“Sit down,” said Ragnfrid. “Sit down,” she repeated so that her daughter obeyed. The mother sat in silence for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was unsteady.
“I’ve always known, Kristin, that you’ve never been very fond of me. I thought it might be because you didn’t think I loved you enough—not the way your father loves you. I let it pass. I thought that when the time came for you to have children yourself, then you would realize . . .
“Even when I was nursing you, whenever Lavrans came near, you would always let go of my breast and reach out to him and laugh so the milk ran out of your mouth. Lavrans thought it was funny, and God knows I didn’t begrudge him that. I didn’t begrudge you either that your father would play and laugh whenever he saw you. I felt so sorry for you, poor little thing, because I couldn’t help weeping all the time. I worried more about losing you than I rejoiced at having you. But God and the Virgin Mary know that I loved you no less than Lavrans did.”
Tears ran down over Ragnfrid’s cheeks, but her face was quite calm and her voice was too.
“God knows that I never resented him or you because of the affection you shared. I thought that I had not given him much happiness during the years we had lived together, and I was glad that he had you. And I also thought that if only my father Ivar had treated me that way . . .
“There are many things, Kristin, that a mother should teach her daughter to watch out for. I didn’t think it was necessary with you, since you’ve been your father’s companion all these years; you ought to know what is proper and right. What you just mentioned—do you think I would believe that you would cause Lavrans such sorrow?
“I just want to say that I wish you would find a husband you could love. But then you must behave sensibly. Don’t let Lavrans get the idea that you have chosen a troublemaker or someone who doesn’t respect the peace and honor of women. For he would never give you to such a man—not even if it were a matter of protecting you from public shame. Then Lavrans would rather let steel be the judge between him and the man who had ruined your life.”
And with that her mother rose and left her.
CHAPTER 2
ON SAINT BARTHOLOMEW’S DAY, the twenty-fourth of August, the grandson of blessed King Haakon was acclaimed at the Hauga ting. Among the men who were sent from northern Gudbrandsdal was Lavrans Bj?rgulfs?n. He had been one of the king’s men since his youth, but in all those years he had seldom spent any time with the king’s retainers, and he had never tried to use for his own benefit the good name he had won in the campaign against Duke Eirik. He was not very keen on going to the ting of acclamation either, but he couldn’t avoid it. The tribunal officials from Norddal had also been given the task of attempting to buy grain in the south and send it by ship to Raumsdal.
The people in the villages were despondent and worried about the approaching winter. The peasants also thought it a bad sign that yet another child was to be king of Norway. Old people remembered the time when King Magnus died and his sons were children.
Sira Eirik said, “Vae terrae, ubi puer rex est. In plain Norwegian it means: there’s no peace at night for the rats on the farm when the cat is young.”
Ragnfrid Ivarsdatter managed the farm while her husband was away, and both she and Kristin were glad to have their minds and hands full of cares and work. Everyone in the village was struggling to gather moss in the mountains and to cut bark because there was so little hay and almost no straw, and even the leaves that were collected after midsummer were yellow and withered. On Holy Cross Day, when Sira Eirik carried the crucifix across the fields, there were many in the procession who wept and loudly entreated God to have mercy on men and beasts.
One week after Holy Cross Day, Lavrans Bj?rgulfs?n came home from the ting.
It was long past everyone’s bedtime, but Ragnfrid was still sitting in her weaving room. She had so much to do these days that she often worked into the night at her weaving and sewing. And Ragnfrid always felt so happy in that building. It was thought to be the oldest one on the farm; they called it the women’s house, and people said it had stood there since heathen times. Kristin and the maid named Astrid were with Ragnfrid, spinning wool next to the open hearth.
They had been sitting there, sleepy and silent, for a while when they heard the hoofbeats of a single horse; a man came riding at great speed into the wet courtyard. Astrid went to the entryway to ook outside. She returned at once, followed by Lavrans Bj?rg ulfs?n.
Both his wife and daughter saw at once that he was quite drunk. He staggered and grabbed hold of the smoke vent pole as Ragnfrid removed his soaking wet cape and hat and unfastened his scabbard belt.
“What have you done with Halvdan and Kolbein?” she asked apprehensively. “Did you leave them behind along the road?”
“No, I left them behind at Loptsgaard,” he said, laughing a bit. “I had such an urge to come home. I couldn’t rest before I did. They went to bed down there, but I took Guldsvein and raced homeward.
“Go and find me some food, Astrid,” he said to the maid. “Bring it over here so you won’t have to walk so far in the rain. But be quick; I haven’t eaten since early this morning.”
“Didn’t you have any food at Loptsgaard?” asked his wife in surprise.
Lavrans sat down on a bench and rocked back and forth, chuckling.
“There was food enough, but I didn’t feel like eating while I was there. I drank with Sigurd for a while, but then I thought I might just as well come home at once instead of waiting till morning.”
Astrid brought ale and food; she also brought dry shoes for her master.
Lavrans fumbled as he tried to unfasten his spurs but he kept lurching forward.
“Come over here, Kristin,” he said, “and help your father. I know you’ll do it with a loving heart—yes, a loving heart—today at least.”
Kristin obeyed and knelt down. Then he put his hands on either side of her head and tilted her face up.
“You know very well, my daughter, that I want only what is best for you. I wouldn’t cause you sorrow unless I saw that I was saving you from many sorrows later on. You’re still so young, Kristin. You only turned seventeen this year, three days after Saint Halvard’s Day. You’re seventeen . . .”
Kristin had finished her task. Somewhat pale, she got up and sat down on her stool by the hearth again.
The intoxication seemed to wear off to some extent as Lavrans ate. He answered questions from his wife and the servant girl about the ting. Yes, it had been magnificent. They had bought grain and flour and malt, some in Oslo and some in Tunsberg. They were imported goods—could have been better, but could have been worse too. Yes, he had met many kinsmen and acquaintances and brought greetings from them all. He simply sat there, the answers dripping from him.
“I talked to Sir Andres Gudmunds?n,” he said when Astrid had gone. “Simon has celebrated his betrothal to the young widow at Manvik. The wedding will be at Dyfrin on Saint Andreas’s Day. The boy made the decision himself this time. I tried to avoid Sir Andres in Tunsberg, but he sought me out. He wanted to tell me that he was absolutely certain that Simon saw Fru Halfrid for the first time around midsummer this year. He was afraid I’d think that Simon was planning on this wealthy marriage when he broke off with us.” Lavrans sat for a moment, laughing mirthlessly. “You see, this honorable man was terribly afraid that we’d think something like that of his son.”
Kristin sighed with relief. She thought that this was what her father was so upset about. Maybe he had been hoping all along that it would still take place—the marriage between Simon An-dress?n and herself. At first she had been afraid that he had inquired about her behavior down south in Oslo.
She stood up and said goodnight. Then her father told her to stay a while.