Kristin was trembling with fury when she spoke.
“I’ve never spoken to you as if you were my thrall. Have you ever heard me speak harshly or in anger to anyone who might be considered lesser than me, even if it was the most incompetent or worthless of our household servants? I know that before God I am free of the sin of offending His poor in either word or deed. But you’re supposed to be my lord; I’m supposed to obey and honor you, bow to you and lean on you, next to God, in accordance with God’s laws, Erlend! And if I’ve lost patience and talked to you in a manner unbefitting a wife speaking to her husband—then it’s because many times you’ve made it difficult for me to surrender my ignorance to your better understanding, to honor and obey my husband and lord as much as I would have liked. And perhaps I had expected that you . . . perhaps I thought I could provoke you into showing me that you were a man and I was only a poor woman. . . .
“But you needn’t worry, Erlend. I will not offend you again with my words, and from this day forward, I will never forget to speak to you as gently as if you were descended from thralls.”
Erlend’s face had flushed dark red. He raised his fist at her, then turned swiftly on his heel, grabbed his cape and sword from the bench near the door, and rushed out.
It was sunny outside, with a piercing wind. The air was cold, but glistening particles of thawing ice sprayed over him from the building eaves and from the swaying tree branches. The snow on the rooftops gleamed like silver, and beyond the black-green, forested slopes surrounding the town, the mountain peaks sparkled icy blue and shiny white in the sharp, dazzling light of the wintry spring day.
Erlend raced through the streets and alleyways—fast but aimless. He was boiling inside. She was wrong, it was clear that she had been wrong from the very beginning, and he was right. He had allowed himself to be provoked and struck her, undercutting his position, but she was the one who was wrong. Now he had no idea what to do with himself. He had no wish to visit any acquaintances, and he refused to go back home.
There was a great tumult in town. A large trading ship from Iceland—the first of the spring season—had put in at the docks that morning. Erlend wandered west through the lanes and emerged near Saint Martin’s Church; he headed down toward the wharves. There were already shrieks and clamor coming from the inns and alehouses, even though it was early afternoon. In his youth Erlend could have gone into such places himself, along with friends and companions. But now people would stare, wide-eyed, and afterwards they would wear out their gums gossiping if the sheriff of Orkd?la county, who had a residence in town and ale, mead, and wine in abundance in his own home, should go into an inn and ask for a taste of their paltry ale. But that was truly what he wished for most—to sit and drink with the smallholders who had come to town and with the servants and seamen. No one would make a fuss if these fellows gave their women a slap in the face; it would do them good. How in fiery Hell was a man to rule his wife if he couldn’t beat her because of her high birth and his own sense of honor. The Devil himself couldn’t compete with a woman through words. She was a witch—but so beautiful. If only he could beat her until she gave in.
The bells began to ring from all the churches in town, calling the people to vespers. The sounds tumbled in the spring wind, hovering over him in the turbulent air. No doubt she was on her way to Christ Church now, that holy witch. She would complain to God and the Virgin Mary and Saint Olav that she had been struck in the face by her husband. Erlend sent his wife’s guardian saints a greeting of sinful thoughts as the bells resounded and tolled and clanged. He headed toward Saint Gregor’s Church.
The graves of his parents lay in front of Saint Anna’s altar in the north aisle of the nave. As Erlend said his prayers, he noticed that Fru Sunniva Olavsdatter and her maid had entered the church portal. When he finished praying, he went over to greet her.
In all the years he had known Fru Sunniva, things had always been such between them that they could banter and jest quite freely whenever they met. On this evening, as they sat on the bench and waited for evensong to begin, he grew so bold that several times she had to remind him that they were in church, with people constantly coming in.
“Yes, yes,” said Erlend, “but you’re so lovely tonight, Sunniva! It’s wonderful to banter with a woman who has such gentle eyes.”
“You’re not worthy enough, Erlend Nikulauss?n, for me to look at you with gentle eyes,” she said, laughing.