“No, Gaute is so well that I’ve never seen him look better. But his men were tired . . .”
He blew at the foam on the ale bowl that Kristin handed to him, then took a swallow and praised the brew.
“Good ale should be given to the one who brings good news,” said the mistress with a smile.
“Well, I wonder what you’ll say when you’ve heard all of my news,” he remarked rather diffidently. “He did not return alone this time, your son . . .”
Kristin stood there waiting.
“He has brought along . . . well, she’s the daughter of Helge of Hovland. He has apparently taken this—this maiden . . . taken her by force from her father.”
Kristin still said nothing. But she sat down on the bench across from him. Her lips were narrow and pressed tight.
“Gaute asked me to come here; I suppose he was afraid you wouldn’t be pleased. He asked me to tell you the news, and now I’ve done so,” concluded Sir Sigurd faintly.
“You must tell me everything you know about this matter, Sigurd,” said Kristin calmly.
Sir Sigurd did as she asked, in a vague and disjointed way, with a great deal of roundabout talk. He himself seemed to be quite horrified by Gaute’s action. But from his account Kristin discerned that Gaute had met the maiden in Bj?rgvin the year before. Her name was Jofrid, and no, she had not been abducted. But Gaute had probably realized that it would do no good to speak to the maiden’s kinsmen about marriage. Helge of Hovland was a very wealthy man and belonged to the lineage known as Duk, with estates all over Voss. And then the Devil had tempted the two young people. . . . Sir Sigurd tugged at his clothing and scratched his head, as if he were swarming with lice.
Then, this past summer—when Kristin thought that Gaute was at Sundbu and was going to accompany Sir Sigurd into the mountain pastures to hunt for two vicious bears—he had actually journeyed over the heights and down to Sogn; Jofrid was staying there with a married sister. Helge had three daughters and no sons. Sigurd groaned in distress; yes, he had promised Gaute to keep silent about this. He knew the boy must be going to see a maiden, but he had never dreamed that Gaute was thinking of doing anything so foolish.
“Yes, my son is going to have to pay dearly for this,” replied Kristin. Her face was impassive and calm.
Sigurd said that winter had now set in for good, and the roads were nearly impassable. After the men of Hovland had had time to think things over, perhaps they would see . . . It was best if Gaute won Jofrid with the consent of her kinsmen—now that she was already his.
“But what if they don’t see things that way? And demand revenge for abducting a woman?”
Sir Sigurd squirmed and scratched even more.
“I suppose it’s an unredeemable offense,”2 he said quietly. “I’m not quite certain . . .”
Kristin did not reply.
Then Sir Sigurd continued, his voice imploring, “Gaute said . . . He expected that you would welcome them kindly. He said that surely you are not so old that you’ve forgotten . . . Well, he said that you won the husband you insisted on having—do you understand?”
Kristin nodded.
“She’s the fairest child I have ever seen in my life, Kristin,” said Sigurd fervently. Tears welled up in his eyes. “It’s terrible that the Devil has lured Gaute into this misdeed, but surely you will receive these two poor children with kindness, won’t you?”
Kristin nodded again.
The countryside was sodden the next day, pallid and black under torrents of rain when Gaute rode into the courtyard around mid afternoon prayers.
Kristin felt a cold sweat on her brow as she leaned against the doorway. There stood Gaute, lifting down from her horse a woman dressed in a hooded black cloak. She was small in build, barely reaching up to his shoulders. Gaute tried to take her hand to lead her forward, but she pushed him away and came to meet Kristin alone. Gaute busied himself talking to the servants and giving orders to the men who had accompanied him. Then he cast another glance at the two women standing in front of the door; Kristin was holding both hands of the newly arrived girl. Gaute rushed over to them with a joyful greeting on his lips. In the entryway Sir Sigurd put his arm around his shoulder and gave him a fatherly pat, huffing and puffing after the strain.
Kristin was taken by surprise when the girl lifted her face, so white and so lovely inside the drenched hood of her cloak. And she was so young and as small as a child.
Then the girl said, “I do not expect to be welcomed by you, Gaute’s mother, but now all doors have been closed to me except this one. If you will tolerate my presence here on the manor, mistress, then I will never forget that I arrived here without property or honor, but with good intentions to serve you and Gaute, my lord.”