“Yes, it would be best if you took after Lavrans, both in temperament and appearance. And yet it would be a shame if they married you to someone up here in the valley. Farming customs and the ways of smallholders should not be disdained, but these gentry up here all think they’re so grand that their equals are not to be found in all of Norway. I’m sure they wonder how I can manage to live and prosper even though they’ve closed their doors to me. But they’re lazy and arrogant and refuse to learn new ways—and then they blame everything on the old enmity with the monarchy in the time of King Sverre.1 It’s all a lie—your ancestor reconciled with King Sverre and accepted gifts from him. But if your mother’s brother wanted to serve the king and join his retinue, then he would have to cleanse himself, both inside and out, which is not something Trond is willing to do. But you, Kristin, you ought to marry a man who is both chivalrous and courtly…”
Kristin sat staring down at the Formo courtyard, at Arne’s red back. She hadn’t been aware of it herself, but whenever Fru Aashild talked about the world she had frequented in the past, Kristin always pictured the knights and counts in Arne’s image. Before, when she was a child, she had always envisioned them in her father’s image.
“My nephew, Erlend Nikulauss?n of Husaby—now he would have been a suitable bridegroom for you. He has grown up to be so handsome, that boy. My sister Magnhild came to visit me last year when she was on her way through the valley, and she brought her son along with her. Well, you won’t be able to marry him, of course, but I would have gladly spread the blanket over the two of you in the wedding bed. His hair is as dark as yours is fair, and he has beautiful eyes. But if I know my brother-in-law, he has already set his sights on a better match for Erlend than you would be.”
“Does that mean I’m not a good match, then?” asked Kristin with surprise. She was never offended by anything Fru Aashild said, but she felt embarrassed and chagrined that Fru Aashild might be somehow better than her own family.
“Yes, of course you’re a good match,” said Fru Aashild. “And yet you couldn’t expect to become part of my lineage. Your ancestor here in Norway was an outlaw and a foreigner, and the Gjeslings have sat moldering away on their estates for such a long time that almost no one remembers them outside of this valley. But my sister and I married the nephews of Queen Margret Skulesdatter.”
Kristin didn’t even think to object that it was not her ancestor but his brother who had come to Norway as an outlaw. She sat and gazed out over the dark mountain slopes across the valley, and she remembered that day, many years ago, when she went up onto the ridge and saw how many mountains there were between her own village and the rest of the world. Then Fru Aashild said they ought to head home, and she asked Kristin to call for Arne. Kristin put her hands up to her mouth and shouted and then waved her kerchief until she saw the red speck down in the courtyard turn and wave back.
Some time later Fru Aashild returned home, but during the fall and the first part of winter she often came to J?rundgaard to spend a few days with Ulvhild. The child was now taken out of bed in the daytime, and they tried to get her to stand on her own, but her legs crumpled beneath her whenever she tried it. She was fretful, pale, and tired, and the laced garment that Fru Aashild had made for her from horsehide and slender willow branches plagued her terribly; all she wanted to do was lie in her mother’s lap. Ragnfrid was constantly holding her injured daughter, so Tordis was now in charge of all the housekeeping. At her mother’s request, Kristin accompanied Tordis, to help and to learn.
Kristin sometimes longed for Fru Aashild, who occasionally would talk to her a great deal, but at other times Kristin would wait in vain for a word beyond the casual greeting as Fru Aashild came and went.
Instead, Fru Aashild would sit with the grown-ups and talk. That was always what happened when she brought her husband along with her, for now Bj?rn Gunnars?n also came to J?rundgaard. One day in the fall, Lavrans had ridden over to Haugen to take Fru Aashild payment for her doctoring: the best silver pitcher and matching platter they owned. He had stayed the night and afterward had high praise for their farm. He said it was beautiful and well tended, and not as small as people claimed. Inside the buildings everything looked prosperous, and the customs of the house were as courtly as those of the gentry in the south of the country. What Lavrans thought of Bj?rn he didn’t say, but he always received the man courteously when Bj?rn accompanied his wife to J?rundgaard. On the other hand, Lavrans was exceedingly fond of Fru Aashild, and he believed that most of what people said about her was a lie. He also said that twenty years earlier she would hardly have required witchcraft to bind a man to her—she was sixty now but still looked young, and she had a most appealing and charming manner.