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The Wreath (Kristin Lavransdatter #1)(91)

Author:Sigrid Undset

“No, I say, no! You shall never be part of that family as long as my head is above ground.”

Kristin covered her face with her hands and burst into tears. “Then I’ll pray to God night and day, night and day, to take me away from here if you won’t change your mind!”

“It’s useless to discuss this any more tonight,” said her father, aggrieved. “You may not believe it, but I must watch over you in such a way that I can answer for the consequences. Go to bed now, child.”

He held out his hand to her, but she refused to acknowledge it and went sobbing out of the room.

The parents sat for a moment in silence.

Then Lavrans said to his wife, “Would you mind bringing some ale over here? No, bring some wine. I’m tired.”

Ragnfrid did as he asked. When she returned with the tall goblet, her husband was sitting with his face in his hands. He looked up, and then stroked his hands over the wimple covering her head and down along her arms.

“Poor thing, now you’ve gotten wet. Drink a toast to me, Ragnfrid.”

She placed the goblet to her lips.

“No, drink with me,” said Lavrans vehemently, pulling his wife down onto his lap. Reluctantly she yielded to him.

Lavrans said, “You’ll stand behind me in this matter, won’t you, my wife? It will be best for Kristin if she realizes from the very start that she must put this man out of her mind.”

“It will be hard for the child,” said Ragnfrid.

“Yes, I know that,” replied Lavrans.

They sat in silence for a while, and then Ragnfrid asked, “What does he look like, this Erlend of Husaby?”

“Oh,” said Lavrans, hesitating, “he’s a handsome fellow—in a way. But he doesn’t look as if he were much good for anything but seducing women.”

They were silent again for a while, and then Lavrans went on, “He has handled the great inheritance he received from Sir Nikulaus in such a way that it is much reduced. I haven’t struggled and striven to protect my children for a son-in-law like that.”

Ragnfrid paced the floor nervously.

Lavrans went on, “I was most displeased by the fact that he tried to bribe Kolbein with silver—he was supposed to carry a secret letter from Erlend to Kristin.”

“Did you look at the letter?” asked Ragnfrid.

“No, I didn’t want to,” said Lavrans crossly. “I tossed it back to Sir Munan and told him what I thought of such behavior. He had put his seal on it too; I don’t know what to make of such childish pranks. Sir Munan showed me the seal—said it was King Skule’s privy seal that Erlend had inherited from his father. He thought I ought to realize that it’s a great honor that they would ask for my daughter. But I don’t think that Sir Munan would have presented this matter on Erlend’s behalf with such great warmth if he hadn’t realized that, with this man, the power and honor of the Husaby lineage—won in the days of Sir Nikulaus and Sir Baard—are now in decline. Erlend can no longer expect to make the kind of marriage that was his birthright.”

Ragnfrid stopped in front of her husband.

“I don’t know whether you’re right about this matter or not, my husband. First I ought to mention that, in these times, many a man on the great estates has had to settle for less power and honor than his father before him. You know quite well yourself that it’s not as easy for a man to gain wealth, whether from the land or through commerce, as it was before.”

“I know, I know,” interrupted her husband impatiently. “All the more reason to handle with caution what one has inherited.”

But his wife continued. “There is also this: It doesn’t seem to me that Kristin would be an unequal match for Erlend. In Sweden your lineage is among the best; your grandfather and your father bore the title of knight in this country. My distant ancestors were barons, son after father for many hundreds of years down to Ivar the Old; my father and my grandfather were sheriffs of the county. It’s true that neither you nor Trond has acquired a title or land from the Crown. But I think it could be said that things are no different for Erlend Nikulauss?n than for the two of you.”

“It’s not the same thing,” said Lavrans vehemently. “Power and a knight’s title lay just within reach for Erlend, and he turned his back on them for the sake of whoring. But I see now that you’re against me too. Maybe you think, like Aasmund and Trond, that it’s an honor for me that these noblemen want my daughter to be one of their kinswomen.”

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