Kristin had regained her calm and courage when Simon, late that evening, came to sit at her bedside. She lay there with the feeling of pleasant exhaustion which follows great suffering, and looked at her brother-in-law’s heavy, sunburned face and his small, piercing eyes. It was a great comfort to her that he had come. Simon grew quite somber when he heard more details of the matter, and yet his words were full of hope.
Kristin lay in bed, staring at the elkskin belt around his portly middle. The large, flat buckle made of copper and chased with silver, its only decoration a filigreed “A” and “M” which stood for
Ave Maria;
the long dagger with the gilded silver mountings and the large rock crystals on the hilt; the pitiful little table knife with its cracked horn hilt which had been repaired with a band of brass—all these things had been part of her father’s everyday attire ever since she was a child. She remembered when Simon received them; it was right before her father died, and he wanted to give Simon his best gilded belt with enough silver to have extra plates made so that his son-in-law could wear it. But Simon asked for the other belt instead, and when Lavrans said that now he was cheating himself, Simon replied that the dagger was a costly item. “Yes, and then there’s the knife,” said Ragnfrid with a little smile, and both men laughed and said: “Yes indeed, the knife.” Her father and mother had had so many quarrels over that knife. Ragnfrid had complained every day at having to look at that ugly little knife on her husband’s belt. But Lavrans swore that she would never succeed in parting him from it. “I’ve never drawn this knife against you, Ragnfrid—and it’s the best one in all of Norway for cutting butter, as long as it’s warm.”
Kristin now asked to see the knife, and she lay in bed, holding it in her hands for a moment.
“I wish that I might own this knife,” she pleaded softly.
“Yes, I can well believe that. I’m glad it’s mine; I wouldn’t sell it for even twenty marks of silver.” With a laugh Simon grabbed her wrist and took back the knife. His small, plump hands always felt so good—warm and dry.
A short time later he bade her good night, picked up the candle, and went into the main room. She heard him kneel down before the cross, then stand up and drop his boots onto the floor. A few minutes later he climbed heavily into the bed against the north wall. Then Kristin sank into a deep, sweet sleep.
She didn’t wake up until quite late the next morning. Simon An-dressøn had left hours earlier, and he had asked the servants to tell her to stay calm and remain at the estate.
He didn’t return until almost time for mid-afternoon prayers; he said at once, “I bring you greetings from Erlend, Kristin. I was allowed to speak to him.”
He saw how young her face became, soft and full of anguished tenderness. Then he held her hand in his as he talked. He and Erlend hadn’t been able to say much to each other, because the man who had escorted Simon up to the prisoner never left the room. Judge Olav had won Simon permission for this meeting, because of the kinship that had existed between them while Halfrid was alive. Erlend sent loving greetings to Kristin and the children; he had asked about all of them, but most about Gaute. Simon thought that in a few days Kristin would surely be allowed to see her husband. Erlend had seemed calm and in good spirits.
“If I had gone with you today, they would have let me see him too,” she said quietly.
But Simon thought he had been granted permission because he came alone. “Although it might be easier for you in many ways, Kristin, to gain concessions if a man steps forward in your behalf.”
Erlend was being held in a room in the east tower, facing the river—one of the finer chambers, although it was small. Ulf Hal dorssøn was supposedly sitting in the dungeon; Haftor in a different chamber.
Cautiously and hesitantly, as he tried to discern how much she could bear, Simon recounted what he had been able to learn in town. When he saw that she understood fully what had happened, he didn’t hide that he too thought it a dangerous matter. But everyone he had spoken to said that Erlend would never have ventured to plan such an undertaking and carry it out as far as he had without being certain that he had a majority of the knights and gentry behind him. And since the ranks of the malcontent noblemen were so great, it wasn’t expected that the king would dare deal harshly with their chieftain; he would have to allow Erlend to be reconciled with him in some way.
Kristin asked in a low voice, “Where does Erling Vidkunssøn stand in all this?”
“I think that’s something that many a man would like to know,” said Simon.
He didn’t tell Kristin, nor had he told any of the men he talked to, but he thought it unlikely that Erlend would have a large group of men behind him who had bound themselves to support him with their lives and property in such a perilous undertaking. And certainly they would never have chosen him as chieftain; all his peers knew that Erlend was unreliable. It was true that he was the kinsman of Lady Ingebjørg and the pretender to the throne. He had enjoyed both power and respect in the last few years, he was more experienced in war than most of his peers, and he had a reputation for being able to recruit and lead soldiers. Even though he had acted unwisely so many times, he could still present his arguments in such a good and convincing manner that it was almost possible to believe he had finally learned caution from his misdeeds. Simon thought it likely that there were some who knew of Erlend’s plan and had urged him on, but he would be surprised if they had bound themselves so closely that they couldn’t now retreat; Erlend would be left standing with no one to back him.
Simon thought he could see that Erlend himself expected little else, and he seemed prepared to have to pay dearly for his risky game. “When cows are stuck in the mire, whoever owns them has to pull them out by the tail,” he had said with a laugh. Otherwise Erlend had not been able to say much in the presence of the third man.
Simon wondered why the reunion with his brother-in-law had upset him so greatly. Perhaps it was the small, confining tower room where Erlend had invited him to take a seat on the bed, which stretched from one wall to the other and filled half the room, or Erlend’s slender, dignified form as he stood at the small slit in the wall which allowed in light. Erlend looked unafraid, his eyes alert, unclouded by either fear or hope. He was a vigorous, cool, and manly figure now that all the constraining webs of flirtations and foolishness over women had been swept away from him. And yet it was women and his dealings in love that had landed him there, along with all his bold plans, which came to an end before he had even brought them to light. But Erlend didn’t seem to be thinking about that. He stood there like a man who had risked the most daring of ventures and lost, and then knew how to bear the defeat in a manly and stalwart fashion.
And his surprised and joyous gratitude when he saw his brother-in-law suited him well.
Simon had said, “Do you remember, brother-in-law, that night we kept watch at our father-in-law’s bedside? We shook hands, and Lavrans placed his hand on top. We promised each other and him that all our days we would stand together as brothers.”
“Yes.” Erlend’s smile lit up his face. “Yes, Lavrans probably never thought that you would ever be in need of
my
help.”
“It was more likely,” said Simon unperturbed, “that he meant
you,
in your circumstances, might be of support to
me,
and not that you should need
my
help.”
Erlend smiled again. “Lavrans was a wise man, Simon. And as strange as it may sound, I know he was fond of me.”
Simon thought that God knew it might indeed seem strange, but now he himself—in spite of all he knew about Erlend and in spite of everything the other man had done to him—couldn’t help feeling a brotherly tenderness toward Kristin’s husband. Then Erlend had asked about her.
Simon told him how he had found her: ill and very frightened for her husband. Olav Hermanssøn had promised to seek permission for her to come to see him as soon as Sir Baard returned home.
“Not before she’s well,” said Erlend quickly, his voice fearful. An odd, almost girlish blush spread across his tan, unshaven face. “That’s the only thing I fear, Simon—that I won’t be able to bear it when I see her!”
But after a moment he said calmly, “I know you will stand steadfast at her side if she is to be widowed this year. They won’t be poor, at any rate—she and the children—with her inheritance from Lavrans. And then she’ll have you close at hand when she goes to live at Jørundgaard.”
The day after the Feast of the Birth of Mary, the lord chancellor, Ivar Ogmundssøn, arrived in Nidaros. A court was now appointed, consisting of twelve of the king’s retainers from the northern districts, to decide Erlend Nikulaussøn’s case. Sir Finn Ogmundssøn, the lord chancellor’s brother, was chosen to present the charges against him.
In the meantime, during the summer, Haftor Olavssøn of Godøy had killed himself, using the little dagger that every prisoner was allowed to keep to cut up his food. Imprisonment had apparently taken such a toll on Haftor that he hadn’t had his full wits about him. When Erlend heard of this, he told Simon that at least now he wouldn’t have to worry about what Haftor might say. And yet he was clearly shaken.
Gradually it became a habit for the guard to leave the room on an errand whenever Simon or Kristin was visiting Erlend. Both of them realized, and mentioned it to each other, that Erlend’s first and foremost thought was to make it through the court case without revealing his accomplices. One day he said this quite openly to Simon. He had promised every man who had conspired with him that he would rather cut off his own hand than reveal anything, if it came to that; “and I have never yet betrayed anyone who has put their trust in me.” Simon stared at the man. Erlend’s eyes were blue and clear; it was obvious that he truly believed this about himself.
The king’s envoys had not succeeded in tracking down anyone else who had taken part in Erlend’s plot other than the two brothers, Greip and Torvard Toressøn of Møre. And they refused to admit to knowing anything but that Erlend and several other men planned to persuade Lady Ingebjørg to allow Prince Haakon Knutssøn to be educated in Norway. Later the chieftains would propose to King Magnus that it would be of benefit to both of his kingdoms if he gave his half-brother sovereignty in Norway.
Borgar and Guttorm Trondssøn had been fortunate enough to escape from the king’s castle at Veøy. No one knew how, but people guessed that Borgar had been helped by a woman. He was very handsome and quite impetuous. Ivar of Sundbu was still being held in Mjøs Castle; the brothers had apparently kept young Haavard out of their plans.
At the same time the meeting of the retainers was being held at the king’s palace, the archbishop convened a
concilium
at his estate. Simon was a man with many friends and acquaintances, and so he could report to Kristin what was happening. Everyone thought that Erlend would be banished and would have to forfeit his properties to the king. Erlend also thought this was how things would turn out, and he was in good spirits; he was planning to go to Denmark. As things now stood in that country, there were always opportunities open for a man who was fit and skilled with weapons, and Lady Ingebjørg would surely embrace his wife as her kinswoman and keep her at her side with the proper honors. Simon would have to take care of the children, although Erlend wanted to take his two eldest sons with him.
Kristin hadn’t been outside of Nidaros for a single day in all this time, nor had she seen her children, except for Naakkve and Bjørg ulf. They had come riding up to the estate one evening alone. Their mother kept them with her for several days, but then she sent them to Raasvold, where Fru Gunna had taken in the younger boys.
This was in accordance with Erlend’s wishes. And she was afraid of the thoughts that might rise up in her mind if she should see her sons around her, hear their questions, and try to explain matters to them. She struggled to push aside all thoughts and memories of her marriage years spent at Husaby, which had been so rich that now they seemed to her like a great calm—the way there is a kind of calm over the waves of the sea if viewed from high enough up a mountain ridge. The swells that surge after each other seem eternal, melding into one; that was the way life had rippled through her soul during that vast span of years.
Now things were once again the way they had been in her youth, when she had put her faith in Erlend, defying everyone and everything. Once again her life had become one long waiting from hour to hour, in between the times when she was allowed to see her husband, to sit at his side on the bed in the tower room of the king’s palace, and to talk with him calmly—until they happened to be alone for a few moments. Then they would throw themselves into each other’s arms with endless, passionate kisses and wild embraces.
At other times she would sit in Christ Church for hours on end. She would sink to her knees and stare up at Saint Olav’s golden shrine behind the gratings of the choir. Lord, I am his wife. Lord, I stood by him when I was his, in sin and iniquity. By the grace of God, we two unworthy souls were joined together in holy marriage. Branded by the flames of sin, bowed by the burdens of sin, we came together at the portals of God’s house; together we received the Savior’s Host from the hand of the priest. Should I now complain if God is testing my faith? Should I now think about anything else but that I am his wife and he is my husband for as long as we both shall live?
On the Thursday before Michaelmas the meeting of the royal retainers was held and sentence was pronounced over Erlend Niku laussøn of Husaby. He was found guilty of attempting to steal land and subjects from King Magnus, of inciting opposition to the king throughout the country, and of attempting to bring into Norway mercenary forces from abroad. After looking into similar cases from the past, the judges found that Erlend Nikulaussøn should forfeit his life and his property at the hands of King Magnus.