It was after sunset, and a fine white frosty mist rose up toward the golden-green sky. With every hoofbeat Kristin heard the brittle sound of evening ice as it shattered and then dispersed with a rattling sound. But in the twilight, from the thickets along the road, came a jubilant birdsong, soft and full of spring.
Kristin rode briskly down the road without thinking about much of anything, simply feeling how good it was to be outside alone. She rode with her gaze fixed on the new moon, which was about to sink behind the mountain ridge on the other side of the valley. She almost fell off her horse when the animal abruptly swerved to the side and then reared up.
She saw a dark body curled up at the edge of the road. At first she was afraid. The dire fear of meeting someone alone out on the road never left her. But she thought it might be a wanderer who had fallen ill, so when she had regained control of her horse, she turned around and rode back as she called out, “Is anyone there?”
The bundle stirred a bit and a voice said, “I think it must be you, Kristin Lavransdatter.”
“Brother Edvin?” she asked softly. She almost thought it was a phantom or some kind of deviltry that was trying to fool her. But she went over to him, and it was the old man after all, but he couldn’t get up without help.
“My dear Father, are you out here wandering at this time of year?” she asked in astonishment.
“Praise be to God for sending you this way tonight,” said the monk. Kristin noticed that he was shivering all over. “I was on my way north to visit you, but I could go no farther tonight. I almost thought it was God’s will that I should lie here and die on the roads where I’ve roamed and slept all my life. But I would have liked to receive absolution and the last rites. And I wanted to see you again, my daughter.”
Kristin helped the monk up onto her horse and then led it by the bridle as she supported him. In between his protests that she was getting her feet wet in the icy slush, he moaned softly in pain.
He told her that he had been at Eyabu since Christmas; some wealthy farmers in the village had promised during the bad year to furnish their church with new adornments. But his work had gone slowly; he had been ill during the winter. There was something wrong with his stomach that made him vomit blood, and he couldn’t tolerate food. He didn’t think he had long to live, so he was headed home to his cloister; he wanted to die there, among his brothers. But he had set his mind on coming north through the valley one last time, and so he had accompanied the monk from Hamar when he traveled north to become the new resident priest at the pilgrim hostel in Roaldstad. From Fron he had gone on alone.
“I heard that you were betrothed,” he said, “to that man… And then I had such a yearning to see you. I felt so anguished that our meeting in the church at the cloister should be our last. It’s been weighing so heavy on my heart, Kristin, that you had strayed from the path of peace.”
Kristin kissed the monk’s hand and said, “I don’t understand, Father, what I have done to deserve your willingness to show me such great love.”
The monk replied quietly, “I have often thought, Kristin, that if it had been possible for us to meet more often, you might have become my spiritual daughter.”
“Do you mean you would have guided me so that I turned my heart to the convent life?” asked Kristin. After a pause she went on. “Sira Eirik impressed on me that if I couldn’t win my father’s consent to marry Erlend, then I would have to enter a holy sisterhood and do penance for my sins.”
“I have often prayed that you might have a yearning for the convent life,” said Brother Edvin, “but not since you told me what you know. I wish that you could have come to God with your wreath, Kristin.”
When they reached J?rundgaard, Brother Edvin had to be carried inside and put to bed. They put him in the old winter house, in the hearth room, and made him as comfortable as they could. He was very ill, and Sira Eirik came and tended to him with medicaments for his body and soul. But the priest said that the old man was suffering from cancer, and that he didn’t have long to live. Brother Edvin himself thought that when he had regained some of his strength he would head south again and try to make it back to his cloister. Sira Eirik told the others that he didn’t believe this was likely.
Everyone at J?rundgaard felt that great peace and joy had come to them with the monk. People went in and out of the hearth room all day long, and it was never difficult to find someone willing to keep vigil over the sick man at night. They flocked around him, as many as could find the time to sit and listen when Sira Eirik came and read to the dying man from the holy books; and they talked with Brother Edvin about spiritual matters. And even though much of what he said was vague and obscure, as was his manner of speaking, the people seemed to draw strength and comfort for their souls, because everyone could see that Brother Edvin was filled with his love for God.