Kristin had tried to talk to Sira Eiliv about it. But he couldn’t help her with this matter. Gunnulf had told her that she need not mention the sins to which she had confessed and repented before Eiliv Serkss?n became her parish priest unless she thought that he should know about them in order to judge and advise her. So there were many things she had never told him, even though she felt that by not doing so she would seem, in Sira Eiliv’s eyes, to be a better person than she was. But it was so good for her to have the friendship of this kind and pure-hearted man. Erlend made fun of her, but she gained such comfort from Sira Eiliv. With him she could talk as much as she liked about her children; the priest was willing to discuss with her all the small bits of news that bored Erlend and drove him from the room. The priest got on well with children, and he understood their small troubles and illnesses. Erlend laughed at Kristin when she went to the cookhouse herself to prepare special dishes, which she would send over to the parsonage. Sira Eiliv was fond of good food and drink, and it amused Kristin to spend time on such matters and to try out what she had learned from her mother or seen at the convent. Erlend didn’t care what he ate as long as he was always served meat if it wasn’t a time for fasting. But Sira Eiliv would come over to talk and thank her, praising her skill after she had sent him grouse on a spit, wrapped in the best bacon, or a platter of reindeer tongues in French wine and honey. And he gave her advice about her garden, obtaining cuttings for her from Tautra, where his brother was a monk, and from the Olav monastery, whose prior was a good friend of his. And he also read to her and could recount so many wonderful things about life out in the world.
But because he was such a good and pious man, it was often difficult to speak to him about the evil she saw in her own heart. When she confessed to him how embittered she felt at Erlend’s behavior that day with Margret, he had impressed upon her that she must bear with her husband. But he seemed to think that Erlend alone had committed an offense when he spoke so unjustly to his wife—and in the presence of strangers. Kristin doubtless agreed with him. And yet deep in her heart she felt a complicity which she could not explain and which caused her great pain.
Kristin looked up at the holy shrine, which glittered a dull gold in the dim light behind the high altar. She had been so certain that if she stood here again, something would happen—a redemption of her soul. Once more a living fount would surge up into her heart and wash away all the anguish and fear and bitterness and confusion that filled her.
But no one had any patience for her tonight. Haven’t you learned yet, Kristin—to lift your self-righteousness to the light of God’s righteousness, your heathen and selfish passion to the light of love? Perhaps you do not want to learn it, Kristin.
But the last time she knelt here she had held Naakkve in her arms. His little mouth at her breast warmed her heart so well that it was like soft wax, easy for the heavenly love to shape. And she did have Naakkve; he was playing back home in the hall, so lovely and sweet that her breast ached at the mere thought of him. His soft, curly hair was now turning dark—he was going to have black hair like his father. And he was so full of life and mischief. She made animals for him out of old furs, and he would throw them into the air and then chase after them, racing with the young dogs. And it usually ended with the fur bear falling into the hearth fire and burning up, with smoke and a foul smell. Naakkve would howl, hopping up and down and stomping, and then he would bury his head in his mother’s lap—that’s where all of his adventures still ended. The maids fought for his favor; the men would pick him up and toss him up to the ceiling whenever they came into the room. If the boy saw Ulf Haldorss?n, he would run over and cling to the man’s leg. Ulf sometimes took him along out to the farmyard. Erlend would snap his fingers at his son and set him on his shoulder for a moment, but he was the one person at Husaby who paid the least attention to the boy. And yet he was fond of Naakkve. Erlend was glad that he now had two lawfully born sons.
Kristin’s heart clenched tight.
They had taken Bj?rgulf away from her. He whimpered whenever she tried to hold him, and Frida would put him to her own breast at once. His foster mother kept a jealous watch over the boy. But Kristin would refuse to let the new child go. Her mother and Erlend had said that she should be spared, and so they took her newborn son away and gave him to another woman. She felt an almost vengeful joy when she thought that their only accomplishment was that she would now be having a third child before Bj?rgulf was even eleven months old.
She didn’t dare speak of this to Sira Eiliv. He would merely think that she was resentful because now she would have to go through all of that again so soon. But that wasn’t it.
She had come home from her pilgrimage with a deep dread in her soul—never would that wild desire have power over her again. Until the end of summer she lived alone with her child in the old house, weighing in her mind the words of the archbishop and Gunnulf’s speech, vigilantly praying and repenting, diligently working to put the neglected farm in order, to win over her servants with kindness and concern for their welfare, eager to help and serve all those around her as far as her hands and her power might reach. A cool and wondrous peace descended upon her. She sustained herself with thoughts of her father, she sustained herself with prayers to the holy men and women Sira Eiliv read to her about, and she pondered their steadfastness and courage. And tender with joy and gratitude, she remembered Brother Edvin, who had appeared before her in the moonlight on that night. She had understood his message when he smiled so gently and hung his glove on the moonbeam. If only she had enough faith, she would become a good woman.
When their first year of marriage came to an end, she had to move back in with her husband. Whenever she felt doubtful, she would console herself that the archbishop himself had impressed upon her that in her life with her husband she should show her new change of heart. And she strove zealously to tend to his welfare and his honor. Erlend himself had said: “And so it has happened after all, Kristin—you have brought honor back to Husaby.” People showed her great kindness and respect; everyone seemed willing to forget that she had begun her marriage a little impetuously. Whenever the women gathered, they would seek out her advice; people praised her housekeeping at the manor, she was summoned to assist with weddings and with births on the great estates, and no one made her feel that she was too young or inexperienced or a newcomer to the region. The servants would remain sitting in the hall until late into the evening, just as they did back home at J?rundgaard—they all had something to ask their mistress about. She felt a rush of exhilaration that people were so kind to her and that Erlend was proud of her.
Then Erlend took charge of the men called up for duty on the ships south of the fjord. He dashed around, riding or sailing, and he was busy with people who came to see him and letters that had to be sent. He was so young and handsome, and so happy—the listless, dejected look that she had often seen come over him in the past seemed to have been swept away. He sparkled with alertness, like the morning. He had little time left over for her now; but she grew dizzy and wild whenever he came near her with his smiling face and those adventure-loving eyes.
She had laughed with him at the letter that had come from Munan Baards?n. The knight had not attended the gathering of the king’s retainers himself, but he ridiculed the entire meeting and especially the fact that Erling Vidkunss?n had been appointed leader of the realm. But first Erling had probably given himself new titles—no doubt he would want to be called regent now. Munan also wrote about her father: The mountain wolf from Sil crept under a rock and sat there mutely. I mean that your father-in-law took lodgings with the priests at Saint Laurentius Church and did not let his fair voice be heard at the discussions. He had in his possession letters bearing the seals of Sir Erngisle and Sir Karl Turess?n; if they haven’t yet been worn out it’s because the parchment was tougher than the soles of Satan’s shoes. You should also know that Lavrans gave eight marks of pure silver to Nonneseter. Apparently the man realized that Kristin was not as docile when she was there as she should have been.
Kristin felt a stab of pain and shame at this, but she had to laugh along with Erlend. For her the winter and spring had passed in exhilarating merriment and happiness, with now and then a squall for Orm’s sake—Erlend couldn’t decide whether he should take the boy north with him. It ended with an outburst during Easter. One night Erlend wept in her arms: he didn’t dare take his son on board for fear that Orm wouldn’t be able to hold his own during a war. She had comforted him and herself—and the youth. Perhaps the boy would grow stronger over the years.