He had so little joy in his old age, Sir Munan complained. His children were full of rancor. Those siblings who had the same mother had joined forces against the others, quarreling and squabbling with their half siblings. Worst of all was his youngest daughter; she had been born to one of his paramours while he was a married man, so she could be given no share of the inheritance. For that reason, she was trying to glean from him all that she could while he was still alive. She was a widow and had settled at Skogheim, the estate which was Sir Munan’s only real home. Neither her father nor her siblings could roust her from the place. Munan was deathly afraid of her, but whenever he tried to run off to live with one of his other children, they would torment him with complaints about the greed and dishonest behavior of their other siblings. He felt most comfortable with his youngest, lawfully born daughter, who was a nun at Gims?y. He liked to stay for a time in the convent’s hostel, striving hard to better his soul with penances and prayers under the guidance of his daughter, but he didn’t have the strength to stay there for long. Kristin wasn’t convinced that Brynhild’s sons were any kinder toward their father than his other children, but that was something that Munan Baards?n refused to admit; he loved them more than all his other offspring.
As pitiful as this kinsman of hers now was, it was during the time spent with him that Kristin’s stony grief first began to thaw. Sir Munan talked about Erlend day and night. When he wasn’t lamenting over his own trials, he could talk of nothing else but his dead cousin, boasting of Erlend’s exploits—particularly about his reckless youth. Erlend’s wild boldness as soon as he made his way out into the world, away from his home at Husaby—where Fru Magnhild went about raging over his father while his father raged over his elder son—and away from Hestnes and Sir Baard, his pious, somber foster father. It might have seemed that Sir Munan’s chatter would offer an odd sort of consolation for Erlend’s grieving widow. But in his own way the knight had loved his young kinsman, and all his days he had thought Erlend surpassed every other man in appearance, courage—yes, even in good sense, although he had never wanted to use it, said Munan earnestly. And even though Kristin had to recall that it surely was not in Erlend’s best interest that he had joined the king’s retainers at the age of sixteen, with this cousin as his mentor and guide, nevertheless she had to smile with tender sorrow at Munan Baards?n. He talked so that the spittle flew from his lips and the tears seeped from his old red-rimmed eyes, as he remembered Erlend’s sparkling joy and spirit in those days of his youth, before he became tangled up in misfortune with Eline Ormsdatter and was branded for life.
Jamm?lt Halvardss?n, who was having a serious conversation with Gaute and Naakkve, cast a wondering glance at his sister-in-law. She was sitting on the bench against the wall with that loathsome old man and Ulf Haldorss?n, who Jamm?lt thought looked so sinister, but she was smiling as she talked to them and served them ale. He hadn’t seen her smile before, but it suited her, and her little, low laugh was like that of a young maiden.
Jamm?lt said that it would be impossible for all six brothers to continue living on their mother’s estate. It was not expected that any wealthy man of equal birth would give one of his kinswomen to Nikulaus in marriage if his five brothers settled there with him and perhaps continued to take their food from the manor after they married. And they ought to see about finding a wife for the young man; he was already twenty winters old and seemed to have a hardy disposition. For this reason Jamm?lt wanted to take Ivar and Skule home with him when he returned south; he would find some way to ensure their future. After Erlend Nikulauss?n had lost his life in such an unfortunate manner, it so happened that the great chieftains of the land suddenly remembered that the murdered man had been one of their peers—by birth and blood meant to surpass most of them, charming and magnanimous in many ways, and in battle a daring chieftain and skilled swordsman. But he had not had fortune on his side. Measures of the utmost severity had been levied against those men who had taken part in the murder of the landowner in his own courtyard. And Jamm?lt could report that many had asked him about Erlend’s sons. He had met the men of Sudrheim during Christmas, and they had mentioned that these young boys were their kinsmen. Sir Jon had asked him to bring his greetings and say that he would receive and treat the sons of Erlend Nikulauss?n as his kin if any of them wanted to join his household. Jon Haftorss?n was now about to marry the maiden Elin, who was Erling Vidkunss?n’s youngest daughter, and the young bride had asked whether the sons looked like their father. She remembered that Erlend had visited them in Bj?rgvin when she was a child, and she had thought him to be the handsomest of men. And her brother, Bjarne Erlingss?n, had said that anything he could do for Erlend Nikulauss?n’s sons, he would do with the most heartfelt joy.
Kristin sat and looked at her twin sons as Jamm?lt talked. They looked more and more like their father: Silky, fine soot-black hair clung smoothly to their heads, although it curled a bit across their brows and down the back of their slender tan necks. They had thin faces with long, jutting noses and delicate, small mouths with a knot of muscle at each corner. But their chins were blunter and broader and their eyes were darker than Erlend’s. And above all else, his eyes were what had made Erlend so astoundingly handsome, his wife now thought. When he opened them in that lean, dark face beneath the pitch-black hair, they were so unexpectedly clear and light blue.
But now there was a glint of steely blue in the eyes of the young boys when Skule replied to his uncle. He was the one who usually spoke for both twins.
“We thank you for this fine offer, kinsman. But we have already spoken with Sir Munan and Inge and sought the advice of our older brothers, and we have come to an agreement with Inge and his father. These men are our closest kin of Father’s lineage; we will go south with Inge and intend to stay at his estate this summer and for some time to come.”
That evening the boys came downstairs to the main room to speak to Kristin after she had gone to bed.
“We hope that you will understand, Mother,” said Ivar Er lendss?n.
“We refuse to beg for the help and friendship of kin from those men who sat in silence and watched our father wrongly suffer,” added Skule.
Their mother nodded.
It seemed to her that her sons had acted properly. She realized that Jamm?lt was a sensible and fair-minded man, and his offer had been well intended, but she was pleased the boys were loyal to their father. And yet she could never have imagined that her sons would one day come to serve the son of Brynhild Fluga.
The twins left with Inge Fluga as soon as Ivar was strong enough to ride. It was very quiet at the manor after they were gone. Their mother remembered that at this time the year before, she lay in bed in the weaving room with a newborn child; it seemed to her like a dream. Such a short time ago she had felt so young, with her soul stirred up by the yearnings and sorrows of a young woman, by hopes and hatreds and love. Now her flock had shrunk to four sons, and in her soul the only thing stirring was an uneasiness for the grown young men. In the silence that descended upon J?rundgaard after the departure of the twins, her fear for Bj?rgulf flared up with bright flames.
When guests arrived, he and Naakkve moved to the old hearth house. Bj?rgulf would get out of bed in the daytime, but he had still not been outdoors. With deep fear Kristin noticed that Bj?rg ulf was always sitting in the same spot; he never walked around, he hardly moved at all when she came to see him. She knew that his eyes had grown worse during his last illness. Naakkve was terribly quiet, but he had been that way ever since his father’s death, and he seemed to avoid his mother as much as he could.
Finally one day she gathered her courage and asked her eldest son how things now stood with Bj?rgulf’s eyesight. For a while Naakkve gave only evasive replies, but at last she demanded that her son tell her the truth.
Naakkve said, “He can still make out strong light—” All at once the young man’s face lost all color; abruptly he turned away and left the room.
Much later that day, after Kristin had wept until she was so weary that she thought she could trust herself to speak calmly with her son, she went over to the old house.
Bj?rgulf was lying in bed. As soon as she came in and sat down on the edge of his bed, she could tell by his face that he knew she had spoken to Naakkve.
“Mother. You mustn’t cry, Mother,” he begged fearfully.
What she most wanted to do was to fling herself at her son, gather him into her arms, and weep over him, grieving over his harsh fate. But she merely slipped her hand into his under the coverlet.
“God is sorely testing your manhood, my son,” she said hoarsely.