The Wreath (Kristin Lavransdatter #1)(72)
But all this finally came to an end. She said her last goodbyes to the sisters and her friends at the convent gate. Lavrans escorted her to her horse and lifted her into the saddle. It was so strange to be riding with her father and the men from J?rundgaard down to the bridge, along the road on which she had crept in the dark; it was odd to be riding so nobly and freely through the streets of Oslo. She thought about the magnificent wedding procession that Erlend had spoken of so often. Her heart grew heavy; it would have been easier if he had taken her with him. There was still a long time remaining for her to be one person in secret and another in public with other people. But then her gaze fell on her father’s aging, somber face, and she tried to convince herself that Erlend was right after all.
There were other travelers at the hostel. In the evening they all ate together in a small room with an open hearth where there were only two beds. Lavrans and Kristin were to sleep there, for they were the foremost guests at the inn. The others left when it grew late, saying a friendly good night and then dispersing to find a place to sleep. Kristin thought about the fact that she was the one who had sneaked up to Brynhild Fluga’s loft and allowed Erlend to take her in his arms. Sick with sorrow and the fear that she might never be his, she felt that she no longer belonged here, among these people.
Her father was sitting over on the bench, looking at her.
“We’re not going to Skog this time?” Kristin asked, to break the silence.
“No,” replied Lavrans. “I’ve had enough of listening to your uncle for a while—about why I don’t use force against you,” he explained when she looked at him.
“Yes, I would force you to keep your word,” he said after a moment, “if only Simon hadn’t said that he did not want an unwilling wife.”
“I have never given Simon my word,” said Kristin hastily. “You always said before that you would never force me into a marriage.”
“It would not be force if I demanded that you keep to an agreement that has been known to everyone for such a long time,” replied Lavrans. “For two winters people have called you betrothed, and you never said a word of protest or showed any unwillingness until the wedding day was set. If you want to hide behind the fact that the matter was postponed last year, so that you have never given Simon your promise, I would not call that honorable conduct.”
Kristin stood there, gazing into the fire.
“I don’t know which looks worse,” her father continued. “People will either say that you have cast Simon out or that you have been abandoned. Sir Andres sent me a message ...” Lavrans turned red as he said this. “He was angry with the boy and begged me to demand whatever penalties I might find reasonable. I had to tell him the truth—I don’t know whether the alternative would have been any better—that if there were penalties to be paid, we were the ones to do so. We both share the shame.”
“I can’t see that the shame is so great,” murmured Kristin. “Since Simon and I both agree.”
“Agree!” Lavrans seized upon the word. “He didn’t hide the fact that he was unhappy about it, but he said that after the two of you had talked he didn’t think anything but misery would result if he demanded that you keep the agreement. But now you must tell me why you have made this decision.”
“Didn’t Simon say anything about it?” asked Kristin.
“He seemed to think,” said her father, “that you had given your affections to another man. Now you must tell me how things stand, Kristin.”
Kristin hesitated for a moment.
“God knows,” she said quietly, “I realize that Simon would be good enough for me—more than that. But it’s true that I have come to know another man, and then I realized that I would never have another joyous moment in my life if I had to live with Simon—not if he possessed all the gold in England. I would rather have the other man even if he owned no more than a single cow.”
“You can’t expect me to give you to a servant,” said her father.
“He is my equal and more,” replied Kristin. “He has enough of both possessions and land, but I simply meant that I would rather sleep with him on bare straw than with any other man in a silk bed.”
Her father was silent for a moment.
“It’s one thing, Kristin, that I would not force you to take a man you don’t want—even though only God and Saint Olav know what you might have against the man I had promised you to. But it’s another matter whether the man you have now set your heart on is the sort that I would allow you to marry. You’re young and have little experience ... and setting his sights on a maiden who is betrothed is not something a decent man would normally do.”
“That’s not something a person can help,” said Kristin vehemently.
“Oh yes, he can. But this much you have to realize—that I will not offend the Dyfrin people by betrothing you again as soon as you turn your back on Simon—and least of all to a man who might seem more distinguished or who is richer. You must tell me who this man is,” he said after a moment.
Kristin clasped her hands tight, breathing hard. Then she said hesitantly, “I can’t do that, Father. Things are such that if I cannot have this man, then you can take me back to the convent and leave me there for good—then I don’t think I can live any longer. But it wouldn’t be right for me to tell you his name before I know whether he has as good intentions toward me as I do toward him. You ... you mustn’t force me to tell you who he is until ... until it becomes clear whether he intends to ask you for my hand through his kinsmen.”