The Wreath (Kristin Lavransdatter #1)(85)

“Don’t you see, Aunt ... What do you think Kristin will believe?”




That night Erlend slept in the cookhouse with the servants. In the house Kristin slept with Fru Aashild in her bed, and Eline Ormsdatter slept in the other one. Bj?rn went out to sleep in the stable.

The next morning Kristin followed Fru Aashild out to the cowshed. While Fru Aashild went to the cookhouse to make breakfast, Kristin carried the milk up to the house.

A candle was burning on the table. Eline was dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed. Kristin greeted her quietly, got out a basin, and strained the milk.

“Would you give me some milk?” asked Eline. Kristin took a wooden ladle and handed it to the woman. She drank greedily and looked over the rim at Kristin.

“So you’re Kristin Lavransdatter, the one who has robbed me of Erlend’s affections,” she said, handing the ladle back.

“You’re the one who should know whether there were any affections to rob,” replied the young maiden.

Eline bit her lip. “What will you do,” she said, “if Erlend grows tired of you and one day offers to marry you to his servant? Would you obey Erlend in that too?”

Kristin didn’t answer.

Then the other woman laughed and said, “You obey him in everything, I imagine. What do you think, Kristin—shall we throw the dice for our man, we two mistresses of Erlend Nikulauss?n?” When she received no reply, she laughed again and said, “Are you so simple-minded that you don’t deny you’re a kept woman?”

“To you I don’t feel like lying,” said Kristin.

“It wouldn’t do you much good anyway,” replied Eline in the same tone of voice. “I know that boy. I can imagine that he probably rushed at you like a black grouse the second time you were together. And it’s too bad for you, pretty child that you are.”

Kristin’s cheeks grew pale. Sick with loathing she said quietly, “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Do you think he’ll treat you any better than he did me?” Eline continued.

Then Kristin replied sharply, “I won’t complain about Erlend, no matter what he does. I was the one who took the wrong path, and I won’t moan and feel sorry for myself even if it leads me out over the scree.”

Eline was silent for a moment. Then she said, flushed and uncertain, “I was a maiden too, when he took me, Kristin—even though I had been the old man’s wife for seven years. But you probably can’t understand what a wretched life that was.”

Kristin started to tremble violently. Eline gazed at her. Then she took a little horn out of her traveling box which stood at her side on the step of the bed.

She broke the seal and said quietly, “You are young and I am old, Kristin. I know it’s useless for me to fight against you—now it’s your turn. Will you drink with me, Kristin?”

Kristin didn’t move. Then the other woman put the horn to her lips. Kristin noticed that she did not drink.

Eline said, “You might at least do me the honor of drinking to me—and promise that you won’t be a harsh stepmother to my children.”

Kristin took the horn. At that moment Erlend opened the door. He stood there, looking from one woman to the other.

“What’s this?” he asked.

Then Kristin replied, and her voice was shrill and wild. “We’re drinking to each other, your two mistresses.”

He grabbed her wrist and snatched away the horn. “Be quiet,” he said harshly. “You shall not drink with her.”

“Why not?” said Kristin in the same voice as before. “She was just as pure as I was when you seduced her.”

“She’s said that so often that she believes it herself,” replied Erlend. “Do you remember when you made me go to Sigurd with that lie, Eline, and he produced witnesses that he had caught you with another man?”

Pale with disgust, Kristin turned away. Eline’s face had flushed dark red. Then she said spitefully, “Even so, that girl isn’t going to turn into a leper if she drinks with me.”

Furious, Erlend turned toward Etine—and then his face suddenly grew rigid and the man gasped in horror.

“Jesus!” he said almost inaudibly. He grabbed Eline by the arm.

“Then drink to her,” he said, his voice harsh and quavering. “Drink first, and then she’ll drink with you.”

Eline wrenched herself away with a gasp. She fled backward across the room, the man after her.

“Drink,” he said. He pulled his dagger out of his belt and followed her with it in his hand. “Taste the drink you’ve made for Kristin.” He grabbed Eline by the arm, dragged her over to the table, and forced her to bend toward the horn.

Eline screamed once and hid her face in her arm.

Erlend released her and stood there shaking.

“It was a hell with Sigurd,” shrieked Eline. “You ... you promised—but you’ve treated me even worse, Erlend!”

Then Kristin stepped forward and grabbed the horn. “One of us must drink—you can’t keep both of us.”

Erlend took the horn from her and flung her across the room so she fell to the floor over by Fru Aashild’s bed. He forced the drink to Eline Ormsdatter’s mouth. Standing with one knee on the bench next to her and his hand on her head, he tried to force her to drink.