Kristin was silent. She knew he was right.
“Erlend is working quickly,” said Ulf, “to increase his lineage and to destroy his property.”
When she didn’t reply, Ulf went on, “You will soon have many children, Kristin Lavransdatter.”
“But none I would give up,” she said, with a slight quaver in her voice.
“Don’t be so fearful for Gaute—I’m sure he’ll grow strong over time,” said Ulf softly.
“It must be as God wills, but it’s difficult to wait.”
He could hear the concealed suffering in the mother’s voice; a strange sense of helplessness came over the ponderous, gloomy man.
“It’s of such little avail, Kristin. You have accomplished much here at Husaby, but if Erlend is now going to set off with two ships . . . I have no faith that there will be peace in the north, and your husband has so little cunning; he doesn’t know how to turn to his advantage what he has gained in the past two years. Bad years they have been, and you have been constantly ill. If things should continue in this way, you’ll be brought to your knees in the end, and as such a young woman. I’ve helped you as best I could here on the estate, but this other matter, Erlend’s lack of prudence—”
“Yes, God knows you have,” she interrupted him. “You’ve been the best of kinsmen toward us, Ulf my friend, and I can never fully thank you or repay you.”
Ulf stood up, lit a candle at the hearth, and set it in the candlestick on the table; he stood there with his back turned to Kristin. She had let her hands sink into her lap as they talked, but now she began winding up the yarn and rocking the cradle with her foot again.
“Can’t you send word to your parents back home?” he asked. “So that Lavrans might journey north in the fall along with your mother when she comes to help you?”
“I hadn’t thought of troubling my mother this fall. She’s getting older, and it happens much too often now that I must lie down in the straw to give birth. I can’t ask her to come every time.” Her smile looked a bit strained.
“Do it this time,” said Ulf. “And ask your father to come along, so you can seek his advice on these matters.”
“I will not ask my father’s advice about this,” she said quietly but firmly.
“What about Gunnulf then?” asked Ulf after a moment. “Can’t you speak to him?”
“It’s not proper to disturb him with such things now,” said Kristin in the same tone of voice.
“Do you mean because he has entered a monastery?” Ulf laughed scornfully. “I’ve never noticed that monks had less understanding about managing estates than other people.”
When she didn’t answer, he said, “But if you won’t seek advice from anyone, Kristin, then you must speak to Erlend. Think of your sons, Kristin!”
She sat in silence for a long time.
“You who are so good toward our children, Ulf,” she said at last. “It would seem to me more reasonable if you married and had your own worries to tend to—than that you should stay here, tormenting yourself . . . with Erlend’s and my troubles.”
Ulf turned to face her. He stood with his hands gripping the edge of the table behind him and looked at Kristin Lavransdatter. She was still straight-backed and slender and beautiful as she sat there. Her gown was made of dark, hand-dyed woolen cloth, but she wore a fine, soft linen wimple around her calm, pale face. The belt from which her ring of keys hung was adorned with small silver roses. On her breast glittered two chains with crosses, the larger one on gilded links which hung almost to her waist; that one had been given to her by her father. On top lay the thin silver chain with the little cross which Orm had given to his stepmother, asking her to wear it always.
So far she had recovered from each childbirth looking just as lovely as ever—only a little quieter, with heavier responsibilities on her young shoulders. Her cheeks were thinner, her eyes a little darker and more somber beneath the wide, white forehead, and her lips were a little less red and full. But her beauty would soon be worn away before many more years had passed if things continued in this fashion.
“Don’t you think, Ulf, that you would be happier if you settled down on your own farm?” she continued. “Erlend told me that you’ve bought three more plots of land at Skjoldvirkstad—you will soon own half the estate. And Isak has only the one child—Aase is both beautiful and kind, a capable woman, and she seems to like you—”