Then Kristin heard people talking about Naakkve and a young maiden, Tordis Gunnarsdatter from Skjenne. The following summer she was staying up in the mountain pastures. Many times Naakkve was away from home at night. Kristin found out that he had been with Tordis.
The mother’s heart trembled and twisted and turned like an aspen leaf on its stem. Tordis belonged to an old and respected family; she herself was a good and innocent child. Naakkve couldn’t possibly mean to dishonor her. If the two young people forgot themselves, then he would have to make the girl his wife. Sick with anguish and shame, Kristin realized nevertheless that she would not be overly aggrieved if this should happen. Only two years ago she would never have stood for it if Tordis Gunnarsdatter were to succeed her as the mistress of J?rundgaard. The maiden’s grandfather was still alive and lived on his estate with four married sons; she herself had many siblings. She would not be a wealthy bride. And every woman of that lineage had given birth to at least one witless child. The children were either exchanged at birth or possessed by the mountain spirits; no matter how they strove to protect the women in childbed, neither baptism nor sacred incantations seemed to help. There were now two old men at Skjenne whom Sira Eirik had judged to be changelings, as well as two children who were deaf and mute. And the wood nymph had bewitched Tordis’s oldest brother when he was seventeen. Otherwise those belonging to the Skjenne lineage were a handsome lot, their livestock flourished, and good fortune followed them, but they were too numerous for their family to have any wealth.
God only knew whether Naakkve could have abandoned his resolve without sinning if he had already promised himself to the service of the Virgin Mary. But a man always had to spend one year as a young brother in the monastery before he was ordained; he could withdraw voluntarily if he realized that he was not meant to serve God in that way. And she had heard that the French countess who was the mother of the great doctor of theology, the friar Sir Thomas Aquinas, had locked her son in with a beautiful, wanton woman in order to shake his resolve when he wanted to retreat from the world. Kristin thought this was the vilest thing she had ever heard, and yet when the woman died, she had reconciled with God. So it must not be such a terrible sin if Kristin now imagined that she would open her arms to embrace Tordis of Skjenne as the wife of her son.
In the autumn Jamm?lt Halvardss?n came to Formo, and he confirmed the rumors of great news that had also reached the valley. In consultation with the highest leaders of the Church and Norway’s Council of knights and noblemen, King Magnus Eirikss?n had decided to divide his realms between the two sons he had fathered with his queen, Lady Blanche. At the meeting of nobles in Vardberg, he had given the younger son, Prince Haakon, the title of king of Norway. Both learned priests and laymen of the gentry had sworn sacred oaths to defend the land under his hand. He was supposed to be a handsome and promising three-year-old child, and he was to be brought up in Norway with four foster mothers, all the most highborn wives of knights, and with two spiritual and two worldly chieftains as his foster fathers when King Magnus and Queen Blanche were in Sweden. It was said that Sir Erling Vidkuns s?n and the bishops of Bj?rgvin and Oslo were behind this selection of a sovereign, and Bjarne Erlingss?n had presented the matter to the king; Lord Magnus loved Bjarne above all his other Norwegian men. Everyone expected the greatest benefits for the realm of Norway now that they would once again have a king who was reared and lived among them, who would protect the laws and rights and interests of the country instead of squandering his time, energies, and the wealth of the kingdom on incursions in other lands.
Kristin had heard about the selection of a king, just as she had heard about the discord with the German merchants in Bj?rgvin and about the king’s wars in Sweden and Denmark. But these events had touched her so little—like the echo of thunder from the mountains after a storm had passed over the countryside and was far away. No doubt her sons had discussed these matters with each other. Jamm?lt’s account threw the sons of Erlend into a state of violent agitation. Bj?rgulf sat with his forehead resting in his hand so he could hide his blind eyes. Gaute listened with his lips parted as his fingers tightly clenched the hilt of his dagger. Lavrans’s breathing was swift and audible, and all of a sudden he turned away from his uncle and looked at Naakkve, sitting in the high seat. The oldest son’s face was pale, and his eyes blazed.
“It has been the fate of many a man,” said Naakkve, “that those who were his fiercest opponents in life found success on the road he had pointed out to them—but only after they had made him into fodder for the worms. After his mouth was stuffed with earth, the lesser men no longer shrank from affirming the truth of his words.”
“That may well be, kinsman,” said Jamm?lt in a placating tone. “You may be right about that. Your father was the first of all men to think of this way out of the foreign lands—with two brothers on the thrones, here and in Sweden. Erlend Nikulauss?n was a deep-thinking, wise, and magnanimous man. I see that. But take care what you now say, Nikulaus. Surely you wouldn’t want your words to be spread as gossip that might harm Skule.”
“Skule didn’t ask my permission to do what he did,” said Naakkve sharply.
“No, he probably didn’t remember that you had come of age by now,” replied Jamm?lt in the same tone as before. “And I didn’t think about it either, so it was with my consent and blessing that he placed his hand on Bjarne’s sword and swore allegiance.”
“I think he did remember it, but the whelp knew I would never give my consent. And no doubt the Giske men needed this salve for their guilty consciences.”
Skule Erlendss?n had joined Bjarne Erlingss?n as one of his loyal men. He had met the great chieftain when he was visiting his aunt at ?lin during Christmas, and Bjarne had explained to the boy that it was largely due to the intercession of Sir Erling and himself that Erlend had been granted his life. Without their support Simon Andress?n would never have been able to accomplish his mission with King Magnus. Ivar was still with Inge Fluga.
Kristin knew that what Bjarne Erlingss?n had said was not entirely untrue—it was in accordance with Simon’s own account of his journey to Tunsberg—and yet during all these years she had always thought of Erling Vidkunss?n with great bitterness; it seemed to her that he should have been able to help her husband attain better terms if he had wished to do so. Bjarne hadn’t been capable of much back then, as young as he was. But she wasn’t pleased that Skule had joined up with this man, and in an odd way it took her breath away that the twins had acted on their own and had set off into the world. They were no more than children, she thought.
After Jamm?lt’s visit the uneasiness of her mind grew so great that she hardly dared think at all. If it was true what the men said—that the prosperity and security of the people of the realm would increase beyond words if this small boy in Tunsberg Castle were now called Norway’s king—then they could have been enjoying this turn of events for almost ten years if Erlend hadn’t . . . No! She refused to think about that when she thought about the dead. But she couldn’t help it because she knew that in her sons’ eyes their father was magnificent and perfect, the most splendid warrior and chieftain, without faults or flaws. And she herself had thought, during all these years, that Erlend had been betrayed by his peers and wealthy kinsmen; her husband had suffered great injustice. But Naakkve went too far when he said that they had made him into fodder for the worms. She too bore her own heavy share of the blame, but it was mostly Erlend’s folly and his desperate obstinacy that had brought about his wretched death.