No, Father, I will not be impatient. I too have sinned greatly toward my husband.
On the evening of Holy Cross Day Kristin was sitting at the table with her house servants and seemed much the same as usual. But when her sons had gone up to the high loft to sleep, she quietly called Ulf Haldorss?n to her side. She asked him to go down to Isrid at the farm and ask her to come up to her mistress in the old weaving room.
Ulf said, “You must send word to Ranveig at Ulvsvold and to Haldis, the priest’s sister, Kristin. It would be most fitting if you sent for Astrid and Ingebj?rg of Loptsgaard to take charge of the room.”
“There’s no time for that,” said Kristin. “I felt the first pangs just before midafternoon prayers. Do as I say, Ulf. I want only my own maids and Isrid at my side.”
“Kristin,” said Ulf somberly, “don’t you see what vile gossip may come of this if you creep into hiding tonight.”
Kristin let her arms fall heavily onto the table. She closed her eyes.
“Then let them talk, whoever wants to talk! I can’t bear to see the eyes of those other women around me tonight.”
The next morning her big sons sat in silence, their eyes lowered, as Munan talked on and on about the little brother he had seen in his mother’s arms over in the weaving room. Finally Bj?rgulf said that he didn’t need to talk anymore about that.
Kristin lay in bed, merely listening; she felt as if she never slept so soundly that she wasn’t listening and waiting.
She got out of bed on the eighth day, but the women who were with her could tell that she wasn’t well. She was freezing, and then waves of heat would wash over her. On one day the milk would pour from her breasts and soak her clothes; the next day she didn’t have enough to give the child his fill. But she refused to go back to bed. She never let the child out of her arms; she never put him in the cradle. At night she would take him to bed with her; in the daytime she carried him around, sitting at the hearth with him, sitting on her bed, listening and waiting and staring at her son, although at times she didn’t seem to see him or to hear that he was crying. Then she would abruptly wake up. She would hold the boy in her arms and walk back and forth in the room with him. With her cheek pressed against his, she would hum softly to him, then sit down and place him to her breast, and sit there staring at him as she had before, her face as hard as stone.
One day when the boy was almost six weeks old, and the mother had not yet taken a single step across the threshold of the weaving room, Ulf Haldorss?n and Skule came in. They were dressed for travel.
“We’re riding north to Haugen now, Kristin,” said Ulf. “There has to be an end to this matter.”
Kristin sat mute and motionless, with the boy at her breast. At first she didn’t seem to comprehend. All of a sudden she jumped up, her face flushed blood red. “Do as you like. If you’re longing for your proper master, I won’t hold you back. It would be best if you drew your earnings now; then you won’t need to come back here for them later.”
Ulf began cursing fiercely. Then he looked at the woman standing there with the infant clutched to her bosom. He pressed his lips together and fell silent.
But Skule took a step forward. “Yes, Mother, I’m riding up to see Father now. If you’re forgetting that Ulf has been a foster father to all of us children, then you should at least remember that you can’t command and rule me as if I were a servant or an infant.”
“Can’t I?” Kristin struck him a blow to the ear so the boy staggered. “I think I can command and rule all of you as long as I give you food and clothing. Get out!” she shrieked, stomping her foot.
Skule was furious. But Ulf said quietly, “It’s better this way, my boy, better for her to be unreasonable and angry than to see her sitting and staring as if she had lost her wits to grief.”
Gunhild, her maid, came running after them. They were to come at once to see her mistress in the weaving room. She wanted to talk to them and to all her sons. In a curt, sharp voice, Kristin asked Ulf to ride down to Breidin to speak with a man who had leased two cows from her. He should take the twins along with him, and there was no need to return home until the next day. She sent Naakkve and Gaute up to the mountain pastures. She wanted them to go to Illmanddal to see to the horse paddock there. And on their way up they were to stop by to see Bj?rn, the tar-burner and Isrid’s son, and ask him to come to J?rundgaard that evening. It would do no good for them to object since tomorrow was the Sabbath.