“Yes, what you men call a house of sin. The woman who owned it was Munan’s paramour. She warned me herself not to go there. I told her I was going to meet a kinsman—I didn’t know he was her kinsman.” She gave another laugh, wild and harsh.
“Silence!” said her father.
He stood there for a moment. A tremor flickered across his countenance—a smile that made his face blanch. She thought suddenly of the foliage on the mountain slope which turns white when gusts of wind twist each leaf around—patches of pale and glittering light.
“A man can learn a great deal without asking.”
Kristin broke down as she sat there on the bench, supporting herself on one elbow, with her other hand covering her eyes. For the first time in her life she was afraid of her father—deathly afraid.
He turned away from her, picked up the hammer, and put it back in its place next to the others. Then he gathered up the files and small tools and went about putting them back on the crossbeam between the walls. He stood with his back to his daughter; his hands were shaking violently.
“Have you never thought about the fact, Kristin, that Erlend kept silent about this?” Now he was standing in front of her, looking down into her pale, frightened face. “I told him no, quite firmly, when he came to me in Tunsberg with his rich kinsmen and asked for your hand. I didn’t know then that I was the one who should have thanked him for wanting to redeem my daughter’s honor. Many a man would have told me so.
“Then he came again and courted you with full honor. Not all men would have been so persistent in winning a wife who was . . . who was . . . what you were back then.”
“I don’t think any man would have dared say such a thing to you.”
“Erlend has never been afraid of cold steel.” A great weariness suddenly came over Lavrans’s face, and his voice lost all vigor and resonance. But then he spoke again, quietly and deliberately.
“As bad as this is, Kristin—it seems to me even worse that you speak of it now that he’s your husband and the father of your sons.
“If things were as you say, then you knew the worst about him before you insisted on entering into marriage with him. And yet he was willing to pay as dearly for you, as if you had been an honest maiden. He has granted you much freedom to manage and rule; you must do penance for your sin by ruling sensibly and make up for Erlend’s lack of caution—that much you owe to God and your children.
“I myself have said, and others have said the same, that Erlend doesn’t seem to be capable of much else than seducing women. You are also to blame for this being said, according to your own testimony. But since then he has shown he is capable of other things—your husband has won a good name for himself through courage and swiftness in battle. It’s no small benefit for your sons that their father has acquired a reputation for his boldness and skill with weapons. That he is . . . incautious . . . you must realize this better than anyone. It would be best for you to redeem your shame by honoring and helping the husband whom you yourself have chosen.”
Kristin was bending forward, with her head in her hands. Now she looked up, her face pale and despairing. “It was cruel of me to tell you this. Oh . . . Simon begged me . . . It was the only thing he asked of me—that I should spare you from knowing the worst.”
“Simon asked you to spare me?” Kristin heard the pain in her father’s voice. And she realized it was also cruel of her to tell him that a stranger saw fit to remind her to spare her own father.
Then Lavrans sat down beside her, took her hand in both of his, and placed it on his knee.
“Yes, it was cruel, my Kristin,” he said gently and sadly. “You are good to everyone, my dear child, but I have also realized that you can be cruel to those you love too dearly. For the sake of Jesus, Kristin, spare me the need to be so worried for you—that your impetuous spirit might bring more sorrow upon you and yours. You struggle like a colt that has been tied up in the stable for the first time, whenever your heartstrings are bound.”
Sobbing, she sank against her father, and he held her tight in his arms. They sat there for a long time in that manner, but Lavrans said no more. Finally he lifted her face.
“You’re covered in soot,” he said with a little smile. “There’s a cloth over in the corner, but it will probably just make you blacker. You must go home and wash; everyone can see that you’ve been sitting on the blacksmith’s lap.”
Gently he pushed her out the door, closed it behind her, and stood there for a moment. Then he staggered a few steps over to the bench, sank down onto it, and leaned his head back against the timbers of the wall with his contorted face tilted upward. With all his might he pressed a fist against his heart.