This was the reason that Sira Solmund came over to J?rundgaard one evening late in the summer and asked Nikulaus to accompany him home. A foreign knight had come from the Feast of Saint Olav in Nidaros and taken lodgings at Romundgaard, but he spoke no Norwegian. Nor did his soldiers or servants, while the guide who was escorting them spoke only a few words of their language. Sira Eirik was ill in bed. Could Naakkve come over and speak to the man in Latin?
Naakkve was not at all displeased to be asked to act as interpreter, but he feigned nonchalance and went with the priest. He returned home very late, in high spirits and quite drunk. He had been given wine, which the foreign knight had brought along and liberally poured for the priest and the deacon and Naakkve. His name was something like Sir Alland or Allart of Bekelar; he was from Flanders and was making a pilgrimage to various holy shrines in the northern countries. He was exceedingly friendly, and it had been no trouble to talk to him. Then Naakkve mentioned his request. From there the knight was headed for Oslo and then on to pilgrim sites in Denmark and Germany, and now he wanted Naakkve to come with him to be his interpreter, at least while he was in Norway. But he had also hinted that if the youth should accompany him out into the world, then Sir Allart was the man who could make his fortune. Where he came from, it seemed as if golden spurs and necklaces, heavy money pouches, and splendid weapons were simply waiting for a man like young Nikulaus Er lendss?n to come along and take them. Naakkve had replied that he was not yet of age and would need permission from his father. But Sir Allart had still pressed a gift upon him—he had expressly stated that it would in no way bind him—a knee-length, plum-blue silk tunic with silver bells on the points of the sleeves.
Erlend listened to him, saying hardly a word, with an oddly tense expression on his face. When Naakkve was finished, he sent Gaute to get the chest with his writing implements and at once set about composing a letter in Latin. Bj?rgulf had to help him because Naakkve was in no condition to do much of anything and his father had sent him off to bed. In the letter Erlend invited the knight to his home on the following day, after prime1 so they might discuss Sir Allart’s offer to take the noble-born young man, Nikulaus Erlendss?n, into his service as his esquire. He asked the knight’s forgiveness for returning his gift with the plea that Sir Allart might keep it until Nikulaus, with his father’s consent, had been sworn into the man’s service in accordance with such customs as prevailed among knights in all the lands.
Erlend dripped a little wax on the bottom of the letter and lightly pressed his small seal, the one on his ring, into it. Then he sent a servant boy off to Romundgaard at once with the letter and the silk tunic.
“Husband, surely you can’t be thinking of sending your young son off to distant lands with an unknown foreigner,” said Kristin, shivering.
“We shall see. . . .” Erlend smiled quite strangely. “But I don’t think it’s likely,” he added when he noticed her distress. He smiled again and caressed her cheek.
At Erlend’s request, Kristin had strewn the floor in the high loft with juniper and flowers, placed the best cushions on the benches, and set the table with a linen cloth and good food and drink in fine dishes and the precious silver-chased animal horns they had inherited from Lavrans. Erlend had shaved carefully, curled his hair, and dressed in a black, richly embroidered ankle-length robe made of foreign cloth. He went to meet his guest at the manor gate, and as they crossed the courtyard together, Kristin couldn’t help thinking that her husband looked more like the French knights mentioned in the sagas than did the fat, fair-haired stranger in the colorful and resplendent garments made from velvet and sarcenet. She stood on the gallery of the high loft, beautifully attired and wearing a silk wimple. The Flemish man kissed her hand as she bade him bienvenu. She didn’t exchange another word with him during all the hours he spent with them. She understood nothing of the men’s conversation; nor did Sira Solmund, who had come with his guest. But the priest told the mistress that now he had assuredly made Naakkve’s fortune. She neither agreed nor disagreed with him.
Erlend spoke a little French and could fluently speak the kind of German that mercenaries spoke; the discussion between him and the foreign knight flowed easily and courteously. But Kristin noticed that the Flemish man did not seem pleased as things progressed, although he strove to conceal his displeasure. Erlend had told his sons to wait over in the loft of the new storehouse until he sent word for them to join them, but they were not sent for.
Erlend and his wife escorted the knight and the priest to the gate. When their guests disappeared among the fields, Erlend turned to Kristin and said with that smile she found so distasteful, “I wouldn’t let Naakkve leave the estate with that fellow even to go south to Breidin.”
Ulf Haldorss?n came over to them. He and Erlend spoke a few words that Kristin couldn’t hear, but Ulf swore fiercely and spat.
Erlend laughed and slapped the man on the shoulder. “Yes, if I’d been such a country dolt as the good farmers around here . . . But I’ve seen enough that I wouldn’t let my fair young falcons out of my hands by selling them to the Devil. Sira Solmund had no idea, that blessed fool.”
Kristin stood with her arms hanging at her sides, the color ebbing and rising in her face. Horror and shame overcame her, making her feel sick; her legs seemed to lose all strength. She had known about such things—as something endlessly remote—but that this unmentionable might venture as close as her own doorstep . . . It was like the last wave, threatening to overturn her storm-tossed, overloaded boat. Holy Mary, did she also need to fear that for her sons?
Erlend said with the same loathsome smile, “I already had my doubts last night. Sir Allart seemed to me a little too chivalrous from Naakkve’s account. I know that it’s not the custom among knights anywhere in the world to welcome a man who is to be taken into service by kissing him on the lips or by giving him costly presents before seeing proof of his abilities.”
Shaking from head to toe, Kristin said, “Why did you ask me to strew the floor with roses and cover my table with linen cloths for such a—” And she uttered the worst of words.
Erlend frowned. He had picked up a stone and was keeping an eye on Munan’s red cat, which was slithering on its stomach through the tall grass along the wall of the house, heading for the chickens near the stable door. Whoosh! He threw the stone. The cat streaked around the corner, and the flock of hens scattered. He turned to face his wife.
“I thought I could at least have a look at the man. If he had been a trustworthy fellow, then . . . But in that case I had to show the proper courtesy. I’m not Sir Allart’s confessor. And you heard that he’s planning to go to Oslo.” Erlend laughed again. “Now it’s possible that some of my true friends and dear kinsmen from the past may hear that we’re not sitting up here at J?rundgaard shaking the lice from our rags or eating herring and oat lefse.”
Bj?rgulf had a headache and was lying in bed when Kristin came up to the loft at suppertime, and Naakkve said he didn’t want to go over to the main house for the evening meal.
“You seem to me morose tonight, son,” said his mother.
“How can you think that, Mother?” said Naakkve with a scornful smile. “The fact that I’m a worse fool than other men and it’s easier to throw sand in my eyes . . . surely that’s nothing to be morose about.”
“Console yourself,” said his father as they sat down at the table and Naakkve was still too quiet. “No doubt you’ll go out into the world and have a chance to try your luck.”
“That depends, Father,” replied Naakkve in a low voice, as if he intended only Erlend to hear him, “whether Bj?rgulf can go with me.” Then he laughed softly. “But talk to Ivar and Skule about what you just said. They’re merely waiting to reach the proper age before they set off.”
Kristin stood up and put on her hooded cloak. She was going to go north to tend to the beggar at Ingebj?rg’s hut, she told them when they asked. The twins offered to go along and carry her sack, but she wanted to go alone.