He continued to talk to his mother in this manner, consoling her with a wisdom and strength of spirit that seemed far beyond his years.
That evening Naakkve came to Kristin and asked to speak with her alone. Then he told her that he and Bj?rgulf intended to enter the holy brotherhood and to take the vows of monks at Tautra.
Kristin was dismayed, but Naakkve kept on talking, quite calmly. They would wait until Gaute had come of age and could lawfully act on behalf of his mother and younger siblings. They wanted to enter the monastery with as much property as was befitting the sons of Erlend Nikulauss?n of Husaby, but they also wanted to ensure the welfare of their brothers. From their father the sons of Erlend had inherited nothing of value that was worth mentioning, but the three who were born before Gunnulf Niku lauss?n had entered the cloister owned several shares of estates in the north. He had made these gifts to his nephews when he dispersed his wealth, although most of what he hadn’t given to the Church or for ecclesiastical use he had left to his brother. And since Naakkve and Bj?rgulf would not demand their full share of the inheritance, it would be a great relief to Gaute, who would then become the head of the family and carry on the lineage, if the two of them were dead to the world, as Naakkve put it.
Kristin felt close to fainting. Never had she dreamed that Naakkve would consider a monk’s life. But she did not protest; she was too overwhelmed. And she didn’t dare try to dissuade her sons from such a noble and meaningful enterprise.
“Back when we were boys and were staying with the monks up there in the north, we promised each other that we would never be parted,” said Naakkve.
His mother nodded; she knew that. But she had thought their intention was for Bj?rgulf to continue to live with Naakkve, even after the older boy was married.
It seemed to Kristin almost miraculous that Bj?rgulf, as young as he was, could bear his misfortune in such a manly fashion. Whenever she spoke to him of it, during that spring, she heard nothing but god-fearing and courageous words from his lips. It seemed to her incomprehensible, but it must be because he had realized for many years that this would be the outcome of his failing eyesight, and he must have been preparing his soul ever since the time he had stayed with the monks.
But then she had to consider what a terrible burden this unfortunate child of hers had endured—while she had paid so little heed as she went about absorbed with her own concerns. Now, whenever she had a moment to herself, Kristin Lavransdatter would slip away and kneel down before the picture of the Virgin Mary up in the loft or before her altar in the north end of the church when it was open. Lamenting with all her heart, she would pray with humble tears for the Savior’s gentle Mother to serve as Bj?rgulf’s mother in her stead and to offer him all that his earthly mother had left undone.
One summer night Kristin lay awake in bed. Naakkve and Bj?rg ulf had moved back into the high loft room, but Gaute was sleeping downstairs with Lavrans because Naakkve had said that the older brothers wanted to practice keeping vigil and praying. She was just about to fall asleep at last when she was awakened by someone walking quietly along the gallery of the loft. She heard a stumbling on the stairs and recognized the blind man’s gait.
He must be going out on some errand, she thought, but all the same she got up and began looking for her clothes. Then she heard a door flung open upstairs, and someone raced down the steps, taking them two or three at a time.
Kristin ran to the entryway and out the door. The fog was so thick outside that only the buildings directly across the courtyard could be glimpsed. Up by the manor gate Bj?rgulf was furiously struggling to free himself from his brother’s grasp.
“Do you lose anything,” cried the blind man, “if you’re rid of me? Then you’ll be released from all your oaths . . . and you won’t have to be dead to this world.”
Kristin couldn’t hear what Naakkve said in reply. She ran barefoot through the soaking wet grass. By this time Bj?rgulf had pulled free; suddenly, as if struck down, he fell upon the boulder by the gate and began beating it with his fists.
Naakkve saw his mother and took a few swift steps in her direction. “Go inside, Mother. I can handle this best alone. You must go inside, I tell you,” he whispered urgently, and then he turned around and went back to lean over his brother.
Their mother remained standing some distance away. The grass was drenched with moisture, water was dripping from all the eaves, and drops were trickling from every leaf; it had rained all day, but now the clouds had descended as a thick white fog. When her sons headed back after a while—Naakkve had taken Bj?rgulf by the arm and was leading him—Kristin retreated to the entryway door.