The Wreath (Kristin Lavransdatter #1)(26)
She handed him a goblet of mead as she said, “You shouldn’t be so stern, Sira Eirik, that you can’t stand to hear a joke late in the evening after so many drinks. Now sit down, and I’ll tell you about that wedding. It wasn’t here in this valley at all, and it’s my misfortune that I was not the one who knew about that water. If I had been able to brew it, we wouldn’t be sitting up there on that little farm. Then I’d be a rich woman with property out in the big villages somewhere—near the town and cloisters and bishops and canons,” she said, smiling at the three clergymen.
“But someone must have known the art in the old days, because this was in the time of King Inge, as far as I know, and the bridegroom was Peter Lodins?n of Bratteland. But I won’t say which of his three wives was the bride, since there are living descendants from all three. Well, this bride probably had good reason to wish for that water, and she managed to get it too. She prepared a bath for herself out in the shed, but before she managed to bathe, in came the woman who was to be her mother-in-law. She was muddy and dirty from the ride to the wedding manor, so she took off her clothes and stepped into the tub. She was an old woman, and she had had nine children by Lodin. But on that night both Lodin and Peter had a different kind of pleasure than they had counted on.”
Everyone in the 100m laughed heartily, and both Gyrd and Jon called to Fru Aashild to tell more such ribald tales.
But she refused. “Here sit two priests and Brother Aasgaut and young boys and maidservants. We should stop now before the talk grows indecent and vulgar; remember that these are the holy days.”
The men protested, but the women agreed with Fru Aashild. No one noticed that Ragnfrid had left the room. A little later Kristin, who had been sitting at the far end of the women’s bench among the maidservants, stood up to go to bed. She was sleeping in Tordis’s house because there were so many guests at the farm.
It was biting cold, and the northern lights were flaring and flickering above the domed mountains to the north. The snow creaked under Kristin’s feet as she ran across the courtyard, shivering, with her arms crossed over her breast.
Then she noticed that in the shadows beneath the old loft someone was pacing vigorously back and forth in the snow, throwing out her arms, wringing her hands, and moaning loudly. Kristin recognized her mother. Frightened, she ran over to her and asked her if she was ill.
“No, no,” said Ragnfrid fiercely. “I just had to get out. Go to bed now, child.”
Kristin turned around when her mother softly called her name.
“Go into the house and lie down in bed with your father and Ulvhild—hold her in your arms so that he doesn’t crush her by mistake. He sleeps so heavily when he’s drunk. I’ll go up and sleep here in the old loft tonight.”
“Jesus, Mother,” said Kristin. “You’ll freeze to death if you sleep there—and all alone. What will Father say if you don’t come to bed tonight?”
“He won’t notice,” replied her mother. “He was almost asleep when I left, and tomorrow he’ll get up late. Go and do as I say.”
“You’ll be so cold,” whimpered Kristin, but her mother pushed her away, somewhat more gently, and then shut herself inside the loft.
It was just as cold inside as out, and pitch dark. Ragnfrid fumbled her way over to the bed, tore the shawl from her head, took off her shoes, and crawled under the furs. They chilled her to the bone; it was like sinking into a snow drift. She pulled the covers over her head, tucked up her legs, and put her hands into the bodice of her clothing. And she lay there in that way, weeping—alternately crying quite softly, with streaming tears, and then screaming and gnashing her teeth in between her sobs. Finally she had warmed up the bed enough that she began to feel drowsy, and then she cried herself to sleep.
CHAPTER 5
IN THE SPRINGTIME of Kristin’s fifteenth year, Lavrans Bj?rgulfs?n and Sir Andres Gudmunds?n of Dyfrin agreed to meet at Holledis ting.1 There they decided that Andres’s second son, Simon, should be betrothed to Kristin Lavransdatter and that he would be given Formo, the property which Andres had inherited from his mother. The men sealed the agreement with a handshake, but no document was drawn up about it because Andres first had to arrange for the inheritance of his other children. And no betrothal ale was drunk either, but Sir Andres and Simon accompanied Lavrans back to J?rundgaard to see the bride, and Lavrans gave a great banquet.
Lavrans had finished building the new house—two stories tall, with brick fireplaces in both the main room and the loft. It was richly and beautifully decorated with wood carvings and fine furniture. He had also renovated the old loft and expanded the other buildings, so that he could now live in a manner befitting a squire. By this time, he possessed great wealth, for he had been fortunate in his undertakings, and he was a wise and thoughtful master. He was especially known for breeding the finest horses and the best cattle of all types. And now that he had arranged things so that his daughter would acquire Formo through marriage with a man of the Dyfrin lineage, people said that he had successfully achieved his goal of becoming the foremost landowner in the village. Lavrans and Ragnfrid were also very pleased, as were Sir Andres and Simon.
Kristin was a little disappointed when she first saw Simon Andress?n, for she had heard such high praise of his handsome appearance and noble manner that there was no limit to what she had expected of her bridegroom.