Kristin abruptly fell silent. She remembered her father’s face when she was about to ride off with Erlend and he lifted her onto her horse. Lavrans had put on a happy expression because there were so many people around them, but Kristin saw his eyes. He stroked her arm and took her hand to say farewell. At that time her main thought had been that she was glad to be leaving. Now she thought that for as long as she lived, she would feel a sting in her soul whenever she remembered her father’s eyes on that day.
Then Kristin Lavransdatter set about organizing and managing her household. She was up before dawn each morning, even though Erlend protested and pretended that he would keep her in bed by force; no one expected a newly married woman to be running from one building to another long before the light of day.
When she saw into what a sorry state everything had fallen and how much she would have to tend to, then the thought shot through her mind, hard and clear: if she had committed a sin to come to this place, so be it—but it was also a sin to make use of God’s gifts as was done here. Shame was deserved by those who had been in charge before, along with all of those who had allowed Erlend’s manor to decline so badly. There had not been a proper foreman at Husaby for the past two years; Erlend himself had been away from home much of the time, and besides, he had little knowledge of how to run the estate. So it was only to be expected that his envoys farther out in the countryside cheated him, as Kristin suspected they did, or that the servants at Husaby worked only as much as they pleased and whenever and in whatever manner it suited each of them. It would not be easy now for her to restore order to things.
One day she talked about this with Ulf Haldorss?n, Erlend’s personal servant. They should be done with the threshing, at least of the grain on their own land—and there wasn’t much of it—before it was time for the slaughtering.
Ulf said, “You know, Kristin, that I’m not a farmer. We were to be Erlend’s weapons bearers, Haftor and I—and I am no longer practiced in farming ways.”
“I know that,” said the mistress. “But as things stand, Ulf, it won’t be easy for me to manage this winter, newly arrived as I am in this northern region and unfamiliar with our people. It would be kind of you to help me and advise me.”
“I can see, Kristin, that you won’t have an easy time this winter,” said the man. He looked at her with a little smile—that odd smile he always wore whenever he spoke to her or to Erlend. It was impudent and mocking, and yet there was in his bearing both kindness and a certain esteem for her. And she didn’t feel that she had the right to be offended when Ulf assumed a more familiar attitude toward her than might otherwise be fitting. She and Erlend had allowed this man to be a witness to their improper and sinful behavior; now she saw that he also knew in what condition she found herself. That was something she would have to bear. She saw that Erlend too tolerated whatever Ulf said or did, and the man did not show much respect for his master. But they had been friends in their childhood; Ulf was from M?re, the son of a smallholder who lived near Baard Peters?n’s estate. He used the familiar form of address when he spoke to Erlend, as he now did with her—but that was more the custom among people up north than back home in her village.
Ulf Haldorss?n was quite a striking man, tall and dark, with handsome eyes, but his speech was ugly and coarse. Kristin had heard terrible things about him from the maids on the farm. When he went into town he would drink ferociously, reveling and carousing in the houses that stood along the alleyways; but when he was home at Husaby, he was the most steadfast of men, the most capable, the hardest worker, and the wisest. Kristin had taken a liking to him.
“It would not be easy for any woman to come to this estate, after all that has gone on here,” he said. “And yet, I believe, Mistress Kristin, that you will fare better here than most women might. You’re not the kind to sit down and whimper and complain; instead, you think of protecting the inheritance here for your descendants, when no one else gives any thought to that. And you know full well that you can count on me; I’ll help you as much as I can. You must remember that I’m unaccustomed to farming ways. But if you will seek my counsel and allow me to advise you, then we should be able to make it through this winter, after a fashion.”
Kristin thanked Ulf and went inside the house.
Her heart was heavy with fear and anguish, but she struggled to free herself. Part of her worry was that she didn’t understand Erlend—he still didn’t seem to notice anything. But the other part, and this was worse, was that she couldn’t feel any life in the child she was carrying. She knew that at twenty weeks it should begin to move; now it was more than three weeks past that time. At night she would lie in bed and feel this burden which was growing and becoming heavier but which continued to be as dull and lifeless as ever. And hovering in her thoughts was all that she had heard about children who were born lame, with hardened sinews; about creatures that came to light without limbs, that had almost no human form. Before her closed eyes passed images of tiny infants, hideously deformed; one horrific sight melted into another that was even worse. In the south of Gudbrandsdal, at Lidstad, they had a child—well, it must be full grown by now. Her father had seen it, but he would never speak of it; she noticed that he grew distressed if anyone even mentioned it. She wondered how it looked . . . Oh, no. Holy Olav, pray for me! She must believe firmly in the beneficence of the Holy King. She had given her child into his care, after all. With patience she would suffer for her sins and place her faith, with all her soul, in help and mercy for the child. It must be the Fiend himself who was tempting her with these loathsome sights in order to lure her into despair. But it was worse at night. If a child had no limbs, if it was lame, then the mother would doubtless feel no sign of life. Half-asleep, Erlend noticed that his wife was uneasy. He folded her tighter into his arms and buried his face in the hollow of her neck.