The Axe (20 page)

One thing was certain: since Olav and Ingunn had given themselves to each other in the belief that they were fulfilling a marriage agreement, neither of them was now free to marry anyone else. Equally certain was it that such a wedding was against the law of the land and the commandments of the Church, and the woman had forfeited her right to dowry, inheritance, and support of kinsfolk for herself and her child or children, if it should prove that she had conceived. But from the man her sponsors could claim fines for his infringement of their rights—and both were under an obligation to do penance to the Church for not having kept her commandments as to the proclamation of banns and the due celebration of matrimony.

But now the Bishop bade the woman’s uncles remember that Olav and Ingunn were very childish, ignorant, and unlearned in the law, and that they had grown up in the belief that they were destined to be married. Tore Bring of Vik and two good franklins besides had deposed before him, the Bishop, that Steinfinn Toresson had handselled his child Ingunn to Audun Ingolfsson as a wife for Audun’s son—they would make oath of this on the book. And Arnvid testified that just before his death Steinfinn had spoken of the agreement to Olav and said it was his wish that it should hold good. Therefore he asked Ingunn’s kinsmen to accept atonement on such terms as might be agreeable to all: that Olav and Ingunn should fall at the feet of the Toressons and beg their forgiveness, and that Olav should make amends for his self-willed conduct according to the judgment of impartial men. But, this being done, Bishop Torfinn deemed that it would best become the Toressons if they were reconciled to Olav as good Christians and great-minded men—let him possess the woman with such dowry that the affinity would bring no shame to themselves, and Olav would suffer no disgrace in his native place for having made a marriage that did not add to his power and fortune. Finally the Bishop bade the brothers bear in mind that it is a good deed and specially pleasing in the eyes of God to care for fatherless children, but that to deprive such of their rights is one of the worst of sins, a sin that cries aloud for vengeance even here on earth—and it was the dead man’s wish that their children should be given to each other in marriage.

But if it were as they sought to prove, that Olav and Ingunn had never been affianced in legal wise, and they could not agree
with Olav’s guardians on the course to adopt, then it was clear that they must bring a suit for fornication against the lad. And in that case the Bishop would hand Ingunn over to them, that they might punish her as they thought she deserved and divide her part of the inheritance among her brothers and sister, and afterwards her kinsmen would have to support her as seemed fit to them. But he himself would cause it to be published in all the bishoprics of Norway that these two were not free to marry any others, so long as both were alive—lest any third party, man or woman, might fall into the sin of adultery by taking a husband or a wife who was already bound in wedlock according to God’s ordinances.

This last hit the mark, both Arnvid and Asbjörn thought. Neither of the uncles had a mind to receive Ingunn if they were to feed her and could never get her married off. Kolbein spoke at length to the effect that Olav Audunsson had well known how he and his brother regarded the betrothal and that they intended to dispose of Ingunn in another way; but he promised at the last that for the Bishop’s sake he would make atonement with Olav. As to the conditions, however, he would say nothing until all was made plain about the old agreement and he had made tryst with Ingolf Helgesson of Tveit or whichever of Olav’s kinsmen it might be who had authority to act on the boy’s behalf. The Bishop hinted that so much at least was certain, that
sponsalia de futuro
had been made at that time at the Thing, so if only the Toressons gave their consent to what was already accomplished, Olav could act for himself; and then they would surely find him very compliant. But to this Kolbein gave a flat no: they would not take advantage of the boy’s ignorance, but they claimed to deal with Olav’s kinsmen, that the case might end in honourable and seemly fashion for them and their kinswoman.

T
HE NEXT
evening Arnvid and Olav agreed to go down to the convent. Arnvid had promised the brothers a gift of wool, and Olav wished to speak to Brother Vegard about making confession to him one day. It was very dark outside, so they each took
a weapon. Olav had his axe, Kinfetch, which he carried whenever he had an opportunity.

When they came into the courtyard, they found it was later than they had thought; one of the monks, who had come out to look at the weather, said that the lay brother had already gone to ring the bell for complin. But Arnvid would fain have a word or two with Brother Helge. Ay, he would find him in the guestroom, said the monk. So they went thither.

The first they saw on entering were the sons of Kolbein and their cousin, Hallvard, with three other men; they sat on the inner bench, eating and drinking. Brother Helge and another monk stood on the outside, talking and laughing with them—the strangers were already very merry.

Olav stayed by the door while Arnvid went forward to Brother Helge. At that moment the convent bell began to ring.

“Sit down,” said Brother Helge, “and taste our ale; ’tis uncommon good this time—then I will ask leave of the Prior to go and visit you after service. Sit down meanwhile, Arnvid!”

“Olav is with me,” whispered Arnvid; he had to repeat it louder a couple of times, for Brother Helge was hard of hearing. When at last he understood, he went up to Olav and greeted him, bidding him sit down too and drink; and now the sons of Kolbein saw who was with Arnvid.

Olav answered the monk that he would rather go with him to the church and hear the singing, but Haftor Kolbeinsson called to him: “No, come here, Olav, and keep us company! We have not seen you since you were our brother-in-law. Come, Arnvid, sit down and drink!”

As Arnvid seated himself on the outer bench, Olav put away his axe and threw back his hood. As he came forward to take his seat. Einar clapped his hands together with a smile such as one gives to little children:

“Nay, how big you are grown, boy! Truly you begin to look like a married man already!”

“Oh, we were all as much married as Olav, I trow, when we were his age,” sneered Hallvard.

Olav had turned red as fire, but he smiled scornfully.

Brother Helge shook his head, but he gave a little laugh. Then he bade them keep the peace. Haftor answered that they would do that sure enough, and the monks went out. Olav followed them
with his eyes, murmuring that after all he was more minded to go to church.

“Oh no, Olav,” said Einar. “That is discourteous—you must not show so little zeal to make acquaintance with your wife’s kin-folk. Now let us drink,” he said; he took the bowl that the lay brother had placed on the table and drank to Olav.

“That was a heavy thirst you had on you,” said Olav under his breath. Einar was already half-drunken. Aloud he said: “Oh, acquainted we are already. And as to drinking to our closer kinship—methinks we could as well wait for that till I am agreed with your father.”

“It must be good enough when Father has agreed with the Bishop,” said Einar, bland as butter, “—since he has adopted you. But ’tis a fine thing to see young people so quick to learn: do you see now, sometimes it is proper to wait? They say Lord Torfinn was so eloquent on patience in his Advent preaching—is that where you learned your lesson?”

“Yes,” replied Olav. “But you know ’tis a new word to me, therefore I am so afraid I might forget it.”

“Be sure I shall remind you,” laughed Einar as before.

Again Olav made as though he would rise, but Arnvid pulled him back onto the seat.

“Is that how you keep your promise to the good brothers?” he said to Einar. “In this house we must keep the peace!”

“Nay, am I not peaceful? There is no harm in a little jesting among kinsfolk, kinsman!”

“I knew not that I was among kinsfolk,” muttered Arnvid with vexation.

“What say you?”

Arnvid did not own kinship with Tore of Hof’s offspring by Borghild, his leman. But he checked himself—turned his eyes upon the serving-men of the sons of Kolbein and upon the lay brother, who was listening inquisitively as he moved about.

“There are many here who are not kinsmen—”

Haftor Kolbeinsson told his brother to keep his mouth shut: “—though I think we all know Einar, all of us here, and are used to his teasing ways when he is in drink. But now, Olav, ’tis time you showed yourself a grown man—if you mean to set yourself up and play the master, it will not do to let yourself be provoked by Einar as when you were a little lad—crying with temper—”

“Crying—” Olav puffed with wrath; “I never did so! And playing the master—I trow there will be no play in it, when I go home and take over my property—”

“Nay, that’s sure,” said Haftor quietly.

Olav had a feeling that he had said something foolish; he turned scarlet again.

“ ’Tis the chief manor in that country, Hestviken. ’Tis the biggest farm in all the parish.”

“Nay, is it so?” said Haftor, imperturbably serious. “You will have much to answer for, young Olav—but you will be the man for it, sure enough. You know, brother-in-law, ’twill be worse with Ingunn, methinks. Can she cope with a mistress’s duties on a great farm like that, think you?”

“We shall find a way. My wife herself will have no need to drudge,” said Olav proudly.

“Nay, that’s sure,” said Haftor as before. “She is coming into great abundance, Ingunn, I see that.”

“Oh, that may be saying too much—though Hestviken is no such small place. The shipping and fishery are the main things.”

“Nay, is it so?” said Haftor. “Then you own much shipping too, down there in the Vik?”

Olav said: “I know not how it is with that—’tis so many years since I was at Hestviken. But in old days it was so. And now I mean to take it up again—I have followed Asbjörn Priest here and learned not a little of ships and trading.”

“Meseems you could not possibly want
that,”
said Einar with a smile. “With such great shipping as we saw you deal with—in Ingebjörg’s goose-pond.”

Olav rose and left the bench. They had only been making fun of him—Haftor too—he saw that.—That about shipping in the goose-pond was a game he had got up for Hallvard and Jon last summer, when the children of Frettastein were left so much to themselves.

“I cannot see that I demeaned myself in that,” he said hotly, “if I carved some little boats for the children; none could think I was playing myself—” then he heard how silly and childish this sounded, and stopped suddenly.

“Nay, ’tis true,” replied Einar; “that would be a very childish game for a boy who was already grown enough and bold enough to seduce their sister—’twas more manly work when you played
with Ingunn in the outhouse and got her with child in the barn-”

“ ’Tis a lie!” said Olav furiously. “The thrall’s blood shows in you, when you use such foul talk of your own kinswoman. I know naught of a child either—but if ’tis as you say, you need not be afraid we shall ask your father to bring it up. We know that it is not to his liking—”

“Be silent now,” said Arnvid; he had jumped up and gone to Olav’s side. “And do you shut your mouths too”—he turned to the others. “Man’s work, you said—do you call it man’s work, after Kolbein has accepted atonement, that you sit here snarling like dogs? But you, Olav, should have more respect for yourself than to let them egg you on to barking with them.”

But now the sons of Kolbein and Hallvard were on their feet—beside themselves with wrath at the last words Olav had spoken. Kolbein in his young days had freed himself by oath from the fathering of a child, but ill things had been said about the matter at the time, and as the boy grew up to manhood, ’twas thought he bore an ugly likeness to Kolbein.

“Hold your jaw yourself, Arnvid,” said Haftor—he was fairly sober. “ ’Tis true your share in this business is such that you had rather it were not talked about. But Olav must brook it, though I do not begrudge him atonement instead of the reward he deserves—he cannot expect us to embrace him as if he were
welcome
in our kin.”

“Nay,
welcome
to our kin you will never be, my Olav,” sneered Hallvard.

“Answer for yourselves, not for the kin,” said Arnvid. “If that were so, think you Kolbein would have offered Olav your sister Borghild to wife instead of Ingunn, Hallvard?”

“ ’Tis a lie!” shouted Hallvard.

“That may be,” answered Arnvid. “But he told me that he meant to do so.”

“Hold your jaw, Arnvid,” Einar began again; “we all know of your friendship for Olav—’twill do you no good if we inquire into
that
. You keep nothing from this minion of yours—not even your own childish kinswoman for his leman—”

Arnvid leaned threateningly toward the other. “Have a care of your mouth now, Einar!”

“Nay, devil take me if I care for a rotten clerk. ’Tis a fine story,
methinks, this friendship of yours for the lily-white boy. We have heard a tale or two, we have, of the kind of friendship you learn in the schools—”

Arnvid took Einar by both wrists and twisted them till the other fell on his knees with an oath and a groan of pain and rage. Then Haftor came between them.

The Kolbeinssons’ house-carls sat as before, seeming little minded to meddle in the quarrel between the masters. Einar Kolbeinsson got on his feet again and stood rubbing his hands and arms, swearing heartily below his breath.

Olav stood looking from one to the other. He did not understand it quite, but felt as though a hand squeezed at his heart: he had brought Arnvid into a worse slough than he had guessed; they fell upon his friend with grievous insults, flayed him mercilessly. It hurt him to look into Arnvid’s face, chiefly because he could not interpret what he saw in it. Then his anger flared up hotly, and all other feelings were burned up in its flame.