Simon accompanied her all the way up to the bridge, and as they walked, they exchanged only a few words about the weather and the farm work, repeating things they had already said back at the house. Simon said good night, but then he asked abruptly, “Do you know, Kristin, how I might have offended Gaute that the boy should be so angry with me?”
“Gaute?” she said in surprise.
“Yes, haven’t you noticed? He avoids me, but if he can’t help meeting me, he barely opens his mouth when I speak to him.”
Kristin shook her head. No, she hadn’t noticed, “unless you said something in jest and he took it wrong, child that he is.”
He heard in her voice that she was smiling; then he laughed a bit and said, “But I can’t remember anything of the sort.”
And with that he again bade her good night and left.
It was completely quiet at J?rundgaard. The main house was dark, with the ashes raked over the fire in the hearth. Bj?rgulf was awake and said that his father and brothers had left some time ago.
Over in the master’s bed Munan was sleeping alone. Kristin took him in her arms after she lay down.
It was so difficult to talk about it to Erlend when he didn’t seem to realize himself that he shouldn’t take the older boys and run off with them into the woods when there was more than enough work to be done on the estate.
That Erlend himself should walk behind a plow was not something she had ever expected. He probably wouldn’t be able to do a proper job of it either. And Ulf wouldn’t like it much if Erlend interfered in the running of the farm. But her sons could not grow up in the same way as their father had been allowed to do, learning to use weapons, hunting animals, and amusing himself with his horses or poring over a chessboard with a priest who would slyly attempt to cajole the knight’s son into acquiring a little knowledge of Latin and writing, of singing and the playing of stringed instruments. She had so few servants on the estate because she thought that her sons should learn even as children that they would have to become accustomed to farm work. It now looked doubtful that there would be any knighthood for Erlend’s sons.
But Gaute was the only one of the boys who had any inclination for farming. Gaute was a hard worker, but he was thirteen years old, and it could only be expected that he would rather go with his father when Erlend came and invited him to come along.
It was difficult to talk to Erlend about this because it was Kristin’s firm resolve that her husband should never hear from her a single word that he might perceive as a criticism of his behavior or a complaint over the fate that he had brought upon himself and his sons. That meant it wasn’t easy to make the father understand that his sons had to get used to doing the work themselves on their estate. If only Ulf would speak of it, she thought.
When they moved the livestock from the spring pastures up to H?vringen, Kristin went along up to the mountains. She didn’t want to take the twins with her. They would soon be eleven years old, and they were the most unruly and willful of her children; it was even harder for her to handle them because the two boys stuck together in everything. If she managed to get Ivar alone, he was good and obedient enough, but Skule was hot-tempered and stubborn. And when the brothers were together, Ivar said and did everything that Skule demanded.
CHAPTER 2
ONE DAY EARLY in the fall Kristin went outside about the time of midafternoon prayers. The herdsman had said that a short distance down the mountainside, if she followed the riverbed, there was supposed to be an abundance of mulleins on a cleared slope.
Kristin found the spot, a steep incline baking in the direct glare of the sun; it was the very best time for picking the flowers. They grew in thick clumps over the heaps of stones and around the gray stubble. Tall, pale yellow stalks, richly adorned with small open stars. Kristin set Munan to picking raspberries in among some brushwood from which he wouldn’t be able to escape without her help; she told the dog to stay with him and keep watch. Then she took out her knife and began cutting mulleins, constantly casting an eye at the little child. Lavrans stayed at her side and cut flowers too.
She was always fearful for her two small children in the mountains. Otherwise she was not afraid of the people up there anymore. Many had already gone home from the pastures, but she was thinking of staying until after the Feast of the Birth of Mary. It was pitch black at night now, and vile when the wind blew hard—vile if they had to go outside late at night. But the weather had been so fine up in the heights, while down below, the countryside was parched this year and the grazing was poor. The men would have to stay up in the mountains during both the late fall and winter, but her father had said that he had never noticed anyone haunting their high pastures during the winter.