Kristin Lavransdatter Part 47

Sira Eirik came daily to visit the dying man. The old parish priest's eyesight was now failing, but he could still manage to read just as easily the story of Creation in Norwegian and the gospels and psalms in Latin, because he knew those books so well. But several years earlier, down in Saastad, Lavrans had acquired a thick volume, and it was pa.s.sages from this book that he wanted to hear. Sira Eirik couldn't read it because of his bad eyes, so Lavrans asked Kristin to try to read from the book. And after she grew accustomed to it, she managed to read beautifully and well. It was a great joy for her that now there was something she could do for her father.

The book contained what seemed to be dialogues between Fear and Courage, between Faith and Doubt, Body and Soul. There were also stories of saints and many accounts of men who, while still alive, were swept away in spirit and who witnessed the torments of the abyss, the trials of fiery purgatory, and the salvation of Heaven. Lavrans now spoke often of the purgatory fire, which he expected to enter soon, but he showed no sign of fear. He hoped for great solace from the prayers of intercession offered by his friends and the priests; and he consoled himself that Saint Olav and Saint Thomas would give him strength for the last trial, as he felt they had given him strength here in life. He had always heard that the person who firmly believed would never for a moment lose sight of the salvation toward which the soul was moving, through the fiery blaze. Kristin thought her father seemed to be looking forward to it, as if it were a test of manhood. She vaguely remembered from her childhood the time when the king's retainers from the valley set off on a campaign against Duke Eirik.4 Now she thought that her father seemed eager for his death, in the same way he had been eager for battle and adventure back then. Now she thought that her father seemed eager for his death, in the same way he had been eager for battle and adventure back then.

One day she said that she thought her father had endured so many trials in this life that surely he would be spared from the worst of them in the next. Lavrans replied that it didn't seem that way to him; he had been a rich man, he was descended from a splendid lineage, and he had won friends and prosperity in the world. "My greatest sorrows were that I never saw my mother's face, and that I lost my children-but soon they will no longer be sorrows. And the same is true of other things that have grieved me in my life-they are no longer sorrows."

Ragnfrid was often in the room while Kristin read. Strangers were also present, and now Erlend wanted to sit and listen too. Everyone found joy in what she read, but Kristin grew dejected and distressed. She thought about her own heart, which fully understood what was right and wrong, and yet it had always yearned for what was not righteous. And she was afraid for her little child; she could hardly sleep at night for fear that he would die unbaptized. Two women had to keep constant vigil over her, and yet she was still afraid to fall asleep. Her other children had all been baptized before they were three days old, but they had decided to wait this time, because the boy was big and strong, and they wanted to name him after Lavrans. But in the valley people strictly abided by the custom that children not be named for anyone who was still alive.

One day when Kristin was sitting with her father and holding the child on her lap, Lavrans asked her to unwrap the swaddling clothes. He had still not seen more than the infant's face. She did as he asked and then placed the child in her father's arms. Lavrans stroked the small, rounded chest and took one of the tiny, plump hands in his own.

"It seems strange, kinsman, that one day you will wear my coat of mail. Right now you wouldn't fill up more s.p.a.ce than a worm in a hollow nutsh.e.l.l; and this hand will have to grow big before it can grip the hilt of my sword. Looking at a lad like this, it almost seems G.o.d's will that we not bear arms. But you won't have to grow very old, my boy, before you long to take them up. There are so few men born of women who have such a love for G.o.d that they would forswear the right to carry weapons. I did not have it."

He lay quietly, looking at the infant.

"You carry your children under a loving heart, my Kristin. The boy is fat and big, but you're pale and thin as a reed; your mother said it was always that way after you gave birth. Ramborg's daughter is small and thin, but Ramborg is blossoming like a rose," he said, laughing.

"And yet it seems strange to me that she doesn't want to nurse the child herself," said Kristin.

"Simon is also against it. He says he wouldn't reward her for the gift by wearing her out in that way. You must remember that Ramborg was not even sixteen, and she had barely grown out of her own childhood shoes when her daughter was born. And she has never known a moment of ill health before. It's not so strange that she would have little patience. You were a grown woman when you were married, my Kristin."

Suddenly Kristin was overcome by violent sobs; she hardly knew what she was crying about. But it was true: She had loved her children from the first moment she held them in her womb; she had loved them even as they had tormented her with anguish, weighing her down and spoiling her looks. She had loved their small faces from the first moment she saw them, and loved them every single hour as they grew and changed, becoming young men. But no one had loved them as she had or rejoiced along with her. It was not in Erlend's nature. He was fond of them, of course, but he had always thought that Naakkve came too early, and that each son afterwards was one too many. She recalled what she had thought about the fruit of sin during the first winter she lived at Husaby; she realized she had tasted its bitterness, although not as much as she had feared. Things had gone wrong between her and Erlend back then and apparently could never be rectified.

Kristin hadn't been close to her mother. Her sisters were mere children when she was already a grown maiden, and she had never had companions to play with. She was brought up among men; she was able to be gentle and soft because there had always been men around to hold up protective and s.h.i.+elding hands between her and everything else in the world. Now it seemed reasonable to her that she gave birth only to sons-boys to nurse with her blood and at her breast, to love and protect and care for until they were old enough to join the ranks of men. She remembered that she had heard of a queen who was called the Mother of Boys. She must have had a wall of watchful men around her when she was a child.

"What is it now, Kristin?" asked her father quietly after a while.

She couldn't tell him any of this; when she stopped crying enough to talk, she said, "Shouldn't I grieve, Father, when you are lying here . . . ?"

Finally, when Lavrans pressed her, she told him of her fears for the unbaptized child. Then he at once ordered the boy to be taken to church the next time ma.s.s was celebrated; he said he didn't think it would cause his death any sooner than G.o.d willed it.

"And besides, I've been lying here long enough," he said with a laugh. "Wretched deeds accompany our arrival and our departure, Kristin. In sickness we are born and in sickness we die, except for those who die in battle. That seemed to me the best kind of death when I was young: to be killed on the battlefield. But a sinful man has need of a sickbed, and yet I don't think my soul will be any better healed if I lie here longer."

And so the boy was baptized on the following Sunday and was given his grandfather's name. Kristin and Erlend were bitterly criticized for this in the outlying villages. Lavrans Bjrgulfsn told everyone who came to visit that it was done on his orders; he refused to have a heathen in his house when death came to the door.

Lavrans now began to worry that his death would come in the middle of the spring farm work, which would be a great hards.h.i.+p for many people who wanted to honor him by escorting his funeral procession. But two weeks after the child was baptized, Erlend came to Kristin in the old weaving room where she had been sleeping since giving birth. It was late in the morning, past breakfast time, but she was still in bed because the boy had been restless. Erlend was deeply distressed, but he said in a calm and loving voice that now she must get up and go to her father. Lavrans had suffered terrible convulsions and heart spasms at daybreak, and since then he lay drained of all strength. Sira Eirik was with him now, and had just heard his confession.

It was the fifth day after the Feast of Saint Halvard. It was raining lightly but steadily. When Kristin went out into the courtyard, she noticed in the gentle southern wind the earthy smell of newly plowed and manured fields. The countryside was brown in the spring rain, the sky was pale blue between the high mountains, and the mist was drifting by, halfway up the slopes. The ringing of little bells came from the groves of trees along the swollen gray river; herds of goats had been let out, and they were nibbling at the bud-covered branches. This was the kind of weather that had always filled her father's heart with joy. The cold of winter was over for both people and livestock, the animals were finally released from their dark, narrow stalls and scanty fodder.

Kristin saw at once from her father's face that death was now very near. The skin around his nostrils was snowy white, but bluish under his eyes and at his lips; his hair had separated into sweaty strings lying on his broad, damp forehead. But he had his full wits about him and spoke clearly, although slowly and in a weak voice.

The servants approached the bed, one by one, and Lavrans gave his hand to each of them, thanking them for their service, telling them to live well and asking for forgiveness if he had ever offended them in any way; and he asked them to remember him with a prayer for his soul. Then he said goodbye to his kinsmen. He told his daughters to bend down so he could kiss them, and he asked G.o.d and all the saints to bless them. They wept bitterly, both of them; and young Ramborg threw herself into her sister's arms. Holding on to each other, Lavrans's two daughters went back to their place at the foot of their father's bed, and the younger one continued to weep on Kristin's breast.

Erlend's face quivered and the tears ran down his face when he lifted Lavrans's hand to kiss it, as he quietly asked his father-in-law to forgive him for the sorrows he had caused him over the years. Lavrans said he forgave him with all his heart, and he prayed that G.o.d might be with him all his days. There was a strange, pale light in Erlend's handsome face when he silently moved away to stand at his wife's side, hand in hand with her.

Simon Darre did not weep, but he knelt down as he took his father-in-law's hand to kiss it, and he held on to it tightly as he stayed on his knees a moment longer. "Your hand feels warm and good, son-in-law," said Lavrans with a faint smile. Ramborg turned to her husband when he went to her, and Simon put his arm around her thin, girlish shoulders.

Last of all, Lavrans said goodbye to his wife. They whispered a few words to each other that no one else could hear, and exchanged a kiss in everyone's presence, as was now proper when death was in the room. Then Ragnfrid knelt in front of her husband's bed, with her face turned toward him; she was pale, silent, and calm.

Sira Eirik stayed with them after he had anointed the dying man with oil and given him the viatic.u.m. He sat near the headboard and prayed; Ragnfrid was now sitting on the bed. Several hours pa.s.sed. Lavrans lay with his eyes half-closed. Now and then he would move his head restlessly on the pillow and pick at the covers with his hands, breathing heavily and groaning from time to time. They thought he had lost his voice, but there was no death struggle.

Dusk came early, and the priest lit a candle. Everyone sat quietly, watching the dying man and listening to the dripping and trickling of the rain outside the house. Then the sick man grew agitated, his body trembled, his face turned blue, and he seemed to be fighting for breath. Sira Eirik put his arm under Lavrans's shoulders and lifted him into a sitting position as he supported his head against his chest and held up the cross before his face.

Lavrans opened his eyes, fixed his gaze on the crucifix in the priest's hand, and said softly, but so clearly that almost everyone in the room could hear him: "Exsurrexi, et adhuc sum tec.u.m."5 Several more tremors pa.s.sed over his body, and his hands fumbled with the coverlet. Sira Eirik continued to hold him against his chest for a moment. Then he gently laid his friend's body down on the bed, kissing his forehead and smoothing back his hair, before he pressed his eyelids and nostrils closed; then he stood up and began to say a prayer.

Kristin was allowed to join the vigil and keep watch over the body that night. They had laid Lavrans out on his bier in the high loft, since that was the biggest room and they expected many people to come to the death chamber.

Her father seemed to her inexpressibly beautiful as he lay in the glow of the candles, with his pale, golden face uncovered. They had folded down the cloth that hid his face so that it wouldn't become soiled by the many people who came to view the body. Sira Eirik and the parish priest from Kvam were singing over him; the latter had arrived that evening to say his last farewell to Lavrans, but he had come too late.

By the following day guests already began riding into the courtyard, and then, for the sake of propriety, Kristin had to take to her bed since she had not yet been to church. Now it was her turn to have her bed adorned with silk coverlets and the finest pillows in the house. The cradle from Formo was borrowed, and there lay the young Lavrans; all day long people came in to see her and the child.

She heard that her father's body continued to look beautiful-it had merely yellowed a bit. And no one had ever seen so many candles brought to a dead man's bier.

On the fifth day the funeral feast began, and it was exceptionally grand in every way. There were more than a hundred strange horses at the manor and at Laugarbru; even Formo housed some of the guests. On the seventh day the heirs divided up the estate, amicably and with friends.h.i.+p; Lavrans himself had made all the arrangements before his death, and everyone carefully abided by his wishes.

The next day the body, which now lay in Olav's Church, was to begin the journey to Hamar.

The evening before-or rather, late that night-Ragnfrid came into the hearth room where her daughter lay in bed with her child. Ragnfrid was very tired, but her face was calm and clear. She asked her serving women to leave.

"All the houses are full, but I'm sure you can find a corner to sleep in. I have a mind to sit with my daughter myself on this last night that I'll spend on my estate."

She took the child from Kristin's arms and carried him over to the hearth to get him ready for the night.

"It must be strange for you, Mother, to leave this manor where you've lived with my father all these years," said Kristin. "I don't see how you can stand to do it."

"I could stand it much less to stay here," replied Ragnfrid, rocking little Lavrans in her arms, "and not see your father going about among the buildings.

"I've never told you how we happened to move to this valley and ended up living here," she continued after a moment. "When word came that Ivar, my father, was expected to breathe his last, I was unable to travel; Lavrans had to go north alone. I remember the weather was so beautiful on the evening he left-back then he liked to ride late, when it was cool, and so he set off for Oslo in the evening. It was just before Midsummer. I followed him out to the place where the road from the manor crosses the church road-do you remember the spot where there are several big flat rocks and barren fields all around? The worst land at Skog, and always arid; but that year the grain stood high in the furrows, and we talked about that. Lavrans was on foot, leading his horse, and I was holding you by the hand. You were four winters old.

"When we reached the crossroads, I wanted you to run back to the farm buildings. You didn't want to, but then your father told you to see if you could find five white stones and lay them out in a cross in the creek below the spring-that would protect him from the trolls of Mjrsa Forest when he sailed past. Then you set off running."

"Is that something people believe?" asked Kristin.

"I've never heard of it, either before or since. I think your father made it up right then. Don't you remember how he could think up so many things when he was playing with you?"

"Yes. I remember."

I walked with him through the woods, all the way to the dwarf stone. He told me to turn around, and then he accompanied me back to the crossroads. He laughed and said I should know he couldn't very well allow me to walk alone through the forest, especially after the sun was down. As we stood there at the crossroads, I put my arms around his neck. I was so sad that I couldn't travel home with him. I had never felt comfortable at Skog, and I was always longing to go north to Gudbrandsdal. Lavrans tried to console me, and at last he said, 'When I return and you're holding my son in your arms, you can ask me for whatever you wish, and if it's within my power to give it to you, then you will not have asked in vain.' And I replied that I would ask that we might move up here and live on my ancestral estate. Your father wasn't pleased, and he said, 'Couldn't you have thought of something bigger to ask for?' He laughed a little, and I thought this was something he would never agree to, which seemed to me only reasonable. But as you know, Sigurd, your youngest brother, lived less than an hour. Halvdan baptized him, and after that the child died.

"Your father came home early one morning. The evening before, he had asked in Oslo how things stood at home, and then he set off for Skog at once. I was still keeping to my bed; I was so full of grief that I didn't have the strength to get up, and I thought I would prefer never to get up again. G.o.d forgive me-when they brought you in to me, I turned to the wall and refused to look at you, my poor little child. But then Lavrans said, as he sat on the edge of my bed, still wearing his cape and sword, that now we would try to see if things might be better for us living here at Jrundgaard, and that's how we came to move from Skog. But now you can see why I don't want to live here any longer, now that Lavrans is gone."

Ragnfrid brought the child and placed him on his mother's breast. She took the silk coverlet, which had been spread over Kristin's bed during the day, folded it up, and laid it aside. Then she stood there for a moment, looking down at her daughter and touching the thick, dark-blonde braids which lay between her white b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"Your father asked me often whether your hair was still thick and beautiful. It was such a joy to him that you didn't lose your looks from giving birth to so many children. And you made him so happy during the last few years because you had become such a capable wife and looked so healthy and lovely with all your fair young sons around you."

Kristin tried to swallow back her tears.

"He often told me, Mother, that you were the best wife-he told me to tell you that." She paused, embarra.s.sed, and Ragnfrid laughed softly.

"Lavrans should have known that he didn't need anyone else to tell me of his good will toward me." She stroked the child's head and her daughter's hand which was holding the infant. "But perhaps he wanted . . . It's not true, my Kristin, that I have ever en-vied your father's love for you. It's right and proper that you should have loved him more than you loved me. You were such a sweet and lovely little maiden-I could hardly believe that G.o.d would let me keep you. But I always thought more about what I had lost than what I still had."

Ragnfrid sat down on the edge of the bed.

"They had other customs at Skog than I was used to back home. I can't remember that my father ever kissed me. He kissed my mother when she lay on her bier. Mother would kiss Gudrun during the ma.s.s, because she stood next to her, and then my sister would kiss me; otherwise that was not something we ever did.

"At Skog it was the custom that when we came home from church, after taking the corpus domini, corpus domini, and we got down from our horses in the courtyard, then Sir Bjrgulf would kiss his sons and me on the cheek, while we kissed his hand. Then all the married couples would kiss each other, and we would shake hands with all the servants who had been to the church service and ask that everyone might benefit from the sacrament. They did that often, Lavrans and Aasmund; they would kiss their father on the hand when he gave them gifts and the like. Whenever he or Inga came into the room, the sons would always get to their feet and stand there until asked to sit down. At first these seemed to me foolish and foreign ways. and we got down from our horses in the courtyard, then Sir Bjrgulf would kiss his sons and me on the cheek, while we kissed his hand. Then all the married couples would kiss each other, and we would shake hands with all the servants who had been to the church service and ask that everyone might benefit from the sacrament. They did that often, Lavrans and Aasmund; they would kiss their father on the hand when he gave them gifts and the like. Whenever he or Inga came into the room, the sons would always get to their feet and stand there until asked to sit down. At first these seemed to me foolish and foreign ways.

"Later, during the years I lived with your father when we lost our sons, and all those years when we endured such great anguish and sorrow over our Ulvhild-then it seemed good that Lavrans had been brought up as he had, with gentler and more loving ways."

After a moment Kristin murmured, "So Father never saw Sigurd?"

"No," replied Ragnfrid, her voice equally quiet. "Nor did I see him while he was alive."

Kristin lay in silence; then she said, "And yet, Mother, it seems to me that there has been much good in your life."

The tears began to stream down Ragnfrid Ivarsdatter's pale face.

"G.o.d help me, yes. It seems that way to me, too."

A little later she carefully picked up the infant, who had fallen asleep at his mother's breast, and placed him in the cradle. She fastened Kristin's s.h.i.+ft with the little silver brooch, caressed her daughter's cheek, and told her to go to sleep now.

Kristin put out her hand. "Mother . . ." she implored.

Ragnfrid bent down, gathered her daughter into her arms, and kissed her many times. She hadn't done that in all the years since Ulvhild died.

It was the most beautiful springtime weather on the following day, as Kristin stood behind the corner of the main house looking out toward the slopes beyond the river. There was a verdant smell in the air, the singing of creeks released everywhere, and a green sheen over all the groves and meadows. At the spot where the road went along the mountainside above Laugarbru, a blanket of winter rye s.h.i.+mmered fresh and bright. Jon had burned off the saplings there the year before and planted rye on the cleared land.

When the funeral procession reached that spot, she would be able to see it best.

And then the procession emerged from beneath the scree, across from the fresh new acres of rye.

She could see all the priests riding on ahead, and there were also vergers among the first group, carrying the crosses and tapers. She couldn't see the flames in the bright sunlight, but the candles looked like slender white streaks. Two horses followed, carrying her father's coffin on a litter between them, and then she recognized Erlend on the black horse, her mother, Simon and Ramborg, and many of her kinsmen and friends in the long procession.

For a moment she could faintly hear the singing of the priests above the roar of the Laag, but then the tones of the hymn died away in the rush of the river and the steady trickling of the springtime streams on the slopes. Kristin stood there, gazing off into the distance, long after the last packhorse with the traveling bags had disappeared into the woods.

PARTIII.

ERLEND NIKULAUSSON.

CHAPTER 1.

RAGNFRID IVARSDATTER LIVED less than two years after her husband's death; she died early in the winter of 1332. It's a long way from Hamar to Skaun, so they didn't hear of her death at Husaby until she had already been in the ground more than a month. But Simon Andressn came to Husaby during Whitsuntide; there were a few things that needed to be agreed upon among kinsmen about Ragnfrid's estate. Kristin Lavransdatter now owned Jrundgaard, and it was decided that Simon would oversee her property and collect payments from her tenants. He had managed his mother-in-law's properties in the valley while she lived in Hamar.

Just then Erlend was having a great deal of trouble and vexation with several matters that had occurred in his district. During the previous autumn, Huntjov, the farmer at Forbregd in Updal, had killed his neighbor because the man had called his wife a sorceress. The villagers bound the murderer and brought him to the sheriff; Erlend put him in custody in one of his lofts. But when the cold grew worse that winter, he allowed the man to move freely among his servant men. Huntjov had been one of Erlend's crew members on Margygren Margygren on the voyage north, and at that time he had displayed great courage. When Erlend submitted his report regarding Huntjov's case and asked that he be allowed to remain in the country, on the voyage north, and at that time he had displayed great courage. When Erlend submitted his report regarding Huntjov's case and asked that he be allowed to remain in the country,1 he also presented the man in the most favorable light. When Ulf Haldorssn offered a guarantee that Huntjov would appear at the proper time for the he also presented the man in the most favorable light. When Ulf Haldorssn offered a guarantee that Huntjov would appear at the proper time for the ting ting at Orkedal, Erlend permitted the farmer to go home for the Christmas holy days. But then Huntjov and his wife went to visit the innkeeper in Drivdal who was their kinsman, and on the way there, they disappeared. Erlend thought they had perished in the terrible storm that had raged at the time, but many people said they had fled; now the sheriff's men could go whistling after them. And then new charges were brought against the man who had vanished. It was said that several years earlier, Huntjov had killed a man in the mountains and buried the body under a pile of rocks-a man whom Huntjov claimed had wounded his mare in the flank. And it was revealed that his wife had indeed practiced witchcraft. at Orkedal, Erlend permitted the farmer to go home for the Christmas holy days. But then Huntjov and his wife went to visit the innkeeper in Drivdal who was their kinsman, and on the way there, they disappeared. Erlend thought they had perished in the terrible storm that had raged at the time, but many people said they had fled; now the sheriff's men could go whistling after them. And then new charges were brought against the man who had vanished. It was said that several years earlier, Huntjov had killed a man in the mountains and buried the body under a pile of rocks-a man whom Huntjov claimed had wounded his mare in the flank. And it was revealed that his wife had indeed practiced witchcraft.

Then the priest of Updal and the archbishop's envoy set about investigating these rumors of sorcery. And this led to shameful discoveries about the way in which people observed Christianity in many parts of Orkdla county. This occurred mostly in the remote regions of Rennabu and Updalsskog, but an old man from Budvik was also brought before the archbishop's court in Nidaros. Erlend showed so little zeal for this matter that people began talking about it. There was also that old man named Aan, who had lived near the lake below Husaby and practically had to be considered one of Erlend's servants. He was skilled in runes and incantations, and it was said that he had several images in his possession to which he offered sacrifices. But nothing of the kind was found in his hut after his death. Erlend himself, along with Ulf Haldorssn, had been with the old man when he died; people said that no doubt they had destroyed one thing or another before the priest arrived. Yes, now that people happened to think about it, Erlend's own aunt had been accused of witchcraft, adultery, and the murder of her husband-although Fru Aas.h.i.+ld Gautesdatter had been much too wise and clever and had too many powerful friends to be convicted of anything. Then people suddenly remembered that in his youth Erlend had lived a far from Christian life and had defied the laws of the Church.

The result of all this was that the archbishop summoned Erlend Nikulaussn to Nidaros for an interview. Simon accompanied his brother-in-law to town; he was going to Ranheim to get his sister's son, for the boy was supposed to travel home with him to Gudbrandsdal to visit his mother for a while.

It was a week before the Frosta ting ting2 was to be held, and Nidaros was full of people. When the brothers-in-law arrived at the bishop's estate and were shown into the audience hall, many Brothers of the Cross were there, as well as several n.o.ble gentlemen, including the judge of the Frosta was to be held, and Nidaros was full of people. When the brothers-in-law arrived at the bishop's estate and were shown into the audience hall, many Brothers of the Cross were there, as well as several n.o.ble gentlemen, including the judge of the Frosta ting, ting, Harald Nikulaussn; Olav Hermanssn, judge in Nidaros; Sir Guttorm Helgessn, the sheriff of Jemtland; and Arne Gjavvaldssn, who at once came over to Simon Darre to give him a hearty greeting. Arne drew Simon over to a window alcove, and they sat down there together. Harald Nikulaussn; Olav Hermanssn, judge in Nidaros; Sir Guttorm Helgessn, the sheriff of Jemtland; and Arne Gjavvaldssn, who at once came over to Simon Darre to give him a hearty greeting. Arne drew Simon over to a window alcove, and they sat down there together.

Simon felt ill at ease. He hadn't seen the other man since he was at Ranheim ten years before, and even though everyone had treated him exceedingly well, the purpose of that journey had left a scar on his soul.

While Arne boasted of young Gjavvald, Simon kept an eye on his brother-in-law. Erlend was speaking to the royal treasurer, whose name was Sir Baard Peterssn, but he was not related to the Hestnes lineage. It could not be said that Erlend's conduct was lacking in courtesy, and yet his manner seemed overly free and unrestrained as he stood there talking to the elderly gentleman while he rocked back and forth on his heels, with his hands clasped behind his back. As usual, he was wearing garments that were dark in color, but magnificent: a violet-blue cote-hardi cote-hardi3 that fit snugly to his body, with slits up the sides; a black shoulder collar with the cowl thrown back to reveal the gray silk lining; a silver-studded belt; and high red boots that were laced tightly around his calves, displaying the man's handsome, slim legs and feet. that fit snugly to his body, with slits up the sides; a black shoulder collar with the cowl thrown back to reveal the gray silk lining; a silver-studded belt; and high red boots that were laced tightly around his calves, displaying the man's handsome, slim legs and feet.

In the sharp light coming through the gla.s.s windows of the stone building, it was evident that Erlend Nikulaussn now had quite a bit of gray hair at his temples. Around his mouth and under his eyes the fine, tanned skin was now etched with wrinkles, and there were creases on the long, handsome arch of his throat. And yet he looked quite young among the other gentlemen, although he was by no means the youngest man in the room. But he was just as slim and slender, and he carried his body in the same loose, rather careless fas.h.i.+on as he had in his youth. And when the royal treasurer left him, Erlend's gait was just as light and supple as he began pacing around the hall, with his hands still clasped behind his back. All the other men were sitting down, occasionally conversing with each other in low, dry voices. Erlend's light step and the ringing of his small silver spurs were all too audible.

Finally one of the younger men told him with annoyance to sit down, "And stop making so much noise, man!"

Erlend came to an abrupt halt and frowned-then he turned to face the man who had spoken and said with a laugh, "Where were you out drinking last night, Jon my friend, since your head is so tender?" Then he sat down. When Judge Harald came over to him, Erlend got to his feet and waited until the other man had taken a seat, but then he sank down next to the judge, crossed one leg over the other, and sat with his hands clasped around his knee while they talked.

Erlend had told Simon quite openly about all the troubles he had endured because the murderer and his sorceress wife had escaped from his hands. But no man could possibly look more carefree than Erlend as he sat discussing the case with the judge.

Then the archbishop came in. He was escorted to his high seat by two men who propped cus.h.i.+ons around him. Simon had never seen Lord Eiliv Kortin before. He looked old and frail and seemed to be freezing even though he wore a fur cape and a fur-trimmed cap on his head. When his turn came, Erlend escorted his brother-in-law over to the archbishop, and Simon fell to one knee as he kissed Lord Eiliv's ring. Erlend, too, kissed the ring with respect.

He behaved very properly and respectfully when he at last stood before the archbishop, after Lord Eiliv had talked with the other gentlemen for some time about various matters. But he answered the questions put to him by one of the canons in a rather light hearted manner, and his demeanor seemed casual and innocent.

Yes, he had heard the talk about sorcery for many years. But as long as no one had come to him as enforcer of the law, he couldn't very well be responsible for investigating all such gossip that flew among the womenfolk in a parish. Surely it was the priest who should determine whether there were any grounds for pressing charges.

Then he was asked about the old man who had lived at Husaby and was said to possess magic skills.

Erlend gave a little smile. Yes, well, Aan had boasted of this himself, but Erlend had never seen proof of his abilities. Ever since his childhood he had heard Aan talk about three women whom he called Haern and Skgul and Snotra, but he had never taken this for anything but storytelling and jest. "My brother Gunnulf and our priest, Sira Eiliv, talked to him many times about this matter, but apparently they never found any cause to accuse him, since they never did so. After all, the man came to church for every ma.s.s and he knew his Christian prayers." Erlend had never had much faith in Aan's sorcery, and after he had witnessed something of the spells and witchcraft of the Finns in the north, he had come to realize that Aan's purported skills were mere foolishness.

Then the priest asked whether it was true that Erlend himself had once been given something by Aan-something that would bring him luck in amor? amor?

Yes, replied Erlend swiftly and openly, with a smile. He must have been fifteen at the time, for it was about twenty-eight years ago. A leather pouch with a small white stone inside and several dried pieces that must have come from some animal. But he hadn't had much faith in that kind of thing even back then. He gave it away the following year, when he was serving at the king's castle for the first time. It happened in a bathhouse up in town; he had rashly shown the talismans to several other, younger boys. Later, one of the king's retainers came to him, wanting to purchase the pouch, and Erlend had exchanged it for a fine shaving knife.

He was asked who this gentleman might be.

At first Erlend refused to say. But the archbishop himself urged him to speak. Erlend looked up with a roguish glint in his blue eyes.

"It was Sir Ivar Ogmundssn."

Everyone's face took on a peculiar expression. Old Sir Guttorm Helgessn uttered several odd snorts. Even Lord Eiliv tried to restrain a smile.