“No, no, child. You mustn’t weep like this.” He pulled his hands away and then lifted her up to sit beside him as before.
“I’ve also had great joy from you during these years, Kristin. I’ve seen handsome and promising children growing up at your knee; you’ve become a capable and sensible wife. And I’ve seen that you’ve grown more and more accustomed to seeking help where it can best be found, whenever you’re in some difficulty. Kristin, my most precious gold, do not weep so hard. You might harm the one you carry under your belt,” he whispered. “Do not grieve so!”
But he could not console her. Then he took his daughter in his arms and lifted her onto his lap so he was holding her as he had when she was small. Her arms were clasped around his neck, and her face was pressed to his shoulder.
“There is one thing I have never told another mother’s child except for my priest, but now I’ll tell it to you. During the time of my youth—back home at Skog and in the early years when I was one of the king’s retainers—I thought of entering a monastery as soon as I was old enough, although I hadn’t made any kind of promise, not even in my own heart, and many things pulled me in the opposite direction. But whenever I was out fishing on Botn Fjord and heard the bells ringing from the brothers’ cloister on Hoved?, then I would think that I was drawn most strongly there.
“When I was sixteen winters old, Father had a coat of mail made for me from Spanish steel plates covered in silver. Rikard, the Englishman in Oslo, made it. And I was given my sword—the one I’ve always used—and the armor for my horse. It wasn’t as peaceful back then as it was during your childhood; we were at war with the Danes, so I knew I would soon have use for my splendid weapons. And I didn’t want to lay them aside. I consoled myself with the thought that my father wouldn’t want his eldest son to become a monk, and I had no wish to defy my parents.
“But I chose this world myself, and whenever things went against me, I tried to tell myself that it would be unmanly to complain about the fate I had chosen. For I’ve realized more and more with each year that I’ve lived: There is no worthier work for the person who has been graced with the ability to see even a small part of God’s mercy than to serve Him and to keep vigil and to pray for those people whose sight is still clouded by the shadow of worldly matters. And yet I must tell you, my Kristin, that it would be hard for me to sacrifice, for the sake of God, that life which I have lived on my estates, with its care of temporal things and its worldly joys, with your mother at my side and with all of you children. So a man must learn to accept, when he produces offspring from his own body, that his heart will burn if he loses them or if the world goes against them. God, who gave them souls, is the one who owns them—not I.”
Sobs shook Kristin’s body; her father began rocking her in his arms as if she were a small child.
“There were many things I didn’t understand when I was young. Father was fond of my brother Aasmund too, but not in the same way as he loved me. It was because of my mother, you see—he never forgot her, but he married Inga because that was what his father wanted. Now I wish I could still go to my stepmother here on earth and beg her to forgive me for not respecting her goodness.”
“But you’ve often said, Father, that your stepmother never did much for you, either good or bad,” said Kristin in between sobs.
“Yes, God help me, I didn’t know any better. Now it seems to me a great thing that she didn’t hate me and never spoke an unkind word to me. How would you like it, Kristin, to see your stepson favored above your own son, constantly and in everything?”
Kristin was somewhat calmer now. She lay with her face turned so that she could look out at the mountain meadow. It grew dark from an enormous gray-blue cloud passing in front of the sun; several yellow rays pierced through, and the water of the creek glinted sharply.
Then she broke into tears again.
“Oh, no—Father, my father. Will I never see you again in this life?”
“May God protect you, Kristin, my child, so that we might meet again on that day, all of us who were friends in this life . . . and every human soul. Christ and the Virgin Mary and Saint Olav and Saint Thomas will keep you safe all your days.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her on the lips. “May God have mercy on you. May God grant you light in the light of this world and in the great light beyond.”
Several hours later, as Lavrans Bj?rgulfs?n rode away from Hjerdkinn, his daughter walked alongside his horse. His servant was already a good distance ahead, but Lavrans continued on slowly, step by step. It hurt him to see her tear-stained and despairing face. This was also the way she had sat the whole time inside the guesthouse, as he ate and talked with her children, bantering with them and taking them onto his lap, one after the other.