Then they heard it from the forest behind them—a long, drawn-out howl that grew and grew in the night. It was the howl of the wolf—and there were several of them. Shivering, Erlend stopped and let Kristin go. She sensed that he crossed himself while he gripped the axe in his other hand. “If you were now . . . oh, no!” He pulled her to him so hard that she whimpered.
The skiers out in the field turned around and made their way back toward the two as fast as they could. They slung the skis over their shoulders and closed around her in a tight group with spears and axes. The wolves followed them all the way to Husaby—so close that once or twice they caught a glimpse of the beasts in the dark.
When the men entered the hall at home, many of them were gray or white in the face. “That was the most horrifying . . .” said one man, and he at once threw up into the hearth. The frightened maids put their mistress to bed. She could eat nothing. But now that the terrible, sickening fear was over, in an odd way she thought it was good to see that everyone had been so scared on her behalf.
When they were alone in the hall, Erlend came over and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Why did you do that?” he whispered. And when she didn’t reply, he said even more softly, “Do you so regret that you came to my manor?”
It took a moment before she realized what he meant.
“Jesus, Maria! How can you think something like that!”
“What did you mean that time when you said—when we were at Medalby, and I was going to ride away from you—that I would have had to wait a good long time before you followed me to Husaby?” he asked in the same tone of voice.
“Oh, I spoke in anger,” said Kristin quietly, embarrassed. And now she told him why she had gone out these past few days. Erlend sat quite still and listened to her.
“I wonder when the day will come when you’ll think of Husaby here with me as your home,” he said, bending toward her in the dark.
“Oh, that time is probably no more than a week away,” whispered Kristin, laughing uncertainly. When he lay his face next to hers, she threw her arms around his neck and returned his ardent kisses.
“That’s the first time you’ve ventured to embrace me since I struck you,” said Erlend in a low voice. “You hold a grudge for a long time, my Kristin.”
It occurred to her that this was the first time, since the night when he realized that she was with child, that she dared to caress him without his asking.
But after that day, Erlend was so kind to her that Kristin regretted every hour that she had spent feeling angry toward him.
CHAPTER 4
SAINT GREGOR’S DAY came and went, and Kristin had thought that surely her time would have come by then. But now it would soon be the Feast of the Annunciation, and she was still on her feet.
Erlend had to go to Nidaros for the mid-Lenten ting; he said he would certainly be home on Monday evening, but by Wednesday morning he had still not returned. Kristin sat in the hall and didn’t know what to do with herself—she felt as if she couldn’t bear to start on anything.
Sunlight came flooding down through the smoke vent, and she sensed that outdoors it must be an almost springlike day. Then she stood up and threw a cloak around her shoulders.
One of the maids had mentioned that if a woman carried a child too long, then a good remedy was to let the bridal horse eat grain from her lap. Kristin paused for a moment in the doorway—in the dazzling sunshine the courtyard looked quite brown with glistening rivulets that had washed shiny, icy stripes through the horse manure and dirt. The sky arched bright and silky-blue above the old buildings, and the two dragon figureheads which were carved into the gables of the eastern storehouse glistened against the sky with the remnants of ancient gilding. Water dripped and trickled off the roofs, and smoke whirled and danced in the little, warm gusts of wind.
She walked over to the stable and went inside, filling her skirt with oats from the grain chest. The smell of the stable and the sound of the horses stirring in the dark did her good. But there were people in the stable, so she didn’t have the nerve to do what she had come for.
She went out and threw the grain to the chickens that were strutting around in the courtyard, sunning themselves. Absentmindedly she watched Tore, the stableboy, who was grooming and brushing the gray gelding, which was shedding heavily. Once in a while she would close her eyes and turn her wan, house-pale face up toward the sun.
As Kristin was standing like that, three men rode into the courtyard. The one in front was a young priest she didn’t know. As soon as he saw Kristin, he jumped down from his saddle and came straight over to her with his hand outstretched.