“We want nothing from you . . . yet,” said Naakkve, smiling slyly. “We have business with the bishop today, Magnus. Later my brothers and I may decide that we want to have a few words with the rest of you too. But today you have no need to fear us.”
There was a great deal of shouting and commotion. Sira Solmund came out and tried to forbid the boys to stay, but then several farmers took up their cause and said they should be allowed to make inquiries about this charge against their mother. The bishop’s men came out and told the sons of Erlend they would have to leave because food was being served and no one had time to listen to them. But the farmers were not pleased by this.
“What is it, good folks?” thundered a voice overhead. No one had noticed that Lord Halvard himself had come out onto the loft gallery. Now he was standing there in his violet robes, with the red silk cap on his white hair, tall and stout and looking like a chieftain. “Who are these young men?”
He was told that they were Kristin’s sons from J?rundgaard.
“Are you the oldest?” the bishop asked Naakkve. “Then I will talk to you. But the others must wait here in the courtyard in the meantime.”
Naakkve climbed the steps to the high loft and followed the bishop into the room. Lord Halvard sat down in the high seat and looked at the young man standing before him, leaning on his lance.
“What is your name?”
“Nikulaus Erlendss?n, my Lord.”
“Do you think you need to be so well armed, Nikulaus Er lendss?n, in order to speak to your bishop?” asked the other man with a little smile.
Nikulaus blushed bright red. He went over to the corner, put down his weapons and cape, and came back. He stood before the bishop, bareheaded, his face lowered, with one hand clasping the wrist of the other, his bearing easy and free, but seemly and respectful.
Lord Halvard thought that this young man had been taught courtly and noble manners. And he couldn’t have been a child when his father lost his riches and honorable position; he must certainly remember the time when he was considered the heir of Husaby. He was a handsome lad as well; the bishop felt great compassion for him.
“Were those your brothers, all those young men who were with you? How many of you are there, you sons of Erlend?”
“There are seven of us still living, my Lord.”
“So many young lives involved in this.” The bishop gave an involuntary sigh. “Sit down, Nikulaus. I suppose you want to talk to me about these rumors that have come forth about your mother and her overseer?”
“Thank you, Your Grace, but I would prefer to stand.”
The bishop looked thoughtfully at the youth. Then he said slowly, “I must tell you, Nikulaus, that I find it difficult to believe that what has been said about Kristin Lavransdatter is true. And no one other than her husband has the right to accuse her of adultery. But then there is the matter of the kinship between your father and this man Ulf and the fact that he is your godfather. Jardtrud has presented her complaint in such a manner that there is much to indicate a lack of honor on your mother’s part. Do you know whether it’s true what she says: that the man often struck her and that he has shunned her bed for almost a year?”
“Ulf and Jardtrud did not live well together; our foster father was no longer young when he married, and he can be rather stubborn and hot-tempered. Toward myself and my brothers, and toward our father and mother, he has always been the most loyal kinsman and friend. That is the first request I intended to make of you, kind sir: If it is at all possible, that you would release Ulf as a free man against payment of a guarantee.”
“You are not yet of lawful age?” asked the bishop.
“No, my Lord. But our mother is willing to pay whatever guarantee you might demand.”
The bishop shook his head.
“But my father will do the same, I’m certain of that. It’s my intention to ride straight from here to see him, to tell him what has happened. If you would grant him an audience tomorrow . . .”
The bishop rested his chin on his hand and sat there stroking his beard with his thumb, making a faint scraping sound.
“Sit down, Nikulaus,” he said, “and we’ll be able to talk better.” Naakkve bowed politely and sat down. “So then it’s true that Ulf has refused to live with his wife?” he continued as if he just happened to remember it.
“Yes, my Lord. As far as I know . . .”
The bishop couldn’t help smiling, and then the young man smiled a little too.
“Ulf has been sleeping in the loft with all of us brothers since Christmas.”
The bishop sat in silence for a moment. “What about food? Where does he eat?”
“He had his wife pack provisions for him whenever he went into the woods or left the estate.” Naakkve’s expression grew a little uncertain. “There were some quarrels about that. Mother thought it best for him to take his meals with us, as he did before he was married. Ulf didn’t want to do that because he said people would talk if he changed the terms of the agreement which he and Father made when he set up his own household, about the goods that he would be given from the estate. And he didn’t think it was right for Mother to provide food for him again without some deductions in what he had been granted. But it was arranged as Mother wanted, and Ulf began taking his meals with us again. The other part was to be figured out later.”
“Hmm . . . Otherwise your mother has a reputation for keeping a close eye on her property, and she is an exceedingly enterprising and frugal woman.”
“Not with food,” said Naakkve eagerly. “Anyone will tell you that—any man or woman who has ever served on our estate. Mother is the most generous of women when it comes to food. In that regard she’s no different now from when we were rich. She’s never happier than when she can set some special dish on the table, and she makes such an abundance that every servant, right down to the goatherd and the beggar, receives his share of the good food.”
“Hmm . . .” The bishop sat lost in thought. “You mentioned that you wanted to seek out your father?”
“Yes, my Lord. Surely that must be the reasonable thing to do?” When the bishop didn’t reply, he continued. “We spoke to Father this winter, my brother Gaute and I. We also told him that Mother was with child. But we saw no sign, nor did we hear a single word from his lips, that might indicate he had doubts that Mother had not been as faithful as gold to him or that he was surprised. But Father has never felt at ease in Sil; he wanted to live on his own farm in Dovre, and Mother was up there for a while this summer. He was angry because she refused to stay and keep house for him. He wanted her to let Gaute and me manage J?rundgaard while she moved to Haugen.”
Bishop Halvard kept rubbing his beard as he studied the young man.
No matter what sort of man Erlend Nikulauss?n might be, surely he wouldn’t have been contemptible enough to accuse his wife of adultery before their young sons.
In spite of everything that seemed to speak against Kristin Lavransdatter, he just didn’t believe it. He thought she was telling the truth when she denied knowledge of the suspicions about her and Ulf Haldorss?n. And yet he remembered that this woman had been weak before, when desires of the flesh had beckoned; with loathsome deceit she and this man with whom she now lived in discord had managed to win Lavrans’s consent.