Kristin Lavransdatter Read online

  One morning in early autumn Ragnfrid went out with all three of her daughters to see to some linen she had spread out to bleach. Kristin praised her mother’s weaving skill. Then Ragnfrid began stroking Ramborg’s hair.

  “This is for your wedding chest, little one.”

  “Mother,” said Ulvhild, “will I have a chest too, if I go to a cloister?”

  “You know that you’ll have no smaller dowry than your sisters,” said Ragnfrid. “But you won’t need the same kinds of things. And you know that you can stay with your father and me for as long as we live . . . if that’s what you want.”

  “And by the time you go to the convent,” said Kristin, her voice quavering, “it’s possible, Ulvhild, that I will have been a nun for many years.”

  She glanced at her mother, but Ragnfrid was silent.

  “If I could have married,” said Ulvhild, “I would never have turned away from Simon. He was kind, and he was so sad when he said goodbye to all of us.”

  “You know your father has said we shouldn’t talk about this,” said Ragnfrid.

  But Kristin said stubbornly, “Yes, I know he was sadder to part with all of you than with me.”

  Her mother said angrily, “He wouldn’t have had much pride if he had shown you his sorrow. You didn’t deal fairly with Simon Andressøn, my daughter. And yet he asked us not to threaten you or curse you.”

  “No, he probably thought he had cursed me so much that no one else needed to tell me how wretched I was,” said Kristin in the same manner as before. “But I never noticed that Simon was particularly fond of me until he realized that I held another man dearer than I held him.”

  “Go on home,” said Ragnfrid to the two younger ones. She sat down on a log lying on the ground and pulled Kristin down by her side. “You know very well,” she began, “that it has always been thought more proper and honorable for a man not to speak too much of love to his betrothed—or to sit alone with her or show too much feeling.”

  “I’d be amazed,” said Kristin, “if young people in love didn’t forget themselves once in a while, instead of always keeping in mind what their elders regard as proper.”

  “Take care, Kristin,” said her mother, “that you do keep it in mind.” She was silent for a moment. “I think it’s probably true that your father is afraid you have thrown your love away on a man to whom he is unwilling to give you.”

  “What did my uncle say?” asked Kristin after a moment.

  “Nothing except that Erlend of Husaby has better lineage than reputation,” her mother said. “Yes, he did ask Aasmund to put in a good word for him with Lavrans. Your father wasn’t pleased when he heard about it.”

  But Kristin sat there beaming. Erlend had spoken to her uncle. And here she had been so miserable because he hadn’t sent any word.

  Then her mother spoke again. “Now, Aasmund did mention something about a rumor going around Oslo that this Erlend had been hanging around the streets near the convent and that you had gone out and talked to him by the fence.”

  “Is that so?” said Kristin.

  “Aasmund advised us to accept this offer, you see,” said Ragnfrid. “But then Lavrans grew angrier than I’ve ever seen him before. He said that a suitor who took such a path to his daughter would find him with his sword in hand. The manner in which we dealt with the Dyfrin people was dishonorable enough, but if Erlend had lured you into taking to the roads with him in the dark—and while you were living in a convent, at that—then Lavrans would take it as a sure sign that you would be better served to lose such a husband.”

  Kristin clenched her fists in her lap. The color came and went in her face. Her mother put her arm around her waist, but Kristin wrenched herself loose and screamed, beside herself with outrage, “Leave me be, Mother! Or maybe you’d like to feel whether I’ve grown thicker around the middle.”

  The next moment she was on her feet, holding her hand to her cheek. In confusion she stared down at her mother’s furious face. No one had struck her since she was a child.

  “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 Bjørgulfsøn. 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 Bjørgulfsøn 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 alway
s 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 Bjørg ulfsøn.

  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 Gudmundsøn,” 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-dressøn 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.

  “I have some other news,” said Lavrans. “I might have kept it from you, Kristin, but it’s better that you hear it. Here it is: That man you have set your heart on, you must try to forget.”

  Kristin had been standing with her arms at her sides and her head bowed. Now she raised her head and looked into her father’s face. Her lips moved, but she couldn’t manage a single audible word.

  Lavrans turned away from his daughter’s gaze; he threw out his hand.

  “You know I wouldn’t be against it if I sincerely believed that it would be to your benefit,” he said.

  “What news have you heard on this journey, Father?” asked Kristin, her voice steady.

  “Erlend Nikulaussøn and his kinsman Sir Munan Baardsøn came to me in Tunsberg,” replied Lavrans. “Sir Munan asked me for your hand on Erlend’s behalf, and I told him no.”

  Kristin stood in silence for a moment, breathing heavily.

  “Why won’t you give me to Erlend Nikulaussøn?” she asked.

  “I don’t know how much you know about this man you want for your husband,” said Lavrans. “If you don’t know the reason yourself, it won’t be pleasant for you to hear it from my lips.”

  “Is it because he was excommunicated and outlawed?” asked Kristin in the same tone as before.

  “Do you know what it was that caused King Haakon to drive his close kinsman from his court? And do you know that he was banned by the Church in the end because he defied the archbishop’s decree? And that he did not leave the country alone?”

  “Yes,” said Kristin. Her voice grew uncertain. “I know too that he was eighteen years old when he met her—his mistress.”

  “That’s how old I was when I was married,” said Lavrans. “When I was young, we reckoned that from a man’s eighteenth birthday he could answer for himself and be responsible for his own welfare and that of others.”

  Kristin stood in silence.

  “You called her his mistress, that woman he has lived with for ten years and who has borne him children,” said Lavrans after a moment. “I would regret the day I sent my daughter off with a husband who had lived openly with a mistress for years on end before he married. But you know it was more than merely living in sin.”

  “You weren’t so harsh to judge Fru Aashild and Herr Bjørn,” said Kristin quietly.

  “Yet I cannot say I would willingly join families with them,” replied Lavrans.

  “Father,” said Kristin, “have you and Mother been so without sin all your lives that you dare judge Erlend so harshly?”

  “God knows,” replied Lavrans sternly, “that I judge no man to be a greater sinner than I am myself. But one cannot expect me to give my daughter to any man who wishes to ask for her, just because we all need God’s mercy.”

  “You know that’s not what I meant,” said Kristin hotly. “Father, Mother, you were both young once. Don’t you remember that it’s not easy to guard yourself against the sin that love provokes?”

  Lavrans turned blood-red.

  “No,” he said curtly.

  “Then you don’t know what you’re doing,” screamed Kristin in despair, “if you separate Erlend Nikulaussøn and me!”

  Lavrans sat down on the bench again.

  “You’re only seventeen years old, Kristin,” he continued. “It might be that the two of you are more fond of each other than I thought. But he’s not so young a man that he shouldn’t have realized . . . If he were a good man, then he wouldn’t have approached such a young, immature child as you with words of love. He seems to have considered it trivial that you were promised to someone else.

  “But I will not betroth my daughter to a man who has two children with another man’s true wife. Don’t you realize that he has children?

  “You’re too young to understand that such an injustice breeds endless quarrels and strife among kinsmen. The man cannot abandon his own offspring; neither can he claim them. It will be difficult for him to find a way to present his son in society, or to marry off his daughter to anyone other than a servant boy or a smallholder. And his children would not be made of flesh and blood if they didn’t despise you and your children. . . .

  �
�Don’t you see, Kristin? Sins like this . . . God may forgive such sins more readily than many others, but they damage a lineage so severely that it can never be redeemed. I was thinking about Bjørn and Aashild myself. There stood that Munan, her son. He was dripping with gold and he sits on the King’s council. He and his brothers control the inheritance from their mother, and yet he hasn’t visited Aashild in her poverty in all these years. Yes, this was the man that your friend chose as his spokesman.

  “No, I say, no! You shall never be part of that family as long as my head is above ground.”

  Kristin covered her face with her hands and burst into tears. “Then I’ll pray to God night and day, night and day, to take me away from here if you won’t change your mind!”

  “It’s useless to discuss this any more tonight,” said her father, aggrieved. “You may not believe it, but I must watch over you in such a way that I can answer for the consequences. Go to bed now, child.”

  He held out his hand to her, but she refused to acknowledge it and went sobbing out of the room.

  The parents sat for a moment in silence.

  Then Lavrans said to his wife, “Would you mind bringing some ale over here? No, bring some wine. I’m tired.”

  Ragnfrid did as he asked. When she returned with the tall goblet, her husband was sitting with his face in his hands. He looked up, and then stroked his hands over the wimple covering her head and down along her arms.

  “Poor thing, now you’ve gotten wet. Drink a toast to me, Ragnfrid.”

  She placed the goblet to her lips.

  “No, drink with me,” said Lavrans vehemently, pulling his wife down onto his lap. Reluctantly she yielded to him.