Kristin Lavransdatter (Kristin Lavransdatter #1-3)

When the talk turned to the death of the child, he saw at once that her conscience troubled her. But even if she had neglected her child, she could not be brought before a court of law for that reason. She would have to repent before God, in accordance with the strictures of her confessor. And the child might still be her husband’s even if she had cared for it poorly. She couldn’t possibly be glad to be burdened with another infant, now that she was no longer young and had been abandoned by her husband, with seven sons already, and in much more meager circumstances than was their birthright. It would be unreasonable to expect that she could have had much love for that child.

He didn’t think she was an unfaithful wife, although only God knew what he had heard and experienced in the forty years he had been a priest and listened to confessions. But he believed her.

And yet there was only one way in which he could interpret Erlend Nikulauss?n’s behavior in this matter. He had refused to seek out his wife while she was with child, or after the birth, or when the infant died. He must have thought that he was not the father.

What now remained to find out was how the man would act. Whether he would stand up and defend his wife all the same, for the sake of his seven sons, as an honorable man would do. Or whether, now that these rumors were being openly discussed, he would bring charges against her. Based on what the bishop had heard about Erlend of Husaby, he wasn’t sure he could count on the man not to do this.

“Who are your mother’s closest kinsmen?” he asked.

“Jamm?lt Halvardss?n of ?lin is married to her sister, the widow of Simon Darre of Formo. She also has two cousins: Ketil Aasmundss?n of Skog and his sister, Ragna, who is married to Sigurd Kyrning. Ivar Gjesling of Ringheim and his brother, Haavard Trondss?n, are the sons of her mother’s brother. But all of them live far away.”

“What about Sir Sigurd Eldjarn of Sundbu? He and your mother are cousins. In a case like this the knight must step forward to defend his kinswoman, Nikulaus! You must seek him out this very day and tell him about this, my friend!”

Naakkve replied reluctantly, “Honorable Lord, there has been little kinship between him and us. And I don’t think, my Lord, that it would benefit Mother’s case if this man came to her defense. Erlend Eldjarn’s lineage is not well liked here in the villages. Nothing harmed my father more in the eyes of the people than the fact that the Gjeslings had joined him in the plot that cost us Husaby, while they lost Sundbu.”

“Yes, Erlend Eldjarn . . .” The bishop laughed a little. “Yes, he had a talent for disagreeing with people; he quarreled with all his kinsmen up here in the north. Your maternal grandfather, who was a pious man and not afraid to give in if it meant strengthening the peace and harmony among kin—even he couldn’t manage any better. He and Erlend Eldjarn were the bitterest of foes.”

“Yes.” Naakkve couldn’t help chuckling. “And it wasn’t over anything important either: two embroidered sheets and a blue-hemmed towel. Altogether they weren’t worth more than two marks. But my grandmother had impressed upon her husband that he must make sure to acquire these things when her father’s estate was settled, and Gudrun Ivarsdatter had also spoken of them to her own husband. Erlend Eldjarn finally seized them and hid them away in his traveling bag, but Lavrans took them out again. He felt he had the most right to these things, for it was Ragnfrid who had made them as a young maiden, while she was living at home at Sundbu. When Erlend became aware of this, he struck my grandfather in the face, and then Grandfather threw him to the floor three times and shook him like a pelt. After that they never spoke again, and it was all because of those scraps of fabric; Mother has them at home in her chest.”

The bishop laughed heartily. He knew this story well, which had amused everyone greatly when it occurred: that the husbands of the daughters of Ivar should be so eager to please their wives. But he had achieved what he intended: The features of the young man’s face had thawed into a smile, and the wary, anguished expression had been driven from his handsome blue-gray eyes for a moment. Then Lord Halvard laughed even louder.

“Oh yes, Nikulaus, they did speak to each other one more time, and I was present. It was in Oslo, at the Christmas banquet, the year before Queen Eufemia died. My blessed Lord King Haakon was talking to Lavrans; he had come south to bring his greetings to his lord and to pledge his loyal service. The king told him that this enmity between the husbands of two sisters was unchristian and the behavior of petty men. Lavrans went over to where Erlend Eldjarn was standing with several other royal retainers and asked him in a friendly manner to forgive him for losing his temper; he said he would send the things to Fru Gudrun with loving greetings from her brother and sister. Erlend replied that he would agree to reconcile if Lavrans would accept the blame before the men standing there and admit that he had acted like a thief and a robber with regard to the inheritance of their father-in-law. Lavrans turned on his heel and walked away—and that, I believe, was the last time Ivar Gjesling’s sons-in-law ever met on this earth,” concluded the bishop, laughing loudly.

“But listen to me, Nikulaus Erlendss?n,” he said, placing the palms of his hands together. “I don’t know whether it would be wise to make such haste to bring your father here or to set this Ulf Haldorss?n free. It seems to me that your mother must clear her name since there has been so much talk that she has sinned. But as matters now stand, do you think it would be easy for Kristin to find the women willing to swear the oath along with her?”

Nikulaus looked up at the bishop; his eyes grew uncertain and fearful.

“But wait a few days, Nikulaus! Your father and Ulf are strangers in the region and not well liked. Kristin and Jardtrud both are from here in the valley, but Jardtrud is from much farther south, while your mother is one of their own. And I’ve noticed that Lavrans Bj?rgulfs?n has not been forgotten by the people. It looks as if they mostly had intended to chastise her because she seemed to them a bad daughter. And yet already I can see that many realize the father would be poorly served by raising such an outcry against his child. They are remorseful and repentant, and soon there will be nothing they wish for more than that Kristin should be able to clear her name. And perhaps Jardtrud will have scant evidence to present when she has a look inside her bag. But it’s another matter if her husband goes around turning people against him.”

“My Lord,” said Naakkve, looking up at the bishop, “forgive me for saying this, but I find this difficult to accept. That we should do nothing for our foster father and that we should not bring our father to stand at Mother’s side.”

“Nevertheless, my son,” said Bishop Halvard, “I beg you to take my advice. Let us not hasten to summon Erlend Nikulauss?n here. But I will write a letter to Sir Sigurd of Sundbu, asking him to come see me at once. What’s that?” He stood up and went out on the gallery.

Against the wall of the building stood Gaute and Bj?rgulf Er lendss?n, and several of the bishop’s men were threatening them with weapons. Bj?rgulf struck a man to the ground with a blow of his axe as the bishop and Naakkve came outside. Gaute defended himself with his sword. Some farmers seized hold of Ivar and Skule, while others led away the wounded man. Sira Solmund stood off to the side, bleeding from his mouth and nose.

“Halt!” shouted Lord Halvard. “Throw down your weapons, you sons of Erlend.” He went down to the courtyard and approached the young men, who obeyed at once. “What is the meaning of this?”

Sira Solmund stepped forward, bowed, and said, “I can tell you, Reverend Father, that Gaute Erlendss?n has broken the peace of the Sabbath and struck me, his parish priest, as you can see!”

Then a middle-aged farmer stepped forward, greeted the bishop, and said, “Reverend Father, the boy was sorely provoked. This priest spoke of his mother in such a way that it would be difficult to expect Gaute to listen peaceably.”

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