There would be plenty of time, either after he was taken from her or after he came back to her, for thinking about all the children and their changed circumstances—and about everything else in her life besides her husband. She didn’t want to lose a single hour of the time they had together, and she didn’t dare think about her reunion with the four sons she had left behind up north. For this reason she accepted Simon Andress?n’s offer to travel alone to Nidaros; along with Arne Gjavvaldss?n, he would see to her interests in the settling of the estate. King Magnus would not be made richer by acquiring Erlend’s property; his debts were much greater than he himself had thought, and he had raised money that was sent to Denmark and Scotland and England. Erlend shrugged his shoulders and said with a faint smile that he didn’t expect to be compensated for that.
So Erlend’s situation was largely unchanged when Simon Andress?n returned to Oslo around Holy Cross Day in the fall. But he was horrified to see how exhausted they both looked, Kristin and his brother-in-law; and he felt strangely weak and sick at heart when they both still had enough composure to thank him for coming at that time of year, when he could least be spared from his own estates. But now people were gathering in Tunsberg, where King Magnus had come to wait for his bride.
A little later in the month Simon managed to book himself passage on a ship with several merchants who were planning to sail there in a week’s time. One morning a stranger arrived with the request that Simon Andress?n should trouble himself to come to Saint Halvard’s Church at once. Olav Kyrning was waiting for him there.
The deputy royal treasurer was in a terribly agitated state. He was in charge of the castle while the treasurer was in Tunsberg. The previous evening a group of gentlemen had arrived and shown him a letter with King Magnus’s seal on it, saying that they were to investigate Erlend Nikulauss?n’s case. He had ordered the prisoner to be brought to them. The three men were foreigners, apparently Frenchmen; Olav didn’t understand their language, but this morning the royal priest had spoken to them in Latin. They were supposedly kinsmen of the maiden who was to be Norway’s queen—what a promising start this was! They had interrogated Erlend in the harshest manner . . . had brought along some kind of rack and several men who knew how to use such things. Today Olav had refused to allow Erlend to be taken out of his chamber and had put him under heavy guard. He would take responsibility for it, because this was not lawful—such conduct had never been heard of before in Norway!
Simon borrowed a horse from one of the priests at the church and rode at once back to Akersnes with Olav.
Olav Kyrning glanced a little anxiously at the other man’s grim face, which was flooded with furious waves of crimson. Now and then Simon would make a wild and violent gesture, not even aware of it himself—but the borrowed horse would start, rear up, and rebel beneath the rider.
“I can see you’re angry, Simon,” said Olav Kyrning.
Simon hardly knew what was foremost in his mind. He was so furious that he felt spells of nausea overtake him. The blind and desperate feeling that surged up inside him, driving him to the utmost rage, was a form of shame—a man who was defenseless, without weapon or protection, who had to tolerate the hands of strangers in his clothes, strangers searching his body . . . It was like hearing about the rape of women. He grew dizzy with the desire for revenge and the need to spill blood to retaliate. No, such had never been the custom in Norway. Did they want Norwegian noblemen to grow used to tolerating such things? That would never happen!
He was sick with horror at what he would now see. Fear of the shame he would bring upon the other man by seeing him in such a state overwhelmed all other feelings as Olav Kyrning unlocked the door to Erlend’s prison cell.
Erlend was lying flat on the floor, his body placed diagonally from one corner of the room to the other; he was so tall that this was the only way he could find enough room to stretch out full length. Some straw and pieces of clothing had been placed underneath him, on top of the floor’s thick layer of filth. His body was covered all the way up to his chin with his dark-blue, fur-lined cape so that the soft, grayish-brown marten fur of the collar seemed to blend with the curly black tangle of the beard that Erlend had grown while in prison.
His lips were pale next to his beard; his face was snowy white. The large, straight triangle of his nose seemed to protrude much too far from his hollowed cheeks; his gray-flecked hair lay in lank, sweaty strings, swept back from his high, narrow forehead. At each temple was a large purple mark, as if something had clamped or held him there.
Slowly, with great difficulty, Erlend opened his big pale-blue eyes and attempted to smile when he recognized the men. His voice was odd-sounding and husky. “Sit down, brother-in-law . . .” He turned his head toward the empty bed. “I’ve learned a few new things since we last met. . . .”
Olav Kyrning bent over Erlend and asked him if he wanted anything. When he received no answer—probably because Erlend had no strength to reply—he pulled the cape aside. Erlend was wearing only linen pants and a ragged shirt. The sight of the swollen and discolored limbs shocked and enraged Simon like some indecent horror. He wondered whether Erlend felt the same way—a shadow of a blush passed over his face as Olav gently rubbed his arms and legs with a cloth he had dipped in a basin of water. And when he replaced the cape, Erlend straightened it out with a few small movements of his limbs and by drawing it all the way up to his chin, so that he was completely covered.
“Well,” said Erlend. Now he sounded a bit more like himself, and the smile was stronger on his pale lips. “Next time it will be worse. But I’m not afraid. No one needs to be afraid . . . they won’t get anything out of me . . . not that way.”
Simon could tell that he was speaking the truth. Torture was not going to force a word out of Erlend Nikulauss?n. He could do and say anything in anger and on impulse, but he would never let himself be budged even a hand’s breadth by violence. Simon realized that the shame and indignation he felt on the other man’s behalf was not something Erlend felt himself—instead, he was filled with a stubborn joy at defying his tormenter and a confident faith in his ability to resist. He who had always yielded so pitifully when confronted by a strong will, who might have shown cruelty himself in a moment of fear, now displayed his valor when he, in this cruel situation, sensed an opponent who was weaker than he was.
But Simon snarled through clenched teeth, “Next time . . . will never come! What do you say, Olav?”
Olav shook his head, but Erlend said with a trace of the old impudent boldness in his voice, “If only I could believe that . . . as firmly as you do! But these men will hardly . . . be satisfied with this . . .” He noticed the twitching of Simon’s muscular, heavy face. “No, Simon . . . brother-in-law!” Erlend tried to raise himself up on one elbow; in pain he uttered a stifled moan and then sank back in a faint.
Olav and Simon tended to him. When the fainting spell had passed, Erlend lay still with his eyes open wide; he spoke more somberly.
“Don’t you see . . . how much is at stake . . . for King Magnus? To find out . . . which men he shouldn’t trust . . . farther than he can see them. So much unrest . . . and discontent . . . as we’ve had here . . .”
“Well, if he thinks this will quell the discontent, then—” said Olav Kyrning angrily.
But Erlend said in a soft, clear voice, “I’ve handled this matter in such a way . . . that few will consider it important how I’m treated. I know that myself.”
The two men blushed. Simon hadn’t thought that Erlend understood this—and neither of them had ever referred to Fru Sunniva. Now he exclaimed in despair, “How could you be so foolish and reckless!”
“I can’t understand it either . . . now,” said Erlend honestly. “But—how in hell was I to know that she could read! She seemed so uneducated.”
His eyes closed again; he was about to faint once more. Olav Kyrning murmured that he would get something and left the room. Simon bent over Erlend, who was again lying there with half-open eyes.
“Brother-in-law . . . did . . . did Erling Vidkunss?n support you in this matter?”