“I heard that the boy in Meldal got well,” said Lavrans quietly.
“He was the only child of a poor widow, and there was no one to feed or clothe him when the mother passed away, except the village. And yet the woman only asked that God give her a fearless heart so that she might have faith that He would let happen whatever was best for the boy. I did nothing more than pray alongside her.”
“It’s not easy for Ragnfrid and me to be content with that,” said Lavrans gloomily. “Especially since she’s so pretty and so good.”
“Have you seen the child they have over in Lidstad, in the south of the valley?” asked the monk. “Would you rather your daughter were like that?”
Lavrans shuddered and pressed the child close.
“Don’t you think,” Brother Edvin went on, “that in God’s eyes we are all like children for whom He has reason to grieve, crippled as we are by sin? And yet we don’t think that things are the worst in the world for us.”
He walked over to the painting of the Virgin Mary on the wall, and everyone knelt down as he said the evening prayer. They felt that Brother Edvin had offered them great comfort.
But after he had left the house to find his sleeping place, Astrid, who was in charge of all the maids, vigorously swept the floor everywhere the monk had stood and hastily threw the sweepings into the fire.
The next morning Kristin got up early, put some milk porridge and wheat cakes into a lovely red-flecked bowl made from birch roots—for she knew that the monk never touched meat—and took the food out to him. No one else in the house was awake yet.
Brother Edvin was standing on the ramp to the cowshed, ready to leave, with his staff and bag in hand. With a smile he thanked Kristin for her trouble and sat down in the grass and ate, while Kristin sat at his feet.
Her little white dog came running over to them, making the tiny bells on his collar ring. Kristin pulled the dog onto her lap, and Brother Edvin snapped his fingers, tossing little bits of wheat cake into the dog’s mouth, as he praised the animal.
“It’s the same breed that Queen Eufemia brought over to Norway,” he said. “Everything is so splendid here at J?rundgaard now.”
Kristin blushed with pleasure. She knew the dog was particularly fine, and she was proud to own him. No one else in the village had a pet dog. But she hadn’t known that he was of the same type as the queen’s pet dogs.
“Simon Andress?n sent him to me,” she said, hugging the dog as he licked her face. “His name is Kortelin.”
She had planned to speak to the monk about her uneasiness and ask for his advice. But now she had no wish to spend any more time on her thoughts of the night before. Brother Edvin believed that God would do what was best for Ulvhild. And it was generous of Simon to send her such a gift even before their betrothal had been formally acknowledged. She refused to think about Arne—he had behaved badly toward her, she thought.
Brother Edvin picked up his staff and bag and asked Kristin to give his greetings to the others; he wouldn’t wait for everyone to wake up, but would set off while the day was cool. She walked with him up past the church and a short way into the grove.
When they parted, he offered her God’s peace and blessed her.
“Give me a few words, as you did for Ulvhild, dear Father,” begged Kristin as she stood with her hand in his.
The monk poked his bare foot, knotty with rheumatism, in the wet grass.
“Then I would impress upon your heart, my daughter, that you should pay close attention to the way God tends to the welfare of the people here in the valley. Little rain falls, but He has given you water from the mountains, and the dew refreshes the meadows and fields each night. Thank God for the good gifts He has given you, and don’t complain if you think you are lacking something else that you think would be beneficial. You have beautiful golden hair, so do not fret because it isn’t curly. Haven’t you heard about the woman who sat and wept because she had only a little scrap of pork to give to her seven hungry children for Christmas dinner? Saint Olav came riding past at that very moment. Then he stretched out his hand over the meat and prayed to God to feed the poor urchins. But when the woman saw that a slaughtered pig lay on the table, she began to cry because she didn’t have enough bowls and pots.”
Kristin ran off toward home, and Kortelin danced around at her feet as he nipped at her clothing and barked, making all his tiny silver bells ring.
CHAPTER 6
ARNE WAS HOME at Finsbrekken for the last time before he left for Hamar. His mother and sisters were outfitting him with clothes.