Kristin, too, felt that great happiness had come to them with this tender little sister. That her mother’s heavy mood made a stillness about her home had never come into her thought; she had deemed it was but as it should be that her mother should correct and chide her, while her father played and jested with her. But Ragnfrid was much gentler with her now and gave her more freedom; petted her more, too; and so Kristin little heeded that her mother had much less time to tend her. She loved Ulvhild as much as the others, and was joyful when they let her carry or rock her sister, and in time there was still more sport with the little one when she began to creep and walk and talk and Kristin could play with her.
Thus there went by three good years for the Jörundgaard folk. They had fortune with them in many ways, and Lavrans built and bettered round about on the manor, for the buildings and cattle-sheds were old and small when he came thither — the Gjeslings had had the place leased but for more lifetimes than one.
Now it fell out at Whitsuntide in the third year that Trond Ivarsön, from Sundbu, with his wife Gudrid and his three small sons, were come to Jörundgaard to visit them. One morning the older folk were sitting talking in the balcony of the loft-room, while the children played about in the courtyard below. In the yard Lavrans had begun a new dwelling-house, and the children were climbing and creeping about on the timber brought together for the building. One of the Gjesling boys had struck at Ulvhild and made her weep; and at that Trond came down and gave his son a buffet, and took Ulvhild up into his arms. She was the fairest and sweetest child a man’s eyes could see, and her uncle had much love for her, though else he cared not for children.
Just then there came a man across the court from the cattle-yard, dragging at a great black bull; but the bull was savage and unmanageable and broke away from the man. Trond sprang up upon the pile of timber, driving the bigger children up before him, but he had Ulvhild in his arms and his youngest son by the hand. Then a beam turned under his feet and Ulvhild slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground. The beam slipped after, rolled over on the child and lay across her back.
Lavrans was down from the balcony in the same instant; he ran up and was in act to lift the beam when the bull rushed at him. He tried to seize it by the horns, but was flung down and gored. But getting then a grip of its nostrils, he half raised himself from the ground and managed to hold the brute till Trond came to himself from his bewilderment, and the farm servants, running from the houses, cast thongs about the beast and held it fast.
Ragnfrid was on her knees trying to lift the beam; and now Lavrans was able to ease it so far that she could draw the child from under and into her lap. The little one wailed piteously when they touched her, but her mother sobbed aloud: “She lives, thank God, she lives — !”
It was great wonder the child had not been quite crushed; but the log had chanced to fall so that it rested with one end upon a stone in the grass. When Lavrans stood up again, blood was running from the corners of his mouth, and his clothes were all torn at the breast by the bull’s horns.
Tordis came running with a skin coverlet; warily she and Ragnfrid moved the child on to it, but it seemed as though she suffered unbearable pain at the lightest touch. Her mother and Tordis bore her into the winter-room.
Kristin stood upon the timber-pile, white and stock-still, while the little boys clung round her weeping. All the house and farm folk were now huddled together in the courtyard, the women weeping and wailing. Lavrans bade them saddle Guldsveinen and another horse as well; but when Arne came with the horses, Lavrans fell to the ground when he tried to climb to the saddle. So he bade Arne ride for the priest, while Halvdan went southward for a leech-woman who dwelt by the meeting of the rivers.
Kristin saw that her father was ashy white in the face, and that he had bled till his light blue garments were covered all over with red-brown stains. All at once he stood upright, snatched an axe from one of the men and went forward where some of the folk stood holding on to the bull. He smote the beast between the horns with the back of the axe — it dropped forward on its knees; but Lavrans ceased not striking till its blood and brains were scattered all about. Then a fit of coughing took him and he sank backwards on the ground. Trond and another man came to him and bore him within the house.
At that Kristin thought her father was surely dead; she screamed loudly and ran after, calling to him as if her heart were breaking.
In the winter-room Ulvhild had been laid on the great bed — all the pillows were thrown out upon the floor, so that the child lay flat. ’Twas as though already she lay stretched upon the dead-straw. But she wailed loudly and without cease, and her mother lay bent over her, soothing and patting the child, wild with grief that she could do naught to help her.
Lavrans lay upon the other bed: he rose and staggered across the floor that he might comfort his wife. At that she started up, and shrieked:
“Touch me not, touch me not! Jesus, Jesus — ’twere liker you should strike me dead — never will it end, the ill-fortune I bring upon you —”
“You! Dear my wife, ’tis not you that have brought this on us,” said Lavrans, and laid a hand upon her shoulder. She shuddered at that, and her light grey eyes shone in her lean, sallow face.
“Doubtless she means that ’twas my doing,” said Trond Ivarsön roughly. His sister looked at him with hate in her eyes, and answered:
“Trond knows what I mean.”
Kristin ran forward to her parents, but both thrust her away from them; and Tordis, coming in with a kettle of hot water, took her gently by the shoulder, and said, “Go — go over to our house, Kristin; you are in the way here.”
Tordis was for seeing to Lavrans’ hurt — he had set himself down on the step before the bed — but he said there was little amiss with him:
“But is there naught you can do to ease Ulvhild’s pain a little — God help us! her crying would move the very stones in the mountain-side!”
“Nay; we dare not touch her ere the priest or Ingegjerd, the leech-wife, comes,” said Tordis.
Arne came just then with word that Sira Eirik was not at home. Ragnfrid stood a while wringing her hands. Then she said:
“Send to Lady Aashild of Haugen! Naught matters now, if only Ulvhild may be saved —”
No one gave heed to Kristin. She crept on to the bench behind the bed’s head, crouched down and laid her head upon her knees.
It seemed to her now as if stony hands were pressing on her heart. Lady Aashild was to be fetched! Her mother would not have them send for Lady Aashild, even when she herself was near death’s door at Ulvhild’s birth, nor yet when Kristin was so sick of the fever. She was a witch-wife, folk said — the Bishop of Oslo and the chapter had held session on her; and she must have been put to death or even burned, had it not been that she was of such high birth and had been like a sister to Queen Ingebjörg — but folk said she had given her first husband poison, and him she now had, Sir Björn, she had drawn to her by witchcraft; he was young enough to be her son. She had children too, but they came never to see their mother, and these two highborn folk, Björn and Aashild, lived upon a petty farm in Dovre, and had lost all their wealth. None of the great folk in the Dale would have to do with them; but, privily, folk sought her counsel — nay, poor folk went openly to her with their troubles and hurts; they said she was kind, but they feared her too.
Kristin thought her mother, who else was wont to pray so much, should rather have called on God and the Virgin now. She tried to pray herself — to St. Olav most of all, for she knew he was so good and helped so many who suffered from sickness and wounds or broken bones. But she could not keep her thoughts together.
Her father and mother were alone in the room now. Lavrans had laid himself upon his bed again, and Ragnfrid sat bent over the sick child, passing, from time to time, a damp cloth over her forehead and hands, and wetting her lips with wine.
A long time went by. Tordis looked in between whiles, and would fain have helped, but Ragnfrid sent
her out each time. Kristin wept silently and prayed to herself, but all the while she thought of the witch-wife and waited eagerly to see her come in.
Suddenly Ragnfrid asked in the silence:
“Are you sleeping, Lavrans?”
“No,” answered her husband. “I am listening to Ulvhild. God will surely help His innocent lamb, wife — we dare not doubt it. But ’tis weary lying here waiting —”
“God,” said Ragnfrid hopelessly, “hates me for my sins. ’Tis well with my children, where they are, I doubt not that; and now ’tis like Ulvhild’s hour has come, too — but me He has cast off, for my heart is a viper’s nest, full of sin and sorrow —”
Then some one lifted the latch — Sira Eirik stepped in, straightened his huge frame where he stood, and said in his clear, deep voice: “God help all in this house!”
The priest put the box with his medicines on the step before the bed, and went to the open hearth and poured warm water over his hands. Then he took a cross from his bosom, struck out with it to all four corners of the room and mumbled something in Latin. Thereupon he opened the smoke-vent, so that the light might stream into the room, and went and looked at Ulvhild.
Kristin grew afraid he might find her and send her out — not often did Sira Eirik’s eyes let much escape them. But the priest did not look round. He took a flask from the box, poured somewhat upon a wad of finely carded wool and laid it over Ulvhild’s mouth and nose.
“Now she will soon suffer less,” said the priest. He went to Lavrans and tended his wounds, while they told him how the mishap had come to pass. Lavrans had two ribs broken and had a wound in the lungs; but the priest thought that for him there was no great fear.
“And Ulvhild?” asked the father fearfully.
“I will tell you when I have looked at her more nearly,” answered the priest; “but you must lie in the loft-room, so that there may be more quiet and room here for those who must tend her.” He laid Lavrans’ arm about his own shoulder, took firm hold under the man, and bore him out. Kristin would fain have gone with her father now, but she dared not show herself.
When Sira Eirik came back, he did not speak to Ragnfrid, but first cut the clothes off Ulvhild, who now moaned less and seemed half asleep. Then carefully he felt with his hands over the child’s, body and limbs.
“Is it so ill with my child, Eirik, that you know not how to save her, since you say naught?” asked Ragnfrid under her breath.
The priest answered low:
“It seems as though her back were badly hurt, Ragnfrid; I see no better way than to leave all in God’s hands and St. Olav’s — much there is not that I can do.”
“Then must we pray!” cried the mother passionately. “You know well that Lavrans and I will give you all you ask and spare nothing, if so be your prayers can win God to grant that Ulvhild may live.”
“ ’Twould seem to me a miracle,” said the priest, “were she to live and have her health again.”
“And is’t not of miracles that you preach late and early — believe you not that a miracle can happen with my child?” she said, as wildly as before.
“ ’Tis true,” replied the priest, “that miracles happen; but God does not grant the prayers of all — we know not His secret counsel. And think you not, it would be worst of all should this fair little maid grow up marred or crippled?”
Ragnfrid shook her head. She wailed softly:
“I have lost so many, priest; I cannot lose her too!”
“I will do all that I may,” answered the priest, “and pray with all my power. But you must strive, Ragnfrid, to bear the cross God lays upon you.”
The mother moaned low:
“None of my children have I loved like this little one — if she too be taken from me, full sure I am my heart will break.”
“God help you, Ragnfrid Ivarsdatter,” said Sira Eirik, and shook his head. “In all your praying and fasting, you have thought only to force your will upon Goa. Can you wonder that it has helped but little?”
Ragnfrid looked defiantly at the priest, and spoke:
“I have sent for the Lady Aashild even now.”
“Ay, you know her; I know her not,” replied the priest.
“I cannot live without Ulvhild,” said Ragnfrid as before. “If so be God will not help her, I will seek counsel of Lady Aashild, or e’en give myself to the devil if he will help!”
The priest looked as though he would answer sharply, but checked himself again. He bent and felt the limbs of the little sick girl once more.
“Her hands and feet are cold,” he said. “We must lay jars of hot water about her — and then you must touch her no more till Lady Aashild comes.”
Kristin let herself sink back noiselessly on the bench and lay as if asleep. Her heart beat hard with fear — she had understood but little of the talk between Sira Eirik and her mother, but it had frighted her terribly, and the child knew well that it had not been for her ears.
Her mother rose up to go for the hot-water jars, and suddenly she burst out sobbing: “But yet pray for us, Sira Eirik!”
Soon after she came back with Tordis. Then the priest and the women busied themselves with Ulvhild, and soon Kristin was found and sent away.
The light dazzled the child as she stood without in the courtyard. She had thought that most of the day must have gone by while she sat in the dark winter-room, and yet the houses stood there light-grey, and the grass was shining like silk in the white midday sunshine. The river gleamed behind the dun and golden trellis-work of the alder-brakes — it filled the air with its gladsome rushing sound, for here by Jörundgaard it ran swiftly over a flat bed strewn with boulders. The mountain walls rose into the thin blue haze, and the becks sprang down their sides through the melting snows. The sweet, strong springtide out of doors brought tears to her eyes, for sorrow at the helplessness she felt all about her.
There was no one in the courtyard, but she heard voices in the house-carls’ cottage. Fresh earth had been strewn over the spot where her father had killed the bull. She knew not what to do with herself, so she crept behind the wall of the new house — two log-courses had already been laid. Inside lay Ulvhild’s playthings and her own; she put them all together and laid them in a hole between the lowest log and the foundation wall. Of late Ulvhild had wanted all her toys; this had vexed her sometimes. Now she thought, if her sister got well, she would give her all she had. And this thought comforted her a little.
She thought of the monk in Hamar — he was sure that miracles could happen for every one. But Sira Eirik was not so sure about it, nor parents either — and she was used to think as they did. A heavy weight fell upon her as it came to her for the first time that folk could think so unlike about so many things — not only bad, ungodly men and good men, but such men as Brother Edvin and Sira Eirik — even her mother and her father: she felt all at once that they too thought not alike about many things.…
Tordis found her there in the corner, asleep, late in the day, and took her to her own house; the child had eaten nothing since the morning. Tordis watched with Ragnfrid over Ulvhild through the night, and Kristin lay in Tordis’ bed with Jon, Tordis’ husband, and Eivind and Orm, their little boys. The smell of their bodies, the man’s snoring and the children’s even breathing made Kristin weep silently. It was no longer ago than last evening that she had lain down, as each night of her life before, by her own father and mother and little Ulvhild — it was as though a nest had been riven asunder and scattered and she herself lay cast out from the shelter of the wings which had always kept her warm. At last she cried herself to sleep, alone and unhappy among these strange folk.
Next morning as soon as she was up, she heard that her mother’s brother and all his party had left the place — in anger; Trond had called his sister a foolish, crazy woman, and his brother-in-law a soft simpleton who had never known how to rule his wife. Kristin grew hot with wrath, but she was ashamed too — she understood well enough that a most unseemly thing had befalle
n in that her mother had driven her nearest kin from the house. And for the first time she dimly felt that there was something about her mother that was not as it should be — that she was not the same as other women.
While she stood brooding on this, a serving-maid came and said she was to go up to the loft-room to her father.
But when she was come into the room Kristin forgot to look at him, for right opposite the open door, with the light full upon her face, sat a little woman who she guessed must be the witch-wife. And yet Kristin had never thought that she would look like this.
She seemed small as a child and slightly made, as she sat in the great high-backed arm-chair which had been brought up thither. A table had been set before her too, covered with Ragnfrid’s finest, fringed, linen tablecloth. Bacon and fowl were set out upon the silver platter; there was wine in a mazer bowl, and she had Lavrans’ own silver goblet to drink from. She had finished eating and was busy drying her small and slender hands on one of Ragnfrid’s best hand-towels. Ragnfrid herself stood in front of her and held for her a brass basin with water.
Lady Aashild let the hand-towel sink into her lap; she smiled to the child, and said in a clear and lovely voice:
“Come hither to me, child!” Then to her mother: “Fair children are these you have, Ragnfrid.”
Her face was greatly wrinkled, but as clear white and pink as a child’s, and it looked as though her skin must be just as soft and fine to the touch. Her mouth was as red and fresh as a young woman’s, and her large, hazel eyes shone bright. A fine, white, linen headdress lay close about her face and was fastened under her chin with a golden clasp; over it she had a veil of soft, dark-blue wool; it fell over her shoulders and far down upon her dark, well-fitting dress. She was upright as a wand, and Kristin felt more than thought that she had never seen a woman so fair and so mannerly as was this old witch-wife, with whom the great folk of the valley would have naught to do.