Winter by Sigrid Undset

Author:Sigrid Undset [Undset, Sigrid]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC004000 FICTION / Classics, FIC014000 FICTION / Historical / General, FIC019000 FICTION / Literary
Publisher: University of Minnesota Press
Published: 2023-10-24T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

When Eirik went into the main hall, he found his father eating his meal, though he hadn’t yet taken off his hat or cloak. Eirik paused before speaking.

“Father, wouldn’t it be possible for you to reconcile with Jørund? It’s unbearable for Cecilia to see the two of you living here without ever exchanging a single word with each other.”

“Is she the one asking me about this matter?”

“Cecilia? No, how can you think such a thing? But you must see that—”

“Hmm. She doesn’t say much to me either—no more than is necessary. I think she sides with Jørund. And that must be for the best.”

Then Olav added, “We need to be patient, Eirik, and see how things go. I am loath to be the first to offer my hand in friendship. It’s not because I’m unwilling to forgive a foe. But Jørund? I’ve done it once before—yielded when he was in the wrong—so I fear that it won’t take long for him to try again.”

Eirik realized that it was no use. And what Olav said was true, after all. He would just have to wait.

A short time later Eirik saw Berse of Eiken when a ting was held in Haugsvik.

Berse was a gigantic, stout man with thick, silvery-white hair and beard. He had large, handsome features, but his face was scarred, and smallpox had left him blind in one eye. He was seated alone on the bench. Attired in a stately cotehardie, he looked as if he had the breasts of an old woman, and his stomach bulged over his knees.

Olav and Torgrim sat on the side bench, and for the first time it occurred to Eirik that there was definitely a big difference between seventy and fifty. His father looked small compared with Berse, yet in spite of the white hair and ravaged face, Olav appeared young and hardy, his back straight and his body firm. Torgrim, on the other hand, was lean and loose-limbed at fifty, with gray- and brown-flecked hair framing his lively, angular features. He seemed to Eirik to be nearer his own age.

Olav called for Eirik to join them.

Eirik stood before Berse and responded with courteous respect to the exceedingly solemn and dignified words that the old man spoke to him. After a moment Berse signaled for Eirik to take his leave.

That went well, thought Eirik. Out in the courtyard he ran into Ragnvald Jonssøn.

“Why are you walking around grinning?” asked Ragnvald with surprise.

Eirik slapped his friend on the back with such vigor that Ragnvald gaped. But Eirik couldn’t restrain himself any longer. He began to laugh so hard that he had to hold on to Ragnvald.

When they rowed home, Olav asked Eirik, “What do you think of Berse of Eiken, my son?”

Eirik bit his lip and fought to keep his expression serious.

Olav said, “He comes from an old and venerable lineage, you know, with many exemplary men. His family also has great wealth. And the maiden takes after her mother; Helga was a valiant woman.

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