Finally the old man said a little impatiently, “Have you just come here to bring me greetings, Kristin, and to see how I am? If so, that is most kind of you. But it seems to me that you have something on your mind, and if this is true, tell me about it now, and don’t waste time with idle talk.”
Kristin clasped her hands in her lap and lowered her eyes. “I’m so unhappy, Sira Eirik, that my husband is living up there at Haugen.”
“Surely the road isn’t any longer,” said the priest, “than that you can easily journey up there to talk to him and ask him to return home soon. He can’t have so much to do up there on such a small one-man farm that he should need to stay any longer.”
“I feel frightened when I think of him sitting alone up there in the winter nights,” said Kristin, shivering.
“Erlend Nikulauss?n is old enough and strong enough to look out for himself.”
“Sira Eirik . . . you know about everything that happened up there, back in the old days,” whispered Kristin, her voice barely audible.
The priest turned his dim old eyes toward her; once they had been coal-black, sharp, and gleaming. He didn’t say a word.
“Surely you must have heard what people say,” she continued, speaking in the same low voice. “That the dead . . . still haunt the place.”
“Do you mean you don’t dare seek him out because of that? Or are you afraid the ghosts might break your husband’s neck? If they haven’t done it by now, Kristin, then no doubt they’ll let him stay there in peace.” The priest laughed harshly. “It’s mostly just ignorance—heathen nonsense and superstition—when people start gossiping about ghosts and the return of dead men. I fear there are stern guards at the door, in that place where Herr Bj?rn and Fru Aashild now find themselves.”
“Sira Eirik,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “do you believe there is no salvation for those two poor souls?”
“God forbid that I should dare judge the limits of His mercy. But I can’t imagine that those two could have managed to settle their debts so quickly; all the slates the two of them have had a hand in carving have not yet been presented: her children, whom she abandoned, and the two of you, who took lessons from the wise woman. If I thought that it might help, so that some of the misdeeds she committed could be rectified . . . but since Erlend is living up there, God must not think it would be of any benefit for his aunt to reappear and warn him. For we know that it is through the grace of God and the compassion of Our Lady and the intercessionary prayers of the Church that a poor soul may be allowed to return to this world from the fires of purgatory if his sin is such that it can be absolved with the help of someone who is alive and in this manner shorten his time of torment. Such was the case with the wretched soul who moved the boundary between Hov and Jarpstad, or the farmer in Musudal with the false documents about the millstream. But souls cannot leave the fires of purgatory unless they have a lawful errand. It’s mostly nonsense what people say about ghosts and phantoms or the mirages of the Devil, which disappear like smoke if you protect yourself with the sign of the cross and the name of the Lord.”
“But what about the blessed ones who are with God, Sira Eirik?” she asked softly.
“You know quite well that the holy ones who are with God can be sent out to bring gifts and messages from Paradise.”
“I once told you that I saw Brother Edvin Rikardss?n,” she said in the same tone of voice.
“Yes, either it was a dream—and it might have been sent by God or one of his guardian angels—or else the monk is a holy man.”
Shivering, Kristin whispered, “My father . . . Sira Eirik, I have prayed so often that I might be allowed to see his face one more time. I long so fervently to see him, Sira Eirik. And perhaps I might be able to tell from his expression what he wants me to do. If my father could give me advice in that way . . .” She had to bite her lip, and she used a corner of her wimple to brush away the tears that had welled up.
The priest shook his head.
“Pray for his soul, Kristin—although I’m convinced that Lavrans and your mother have long ago found solace with those from whom they sought comfort for all the sorrows they endured here on earth. And certainly Lavrans still holds you firmly in his love there too, but your prayers and the masses said for his soul will bind you and all the rest of us to him. How this occurs is one of the secret things that are difficult to fathom, but I have no doubt that this is a better way than if he should be disturbed in his peace to come here and appear before you.”