Kristin Lavransdatter

  There was a great deal of shouting and commotion. Sira Solmund came out and tried to forbid the boys to stay, but then several farmers took up their cause and said they should be allowed to make inquiries about this charge against their mother. The bishop’s men came out and told the sons of Erlend they would have to leave because food was being served and no one had time to listen to them. But the farmers were not pleased by this.

  “What is it, good folks?” thundered a voice overhead. No one had noticed that Lord Halvard himself had come out onto the loft gallery. Now he was standing there in his violet robes, with the red silk cap on his white hair, tall and stout and looking like a chieftain. “Who are these young men?”

  He was told that they were Kristin’s sons from Jørundgaard.

  “Are you the oldest?” the bishop asked Naakkve. “Then I will talk to you. But the others must wait here in the courtyard in the meantime.”

  Naakkve climbed the steps to the high loft and followed the bishop into the room. Lord Halvard sat down in the high seat and looked at the young man standing before him, leaning on his lance.

  “What is your name?”

  “Nikulaus Erlendssøn, my Lord.”

  “Do you think you need to be so well armed, Nikulaus Er lendssøn, in order to speak to your bishop?” asked the other man with a little smile.

  Nikulaus blushed bright red. He went over to the corner, put down his weapons and cape, and came back. He stood before the bishop, bareheaded, his face lowered, with one hand clasping the wrist of the other, his bearing easy and free, but seemly and respectful.

  Lord Halvard thought that this young man had been taught courtly and noble manners. And he couldn’t have been a child when his father lost his riches and honorable position; he must certainly remember the time when he was considered the heir of Husaby. He was a handsome lad as well; the bishop felt great compassion for him.

  “Were those your brothers, all those young men who were with you? How many of you are there, you sons of Erlend?”

  “There are seven of us still living, my Lord.”

  “So many young lives involved in this.” The bishop gave an involuntary sigh. “Sit down, Nikulaus. I suppose you want to talk to me about these rumors that have come forth about your mother and her overseer?”

  “Thank you, Your Grace, but I would prefer to stand.”

  The bishop looked thoughtfully at the youth. Then he said slowly, “I must tell you, Nikulaus, that I find it difficult to believe that what has been said about Kristin Lavransdatter is true. And no one other than her husband has the right to accuse her of adultery. But then there is the matter of the kinship between your father and this man Ulf and the fact that he is your godfather. Jardtrud has presented her complaint in such a manner that there is much to indicate a lack of honor on your mother’s part. Do you know whether it’s true what she says: that the man often struck her and that he has shunned her bed for almost a year?”

  “Ulf and Jardtrud did not live well together; our foster father was no longer young when he married, and he can be rather stubborn and hot-tempered. Toward myself and my brothers, and toward our father and mother, he has always been the most loyal kinsman and friend. That is the first request I intended to make of you, kind sir: If it is at all possible, that you would release Ulf as a free man against payment of a guarantee.”

  “You are not yet of lawful age?” asked the bishop.

  “No, my Lord. But our mother is willing to pay whatever guarantee you might demand.”

  The bishop shook his head.

  “But my father will do the same, I’m certain of that. It’s my intention to ride straight from here to see him, to tell him what has happened. If you would grant him an audience tomorrow . . .”

  The bishop rested his chin on his hand and sat there stroking his beard with his thumb, making a faint scraping sound.

  “Sit down, Nikulaus,” he said, “and we’ll be able to talk better.” Naakkve bowed politely and sat down. “So then it’s true that Ulf has refused to live with his wife?” he continued as if he just happened to remember it.

  “Yes, my Lord. As far as I know . . .”

  The bishop couldn’t help smiling, and then the young man smiled a little too.

  “Ulf has been sleeping in the loft with all of us brothers since Christmas.”

  The bishop sat in silence for a moment. “What about food? Where does he eat?”

  “He had his wife pack provisions for him whenever he went into the woods or left the estate.” Naakkve’s expression grew a little uncertain. “There were some quarrels about that. Mother thought it best for him to take his meals with us, as he did before he was married. Ulf didn’t want to do that because he said people would talk if he changed the terms of the agreement which he and Father made when he set up his own household, about the goods that he would be given from the estate. And he didn’t think it was right for Mother to provide food for him again without some deductions in what he had been granted. But it was arranged as Mother wanted, and Ulf began taking his meals with us again. The other part was to be figured out later.”

  “Hmm . . . Otherwise your mother has a reputation for keeping a close eye on her property, and she is an exceedingly enterprising and frugal woman.”

  “Not with food,” said Naakkve eagerly. “Anyone will tell you that—any man or woman who has ever served on our estate. Mother is the most generous of women when it comes to food. In that regard she’s no different now from when we were rich. She’s never happier than when she can set some special dish on the table, and she makes such an abundance that every servant, right down to the goatherd and the beggar, receives his share of the good food.”

  “Hmm . . .” The bishop sat lost in thought. “You mentioned that you wanted to seek out your father?”

  “Yes, my Lord. Surely that must be the reasonable thing to do?” When the bishop didn’t reply, he continued. “We spoke to Father this winter, my brother Gaute and I. We also told him that Mother was with child. But we saw no sign, nor did we hear a single word from his lips, that might indicate he had doubts that Mother had not been as faithful as gold to him or that he was surprised. But Father has never felt at ease in Sil; he wanted to live on his own farm in Dovre, and Mother was up there for a while this summer. He was angry because she refused to stay and keep house for him. He wanted her to let Gaute and me manage Jørundgaard while she moved to Haugen.”

  Bishop Halvard kept rubbing his beard as he studied the young man.

  No matter what sort of man Erlend Nikulaussøn might be, surely he wouldn’t have been contemptible enough to accuse his wife of adultery before their young sons.

  In spite of everything that seemed to speak against Kristin Lavransdatter, he just didn’t believe it. He thought she was telling the truth when she denied knowledge of the suspicions about her and Ulf Haldorssøn. And yet he remembered that this woman had been weak before, when desires of the flesh had beckoned; with loathsome deceit she and this man with whom she now lived in discord had managed to win Lavrans’s consent.

  When the talk turned to the death of the child, he saw at once that her conscience troubled her. But even if she had neglected her child, she could not be brought before a court of law for that reason. She would have to repent before God, in accordance with the strictures of her confessor. And the child might still be her husband’s even if she had cared for it poorly. She couldn’t possibly be glad to be burdened with another infant, now that she was no longer young and had been abandoned by her husband, with seven sons already, and in much more meager circumstances than was their birthright. It would be unreasonable to expect that she could have had much love for that child.

  He didn’t think she was an unfaithful wife, although only God knew what he had heard and experienced in the forty years he had been a priest and listened to confessions. But he believed her.

  And yet there was only one way in which he could interpret Erlend Nikulaussøn’s behavior in this matter. He had ref
used to seek out his wife while she was with child, or after the birth, or when the infant died. He must have thought that he was not the father.

  What now remained to find out was how the man would act. Whether he would stand up and defend his wife all the same, for the sake of his seven sons, as an honorable man would do. Or whether, now that these rumors were being openly discussed, he would bring charges against her. Based on what the bishop had heard about Erlend of Husaby, he wasn’t sure he could count on the man not to do this.

  “Who are your mother’s closest kinsmen?” he asked.

  “Jammaelt Halvardssøn of AElin is married to her sister, the widow of Simon Darre of Formo. She also has two cousins: Ketil Aasmundssøn of Skog and his sister, Ragna, who is married to Sigurd Kyrning. Ivar Gjesling of Ringheim and his brother, Haavard Trondssøn, are the sons of her mother’s brother. But all of them live far away.”

  “What about Sir Sigurd Eldjarn of Sundbu? He and your mother are cousins. In a case like this the knight must step forward to defend his kinswoman, Nikulaus! You must seek him out this very day and tell him about this, my friend!”

  Naakkve replied reluctantly, “Honorable Lord, there has been little kinship between him and us. And I don’t think, my Lord, that it would benefit Mother’s case if this man came to her defense. Erlend Eldjarn’s lineage is not well liked here in the villages. Nothing harmed my father more in the eyes of the people than the fact that the Gjeslings had joined him in the plot that cost us Husaby, while they lost Sundbu.”

  “Yes, Erlend Eldjarn . . .” The bishop laughed a little. “Yes, he had a talent for disagreeing with people; he quarreled with all his kinsmen up here in the north. Your maternal grandfather, who was a pious man and not afraid to give in if it meant strengthening the peace and harmony among kin—even he couldn’t manage any better. He and Erlend Eldjarn were the bitterest of foes.”

  “Yes.” Naakkve couldn’t help chuckling. “And it wasn’t over anything important either: two embroidered sheets and a blue-hemmed towel. Altogether they weren’t worth more than two marks. But my grandmother had impressed upon her husband that he must make sure to acquire these things when her father’s estate was settled, and Gudrun Ivarsdatter had also spoken of them to her own husband. Erlend Eldjarn finally seized them and hid them away in his traveling bag, but Lavrans took them out again. He felt he had the most right to these things, for it was Ragnfrid who had made them as a young maiden, while she was living at home at Sundbu. When Erlend became aware of this, he struck my grandfather in the face, and then Grandfather threw him to the floor three times and shook him like a pelt. After that they never spoke again, and it was all because of those scraps of fabric; Mother has them at home in her chest.”

  The bishop laughed heartily. He knew this story well, which had amused everyone greatly when it occurred: that the husbands of the daughters of Ivar should be so eager to please their wives. But he had achieved what he intended: The features of the young man’s face had thawed into a smile, and the wary, anguished expression had been driven from his handsome blue-gray eyes for a moment. Then Lord Halvard laughed even louder.

  “Oh yes, Nikulaus, they did speak to each other one more time, and I was present. It was in Oslo, at the Christmas banquet, the year before Queen Eufemia died. My blessed Lord King Haakon was talking to Lavrans; he had come south to bring his greetings to his lord and to pledge his loyal service. The king told him that this enmity between the husbands of two sisters was unchristian and the behavior of petty men. Lavrans went over to where Erlend Eldjarn was standing with several other royal retainers and asked him in a friendly manner to forgive him for losing his temper; he said he would send the things to Fru Gudrun with loving greetings from her brother and sister. Erlend replied that he would agree to reconcile if Lavrans would accept the blame before the men standing there and admit that he had acted like a thief and a robber with regard to the inheritance of their father-in-law. Lavrans turned on his heel and walked away—and that, I believe, was the last time Ivar Gjesling’s sons-in-law ever met on this earth,” concluded the bishop, laughing loudly.

  “But listen to me, Nikulaus Erlendssøn,” he said, placing the palms of his hands together. “I don’t know whether it would be wise to make such haste to bring your father here or to set this Ulf Haldorssøn free. It seems to me that your mother must clear her name since there has been so much talk that she has sinned. But as matters now stand, do you think it would be easy for Kristin to find the women willing to swear the oath along with her?”

  Nikulaus looked up at the bishop; his eyes grew uncertain and fearful.

  “But wait a few days, Nikulaus! Your father and Ulf are strangers in the region and not well liked. Kristin and Jardtrud both are from here in the valley, but Jardtrud is from much farther south, while your mother is one of their own. And I’ve noticed that Lavrans Bjørgulfsøn has not been forgotten by the people. It looks as if they mostly had intended to chastise her because she seemed to them a bad daughter. And yet already I can see that many realize the father would be poorly served by raising such an outcry against his child. They are remorseful and repentant, and soon there will be nothing they wish for more than that Kristin should be able to clear her name. And perhaps Jardtrud will have scant evidence to present when she has a look inside her bag. But it’s another matter if her husband goes around turning people against him.”

  “My Lord,” said Naakkve, looking up at the bishop, “forgive me for saying this, but I find this difficult to accept. That we should do nothing for our foster father and that we should not bring our father to stand at Mother’s side.”

  “Nevertheless, my son,” said Bishop Halvard, “I beg you to take my advice. Let us not hasten to summon Erlend Nikulaussøn here. But I will write a letter to Sir Sigurd of Sundbu, asking him to come see me at once. What’s that?” He stood up and went out on the gallery.

  Against the wall of the building stood Gaute and Bjørgulf Er lendssøn, and several of the bishop’s men were threatening them with weapons. Bjørgulf struck a man to the ground with a blow of his axe as the bishop and Naakkve came outside. Gaute defended himself with his sword. Some farmers seized hold of Ivar and Skule, while others led away the wounded man. Sira Solmund stood off to the side, bleeding from his mouth and nose.

  “Halt!” shouted Lord Halvard. “Throw down your weapons, you sons of Erlend.” He went down to the courtyard and approached the young men, who obeyed at once. “What is the meaning of this?”

  Sira Solmund stepped forward, bowed, and said, “I can tell you, Reverend Father, that Gaute Erlendssøn has broken the peace of the Sabbath and struck me, his parish priest, as you can see!”

  Then a middle-aged farmer stepped forward, greeted the bishop, and said, “Reverend Father, the boy was sorely provoked. This priest spoke of his mother in such a way that it would be difficult to expect Gaute to listen peaceably.”

  “Keep silent, priest. I cannot listen to more than one of you at a time,” said Lord Halvard impatiently. “Speak, Olav Trondssøn.”

  Olav Trondssøn said, “The priest tried to rankle the sons of Erlend, but Bjørgulf and Gaute countered his words, calmly enough. Gaute also said what we all know is true: that Kristin was with her husband at Dovre for a time this past summer, and that’s when he was conceived, the poor infant who has stirred up all this trouble. But then the priest said the people of Jørundgaard have always had so much book learning—no doubt she knew the story of King David and Bathsheba—but Erlend Nikulaussøn might have been just as cunning as Uriah the knight.”2

  The bishop’s face turned as purple as his robes; his black eyes flashed. He looked at Sira Solmund for a moment, but he did not speak to him.

  “Surely you must know, Gaute Erlendssøn, that with this deed you have brought the ban of the Church upon your head,” he said. Then he ordered the sons of Erlend to be escorted home to Jørundgaard; he sent along two of his men and four farmers, whom the bishop selected from among the most honorable and sens
ible, to keep guard over them.

  “You must go with them as well, Nikulaus,” he told Naakkve. “But stay calm. Your brothers have not helped your mother, but I realize they were sorely vexed.”

  In his heart the bishop of Hamar didn’t think that Kristin’s sons had harmed her case. He saw that there were already many who held a different opinion of the mistress of Jørundgaard than they had in the morning, when she caused the goblet to overflow by coming to church with Ulf Haldorssøn so that he might be godfather to her son. One of them was Kolbein Jonssøn, so Lord Halvard put him in charge of the guards.

  Naakkve was the first to enter the high loft where Kristin was sitting on the bed with Lavrans, holding Munan on her lap. He told her what had happened but put great weight on the fact that the bishop considered her innocent and also thought the younger brothers had been greatly provoked to react as violently as they had. He counseled his mother not to seek out the bishop herself.

  Then the four brothers were escorted into the room. Their mother stared at them; she was pale, with an odd look in her eye. In the midst of her deep despair and anguish, she felt again the strange swelling of her heart, as if it might burst. And yet she said calmly to Gaute, “Ill advised was your behavior, son, and you brought little honor to the sword of Lavrans Bjørgulfsøn by drawing it against a crowd of farmers who stood there gnawing on rumors.”

  “First I drew it against the bishop’s armed men,” said Gaute indignantly. “But it’s true it did little honor to our grandfather that we had to bear arms against anyone for such a reason.”

  Kristin looked at her son. Then she had to turn away. As much as his words pained her, she had to smile too—like when a child bites his mother’s nipple with his first teeth, she thought.

  “Mother,” said Naakkve, “now I think it best if you go, and take Munan with you. You mustn’t leave him alone even for a moment until he is calmer,” he said quietly. “Keep him indoors so he doesn’t see that his brothers are under guard.”