“Then you must be Master Gunnulf, my brother-in-law,” she replied, blushing crimson. “Well met, sir! And welcome home to Husaby!”
“Thank you for your kind greeting,” said the priest. He bent down to kiss her cheek in the manner which she knew was the custom abroad, when kinsmen meet. “I hope I find you well, Erlend’s wife!”
Ulf Haldorss?n came out and told a servant to take the guests’ horses. Gunnulf greeted Ulf heartily.
“Are you here, kinsman? I had expected to find you now a married and settled man.”
“No, I won’t be marrying until I have to choose between a wife and the gallows,” said Ulf with a laugh, and the priest laughed too. “I’ve made the Devil as firm a promise to live unwed as you have promised the same to God.”
“Well, then you’ll be safe, no matter which way you turn, Ulf,” replied Master Gunnulf, laughing. “Since you’ll do well the day you break the promise that you’ve given. But then it is also said that a man should keep his word, even if it’s to the Devil himself.
“Isn’t Erlend home?” he asked, surprised. He offered Kristin his hand as they turned to go into the main house.
To hide her shyness, Kristin busied herself among the servant women and tended to the setting of the table. She invited Erlend’s learned brother to sit in the high seat, but since she didn’t want to sit there with him, he moved down to the bench next to her.
Now that he was sitting at her side, Kristin saw that Master Gunnulf must be at least half a head shorter than Erlend, but he was much heavier. He was stronger and stockier in build and limbs, and his broad shoulders were perfectly straight. Erlend’s shoulders drooped a bit. Gunnulf wore dark clothing, very proper for a priest, but his ankle-length surcoat, which came almost up to the neckband of his linen shirt, was fastened with enameled buttons; from his woven belt hung his eating utensils in a silver sheath.
She glanced up at the priest’s face. He had a strong, round head and a lean, round face with a broad, low forehead, somewhat prominent cheekbones, and a finely rounded chin. His nose was straight and his ears small and lovely, but his mouth was wide, and his upper lip protruded slightly, overshadowing the little patch of red made by his lower lip. Only his hair looked like Erlend’s—the thick fringe around the priest’s shaved crown was black with the luster of dry soot and it looked as silky-soft as Erlend’s hair. Otherwise he was not unlike his cousin Munan Baards?n—now Kristin could see that it might be true after all that Munan had been handsome in his youth. No, it was his Aunt Aashild whom he resembled—now she saw that he had the same eyes as Fru Aashild: amber-colored and bright beneath narrow, straight black eyebrows.
At first Kristin was a little shy of this brother-in-law who had been educated in so many fields of knowledge at the great universities of Paris and Italy. But little by little she lost her embarrassment. It was so easy to talk to Gunnulf. It didn’t seem as if he were talking about himself—least of all that he wanted to boast about his learning. But before she knew it, he had told her about so many things that Kristin felt she had never before realized what a vast world there was outside Norway. She forgot about herself and everything around her as she sat and looked up into the priest’s round, strong-boned face with the bright and delicate smile. He had crossed one leg over the other under his surcoat, and he sat there with his white, powerful hands clasped around his ankle.
Later in the afternoon, when Gunnulf came into the room to join her, he asked whether they might play a board game. Kristin had to tell him that she didn’t think there were any board games in the house.
“Aren’t there?” asked the priest in surprise. He went over to Ulf.
“Do you know, Ulf, what Erlend has done with Mother’s gold board game? The amusements that she left behind—surely he hasn’t let anyone have them?”
“They’re in a chest up in the armory,” said Ulf. “It’s more likely that he didn’t want anyone who once lived here on the estate to take them. Shall we go and get the chest, Gunnulf?”
“Yes, Erlend can’t have anything against that,” said the priest.
A little while later the two men came back with a large, carved chest. The key was in the lock, so Gunnulf opened it. On top lay a zither and another stringed instrument, the like of which Kristin had never seen before. Gunnulf called it a psaltery; he ran his fingers over the strings, but it was badly out of tune. There were also twists of silk, embroidered gloves, silken scarves, and three books with metal clasps. Finally, the priest found the board game; it was checked, with white and gilt tiles, and the markers were made of walrus tusk, white and golden.
Not until then did Kristin realize that in all the time she had been at Husaby, she hadn’t seen a single amusement of this type that people might use to pass the time.
Kristin now had to admit to her brother-in-law that she wasn’t very clever at board games, nor was she much good at playing the zither. But she was eager to take a look at the books.
“Ah, have you learned to read books, Kristin?” asked the priest, and she could tell him rather proudly that she had already learned to do so as a child. And at the convent she had won praise for her skill in reading and writing.
The priest stood over her, smiling, as she paged through the books. One of them was a courtly tale about Tristan and Isolde,1 and the other was about holy men—she looked up Saint Martin’s story.2 The third book was in Latin and was particularly beautiful, printed with great, colorful initial letters.
“Our ancestor, Bishop Nikulaus, owned this book,” said Gunnulf.
Kristin read half-aloud: Averte faciem tuam a peccatis meis
et omnes iniquitates meas dele.
Cor mundum crea in me, Deus
et spiritum rectum innova in visceribus meis.
Ne projicias me a facie tua
et Spiritum Sanctum tuum ne auferas a me.3
“Can you understand it?” asked Gunnulf, and Kristin nodded and said that she understood a little. The words were familiar enough that it seemed strange to her that they should appear before her right now. Her face contorted and tears rose up. Then Gunnulf set the stringed instrument on his lap and said he was tempted to try to tune it.
As they sat there they heard horses out in the courtyard, and a moment later Erlend rushed into the hall, beaming with joy. He had heard who had arrived. The brothers stood with their hands on each other’s shoulders; Erlend asking questions and not waiting for the replies. Gunnulf had been in Nidaros for two days, so it was a wonder they hadn’t met there.
“It’s odd,” said Erlend. “I thought the whole clergy of Christ Church would have turned out in procession to meet you when you returned home—so wise and exceedingly learned as you now must be.”
“How do you know they didn’t do just that?” said his brother with a laugh. “I’ve heard that you never venture too close to Christ Church when you’re in town.”
“No, my boy—I don’t get too close to my Lord the Archbishop if I can avoid it. He once singed my hide,” laughed Erlend insolently. “How do you like your brother-in-law, my sweet? I see you’ve already made friends with Kristin, brother. She thinks very little of our other kinsmen. . . .”
Not until they were about to sit down to eat that evening did Erlend realize he was still wearing his cape and fur cap and his sword at his belt.
That was the merriest evening Kristin had spent at Husaby. Erlend cajoled his brother into sitting in the high seat with her, while he himself sliced off food for him and replenished his goblet. The first time he drank a toast to Gunnulf, he got down on one knee and tried to kiss his brother’s hand.
“Health and happiness, sir! We must learn to show the archbishop the proper respect, Kristin—yes, of course, you’ll be the archbishop someday, Gunnulf!”