The Bridal Wreath

by Sigrid Undset

“Aye, those are our bells,” laughed Margret. “Have you heard not of the great minster here in the town—’tis there you are going now. There goes the great bell! And now ’tis ringing in the cloister and in the Church of Holy Cross as well.”

Margret spread the butter thick upon Kristin’s bread and gave her honey in her milk, that the food she took might stand in more stead—she had scant time to eat.

Out of doors it was still dark and the weather had fallen frosty. The fog was biting cold. The footprints of folk and of cattle and horses were hard as though cast in iron, so that Kristin bruised her feet in the thin, new shoes, and once she trod through the ice on the gutter in the middle of the street and her legs got wet and cold. Then Lavrans took her on his back and carried her.

She strained her eyes in the gloom, but there was not much she could see of the town—she caught a glimpse of black house-gables and trees through the grey air. Then they came out upon a little meadow that shone with rime, and upon the further side of the meadow she dimly saw a pale-grey building, big as a fell. Great stone houses stood about, and at points lights glimmered from window-holes in the walls. The bells, which had been silent for a time, took to ringing again, and now it was with a sound so strong that a cold shiver ran down his back.

’Twas like going into the mountain-side, thought Kristin, when they mounted into the church forehall; it struck chill and dark in there. They went through a door, and were met by the stale, cold smell of incense and candles. Now Kristin was in a dark and vastly lofty place. She could not see where it ended, neither above nor to the sides, but lights burned upon an altar far in front. There stood a priest, and the echoes of his voice stole strangely round the great place, like breathings and whisperings. Her father signed the cross with holy-water upon himself and the child, and so they went forward; though he stepped warily, his spurs rang loudly on the stone floor. They passed by giant pillars, and betwixt the pillars it was like looking into coal-black holes.

Forward, nigh to the altar, the father bent his knee, and Kristin knelt beside him. She began to be able to make things out in the gloom—gold and silver glittered on altars in between the pillars, but upon that before them shone tapers which stood and burned on gilt candlesticks, while the light streamed back from the holy vessels and the big, beautiful picture-panel behind. Kristin was brought again to think of the mountain-folk’s hall—even so had she dreamed it must be, splendid like this, but maybe with yet more lights. And the dwarf-maid’s face came up before her—but then she raised her eyes and spied upon the wall above the altar, Christ himself, great and stern, lifted high upon the cross. Fear came upon her—he did not look mild and sorrowful as at home in their own snug timber-brown church, where he hung heavily, with pierced feet and hands, and bowed his blood-besprinkled head beneath the crown of thorns.

Here, he stood upon a footboard with stiff, outstretched arms and upright head; his gilded hair glittered; he was crowned with a crown of gold, and his face was upturned and harsh.

Then she tried to follow the priest’s words as he read and chanted, but his speech was too hurried and unclear. At home she was wont to understand each word, for Sira Eirik had the clearest speech, and had taught her what the holy words betokened in Norse, that she might the better keep her thoughts with God while she was in church.

But she could not do that here, for every moment she grew aware of something new in the darkness. There were windows high up in the walls, and these began to shimmer with the day. And near by where they knelt there was raised a wondrous scaffolding of timber, but beyond lay blocks of light-coloured stone; and there stood mortar-troughs and tools—and she heard folks coming tiptoeing about in there. But then again her eyes fell upon the stern Lord Christ upon the wall, and she strove to keep her thoughts fixed upon the service. The icy cold from the stone floor stiffened her legs right up to the thighs, and her knees gave her pain. At length everything began to sway about her, so weary was she.

Then her father rose; the mass was at an end. The priest came forward and greeted her father. While they spoke, Kristin sate herself down upon a step, for she saw the choirboy had done the like. He yawned—and so she too fell a yawning. When he marked that she looked at him, he set his tongue in his cheek and twisted his eyes at her. Thereupon he dug up a pouch from under his clothing and emptied upon the flags all that was in it—fish-hooks, lumps of lead, leather thongs and a pair of dice, and all the while he made signs to her. Kristin wondered mightily.