Kristin knew that what Bjarne Erlingss?n had said was not entirely untrue—it was in accordance with Simon’s own account of his journey to Tunsberg—and yet during all these years she had always thought of Erling Vidkunss?n with great bitterness; it seemed to her that he should have been able to help her husband attain better terms if he had wished to do so. Bjarne hadn’t been capable of much back then, as young as he was. But she wasn’t pleased that Skule had joined up with this man, and in an odd way it took her breath away that the twins had acted on their own and had set off into the world. They were no more than children, she thought.
After Jamm?lt’s visit the uneasiness of her mind grew so great that she hardly dared think at all. If it was true what the men said—that the prosperity and security of the people of the realm would increase beyond words if this small boy in Tunsberg Castle were now called Norway’s king—then they could have been enjoying this turn of events for almost ten years if Erlend hadn’t . . . No! She refused to think about that when she thought about the dead. But she couldn’t help it because she knew that in her sons’ eyes their father was magnificent and perfect, the most splendid warrior and chieftain, without faults or flaws. And she herself had thought, during all these years, that Erlend had been betrayed by his peers and wealthy kinsmen; her husband had suffered great injustice. But Naakkve went too far when he said that they had made him into fodder for the worms. She too bore her own heavy share of the blame, but it was mostly Erlend’s folly and his desperate obstinacy that had brought about his wretched death.
But no . . . all the same, she wasn’t pleased that Skule was now in the service of Bjarne Erlingss?n.
Would she ever live to see the day when she was released from the ceaseless torment of anguish and unrest? Oh Jesus, remember the anguish and grief that your own mother bore for your sake; have mercy on me, a mother, and give me comfort!
She felt uneasy even about Gaute. The boy had the makings of the most capable of farmers, but he was so impetuous in his eagerness to restore prosperity to his lineage. Naakkve gave him free rein, and Gaute had his hands in so many enterprises. With several other men of the parish he had now started up the old iron-smelting sites in the mountains. And he sold off far too much; he sold not only the goods from the land leases but also part of the yield from his own estate. All her days Kristin had been used to seeing full storerooms and stalls on her farm, and she grew a little cross with Gaute when he frowned in disapproval at the rancid butter and made fun of the ten-year-old bacon she had hung up. But she wanted to know that on her manor there would never be a shortage of food; she would never have to turn a poor man away unaided if years of drought should strike the countryside. And there would be nothing lacking when the time came for weddings and christening feasts and banquets to be held once again on the old estate.
Her ambitious hopes for her sons had been diminished. She would be content if they would settle down here in her parish. She could combine and exchange her properties in such a fashion that three of them could live on their own estates. And J?rundgaard, along with the portion of Laugarbru that lay on this side of the river, could feed three leaseholders. They might not be circumstances fit for noblemen, but they wouldn’t be poor folk either. Peace reigned in the valley; here little was heard about all the unrest among chieftains of the land. If this should be perceived as a decline in the power and prestige of their lineage . . . well, God would be able to further the interests of their descendants if He saw that it would be to their benefit. But surely it would be vain of her to hope that she might see them all gathered around her in this manner. It was unlikely they would settle down so easily, these sons of hers who had Erlend Nikulauss?n as their father.
During this time her soul found peace and solace whenever she let her thoughts dwell on the two children she had laid to rest up in the cemetery.
Every day, over the ensuing years, she had thought of them; as she watched children of the same age grow and thrive, she would wonder how her own would have looked by now.
As she went about her daily chores, just as diligent and hardworking as ever, but reticent and preoccupied, her dead children were always with her. In her dreams they grew older and flourished, and they turned out, in every way, to be exactly as she had wished. Munan was as loyal to his kinsmen as Naakkve, but he was as cheerful and talkative with his mother as Gaute was, and he never worried her with unwise impulses. He was as gentle and thoughtful as Lavrans, but Munan would tell his mother all the strange things he was pondering. He was as clever as Bj?rgulf, but no misfortune clouded his way through life, so his wisdom held no bitterness. He was as self-reliant, strong, and bold as the twins, but not as unruly or stubborn.