“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 mass, 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, and we got down from our horses in the courtyard, then Sir Bj?rgulf 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.
“God 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 shift 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 shimmered 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 NIKULAUSS?N
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 Andress?n 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 J?rundgaard, 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 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 Haldorss?n offered a guarantee that Huntjov would appear at the proper time for the 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.
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 Orkd?la 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 Haldorss?n, 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 Aashild 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 Nikulauss?n 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 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 noble gentlemen, including the judge of the Frosta ting, Harald Nikulauss?n; Olav Hermanss?n, judge in Nidaros; Sir Guttorm Helgess?n, the sheriff of Jemtland; and Arne Gjavvaldss?n, 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.