than the eldest. Bjrgulf was his father's favorite when the boys were small, and occasionally Erlend would take his sons along to the armory when he went up there. That was where all the armor and weapons were kept that were not in daily use at Husaby. While his father talked and bantered with Bjrgulf, Naakkve would sit quietly on top of a chest, simply breathing with happiness because he was allowed to be there.

But as time pa.s.sed and Bjrgulf's poor eyesight meant that he could not accompany Erlend as readily as his other sons, and Bjrg ulf also grew more taciturn and withdrawn, things changed. Erlend began to seem almost a little embarra.s.sed in the boy's presence. Kristin wondered whether Bjrgulf, in his heart, blamed his father for destroying their well-being and taking his sons' future with him when he fell-and whether Erlend knew or guessed as much. However that might be, Bjrgulf was the only one of Erlend's sons who did not seem to look up to him with blind love and boundless pride at calling him Father.

One morning the two smallest boys noticed that Erlend was reading from the prayer book and fasting on bread and water. They asked him why he was doing this since it wasn't a fast day. Erlend replied that it was because of his sins. Kristin knew that these fast days were part of the penance that had been imposed upon Erlend for breaking his marriage vows with Sunniva Olavsdatter, and she knew that her oldest sons were aware of this. Naakkve and Gaute seemed untroubled by it, but she happened to glance at Bjrgulf at that moment. The boy was sitting at the table, squinting nearsightedly at his bowl of food and chuckling to himself. Kristin had seen Gunnulf smile that way several times when Erlend was being most boastful. She didn't like it.

Now it was Naakkve whom Erlend always wanted to take along. And the youth seemed to come alive, as if all his roots were attached to his father. Naakkve served his father the way a young page serves his lord and chieftain. He took care of his father's horse himself and kept his harnesswork and weapons in order. He fastened Erlend's spurs on his feet and brought his hat and cape when Erlend was going out. He filled his father's goblet and served him slices of meat at the table, sitting on the bench just to the right of Erlend's seat. Erlend jested a bit over the boy's chivalrous and n.o.ble manners, but he was pleased, and he commanded more and more of Naakkve's attention.

Kristin saw that Erlend had now completely forgotten how she had struggled and begged to win from him a sc.r.a.p of fatherly love for this child. And Naakkve had forgotten the time when she was the one he turned to, seeking solace from all his ills and advice for all his troubles when he was little. He had always been a loving son toward his mother, and he still was in many ways, but she felt that the older the boy became, the farther away he moved from her and her concerns. Naakkve lacked all sense for what she had to cope with. He was never disobliging when she gave him a task to do, but he was oddly awkward and clumsy at anything that might be called farm work. He did the ch.o.r.es without interest or desire and never finished anything. His mother thought that in many ways he was not unlike his deceased half brother, Orm Er lendssn; he also resembled him in appearance. But Naakkve was strong and healthy, a lively dancer and sportsman, an excellent bowman and tolerably skilled in the use of other weapons, a good horseman and a superb skier. Kristin spoke about this one day to Ulf Haldorssn, Naakkve's foster father.

Ulf said, "No one has lost more from Erlend's folly than that boy. There is not another youth growing up in Norway today who would make a more splendid horseman and chieftain than Naakkve."

But Kristin saw that Naakkve never gave a thought to what his father had ruined for him.

At that time there was once again great unrest in Norway, and rumors were flying all through the valleys, some of them reasonable and some of them completely unlikely. The n.o.blemen in the south and west of the kingdom as well as in the uplands had grown exceedingly discontented with the rule of King Magnus. It was said they had even threatened to take up arms, rally the peasantry, and force Lord Magnus Eirikssn to rule in accordance with their wishes and advice; otherwise they would proclaim his cousin, the young Jon Haftorssn of Sudrheim, their king. His mother, Lady Agnes, was the daughter of the blessed King Haakon Haalegg. Not much was heard from Jon himself, but his brother Sigurd was supposed to be in the vanguard of the entire enterprise, and Bjarne, Erling Vidkunssn's young son, was also part of it. People said that Sigurd had promised that if Jon became king, he would take one of Bjarne's sisters as his queen because the maidens of Giske were also descended from the ancient Norwegian kings. Sir Ivar Ogmundssn, who had formerly been one of King Magnus's most ardent supporters, was now said to have joined forces with these young n.o.blemen, as had many others among the wealthiest and most highborn of men. People said that Erling Vidkunssn himself and the bishop of Bjrgvin stood behind the effort.

Kristin paid little mind to these rumors; she thought bitterly that she and her family were commoners now and the affairs of the realm no longer concerned them. And yet she had talked about this a bit with Simon Andressn during the previous fall, and she also knew that he had spoken of it to Erlend. But she saw that Simon was loath to discuss such things-partly, no doubt, because he disapproved of his brothers getting involved in such dangerous matters. And Gyrd, at any rate, was being led along by his wife's kinsmen. But Simon also feared that it wouldn't be pleasant for Erlend to hear such talk since he had been born to take his place among men who counseled the rulers of Norway, but now misfortune had shut him out from the company of his peers.

And yet Kristin saw that Erlend spoke of these matters with his sons. One day she heard Naakkve say, "But if these men win out against King Magnus, then surely they can't be so cowardly, Father, that they wouldn't take up your case and force the king to make amends with you."

Erlend laughed.

His son continued, "You were the first to show the way to these men and remind them that it was never the custom among Norwegian n.o.bles in the past to sit back calmly and tolerate injustice from their kings. It cost you your ancestral estates and your position as sheriff. The men who supported you escaped without a scratch. You alone have paid the price for all of them."

"Yes, and that's all the more reason why they would want to forget me," said Erlend with a laugh. "And the archbishopric has acquired Husaby against a loan. I don't think the gentlemen of the council will urge impoverished King Magnus to redeem it."

"The king is your kinsman, as are Sigurd Haftorssn and most of the other men," replied Naakkve vehemently. "Not without shame can they desert the man who carried his shield with honor to the borderlands of the north and cleared Finnmark and the Gandvik coast1 of the enemies of G.o.d and the Crown. Then they would indeed be miserable cowards." of the enemies of G.o.d and the Crown. Then they would indeed be miserable cowards."

Erlend gave a whistle. "Son, one thing I can tell you. I don't know how this venture of the Haftorssns will end, but I would wager my own neck they don't dare show Lord Magnus the naked blade of a Norwegian sword. Talk and compromise are what I think will result, with not a single arrow fired. And those fellows won't exert themselves for my sake, because they know me and realize that I'm not as squeamish about honed steel as some of the others.

"Kinsmen you say . . . Yes, they're your third cousins, both Magnus and those sons of Haftor. I remember them from the time I served at King Haakon's court. It was fortunate that my kinswoman Lady Agnes was the daughter of a king; otherwise she might have found herself out on the wharves, pulling in fish, if a woman like your mother, out of pious mercy, didn't hire her to help out in the cowshed. More than once I've wiped the snouts of those Haftorssns when they had to appear before their grandfather, and they came racing into the hall as snot-nosed as if they had just crept from their mother's lap. And if I gave them a swat out of loving kinship, to teach them some proper manners, they would shriek like stuck pigs. I hear they've made men of these Sudrheim changelings at last. But if you expect to receive the help of kinsmen from those quarters, you'd be looking for solace in the backside of a dog."

Later Kristin said to Erlend, "Naakkve is so young, my dear husband. Don't you think it's unwise to speak so openly about such matters with him?"

"You speak so gently, my dear wife," replied Erlend with a smile, "that I see you wish to rebuke me. When I was Naakkve's age, I was headed north to Vargy for the first time. If Lady Inge bjrg had remained loyal to me," he exclaimed vehemently, "I would have sent Naakkve and Gaute to serve her. In Denmark there might have been a future for two intrepid adventurers skilled with weapons."

"When I gave birth to these children," said Kristin bitterly, "I didn't think that our sons would seek their living in a foreign land."

"You know I didn't intend that either," said Erlend. "But man proposes, G.o.d disposes."

Then Kristin told herself that it wasn't simply that she felt a stab in her heart every time she noticed that Erlend and her sons, now that they were getting older, acted as if their concerns were beyond the comprehension of a woman. But she feared Erlend's reckless tongue; he never remembered that his sons were little more than children.

And yet as young as the boys were-Nikulaus was now seventeen winters old, Bjrgulf would be sixteen, and Gaute would turn fifteen in the fall-all three had a certain way with women that made their mother uneasy.

Admittedly nothing had happened that she could point to. They didn't run after women, they were never coa.r.s.e or discourteous in speech, and they didn't like it when the servant men told vulgar stories or brought filthy rumors back to the manor. But Erlend too had always been very chivalrous and seemly; she had seen him blush at words over which both her father and Simon laughed heartily. But at the time she had vaguely felt that the other two laughed the way peasants laugh at tales about the Devil, while learned men, who know better his ferocious cunning, have little affection for such jests.

Even Erlend could not be called guilty of the sin of running after women; only people who didn't know the man would think he had loose ways, meaning that he had lured women to himself and then deliberately led them astray. She never denied that Erlend had had his way with her without resorting to seductive arts and without using deceit or force. And she was certain that it was not Erlend who had done the seducing in the case of the two married women with whom he had sinned. But when loose women approached him with bold and provocative manners, she had seen him turn into an inquisitive youth; an air of concealed and impetuous frivolity would come over the man.

With anguish she thought she could see that the sons of Erlend took after their father in this regard. They always forgot to think about how others would judge them before they acted, although afterward they would take what was said to heart. And when women greeted them with smiles and gentleness, they didn't become shy or sullen or awkward, as did most young boys their age. They would smile back and talk and behave as freely and easily as if they had been at the king's court and were familiar with royal customs. Kristin feared they would get mixed up in some misfortune or trouble out of sheer innocence. She thought the wealthy wives and daughters, as well as the poor servingwomen, were all much too flirtatious with these handsome boys. But like other young men, they would grow furious afterward if anyone teased them about a woman. Frida Styrkaarsdatter was particularly fond of doing this. She was a foolish woman, in spite of her age; she wasn't much younger than her mistress, and she had given birth to two b.a.s.t.a.r.d children. She had had difficulty even finding the father of the younger child. But Kristin had offered the poor thing a protective hand. Because Frida had nursed Bjrgulf and Skule with such care and affection, the mistress was quite indulgent toward this serving maid, even though she was annoyed that the woman was always talking to the boys about young maidens.

Kristin now thought it would be best if she could marry off her sons at a young age, but she knew this wouldn't be easy. The men whose daughters would be equal matches for Naakkve and Bjrgulf by birth and blood would not think her sons wealthy enough. And the condemnation and royal enmity their father had brought down upon himself would stand in the way if the boys tried to improve their lot through service with greater n.o.blemen. With bitterness she thought about the days when Erlend and Erling Vidkunssn had spoken of a marriage between Naakkve and one of the lord's daughters.

She knew of one or another young maiden now growing up in the valleys who might be suitable: wealthy and of good lineage, although for several generations their forefathers had refrained from serving at the king's court and had stayed home in their parishes. But she couldn't bear the thought that Erlend might be refused if they should make an offer to one of these landowners. In this situation Simon Darre would have been the best spokesman, but now Erlend had deprived them of his help.

She didn't think any of her sons had a desire to serve the Church, except perhaps Gaute or Lavrans. But Lavrans was still so young. And Gaute was the only one of the boys who gave her any real help with the estate.

Storms and snow had wreaked havoc with the fences that year, and the snowfall before Holy Cross Day had delayed the repairs, so the workers had to press hard to finish in time. For this reason, Kristin sent Naakkve and Bjrgulf off one day to mend the fence around a field up near the main road.

In midafternoon Kristin went out to see how the boys were handling the unaccustomed ch.o.r.e. Bjrgulf was working over by the lane leading to the manor; she stopped for a while to talk with him. Then she continued northward. There she saw Naakkve leaning over the fence and talking to a woman on horseback who had stopped at the side of the road, right next to the rails. He stroked the horse and then grabbed the girl's ankle, moving his hand, as if carelessly, up her leg under her clothing.

The maiden was the first to notice Kristin. She blushed and said something to Naakkve. Quickly he pulled his hand away and looked a little abashed. The girl was about to ride off, but Kristin called out a greeting and then talked to the maiden for a moment, asking about her kinswoman. The young girl was the niece of the mistress of Ulvsvold and had recently arrived for a visit. Kristin pretended that she hadn't seen anything, talking to Naakkve about the fence after the maiden had gone.

Not long after, Kristin happened to stay at Ulvsvold for two weeks' time because the mistress gave birth to a child and was then quite ill. Kristin was both her neighbor and considered the most capable healer in the region. Naakkve often came over with messages and queries for his mother, and the niece, Eyvor Haakonsdatter, would always find the opportunity to meet and talk with him. Kristin wasn't pleased by this; she had taken a disliking to the maiden and didn't find her beautiful, although she had heard that most men did. She was happy on the day she learned that Eyvor had returned home to Raumsdal.

But she didn't think Naakkve had been particularly fond of Eyvor, especially when she heard that Frida kept chattering about the daughter at Loptsgaard, Aasta Audunsdatter, and teasing Naakkve about her.

One day Kristin was in the brewhouse, boiling a juniper decoction, when she heard Frida once again carrying on about Aasta. Naakkve was with Gaute and their father outside behind the courtyard. They were building a boat that they wanted to take up to the small fishing lake in the mountains. Erlend was a moderately good boatbuilder. Naakkve grew cross, and then Gaute began to tease him too: Aasta might be a suitable match.

"Ask for her hand yourself if that's what you think," said his brother heatedly.

"No, I don't want her," replied Gaute, "because I've heard that red hair and pine forests thrive on meager soil. But you think that red hair is pretty."

"That saying can't be used about women, my son," said Erlend with a laugh. "Those with red hair usually have soft white skin."

Frida laughed uproariously, but Kristin grew angry. She thought this talk too frivolous for such young boys. She also remembered that Sunniva Olavsdatter had red hair, although her friends called it golden.

Then Gaute said, "You should be glad I didn't say anything; I didn't dare, for fear of sin. On the vigil night of Whitsunday you sat with Aasta in the grain t.i.the barn all the time we were dancing on the church hill. So you must be fond of her."

Naakkve was about to fall upon his brother, but at that moment Kristin came outside. After Gaute had left, she asked her other son, "What was that Gaute said about you and Aasta Audunsdatter?"

"I don't think anything was said that you didn't hear, Mother," replied the boy. His face was red, and he frowned angrily.

Annoyed, Kristin said, "It's unseemly that you young people can't hold a vigil night without dancing and leaping about between services. We never used to do that when I was a maiden."

"But you've told us yourself, Mother, that back when you were young, our grandfather used to sing while the people danced on the church hill."

"Well, not those kinds of ballads and not such wild dancing," said his mother. "And we children stayed properly with our parents; we didn't go off two by two and sit in the barn."

Naakkve was about to make an angry retort. Then Kristin happened to glance at Erlend. He was smiling so slyly as he eyed the plank he was about to cut with an axe. Indignant and dismayed, she went back inside the brewhouse.

But she thought a good deal about what she had heard. Aasta Audunsdatter was not a poor match; Loptsgaard was a wealthy estate, and there were three daughters, but no son. And Ingebjrg, Aasta's mother, belonged to an exceedingly good lineage.

She had never thought that one day the people of Jrundgaard might call Audun Torbergssn kinsman. But he had suffered a stroke this past winter, and everyone thought he had little time left to live. The girl was seemly and charming in manner, and clever, or so Kristin had heard. If Naakkve had great affection for the maiden, there was no reason to oppose this marriage. They would still have to wait for two more years to hold the wedding, as young as Aasta and Naakkve both were, but then she would gladly welcome Aasta as her son's wife.

On a fine day in the middle of the summer Sira Solmund's sister came to see Kristin to borrow something. The women were standing outside the house to say their farewells when the priest's sister said, "Well, that Eyvor Haakonsdatter!" Her father had driven her from his estate because she was with child, so she had sought refuge at Ulvsvold.

Naakkve had been up in the loft; now he stopped on the lowest step. When his mother caught a glimpse of his face, she was suddenly so overcome that she could hardly feel her own legs beneath her. The boy was crimson all the way up to his ears as he walked away toward the main house.

But Kristin soon understood from the other woman's gossip that things must have been such with Eyvor long before she came to their parish for the first time in the spring. My poor, innocent boy, thought Kristin, sighing with relief. He must be ashamed that he thought well of the girl.

A few nights later Kristin was alone in bed because Erlend had gone out fishing. As far as she knew, Naakkve and Gaute had gone along with him. But she was awakened when Naakkve touched her and whispered that he needed to talk to her. He climbed up and sat at the foot of her bed.

"Mother, I've been out to talk with that poor woman Eyvor tonight. I was sure they were lying about her; I was so certain that I would have held a glowing piece of iron in my hand to prove that she was lying-that magpie from Romundgaard."

Kristin lay still and waited. Naakkve tried to speak firmly, but suddenly his voice threatened to break with emotion and distress.

"She was on her way to matins on the last day of Christmas. She was alone, and the road from their manor pa.s.ses through the woods for a long stretch. There she met two men. It was still dark. She doesn't know who they were, maybe foresters from the mountains. In the end she couldn't defend herself any longer, the poor young child. She didn't dare tell her troubles to anyone. When her mother and father discovered her misfortune, they drove her from home, with slaps and curses as they pulled her hair. When she told me all this, Mother, she wept so hard that it would have melted a rock in the hills." Naakkve abruptly fell silent, breathing heavily.

Kristin said she thought it the worst misfortune that those villains had escaped. She hoped that G.o.d's justice would find them and that for their deeds they might suffer their just deserts on the executioner's block.

Then Naakkve began to talk about Eyvor's father, how rich he was and how he was related to several respected families. Eyvor intended to send the child away to be raised in another parish. Gudmund Darre's wife had given birth to a b.a.s.t.a.r.d child by a priest, and there sat Sigrid Andresdatter at Kruke, a good and honored woman. A man would have to be both hardhearted and unfair to p.r.o.nounce Eyvor despoiled because against her will she had been forced to suffer such shame and misfortune; surely she was still fit to be the wife of an honorable man.

Kristin pitied the girl and cursed her a.s.sailants, and in her heart she gave thanks and exulted over what good luck it was that Naakkve would not come of age for three more years. Then she told him gently to bear in mind that he should be careful not to seek out Eyvor in her chamber late at night, as he had just done, or to show himself at Ulvsvold unless he had tasks for the landowner's servants. Otherwise he might unwittingly cause people to gossip even worse about the unfortunate child. It was all well and good to say that those who claimed to doubt Eyvor's word and refused to believe she had landed in this misfortune without blame, wouldn't find him weak in the arms. All the same, it would be painful for the poor girl if there was more talk.

Three weeks later Eyvor's father came to take his daughter home for a betrothal banquet and wedding. She was to marry a good farmer's son from her parish. At first both fathers had opposed the marriage because they were feuding over several sections of land. In the winter the men had reached an agreement, and the two young people were about to be betrothed, but suddenly Eyvor had refused. She had set her heart on another man. Afterward she realized it was too late for her to reject her first suitor. In the meantime she went to visit her aunt in Sil, no doubt thinking that there she would receive help in concealing her shame, because she wanted to marry this new man. But when Hillebjrg of Ulvsvold saw what condition the girl was in, she sent her back to her parents. The rumors were true enough-her father was furious and had struck his daughter several times, and she had indeed fled to Ulvsvold-but now he had come to an agreement with her first suitor, and Eyvor would have to settle for the man, no matter how little she liked it.

Kristin saw that Naakkve took this greatly to heart. For days he went around without saying a word, and his mother felt so sorry for him that she hardly dared cast a glance in his direction. If he met his mother's eye, he would turn bright red and look so ashamed that it cut Kristin to the heart.

Whenever the servants at Jrundgaard started talking about these events, their mistress would tell them sharply to hold their tongues. That filthy story and that wretched woman were not to be mentioned in her house. Frida was astonished. So many times she had heard Kristin Lavransdatter speak with forbearance and offer help with both hands to a maiden who had fallen into such misfortune. Frida herself had twice found salvation in the compa.s.sion of her mistress. But the few words Kristin said about Eyvor Haakonsdatter were as vile as anything a woman might say about another.

Erlend laughed when she told him how badly Naakkve had been fooled. It was one evening when she was sitting out on the green, spinning, and her husband came over and stretched out on the gra.s.s at her side.