Kristin Lavransdatter

  Kristin reached for her father’s hand and held it. He had called her and wanted to show her this. It was the kind of thing he would have done in the past, before things changed between them. And now he was doing it again.

  When they went back inside to lie down, Lavrans said, “The stranger who was here this week carried a letter to me from Sir Munan Baardsøn. He intends to come here this summer to visit his mother, and he asked whether he might seek me out and speak with me.”

  “How will you answer him, my father?” she whispered.

  “I can’t tell you that now,” replied Lavrans. “But I will speak to him, and then I must act in such a way that I can answer for myself before God, my daughter.”

  Kristin crawled into bed beside Ramborg, and Lavrans went over and lay down next to his sleeping wife. He lay there, thinking that if the flood waters rose high and suddenly, then few farms in the village would be as vulnerable as Jørundgaard. There was supposed to be a prophecy about it—that one day the river would take the farm.

  CHAPTER 5

  SPRING ARRIVED ABRUPTLY. Several days after the frost broke, the village lay brown and black beneath the torrents of rain. Water rushed down the mountain slopes, and the river swelled and lay like a leaden-gray lake at the bottom of the valley, with small flooded groves at the edge of the water and a sly, gurgling furrow of current. At Jørundgaard the water reached far into the fields. And yet everywhere the damage was much less than people had feared.

  The spring farm work was late that year, and everyone sowed their sparse seeds with prayers to God that He might spare them from the night frost until harvest time. And it looked as if He would heed their prayers and lighten their burden a little. June came with favorable weather, the summer was good, and everyone began to hope that in time the traces of the bad year would be erased.

  The hay harvesting was over when one evening four men came riding toward Jørundgaard. Two gentlemen and their two servants: Sir Munan Baardsøn and Sir Baard Petersøn of Hestnes.

  Ragnfrid and Lavrans ordered the table to be set in the high loft and beds to be made up in the loft above the storehouse. But Lavrans asked the gentlemen to wait to set forth their purpose until the following day, after they had rested from their journey.

  Sir Munan did most of the talking during the meal, directing much of the conversation toward Kristin, speaking to her as if they were well acquainted. She noticed that her father was not pleased by this. Sir Munan was thickset, with a ruddy face—an ugly and garrulous man with a rather foolish manner. People called him Munan the Stump or Munan the Prancer. But in spite of the impression he made, Fru Aashild’s son was still a sensible and capable man who had been the Crown’s envoy in several matters and who doubtless had some influence on those who counseled the gover nance of the kingdom. He lived on his mother’s ancestral property in the Skogheim district. He was quite wealthy and he had made a rich marriage. Fru Katrin, his wife, was peculiarly ugly and she seldom opened her mouth, but her husband always spoke of her as if she were the wisest of women. In jest people called Fru Katrin the “resourceful woman with the lovely voice.” They seemed to get on well together and treated each other with affection, even though Sir Munan was notorious for his wayward behavior, both before and after his marriage.

  Sir Baard Petersøn was a handsome and stately old man, although he was rather portly and heavy of limb. His hair and beard were somewhat faded now, but there was still as much gold in them as there was white. Ever since the death of King Magnus Haakonsøn he had lived quietly, managing his vast properties at Nordmøre. He was a widower after the death of his second wife, and he had many children, who were all said to be handsome, well-mannered, and well-to-do.

  The following day Lavrans and his guests went up to the loft to talk. Lavrans asked his wife to join them, but she refused.

  “This must lie solely in your hands,” said Ragnfrid. “You know that it would be the greatest sorrow for our daughter if this matter could not be resolved, but I see that there is much to be said against this marriage.”

  Sir Munan presented a letter from Erlend Nikulaussøn. Erlend proposed that Lavrans should decide on all of the conditions if he would agree to the betrothal of his daughter Kristin. Erlend himself was willing to have his properties appraised and his income examined by impartial men, and to offer Kristin such betrothal and wedding gifts that she would own a third of his possessions, in addition to whatever she brought to the marriage herself, and all inheritances that she might acquire from her kinsmen if she should become a widow with no children surviving the father. Furthermore, he offered to allow Kristin to manage with full authority her part of the property, both that which she brought into the marriage and that which she was given by him. But if Lavrans preferred other conditions for the division of property, then Erlend would be willing to hear his views and to act accordingly. There was only one condition to which Kristin’s kinsmen would have to bind themselves: if they acquired guardianship over any children that he and she might have, they must never try to revoke the gifts that he had given to his children by Eline Ormsdatter. They must recognize as valid the claim that these properties had been separated from his possessions before he entered into the marriage with Kristin Lavransdatter. Finally, Erlend offered to hold the wedding with all appropriate splendor at his manor at Husaby.

  It was then Lavrans’s turn to speak, and he said, “This is a handsome offer. I see that it is your kinsman’s fervent desire to come to an agreement with me. I also realize that he has asked you, Sir Munan, for a second time to come on such an errand to me—a man of no great import outside this village—and a gentleman such as you, Sir Baard, to take the trouble to make this journey on his behalf. But now I must tell you in regard to Erlend’s offer that my daughter has not been raised to manage properties and riches herself, and I have always intended to give her to a man in whose hands I could confidently place the maiden’s welfare. I don’t know whether Kristin is capable of handling such responsibility or not, but I hardly think that she would thrive by doing so. She is placid and compliant in temperament. One of the reasons that I bore in mind when I opposed the marriage was this: that Erlend has shown a certain imprudence in several areas. Had she been a domineering, bold, and headstrong woman, then the situation would have been quite different.”

  Sir Munan burst out laughing and said, “My dear Lavrans, are you complaining that the maiden is not headstrong enough?”

  And Sir Baard said with a little smile, “It seems to me that your daughter has demonstrated that she is not lacking in will. For two years she has stood by Erlend, in spite of your wishes.”

  Lavrans said, “I know that quite well, and yet I know what I’m talking about. It has been hard for her during the time she has defied me, and she won’t be happy with a husband for long unless he can rule her.”

  “The Devil take me,” said Sir Munan. “Then your daughter must be quite unlike all the women I have known, for I’ve never found a single one who didn’t prefer to rule over both herself and her husband.”

  Lavrans shrugged his shoulders and didn’t reply.

  Then Baard Petersøn said, “I can imagine, Lavrans Bjørgulfsøn, that now you are even less in favor of this marriage between your daughter and my foster son since the woman he was with came to such an end. But you should know that it has now come to light that the wretched woman had let herself be seduced by another man, the foreman of Erlend’s farm at Husaby. Erlend knew about this when he journeyed with her through the valley; he had offered to provide her with a proper dowry if the man would marry her.”

  “Are you sure this is true?” asked Lavrans. “And yet I don’t know whether it makes the situation any better. It must be bitter for a woman of good family to arrive on the arm of the landowner, only to leave with the farm hand.”

  Munan Baardsøn put in, “I see, Lavrans Bjørgulfsøn, that your strongest objection to my cousin is that he has had this unfortunate trouble with Sigurd Saksulvsøn’s wife. And it’s
true that it was ill advised. But in the name of God, man, you must remember—there he was, a young boy in the same house with a young and beautiful wife, and she had a cold and useless old husband, and the nights last half the year up there. I don’t think much else could have been expected, unless Erlend had actually been a holy man. It can’t be denied that Erlend has never had any monk flesh in him, but I don’t imagine that your lovely young daughter would be grateful if you gave her to a monk. It’s true that Erlend conducted himself foolishly, and even worse later on. But this matter must finally be considered closed. We, his kinsmen, have striven to help set the boy on his feet again. The woman is dead, and Erlend has done everything within his power for her body and soul. The Bishop of Oslo himself has redeemed him from his sin, and now he has come home, cleansed by the Holy Blood in Schwerin. Do you intend to be harsher than the Bishop of Oslo and the archbishop or whoever it is down there who presides over the precious blood?

  “My dear Lavrans, it’s true that pure living is an admirable thing, but it’s hardly within the powers of a grown man unless he is particularly blessed by God. By Saint Olav—you should keep in mind that the holy king himself was not given that blessing until the end of his life on earth. It was evidently God’s will that he should first produce the capable boy-king Magnus, who repelled the heathens’ invasion of the north. King Olav did not have that son by his queen, and yet he sits among the highest of saints in Heaven. Yes, I can see that you think this improper talk . . .”

  Sir Baard interrupted, “Lavrans Bjørgulfsøn, I didn’t like this matter any better than you when Erlend first came to me and said that he had set his heart on a maiden who was betrothed. But I have since realized that there is such a strong love between these two young people, it would be a great sin to separate their affections. Erlend was with me at the Christmas feast that King Haakon held for his men. That’s where they met, and as soon as they saw each other, your daughter fainted and lay as if dead for a long time—and I could see that my foster son would rather lose his own life than lose her.”

  Lavrans sat in silence for a moment before he replied.

  “Yes, that sort of thing sounds so beautiful when we hear it in a courtly tale from the southern lands. But we are not in Bretland,1 and surely you would demand more of a man you intend to take as a son-in-law than that he had made your daughter swoon with love before everyone’s eyes.”

  The other two didn’t speak, and then Lavrans continued, “I think, good sirs, that if Erlend Nikulaussøn had not so greatly diminished both his property and his reputation, then you would not be sitting here, asking so earnestly for a man of my circumstances to give my daughter to him. But I won’t have it said about Kristin that she was honored by coming to Husaby through marriage to a man belonging to this country’s best lineage—after that man had disgraced himself so badly that he could neither expect a better match nor maintain his family’s distinction.”

  He stood up abruptly and paced back and forth across the floor.

  But Sir Munan jumped up. “No, Lavrans, if you’re going to talk about bringing shame upon oneself, then by God you should know that you’re being much too proud—”

  Sir Baard cut him off. He went over to Lavrans and said, “And proud you are, Lavrans. You’re like those landowners in the past we’ve heard about, who refused to accept titles from the kings because their sense of pride could not tolerate hearing people say that they owed anything to anyone but themselves. I must tell you that if Erlend had possessed all the honor and wealth that the boy was born with, I would still not consider it disparaging to myself when I asked a man of good lineage and good circumstances to give his daughter to my foster son, if I could see that it would break the hearts of these two young people to be kept apart. Especially,” he said softly, placing his hand on the other man’s shoulder, “if things were such that it was best for the health of both their souls if they were allowed to marry.”

  Lavrans shook off Baard’s hand. His face grew stony and cold. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

  The two men looked at each other for a moment. Then Sir Baard said, “I mean that Erlend has told me that they have sworn themselves to each other with the most solemn of oaths. Perhaps you think you have the authority to release your child, since she has sworn without your consent. But you cannot release Erlend. And I can’t see that there is anything standing in the way except your pride—and your abhorrence of sin. But in this it seems to me that you wish to be harsher than God Himself, Lavrans Bjørgulfsøn!”

  Lavrans answered somewhat uncertainly, “You may be right in what you say, Sir Baard. But I have mainly opposed this marriage because Erlend seemed to me an unreliable man to whom I would not want to entrust my daughter.”

  “I think I can vouch for my foster son now,” said Baard in a subdued tone of voice. “He loves Kristin so much that if you give her to him, I am convinced he will conduct himself in such a manner that you will have no cause to complain of your son-in-law.”

  Lavrans didn’t reply at once.

  Then Sir Baard said imploringly, holding out his hand, “In God’s name, Lavrans Bjørgulfsøn, give your consent!”

  Lavrans gave his hand to Sir Baard. “In God’s name.”

  Ragnfrid and Kristin were called to the loft, and Lavrans told them of his decision. Sir Baard graciously greeted the two women. Sir Munan shook Ragnfrid’s hand and spoke courteously to her, but he greeted Kristin in the foreign manner with kisses, and he took his time about it. Kristin noticed that her father was looking at her as he did this.

  “How do you like your new kinsman, Sir Munan?” he asked with derision when he was alone with her for a moment that evening.

  Kristin gave her father an imploring look. Then he stroked her face several times and said nothing more.

  When Sir Baard and Sir Munan had gone to bed, the latter said, “What wouldn’t I give to see the face of this Lavrans Bjørgulfsøn if he ever learned the truth about his precious daughter. Here you and I had to beg on our knees for Erlend to win a woman as his wife whom he has had with him up at Brynhild’s inn so many times.”

  “You keep quiet about that,” replied Sir Baard bitterly. “It was the worst thing Erlend could have done when he enticed the child to such a place. And never let Lavrans get word of this; it will be best for everyone if those two can be friends.”

  It was agreed that the betrothal celebration would be held that same autumn. Lavrans said that he could not offer a grand banquet because the previous year had been so bad in the valley; but he would, on the other hand, host the wedding and hold it at Jørundgaard with all appropriate splendor. He mentioned again the bad year as his reason for demanding that the betrothal period should last a year.

  CHAPTER 6

  THE BETROTHAL CELEBRATION was postponed for various reasons. It didn’t take place until the New Year, but Lavrans agreed that the wedding needn’t be delayed because of that. It would be held immediately following Michaelmas, as had been originally agreed.

  So Kristin continued to live at Jørundgaard as Erlend’s properly acknowledged betrothed. Along with her mother she went over the dowry that had been assembled for her and strove to add even more to the piles of bed linen and clothing, for Lavrans wanted nothing to be spared now that he had given his daughter to the master of Husaby.

  Kristin was surprised that she didn’t feel happier. But in spite of all the activity, there was no real joy at Jørundgaard.

  Her parents missed Ulvhild deeply—she knew that. But she also realized that this was not the only reason they were so silent and somber. They were kind to her, but when they spoke of her betrothed, she could see that they had to force themselves to do so. And they did it to please her and to be kind; they did not do it out of any desire to speak of Erlend themselves. They were not any happier about the husband she had chosen now that they had come to know the man. Erlend was also silent and reserved during the brief time he was at Jørundgaard for the betrothal celebration—and it could
not have been any other way, thought Kristin. He knew that her father had only reluctantly given his consent.

  Even she and Erlend had hardly exchanged more than a few words alone. And it had been awkward and strange for them to sit together in full view of everyone; they had had little to talk about because they had shared so many secrets. A slight fear began to stir inside her—faint and dim, but always present—that perhaps, in some way, it might be difficult for them when they were finally married, because they had been too close to each other in the beginning and then had been separated for far too long.

  But she tried to push this thought aside. Erlend was supposed to stay with them at Jørundgaard during Whitsuntide. He had asked Lavrans and Ragnfrid whether they would have any objections if he came to visit, and Lavrans had hesitated a moment but then replied that he would welcome his son-in-law, Erlend could be assured of that.

  During Whitsuntide they would be able to take walks together, and they would talk as they had in the old days; then it would surely go away, this shadow that had come between them during the long separation, when they had each struggled and borne everything alone.

  At Easter Simon Andressøn and his wife were at Formo. Kristin saw them in church. Simon’s wife was standing quite close to her.

  She must be much older than he is, thought Kristin—almost thirty. Fru Halfrid was short and delicate and thin, but she had an unusually lovely face. Even the pale brown color of her hair, which billowed from under her wimple, seemed so gentle, and her eyes were full of gentleness too; they were large and gray with a sprinkling of tiny glints of gold. Every line of her face was fine and pure; but her complexion was a pale gray, and when she opened her mouth, it was apparent that she did not have good teeth. She didn’t look strong, and she was also said to be sickly. Kristin had heard that she had already miscarried several times. She wondered how Simon felt about this wife.