Kristin Lavransdatter Part 15

"It would not be force if I demanded that you keep to an agreement that has been known to everyone for such a long time," replied Lavrans. "For two winters people have called you betrothed, and you never said a word of protest or showed any unwillingness until the wedding day was set. If you want to hide behind the fact that the matter was postponed last year, so that you have never given Simon your promise, I would not call that honorable conduct."

Kristin stood there, gazing into the fire.

"I don't know which looks worse," her father continued. "People will either say that you have cast Simon out or that you have been abandoned. Sir Andres sent me a message . . ." Lavrans turned red as he said this. "He was angry with the boy and begged me to demand whatever penalties I might find reasonable. I had to tell him the truth-I don't know whether the alternative would have been any better-that if there were penalties to be paid, we were the ones to do so. We both share the shame."

"I can't see that the shame is so great," murmured Kristin. "Since Simon and I both agree."

"Agree!" Lavrans seized upon the word. "He didn't hide the fact that he was unhappy about it, but he said that after the two of you had talked he didn't think anything but misery would result if he demanded that you keep the agreement. But now you must tell me why you have made this decision."

"Didn't Simon say anything about it?" asked Kristin.

"He seemed to think," said her father, "that you had given your affections to another man. Now you must tell me how things stand, Kristin."

Kristin hesitated for a moment.

"G.o.d knows," she said quietly, "I realize that Simon would be good enough for me-more than that. But it's true that I have come to know another man, and then I realized that I would never have another joyous moment in my life if I had to live with Simon-not if he possessed all the gold in England. I would rather have the other man even if he owned no more than a single cow."

"You can't expect me to give you to a servant," said her father.

"He is my equal and more," replied Kristin. "He has enough of both possessions and land, but I simply meant that I would rather sleep with him on bare straw than with any other man in a silk bed."

Her father was silent for a moment.

"It's one thing, Kristin, that I would not force you to take a man you don't want-even though only G.o.d and Saint Olav know what you might have against the man I had promised you to. But it's another matter whether the man you have now set your heart on is the sort that I would allow you to marry. You're young and have little experience . . . and setting his sights on a maiden who is betrothed is not something a decent man would normally do."

"That's not something a person can help," said Kristin vehemently.

"Oh yes, he can. But this much you have to realize-that I will not offend the Dyfrin people by betrothing you again as soon as you turn your back on Simon-and least of all to a man who might seem more distinguished or who is richer. You must tell me who this man is," he said after a moment.

Kristin clasped her hands tight, breathing hard. Then she said hesitantly, "I can't do that, Father. Things are such that if I cannot have this man, then you can take me back to the convent and leave me there for good-then I don't think I can live any longer. But it wouldn't be right for me to tell you his name before I know whether he has as good intentions toward me as I do toward him. You . . . you mustn't force me to tell you who he is until . . . until it becomes clear whether he intends to ask you for my hand through his kinsmen."

Lavrans was silent for a long time. He could not be displeased that his daughter acted in this manner. At last he said, "Then let it be so. It's reasonable that you would prefer not to give his name, since you don't know his intentions."

After a moment he said, "You must go to bed now, Kristin." He came over to her and kissed her.

"You have caused much sorrow and anger with this notion of yours, my daughter, but you know that your welfare is what I have most at heart. G.o.d help me, I would feel the same no matter what you did. He and His gentle Mother will help us to turn this to the best. Go now and sleep well."

After he had gone to bed, Lavrans thought he heard the faint sound of sobbing from the other bed where his daughter lay, but he pretended to be asleep. He didn't have the heart to tell her that he now feared the old gossip about her and Arne and Bentein would be dug up again. But it weighed heavily on his mind that there was little he could do to prevent the child's good reputation from being sullied behind his back. And the worst thing was that he thought she might have brought this upon herself by her own thoughtlessness.

PART III.

LAVRANS BJORGULFSON.

CHAPTER 1.

KRISTIN CAME HOME during the loveliest time of the spring. The Laag River raced in torrents around the farm and the fields; through the young leaves of the alder thickets the stream glittered and sparkled white with silver flashes. The glints of light seemed to have voices, singing along with the rush of the current; when dusk fell, the water seemed to flow with a more muted roar. The thunder of the river filled the air over Jrundgaard day and night, so that Kristin thought she could feel the very timbers of the walls quivering with the sound, like the sound box of a zither.

Thin tendrils of water shone on the mountain slopes, which were shrouded in a blue mist day after day. The heat steamed and trembled over the land; the spears of grain hid the soil in the fields almost completely, and the gra.s.s in the meadows grew deep and s.h.i.+mmered like silk when the wind blew across it. There was a sweet scent over the groves and hills, and as soon as the sun went down, a strong, fresh, sharp fragrance of sap and young plants streamed forth; the earth seemed to heave a great sigh, languorous and refreshed. Trembling, Kristin remembered how Erlend had released her from his embrace. Every night she lay down, sick with longing, and each morning she awoke, sweating and exhausted from her own dreams.

It seemed incomprehensible to her that everyone at home could avoid saying a word about the one thing that was in her thoughts. But week after week went by, and they were silent about her breach of promise to Simon and did not question what she had on her mind. Her father spent a great deal of time in the woods now that the spring plowing was done. He visited his tar-burners, and he took along his hawk and dogs and was gone for days. When he came home, he would speak to his daughter in just as friendly a manner as he always had; but he seemed to have so little to say to her, and he never asked her to come along when he went out riding.

Kristin had dreaded coming home to her mother's reproaches, but Ragnfrid didn't say a word, and to Kristin that felt even worse. For his ale feast on Saint Jon's Day each year, Lavrans Bjrgulfsn distributed to the poor people of the village all the meat and food that was saved in the house during the last week of fasting. Those who lived closest to Jrundgaard usually came in person to receive the alms. Great hospitality was shown, and Lavrans and his guests and the entire household would gather around these poor folk, for some of them were old people who knew many sagas and ballads. Then they would sit in the hearth room and pa.s.s the time drinking ale and engaging in friendly conversation, and in the evening they would dance in the courtyard.

This year Saint Jon's Day was cold and overcast, but no one complained about it because the farmers of the valley were beginning to fear a drought. No rain had fallen since the Vigil of Saint Halvard, and there was so little snow on the mountains that in the past thirteen years people couldn't remember seeing the river so low at midsummer.

Lavrans and his guests were in a good mood when they went down to greet the poor folk in the hearth room. The people were sitting around the table eating milk porridge and drinking stout. Kristin went back and forth to the table, serving the old and the sick.

Lavrans greeted his guests and asked them if they were satisfied with the food. Then he went over to welcome a poor old peasant man who had been moved to Jrundgaard that very day. The man's name was Haakon, and he had been a soldier under old King Haakon and had taken part in the king's last expedition to Scotland. Now he was impoverished and nearly blind. People had offered to build a cottage for him, but he preferred to be taken from farm to farm, since he was received everywhere as an honored guest. He was unusually knowledgeable and had seen so much of the world.

Lavrans stood with his hand on his brother's shoulder; Aasmund Bjrgulfsn had come to Jrundgaard as a guest. He too asked Haakon whether he was satisfied with the food.

"The ale is good, Lavrans Bjrgulfsn," said Haakon. "But a s.l.u.t must have made the porridge for us today. Overly bedded cooks make overly boiled porridge, as the saying goes, and this porridge is scorched."

"It's a shame for me to give you burned porridge," said Lavrans. "But I hope that the old saying isn't always true, because it was my daughter herself who made the porridge." He laughed and asked Kristin and Tordis to hurry and bring in the meat dishes.

Kristin dashed outside and over to the cookhouse. Her heart was pounding-she had caught a glimpse of her uncle's face when Haakon was talking about the cook and the porridge.

Late that evening she saw her father and uncle talking for a long time as they walked back and forth in the courtyard. She was dizzy with fear, and it was no better the next day when she noticed that her father was taciturn and morose. But he didn't say a word to her.

He said nothing after his brother left either. But Kristin noticed that he wasn't talking to Haakon as much as usual, and when their time was up for housing the old man, Lavrans didn't offer to keep him longer but let him move on to the next farm.

There were plenty of reasons for Lavrans Bjrgulfsn to be unhappy and gloomy that summer, because there were signs it would be a bad harvest in the village. The landowners called a ting ting to discuss how they were going to face the coming winter. By late summer it was already clear to most people that they would have to slaughter their livestock or drive a large part of their cattle to market in the south in order to buy grain for people to eat in the winter. The year before had not been a good year for grain, so supplies of old grain were smaller than normal. to discuss how they were going to face the coming winter. By late summer it was already clear to most people that they would have to slaughter their livestock or drive a large part of their cattle to market in the south in order to buy grain for people to eat in the winter. The year before had not been a good year for grain, so supplies of old grain were smaller than normal.

One morning in early autumn Ragnfrid went out with all three of her daughters to see to some linen she had spread out to bleach. Kristin praised her mother's weaving skill. Then Ragnfrid began stroking Ramborg's hair.

"This is for your wedding chest, little one."

"Mother," said Ulvhild, "will I have a chest too, if I go to a cloister?"

"You know that you'll have no smaller dowry than your sisters," said Ragnfrid. "But you won't need the same kinds of things. And you know that you can stay with your father and me for as long as we live . . . if that's what you want."

"And by the time you go to the convent," said Kristin, her voice quavering, "it's possible, Ulvhild, that I will have been a nun for many years."

She glanced at her mother, but Ragnfrid was silent.

"If I could have married," said Ulvhild, "I would never have turned away from Simon. He was kind, and he was so sad when he said goodbye to all of us."

"You know your father has said we shouldn't talk about this," said Ragnfrid.

But Kristin said stubbornly, "Yes, I know he was sadder to part with all of you than with me."

Her mother said angrily, "He wouldn't have had much pride if he had shown you his sorrow. You didn't deal fairly with Simon Andressn, my daughter. And yet he asked us not to threaten you or curse you."

"No, he probably thought he had cursed me so much that no one else needed to tell me how wretched I was," said Kristin in the same manner as before. "But I never noticed that Simon was particularly fond of me until he realized that I held another man dearer than I held him."

"Go on home," said Ragnfrid to the two younger ones. She sat down on a log lying on the ground and pulled Kristin down by her side. "You know very well," she began, "that it has always been thought more proper and honorable for a man not to speak too much of love to his betrothed-or to sit alone with her or show too much feeling."

"I'd be amazed," said Kristin, "if young people in love didn't forget themselves once in a while, instead of always keeping in mind what their elders regard as proper."

"Take care, Kristin," said her mother, "that you do keep it in mind." She was silent for a moment. "I think it's probably true that your father is afraid you have thrown your love away on a man to whom he is unwilling to give you."

"What did my uncle say?" asked Kristin after a moment.

"Nothing except that Erlend of Husaby has better lineage than reputation," her mother said. "Yes, he did ask Aasmund to put in a good word for him with Lavrans. Your father wasn't pleased when he heard about it."

But Kristin sat there beaming. Erlend had spoken to her uncle. And here she had been so miserable because he hadn't sent any word.

Then her mother spoke again. "Now, Aasmund did mention something about a rumor going around Oslo that this Erlend had been hanging around the streets near the convent and that you had gone out and talked to him by the fence."

"Is that so?" said Kristin.

"Aasmund advised us to accept this offer, you see," said Ragnfrid. "But then Lavrans grew angrier than I've ever seen him before. He said that a suitor who took such a path to his daughter would find him with his sword in hand. The manner in which we dealt with the Dyfrin people was dishonorable enough, but if Erlend had lured you into taking to the roads with him in the dark-and while you were living in a convent, at that-then Lavrans would take it as a sure sign that you would be better served to lose such a husband."

Kristin clenched her fists in her lap. The color came and went in her face. Her mother put her arm around her waist, but Kristin wrenched herself loose and screamed, beside herself with outrage, "Leave me be, Mother! Or maybe you'd like to feel whether I've grown thicker around the middle."

The next moment she was on her feet, holding her hand to her cheek. In confusion she stared down at her mother's furious face. No one had struck her since she was a child.

"Sit down," said Ragnfrid. "Sit down," she repeated so that her daughter obeyed. The mother sat in silence for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was unsteady.

"I've always known, Kristin, that you've never been very fond of me. I thought it might be because you didn't think I loved you enough-not the way your father loves you. I let it pa.s.s. I thought that when the time came for you to have children yourself, then you would realize . . .

"Even when I was nursing you, whenever Lavrans came near, you would always let go of my breast and reach out to him and laugh so the milk ran out of your mouth. Lavrans thought it was funny, and G.o.d knows I didn't begrudge him that. I didn't begrudge you either that your father would play and laugh whenever he saw you. I felt so sorry for you, poor little thing, because I couldn't help weeping all the time. I worried more about losing you than I rejoiced at having you. But G.o.d and the Virgin Mary know that I loved you no less than Lavrans did."

Tears ran down over Ragnfrid's cheeks, but her face was quite calm and her voice was too.

"G.o.d knows that I never resented him or you because of the affection you shared. I thought that I had not given him much happiness during the years we had lived together, and I was glad that he had you. And I also thought that if only my father Ivar had treated me that way . . .

"There are many things, Kristin, that a mother should teach her daughter to watch out for. I didn't think it was necessary with you, since you've been your father's companion all these years; you ought to know what is proper and right. What you just mentioned-do you think I would believe that you would cause Lavrans such sorrow?

"I just want to say that I wish you would find a husband you could love. But then you must behave sensibly. Don't let Lavrans get the idea that you have chosen a troublemaker or someone who doesn't respect the peace and honor of women. For he would never give you to such a man-not even if it were a matter of protecting you from public shame. Then Lavrans would rather let steel be the judge between him and the man who had ruined your life."

And with that her mother rose and left her.

CHAPTER 2.

ON SAINT BARTHOLOMEW'S DAY, the twenty-fourth of August, the grandson of blessed King Haakon was acclaimed at the Hauga ting ting. Among the men who were sent from northern Gudbrandsdal was Lavrans Bjrgulfsn. He had been one of the king's men since his youth, but in all those years he had seldom spent any time with the king's retainers, and he had never tried to use for his own benefit the good name he had won in the campaign against Duke Eirik. He was not very keen on going to the ting ting of acclamation either, but he couldn't avoid it. The tribunal officials from Norddal had also been given the task of attempting to buy grain in the south and send it by s.h.i.+p to Raumsdal. of acclamation either, but he couldn't avoid it. The tribunal officials from Norddal had also been given the task of attempting to buy grain in the south and send it by s.h.i.+p to Raumsdal.

The people in the villages were despondent and worried about the approaching winter. The peasants also thought it a bad sign that yet another child was to be king of Norway. Old people remembered the time when King Magnus died and his sons were children.

Sira Eirik said, "Vae terrae, ubi puer rex est. In plain Norwegian it means: there's no peace at night for the rats on the farm when the cat is young."

Ragnfrid Ivarsdatter managed the farm while her husband was away, and both she and Kristin were glad to have their minds and hands full of cares and work. Everyone in the village was struggling to gather moss in the mountains and to cut bark because there was so little hay and almost no straw, and even the leaves that were collected after midsummer were yellow and withered. On Holy Cross Day, when Sira Eirik carried the crucifix across the fields, there were many in the procession who wept and loudly entreated G.o.d to have mercy on men and beasts.

One week after Holy Cross Day, Lavrans Bjrgulfsn came home from the ting ting.

It was long past everyone's bedtime, but Ragnfrid was still sitting in her weaving room. She had so much to do these days that she often worked into the night at her weaving and sewing. And Ragnfrid always felt so happy in that building. It was thought to be the oldest one on the farm; they called it the women's house, and people said it had stood there since heathen times. Kristin and the maid named Astrid were with Ragnfrid, spinning wool next to the open hearth.

They had been sitting there, sleepy and silent, for a while when they heard the hoofbeats of a single horse; a man came riding at great speed into the wet courtyard. Astrid went to the entryway to ook outside. She returned at once, followed by Lavrans Bjrg ulfsn.

Both his wife and daughter saw at once that he was quite drunk. He staggered and grabbed hold of the smoke vent pole as Ragnfrid removed his soaking wet cape and hat and unfastened his scabbard belt.

"What have you done with Halvdan and Kolbein?" she asked apprehensively. "Did you leave them behind along the road?"

"No, I left them behind at Loptsgaard," he said, laughing a bit. "I had such an urge to come home. I couldn't rest before I did. They went to bed down there, but I took Guldsvein and raced homeward.

"Go and find me some food, Astrid," he said to the maid. "Bring it over here so you won't have to walk so far in the rain. But be quick; I haven't eaten since early this morning."

"Didn't you have any food at Loptsgaard?" asked his wife in surprise.

Lavrans sat down on a bench and rocked back and forth, chuckling.

"There was food enough, but I didn't feel like eating while I was there. I drank with Sigurd for a while, but then I thought I might just as well come home at once instead of waiting till morning."

Astrid brought ale and food; she also brought dry shoes for her master.

Lavrans fumbled as he tried to unfasten his spurs but he kept lurching forward.

"Come over here, Kristin," he said, "and help your father. I know you'll do it with a loving heart-yes, a loving heart-today at least."

Kristin obeyed and knelt down. Then he put his hands on either side of her head and tilted her face up.

"You know very well, my daughter, that I want only what is best for you. I wouldn't cause you sorrow unless I saw that I was saving you from many sorrows later on. You're still so young, Kristin. You only turned seventeen this year, three days after Saint Halvard's Day. You're seventeen . . ."