“There is something that I cannot confess to the prior,” said Kristin.
“Do you think it would benefit you if you confess to me something that you wish to conceal from your proper confessor?” said the monk more sternly.
“If you cannot hear my confession,” said Kristin, “then you can let me talk to you and ask your advice about what is on my mind.”
The monk looked around. The church was empty at the moment. He sat down on a chest that stood in the corner. “You must remember that I cannot absolve you, but I will advise you and I will keep silent as if you had spoken in confession.”
Kristin stood before him and said, “You see, I cannot become Simon Darre’s wife.”
“As to this matter, you know I cannot advise you otherwise than the prior would,” said Brother Edvin. “Disobedient children bring God no joy, and your father has done his best for you—you must realize that.”
“I don’t know what your advice will be when you hear the rest,” said Kristin. “The situation is such that Simon is too good to gnaw on the bare branch from which another man has broken off the blossom.”
She looked directly at the monk. But when she met his eye and noticed how the dry, wrinkled old face suddenly changed and became filled with grief and horror, something seemed to break inside her; the tears poured out, and she tried to throw herself to her knees. But Edvin pulled her vehemently back.
“No, no, sit down here on the chest with me. I cannot hear your confession.” He moved aside to make room for her.
Kristin continued to cry.
He stroked her hand and said softly, “Do you remember that morning, Kristin, when I saw you for the first time on the stairs of Hamar Cathedral? I once heard a legend, when I was abroad, about a monk who could not believe that God loved all of us wretched, sinful souls. An angel came and touched his sight so that he saw a stone at the bottom of the sea, and under the stone lived a blind, white, naked creature. And the monk stared at the creature until he began to love it because it was so small and pitiful. When I saw you sitting there, so tiny and pitiful inside that huge stone building, then I thought it was reasonable that God should love someone like you. You were lovely and pure, and yet you needed protection and help. I thought I saw the whole church, with you inside it, lying in the hand of God.”
Kristin said softly, “We have bound ourselves to each other with the most solemn of oaths—and I have heard that such an agreement consecrates us before God just as much as if our parents had given us to each other.”
But the monk replied with despair, “I see, Kristin, that someone has been telling you of the canonical law without fully understanding it. You could not promise yourself to this man without sinning against your parents; God placed them above you before you met him. And won’t it also be a sorrow and a shame for this man’s kinsmen if they learn that he has seduced the daughter of a man who has carried his shield with honor all these years? And you were also betrothed. I see that you do not think you have sinned so greatly—and yet you dare not confess this to your parish priest. And if you think you are as good as married to this man, why don’t you wear the linen wimple instead of going around bareheaded among the young maidens, with whom you have so little in common now? For now your thoughts must be on other things than theirs are.”
“I don’t know what I’m thinking about,” said Kristin wearily. “It’s true that all my thoughts are with this man, whom I yearn for. If it weren’t for Father and Mother, then I would gladly pin up my hair on this very day—I wouldn’t care if they called me a paramour, if only I could be called his.”
“Do you know whether this man’s intentions are such that you might be his with honor someday?” asked Brother Edvin.
Then Kristin told him about everything that had happened between Erlend Nikulauss?n and herself. And as she talked, she seemed to have forgotten that she had ever doubted the outcome of the whole matter.
“Don’t you see, Brother Edvin,” she continued, “we couldn’t control ourselves. God help me, if I met him here outside the church, after I leave you, I would go with him if he asked me to. And you should know that I have now seen that other people have sinned as we have. When I was back home I couldn’t understand how anything could have such power over the souls of people that they would forget all fear of sin, but now I have seen so much that if one cannot rectify the sins one has committed out of desire or anger, then heaven must be a desolate place. They say that you too once struck a man in anger.”
“That’s true,” said the monk, “and it is only through God’s mercy that I am not called a murderer. That was many years ago. I was a young man back then, and I didn’t think I could tolerate the injustice that the bishop wished to exercise against us poor brothers. King Haakon—he was the duke at that time—had given us the land for our building, but we were so poor that we had to do the work on our church ourselves, with the help of a few workmen who lent a hand more for their reward in heaven than for what we were able to pay them. Perhaps it was arrogance on the part of the mendicant monks that we wanted to build our church with such splendor; but we were as happy as children in the meadows, singing hymns as we chiseled and built walls and toiled. May God bless Brother Ranulv. He was a master builder, a skilled stone-mason; I think God Himself had granted this man all his knowledge and skills. I was cutting altarpieces from stone back then. I had finished one of Saint Clara, with the angels leading her to the church of Saint Francis early Christmas morning. It had turned out beautifully, and we all rejoiced over it. Then those cowardly devils tore down the walls, and the stones toppled and crushed my altarpieces. I lunged at a man with a hammer; I couldn’t control myself.
“Yes, I see that you’re smiling, Kristin. But don’t you realize how badly things stand with you now? For you would rather hear about other people’s frailties than about the deeds of decent people, which might serve as an example for you.”
As Kristin was about to leave, Brother Edvin said, “It’s not easy to advise you. If you were to do what’s right, then you would bring sorrow to your parents and shame upon your entire lineage. But you must try to win release from your promise to Simon Andres-s?n. Then you must wait patiently for the joy that God will send you. Do penance in your heart as best you can—and do not let this Erlend tempt you to sin more often, but ask him lovingly to seek reconciliation with your kinsmen and with God.
“I cannot absolve you of your sin,” said Brother Edvin as they parted. “But I will pray for you with all my heart.”
Then he placed his thin old hands on Kristin’s head and said a prayer of blessing and peace for her in farewell.
CHAPTER 6