“I understand. These are more serious matters than what came between Sir Erling or the Haftorss?ns and the king.”
“Yes,” said Gunnulf in a subdued voice. “Haftor Olavss?n and Erlend were supposedly sailing to Bj?rgvin. But they were actually heading for Kalundborg, and they were to bring Prince Haakon back with them to Norway while King Magnus was abroad courting his bride.”
After a moment the monk continued in the same tone of voice. “It must be . . . nearly a hundred years since any Norwegian has dared attempt such a thing: to overthrow the man who was king by right of succession and replace him with an opposing king.”
Kristin sat and stared straight ahead; Gunnulf could not see her face.
“Yes. The last men who dared undertake this game were your ancestors and Erlend’s. Back then my deceased kinsmen of the Gjesling lineage were also on the side of King Skule,” she said pensively.
She met Gunnulf’s searching glance and then exclaimed hotly and fiercely, “I’m merely a simple woman, Gunnulf—I paid little attention when my husband spoke with other men about such matters. I was unwilling to listen when he wanted to discuss them with me. God help me, I don’t have the wits to understand such weighty topics. But foolish woman that I am, with knowledge of nothing more than my household duties and rearing children—even I know that justice had much too long a road to travel before any grievance could find its way to the king and then back again to the villages. I too have seen that the peasants of this country are faring worse and must endure more hardships now than when I was a child, and blessed King Haakon was our lord. My husband . . .” She took several quick, shuddery breaths. “My husband took up a cause that was so great that none of the other chieftains in all the land dared raise it. I see that now.”
“That he did.” The monk clasped his hands tightly together. His voice was hardly more than a whisper. “Such a great cause that many will think it very grave that he brought about its downfall himself . . . and in this way . . .”
Kristin cried out and leaped to her feet. She moved with such force that the pain in her breast and arms brought the sweat pouring from her body. Agitated and dizzy with fever, she turned to Gunnulf and shouted loudly, “Erlend is not to blame . . . it just happened . . . it was his misfortune . . .”
She threw herself to her knees and pressed her hands on the bench; she lifted her blazing, desperate face to the monk.
“You and I, Gunnulf . . . you, his brother, and I, his wife for thirteen years, we shouldn’t blame Erlend now that he’s a poor prisoner, with his life perhaps in danger.”
Gunnulf’s face quivered. He looked down at the kneeling woman. “May God reward you, Kristin, for accepting things in this manner.” Again he wrung his emaciated hands. “God . . . may God grant Erlend life and such circumstances that he might repay your loyalty. May God turn this evil away from you and your children, Kristin.”
“Don’t talk like that!” She straightened her back as she knelt, and looked up into the monk’s eyes. “No good has come of it, Gunnulf, whenever you have taken on Erlend’s affairs or mine. No one has judged him more harshly than you—his brother and God’s servant.”
“Never have I judged Erlend more harshly than . . . than was necessary.” His pale face had grown even paler. “I’ve never loved anyone on earth more than my brother. That is no doubt why . . . They stung me as if they were my own sins, sins that I had to repent myself, when Erlend dealt with you so badly. And then there is Husaby. Erlend alone must carry on the lineage which is also mine. And I have put most of my inheritance into his hands. Your sons are the men who are closest to me by blood. . . .”
“Erlend has not dealt with me badly! I was no better than him! Why are you talking to me this way, Gunnulf? You were never my confessor. Sira Eiliv never blamed my husband—he admonished me for my sins whenever I complained of my difficulties to him. He was a better priest than you are; he’s the one God has placed over me, he’s the one I must listen to, and he has never said that I suffered unjustly. I will listen to him!”
Gunnulf stood up when she did. Pale and distressed, he murmured, “What you say is true. You must listen to Sira Eiliv.”
He turned to go, but she gripped his hand tightly. No, don’t leave me like this! I remember, Gunnulf . . . I remember when I visited you here on this estate, back when it belonged to you. And you were kind to me. I remember the first time I met you—I was in great need and anguish. I remember you spoke to me in Erlend’s defense; you couldn’t know . . . You prayed and prayed for my life and my child’s. I know that you meant us well, and that you loved Erlend. . . .
“Oh, don’t speak harshly of Erlend, Gunnulf! Who among us is pure before God? My father grew fond of him, and our children love their father. Remember that he found me weak and easy to sway, but he led me to a good and honorable place. Oh, yes, Husaby is beautiful. On the night before I left, it was so lovely; the sunset was magnificent that evening. We’ve spent many a good day there, Erlend and I. No matter how things go, no matter what happens, he is still my husband—my husband, whom I love.”
Gunnulf leaned both hands on his staff, which he always carried now whenever he left the monastery.
“Kristin . . . Do not put your faith in the red of the sunset and in the . . . love that you remember, now that you fear for his life.
“I remember, when I was young—only a subdeacon. Gudbj?rg, whom Alf of Uvaasen later married, was serving at Siheim then. She was accused of stealing a gold ring. It turned out that she was innocent, but the shame and the fear shook her soul so fiercely that the Fiend seized power over her. She went down to the lake and was about to sink into the water. She has often told us of this afterwards: that the world seemed to her such a lovely red and gold, and the water glistened and felt wondrously warm. But as she stood out there in the lake, she spoke the name of Jesus and made the sign of the cross—and then the whole world grew gray and cold, and she saw where she was headed.”
“Then I won’t say his name.” Kristin spoke quietly; her bearing was rigid and erect. “If I thought that, then I would be tempted to betray my lord when he is in need. But I don’t think it would be the name of Christ but rather the name of the Devil that would bring this about. . . .”
“That’s not what I meant. I meant . . . May God give you strength, Kristin, that you may have the will to do this, to bear your husband’s faults with a loving spirit.”
“You can see that’s what I’m doing,” she said in the same voice as before.
Gunnulf turned away from her, pale and trembling. He drew his hand over his face.
“I must go home now. It’s easier . . . at home it’s easier for me to collect myself—to do what I can for Erlend and for you. God . . . May God and all the saints protect my brother’s life and freedom. Oh, Kristin . . . You mustn’t ever think that I don’t love my brother.”
But after he had left, Kristin thought everything seemed much worse. She didn’t want the servants in the room with her; she paced back and forth, wringing her hands and moaning softly. It was already late in the evening when people came riding into the courtyard. A moment later, as the door was thrown open, a tall, stout man wearing a traveling cloak appeared in the twilight; he walked toward her with his spurs ringing and his sword trailing behind. When she recognized Simon Andress?n, Kristin broke into loud sobbing and ran toward him with outstretched arms, but she shrieked in pain when he embraced her.