Historical fiction; Norway -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Women -- Norway -- Fiction
At first Kristin was thinking most of minding her table-manners, for she
saw all the Sisters and the young maids bore them as seemly and ate as
nicely as though they had been sitting at the finest feast. There was
abundance of the best food and drink, but all helped themselves
modestly, and dipped but the very tips of their fingers into the dishes;
no one spilled the broth either upon the cloths or upon their garments,
and all cut up the meat so small that they did not soil their mouths,
and ate with so much care that not a sound was to be heard.
Kristin grew hot with fear that she might not seem as well-behaved as
the others; she was feeling ill at ease, too, in her bright dress in the
midst of all these women in black and white—she fancied that they were
all looking at her. So when she had to eat a fat piece of breast of
mutton, and was holding it by the bone with two fingers, while cutting
morsels off with her right hand, and taking care to handle the knife
lightly and neatly—suddenly the whole slipped from her fingers; her
slice of bread and the meat flew on to the cloth, and the knife fell
clattering on the stone flags.
The noise sounded fearfully in the quiet room. Kristin flushed red as
fire and would have bent to pick up the knife, but a lay-sister came
noiselessly in her sandals and gathered up the things.
But Kristin could eat no more. She found, too, that she had cut one of
her fingers, and she was afraid of bleeding upon the cloth; so she sat
with her hand wrapped in a corner of her skirt, and thought of how she
was staining the goodly light-blue dress she had gotten for the journey
to Oslo—and she did not dare to raise her eyes from her lap.
Howbeit, in a little she began to listen more to what the nun was
reading. When the ruler found he could not shake the steadfastness of
the maid, Theodora—she would neither make offerings to the false gods
nor let herself be given in marriage—he bade them lead her to a brothel.
Yet while on the way thither he exhorted her to think of her free born
kindred and her honoured father and mother, upon whom everlasting shame
must now be brought, and gave his word she should be let live in peace
and stay a maid, if she would but join the service of a heathen goddess,
whom they called Diana.
Theodora answered fearlessly: “Chastity is like a lamp, but love of God
is the flame; were I to serve the devilwoman whom you call Diana, my
chastity were no more worth than a rusty lamp without flame or oil. Thou
callest me freeborn, but we are all born bondsmen, since our first
parents sold us to the devil; Christ has bought me free, and I am bound
to serve him, so that I cannot wed me with his foes. He will guard his
dove; but should he even suffer you to break my body, that is the temple
of his Holy Spirit, it shall not be counted to me for shame if so be
that I consent not to betray what is His into the hands of his enemies.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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