Lavrans tried to separate them, but Ragnfrid stood at the table, as white as a corpse, wringing her hands. Then Fru Aashild ran over and helped Sira Sigurd to his feet and wiped the blood from his face.
She handed him a goblet of mead as she said, “You shouldn’t be so stern, Sira Eirik, that you can’t stand to hear a joke late in the evening after so many drinks. Now sit down, and I’ll tell you about that wedding. It wasn’t here in this valley at all, and it’s my misfortune that I was not the one who knew about that water. If I had been able to brew it, we wouldn’t be sitting up there on that little farm. Then I’d be a rich woman with property out in the big villages somewhere—near the town and cloisters and bishops and canons,” she said, smiling at the three clergymen.
“But someone must have known the art in the old days, because this was in the time of King Inge, as far as I know, and the bridegroom was Peter Lodins?n of Bratteland. But I won’t say which of his three wives was the bride, since there are living descendants from all three. Well, this bride probably had good reason to wish for that water, and she managed to get it too. She prepared a bath for herself out in the shed, but before she managed to bathe, in came the woman who was to be her mother-in-law. She was muddy and dirty from the ride to the wedding manor, so she took off her clothes and stepped into the tub. She was an old woman, and she had had nine children by Lodin. But on that night both Lodin and Peter had a different kind of pleasure than they had counted on.”
Everyone in the room laughed heartily, and both Gyrd and Jon called to Fru Aashild to tell more such ribald tales.
But she refused. “Here sit two priests and Brother Aasgaut and young boys and maidservants. We should stop now before the talk grows indecent and vulgar; remember that these are the holy days.”
The men protested, but the women agreed with Fru Aashild. No one noticed that Ragnfrid had left the room. A little later Kristin, who had been sitting at the far end of the women’s bench among the maidservants, stood up to go to bed. She was sleeping in Tordis’s house because there were so many guests at the farm.
It was biting cold, and the northern lights were flaring and flickering above the domed mountains to the north. The snow creaked under Kristin’s feet as she ran across the courtyard, shivering, with her arms crossed over her breast.
Then she noticed that in the shadows beneath the old loft someone was pacing vigorously back and forth in the snow, throwing out her arms, wringing her hands, and moaning loudly. Kristin recognized her mother. Frightened, she ran over to her and asked her if she was ill.
“No, no,” said Ragnfrid fiercely. “I just had to get out. Go to bed now, child.”
Kristin turned around when her mother softly called her name.
“Go into the house and lie down in bed with your father and Ulvhild—hold her in your arms so that he doesn’t crush her by mistake. He sleeps so heavily when he’s drunk. I’ll go up and sleep here in the old loft tonight.”
“Jesus, Mother,” said Kristin. “You’ll freeze to death if you sleep there—and all alone. What will Father say if you don’t come to bed tonight?”
“He won’t notice,” replied her mother. “He was almost asleep when I left, and tomorrow he’ll get up late. Go and do as I say.”
“You’ll be so cold,” whimpered Kristin, but her mother pushed her away, somewhat more gently, and then shut herself inside the loft.
It was just as cold inside as out, and pitch dark. Ragnfrid fumbled her way over to the bed, tore the shawl from her head, took off her shoes, and crawled under the furs. They chilled her to the bone; it was like sinking into a snow drift. She pulled the covers over her head, tucked up her legs, and put her hands into the bodice of her clothing. And she lay there in that way, weeping—alternately crying quite softly, with streaming tears, and then screaming and gnashing her teeth in between her sobs. Finally she had warmed up the bed enough that she began to feel drowsy, and then she cried herself to sleep.
CHAPTER 5
IN THE SPRINGTIME of Kristin’s fifteenth year, Lavrans Bj?rgulfs?n and Sir Andres Gudmunds?n of Dyfrin agreed to meet at Holledis ting.1 There they decided that Andres’s second son, Simon, should be betrothed to Kristin Lavransdatter and that he would be given Formo, the property which Andres had inherited from his mother. The men sealed the agreement with a handshake, but no document was drawn up about it because Andres first had to arrange for the inheritance of his other children. And no betrothal ale was drunk either, but Sir Andres and Simon accompanied Lavrans back to J?rundgaard to see the bride, and Lavrans gave a great banquet.
Lavrans had finished building the new house—two stories tall, with brick fireplaces in both the main room and the loft. It was richly and beautifully decorated with wood carvings and fine furniture. He had also renovated the old loft and expanded the other buildings, so that he could now live in a manner befitting a squire. By this time, he possessed great wealth, for he had been fortunate in his undertakings, and he was a wise and thoughtful master. He was especially known for breeding the finest horses and the best cattle of all types. And now that he had arranged things so that his daughter would acquire Formo through marriage with a man of the Dyfrin lineage, people said that he had successfully achieved his goal of becoming the foremost landowner in the village. Lavrans and Ragnfrid were also very pleased, as were Sir Andres and Simon.
Kristin was a little disappointed when she first saw Simon Andress?n, for she had heard such high praise of his handsome appearance and noble manner that there was no limit to what she had expected of her bridegroom.
Simon was indeed handsome, but he was rather heavyset for a man of only twenty; he had a short neck, and his face was as round and shiny as the moon. His hair was quite beautiful, brown and curly, and his eyes were gray and clear, but they seemed slightly pinched because his eyelids were puffy. His nose was too small and his mouth was also small and pouting, but not ugly. And in spite of his stoutness he was light-footed and quick and agile in all his movements, and he was an able sportsman. He was rather impetuous and rash in his speech, but Lavrans felt that he nevertheless showed both good sense and wisdom when he spoke to older men.
Ragnfrid soon came to like him, and Ulvhild developed at once the greatest affection for him; he was also particularly kind and loving toward the little maiden who was ill. And after Kristin had grown accustomed to his round face and his way of speaking, she was entirely satisfied with her betrothed and pleased that her father had arranged the marriage for her.
Fru Aashild was invited to the banquet. Ever since the people of J?rundgaard had taken up with her, the gentry of the nearest villages had once again begun to remember her high birth, and they paid less attention to her strange reputation; so now Fru Aashild was often in the company of others.
After she had seen Simon, she said, “He’s a good match, Kristin. This Simon will do well in the world—you’ll be spared many types of sorrow, and he’ll be a kind man to live with. But he seems to me rather too fat and cheerful. If things were the same in Norway today as they were in the past and as they are in other countries, where people are no sterner toward sinners than God is Himself, then I would suggest you find yourself a friend who is thin and melancholy—someone you could sit and talk to. Then I would say that you could fare no better than with Simon.”
Kristin blushed even though she didn’t fully understand what Fru Aashild meant. But as time passed and her dowry chests were filled and she listened to the constant talk of her marriage and what she would take to her new home, she began to yearn for the matter to be bound with a formal betrothal and for Simon to come north. After a while she began to think about him a great deal, and she looked forward to seeing him again.