Then Kristin told him about everything that had happened between Erlend Nikulaussøn 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-søn. 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
AFTERWARD Kristin could not remember everything that Brother Edvin had said to her. But she left him with a strange feeling of clarity and serene peace in her soul.
Before, she had struggled with a hollow and secret fear, trying to defy it: her sin had not been so great. Now she felt that Edvin had shown her clearly and lucidly that she had indeed sinned, that such and such were her sins, and that she would have to take them upon her shoulders and try to bear them with patience and dignity. She strove to think of Erlend without impatience, in spite of the fact that he had sent no word and she missed his caresses. She simply had to be faithful and full of kindness toward him. She thought about her parents and promised herself that she would repay all their love after they had first recovered from the sorrow that she was going to cause them by breaking with the Dyfrin people. And she thought most about Brother Edvin’s advice that she should not seek solace by looking at the failings of others; she felt herself growing humble and kind, and soon realized how easy it was for her to win the friendship of others. At once she felt consoled that it was not so difficult, after all, to get along with people—and then she thought that it shouldn’t be so difficult for her and Erlend either.
Up until the day when she gave Erlend her promise, she had always tried diligently to do everything that was right and good, but she had done everything at the bidding of other people. Now she felt that she had grown up from maiden to woman. This was not just because of the passionate, secret caresses she had received and given. She had not merely left her father’s guardianship and subjected herself to Erlend’s will. Brother Edvin had impressed on her the responsibility of answering for her own life, and for Erlend’s as well, and she was willing to bear this burden with grace and dignity. So she lived among the nuns during the Christmas season; during the beautiful services and amidst the joy and peace, she no doubt felt herself unworthy, but she consoled herself with the belief that the time would soon come when she would be able to redeem herself again.
But on the day after New Year’s, Sir Andres Darre arrived unexpectedly at the convent together with his wife and all five children. They were going to spend the last part of the Christmas holidays with friends and kinsmen in town, and they came to ask Kristin to join them at the place where they were staying for several days.
“I’ve been thinking, my daughter, said Fru Angerd, “that you probably wouldn’t mind seeing some new faces by now.”
The Dyfrin people were staying in a beautiful house that was part of an estate near the bishop’s citadel. Sir Andres’s nephew owned it. There was a large room where the servants slept and a magnificent loft room with a brick fireplace and three good beds. Sir Andres and Fru Angerd slept in one of the beds, along with their youngest son, Gudmund, who was still a child. Kristin and their two daughters, Astrid and Sigrid, slept in the second bed. And in the third slept Simon and his older brother, Gyrd Andressøn.
All of Sir Andres’s children were good-looking—Simon the least so, and yet people still considered him handsome. And Kristin noticed even more than when she had been at the Dyfrin manor the year before that both his parents and his four siblings listened closely to Simon and did everything he wished. All his kinsmen loved each other heartily but agreed without rancor to place Simon foremost.
These people led a joyful and happy life, going to one of the churches each day to make their offerings, meeting to drink among friends each evening, and allowing the young to play and dance. Everyone showed Kristin the greatest kindness, and no one seemed to notice how little joy she felt.
At night, when the candles were put out in the loft and everyone had gone to bed, Simon would get up and come over to where the maidens lay. He would sit for a while on the edge of the bed, speaking mostly to his sisters, but in the dark he would sneak his hand up to Kristin’s breast and let it stay there. She would lie there, sweating with indignation.
Now that her sense for such matters was so much keener, she realized there were many things that Simon was both too proud and too shy to say to her, once he noticed that she didn’t want to go into such topics. And she felt a strange, bitter anger toward him because it seemed to her that he was trying to make himself seem a better man than the one who had taken her—even though he had no idea of the other man’s existence.
But one evening when they had been out dancing at another estate, Astrid and Sigrid stayed behind and were going to sleep with a foster sister. Late that night, when the people from Dyfrin had gone to bed in the loft, Simon came over to Kristin’s bed and climbed in; he lay on top of the furs.
Kristin pulled the covers up to her chin and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. After a moment Simon reached out his hand to touch her breasts. She felt the silk embroidery at his wrists, so she realized that he had not undressed.
“You’re just as shy in the dark as in the daylight, Kristin,” said Simon with a chuckle. “Surely you’ll let me hold your hand, won’t you?” he asked, and Kristin gave him her fingertips.
“Don’t you think we might have a few things to talk about, now that we have the chance to be alone for a little while?” he said. And Kristin thought that now she would be able to speak. So she agreed. But then she could not utter a word.
“Can I come under the furs?” he asked again. “It’s cold in the room.” And he slipped in between the furs and the woolen blanket she had over her. He crooked one arm behind her head, but in such a way that he did not touch her. And they lay there like that for a while.
“You’re not an easy person to woo, either,” said Simon after a pause, and then laughed in resignation. “I promise you I won’t so much as kiss you, if you don’t want me to. But surely you can talk to me, can’t you?”
Kristin moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, but she still remained silent.
“It seems to me that you’re lying here trembling,” Simon continued. “Is it because you have something against me, Kristin?”
She didn’t think that she could lie to Simon, so she said, “No,” but nothing more.
Simon lay there a little longer, trying to get a conversation started. But finally he laughed again and said, “I see that you think I should be satisfied with this—that you have nothing against me—for tonight, at least, and that I should even be happy. It’s strange how proud you are too. But you must give me a kiss, all the same; then I’ll go and not plague you any longer.”
He took his kiss, sat up, and set his feet on the floor. Kristin thought that now she would manage to tell him what had to be said—but he had already left her bed, and she could hear him getting undressed.
The next day Fru Angerd was not as friendly toward Kristin as she usually was. The young maiden realized that she must have heard something and felt that the betrothed girl had not received her son in the manner that his mother felt she should have.
Later in the afternoon Simon mentioned that he was thinking of trading for a horse that was owned by one of his friends. He asked Kristin whether she would like to go along and watch. She said yes, and they went into town together.
The weather was clear and beautiful. It had snowed a little during the night, but now the sun was shining, and it was still so cold that the snow squeaked under their feet. Kristin enjoyed getting out in the cold and walking, so when Simon had found the horse that he was thinking of, she talked to him about it in the most lively manner; she had some knowledge of horses, since she had always spent so much time with her father. And this one was a fine animal: a mouse-gray stallion with narrow black stripes along his back and a short, clipped mane. He was well built and spirited, but quite small and slight.
“He won’t last long under a fully-armed man,” said Kristin.
“No, but that’s not what I had in mind, either,” said Simon.
He led the horse out to the open area behind the farm, let him run and walk, rode the animal himself, and then had Kristin ride him too. They stayed outdoors in the white pasture for a long time.
Finally, as Kristin was feeding bread to the horse from her hand, Simon leaned against the animal with his arm over his back and said suddenly, “It seems to me, Kristin, that you and my mother have been rather cross with each other.”
“I haven’t meant to be cross with your mother,” she said, “but I can’t find much to say to Fru Angerd.”
“You don’t seem to find much to say to me, either,” said Simon. “I won’t force myself on you, Kristin, before the time comes. But things can’t go on like this; I never get a chance to talk to you.”
“I have never been talkative,” said Kristin. “I know that myself, and I don’t expect you to think it a great loss if things don’t work out between us.”
“You know what I think about that subject,” replied Simon, looking at her.
Kristin blushed as red as blood. And she was startled to find that she was not averse to Simon Darre’s wooing.
After a moment he said, “Is it Arne Gyrdsøn, Kristin, that you think you can’t forget?” Kristin stared at him. Simon continued, and his voice was kind and understanding, “I won’t blame you for that. You grew up as siblings, and barely a year has passed. But you can depend on this: I want only what’s best for you.”
Kristin’s face had grown quite pale. Neither of them spoke as they walked through town in the twilight. At the end of the street, in the greenish blue sky, the crescent of the new moon hung with a bright star in its embrace.
One year, thought Kristin, and she could hardly remember when she had last given Arne a thought. It gave her a fright—maybe she was a loose, vile woman. A year since she had seen him lying on the bier in the death chamber, when she thought she would never be happy again. She whimpered silently in fear at the inconstancy of her own heart and at the transitory nature of all things. Erlend, Erlend—would he forget her? But worse yet was that she might ever forget him.
Sir Andres and his children went to the great Christmas celebration at the king’s castle. Kristin saw all the finery and splendor, and they were also invited into the hall where King Haakon sat with Fru Isabel Bruce, the widow of King Eirik. Sir Andres went forward to greet the king, while his children and Kristin remained behind. She thought of everything that Fru Aashild had told her, and she remembered that the king was Erlend’s close kinsman—their fathers’ mothers had been sisters. And she was Erlend’s wife by seduction; she had no right to stand here, especially not among these good, fine people, the children of Sir Andres.
Suddenly she saw Erlend Nikulaussøn. He had stepped forward in front of Queen Isabel and was standing there with his head bowed and his hand on his breast while she spoke a few words to him. He was wearing the brown silk surcoat that he had worn to their banquet rendezvous. Kristin stepped behind Sir Andres’s daughters.