Kristin said she thought it the worst misfortune that those villains had escaped. She hoped that God’s justice would find them and that for their deeds they might suffer their just deserts on the executioner’s block.
Then Naakkve began to talk about Eyvor’s father, how rich he was and how he was related to several respected families. Eyvor intended to send the child away to be raised in another parish. Gudmund Darre’s wife had given birth to a bastard child by a priest, and there sat Sigrid Andresdatter at Kruke, a good and honored woman. A man would have to be both hardhearted and unfair to pronounce Eyvor despoiled because against her will she had been forced to suffer such shame and misfortune; surely she was still fit to be the wife of an honorable man.
Kristin pitied the girl and cursed her assailants, and in her heart she gave thanks and exulted over what good luck it was that Naakkve would not come of age for three more years. Then she told him gently to bear in mind that he should be careful not to seek out Eyvor in her chamber late at night, as he had just done, or to show himself at Ulvsvold unless he had tasks for the landowner’s servants. Otherwise he might unwittingly cause people to gossip even worse about the unfortunate child. It was all well and good to say that those who claimed to doubt Eyvor’s word and refused to believe she had landed in this misfortune without blame, wouldn’t find him weak in the arms. All the same, it would be painful for the poor girl if there was more talk.
Three weeks later Eyvor’s father came to take his daughter home for a betrothal banquet and wedding. She was to marry a good farmer’s son from her parish. At first both fathers had opposed the marriage because they were feuding over several sections of land. In the winter the men had reached an agreement, and the two young people were about to be betrothed, but suddenly Eyvor had refused. She had set her heart on another man. Afterward she realized it was too late for her to reject her first suitor. In the meantime she went to visit her aunt in Sil, no doubt thinking that there she would receive help in concealing her shame, because she wanted to marry this new man. But when Hillebj?rg of Ulvsvold saw what condition the girl was in, she sent her back to her parents. The rumors were true enough—her father was furious and had struck his daughter several times, and she had indeed fled to Ulvsvold—but now he had come to an agreement with her first suitor, and Eyvor would have to settle for the man, no matter how little she liked it.
Kristin saw that Naakkve took this greatly to heart. For days he went around without saying a word, and his mother felt so sorry for him that she hardly dared cast a glance in his direction. If he met his mother’s eye, he would turn bright red and look so ashamed that it cut Kristin to the heart.
Whenever the servants at J?rundgaard started talking about these events, their mistress would tell them sharply to hold their tongues. That filthy story and that wretched woman were not to be mentioned in her house. Frida was astonished. So many times she had heard Kristin Lavransdatter speak with forbearance and offer help with both hands to a maiden who had fallen into such misfortune. Frida herself had twice found salvation in the compassion of her mistress. But the few words Kristin said about Eyvor Haakonsdatter were as vile as anything a woman might say about another.
Erlend laughed when she told him how badly Naakkve had been fooled. It was one evening when she was sitting out on the green, spinning, and her husband came over and stretched out on the grass at her side.
“No misfortune has come of it,” said Erlend. “Rather, it seems to me the boy has paid a small price to learn that a man shouldn’t trust a woman.”
“Is that so?” said his wife. Her voice quivered with stifled indignation.
“Yes,” said Erlend, smiling. “Now you, when I first met you, I thought you were such a gentle maiden that you would hardly even take a bite out of a slice of cheese. As pliable as a silk ribbon and as mild as a dove. But you certainly fooled me, Kristin.”
“How do you think things would have gone for all of us if I had been that soft and gentle?” she asked.
“No . . .” Erlend took her hands, and she had to stop working. He looked up at her with a radiant smile. Then he laid his head in her lap. “No, I didn’t know, my sweet, what good fortune God was granting me when He set you in my path, Kristin.”
But because she constantly had to restrain herself in order to hide her despair at Erlend’s perpetual nonchalance, her anger would sometimes overwhelm her when she had to reprimand her sons. Her fists would turn harsh, and her words fierce. Ivar and Skule felt the brunt of it.