There were other travelers at the hostel. In the evening they all ate together in a small room with an open hearth where there were only two beds. Lavrans and Kristin were to sleep there, for they were the foremost guests at the inn. The others left when it grew late, saying a friendly good night and then dispersing to find a place to sleep. Kristin thought about the fact that she was the one who had sneaked up to Brynhild Fluga’s loft and allowed Erlend to take her in his arms. Sick with sorrow and the fear that she might never be his, she felt that she no longer belonged here, among these people.
Her father was sitting over on the bench, looking at her.
“We’re not going to Skog this time?” Kristin asked, to break the silence.
“No,” replied Lavrans. “I’ve had enough of listening to your uncle for a while—about why I don’t use force against you,” he explained when she looked at him.
“Yes, I would force you to keep your word,” he said after a moment, “if only Simon hadn’t said that he did not want an unwilling wife.”
“I have never given Simon my word,” said Kristin hastily. “You always said before that you would never force me into a marriage.”
“It would not be force if I demanded that you keep to an agreement that has been known to everyone for such a long time,” replied Lavrans. “For two winters people have called you betrothed, and you never said a word of protest or showed any unwillingness until the wedding day was set. If you want to hide behind the fact that the matter was postponed last year, so that you have never given Simon your promise, I would not call that honorable conduct.”
Kristin stood there, gazing into the fire.
“I don’t know which looks worse,” her father continued. “People will either say that you have cast Simon out or that you have been abandoned. Sir Andres sent me a message . . .” Lavrans turned red as he said this. “He was angry with the boy and begged me to demand whatever penalties I might find reasonable. I had to tell him the truth—I don’t know whether the alternative would have been any better—that if there were penalties to be paid, we were the ones to do so. We both share the shame.”
“I can’t see that the shame is so great,” murmured Kristin. “Since Simon and I both agree.”
“Agree!” Lavrans seized upon the word. “He didn’t hide the fact that he was unhappy about it, but he said that after the two of you had talked he didn’t think anything but misery would result if he demanded that you keep the agreement. But now you must tell me why you have made this decision.”
“Didn’t Simon say anything about it?” asked Kristin.
“He seemed to think,” said her father, “that you had given your affections to another man. Now you must tell me how things stand, Kristin.”
Kristin hesitated for a moment.
“God knows,” she said quietly, “I realize that Simon would be good enough for me—more than that. But it’s true that I have come to know another man, and then I realized that I would never have another joyous moment in my life if I had to live with Simon—not if he possessed all the gold in England. I would rather have the other man even if he owned no more than a single cow.”
“You can’t expect me to give you to a servant,” said her father.
“He is my equal and more,” replied Kristin. “He has enough of both possessions and land, but I simply meant that I would rather sleep with him on bare straw than with any other man in a silk bed.”
Her father was silent for a moment.
“It’s one thing, Kristin, that I would not force you to take a man you don’t want—even though only God and Saint Olav know what you might have against the man I had promised you to. But it’s another matter whether the man you have now set your heart on is the sort that I would allow you to marry. You’re young and have little experience . . . and setting his sights on a maiden who is betrothed is not something a decent man would normally do.”
“That’s not something a person can help,” said Kristin vehemently.
“Oh yes, he can. But this much you have to realize—that I will not offend the Dyfrin people by betrothing you again as soon as you turn your back on Simon—and least of all to a man who might seem more distinguished or who is richer. You must tell me who this man is,” he said after a moment.
Kristin clasped her hands tight, breathing hard. Then she said hesitantly, “I can’t do that, Father. Things are such that if I cannot have this man, then you can take me back to the convent and leave me there for good—then I don’t think I can live any longer. But it wouldn’t be right for me to tell you his name before I know whether he has as good intentions toward me as I do toward him. You . . . you mustn’t force me to tell you who he is until . . . until it becomes clear whether he intends to ask you for my hand through his kinsmen.”
Lavrans was silent for a long time. He could not be displeased that his daughter acted in this manner. At last he said, “Then let it be so. It’s reasonable that you would prefer not to give his name, since you don’t know his intentions.”
After a moment he said, “You must go to bed now, Kristin.” He came over to her and kissed her.
“You have caused much sorrow and anger with this notion of yours, my daughter, but you know that your welfare is what I have most at heart. God help me, I would feel the same no matter what you did. He and His gentle Mother will help us to turn this to the best. Go now and sleep well.”
After he had gone to bed, Lavrans thought he heard the faint sound of sobbing from the other bed where his daughter lay, but he pretended to be asleep. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he now feared the old gossip about her and Arne and Bentein would be dug up again. But it weighed heavily on his mind that there was little he could do to prevent the child’s good reputation from being sullied behind his back. And the worst thing was that he thought she might have brought this upon herself by her own thoughtlessness.
PART III
LAVRANS BJ?RGULFS?N
CHAPTER 1
KRISTIN CAME HOME during the loveliest time of the spring. The Laag River raced in torrents around the farm and the fields; through the young leaves of the alder thickets the stream glittered and sparkled white with silver flashes. The glints of light seemed to have voices, singing along with the rush of the current; when dusk fell, the water seemed to flow with a more muted roar. The thunder of the river filled the air over J?rundgaard day and night, so that Kristin thought she could feel the very timbers of the walls quivering with the sound, like the sound box of a zither.
Thin tendrils of water shone on the mountain slopes, which were shrouded in a blue mist day after day. The heat steamed and trembled over the land; the spears of grain hid the soil in the fields almost completely, and the grass in the meadows grew deep and shimmered like silk when the wind blew across it. There was a sweet scent over the groves and hills, and as soon as the sun went down, a strong, fresh, sharp fragrance of sap and young plants streamed forth; the earth seemed to heave a great sigh, languorous and refreshed. Trembling, Kristin remembered how Erlend had released her from his embrace. Every night she lay down, sick with longing, and each morning she awoke, sweating and exhausted from her own dreams.