IV
At the time he dwelt at Skog, Lavrans Björgulfsön had made gifts of land to Gerdarud church, that masses for the souls of his father and mother might be said on their death-days. Björgulf Ketilsön’s day was the thirteenth of August, and Lavrans had settled with his brother that this year Aasmund should bring Kristin out to Skog that she might be at the mass.
She went in fear that something should come in the way, so that her uncle would not keep his promise—she thought she had marked that Aasmund did not care overmuch about her. But the day before the mass was to be, Aasmund Björgulfsön came to the convent to fetch his brother’s daughter. Kristin was told to clothe herself in lay garb, but simply and in dark garments. There had been some carping at the Sisters of Nonneseter for going about too much without the convent walls; therefore the bishop had given order that the maidens who were not to take the veil must wear naught like to the habit of the order when they went visiting their kinsfolk—so that laymen could not mistake them for novices or nuns.
Kristin’s heart was full of gladness as she rode along the highway with her uncle, and Aasmund grew more friendly and merry with her when he saw the maid was not so tongue-tied after all, with folk. Otherwise Aasmund was somewhat moody and downcast; he said it looked as though there would be a call to arms in the autumn and that the King would lead an army into Sweden to avenge the slaying of his son-in-law and the husband of his niece. Kristin had heard of the murder of the Swedish Dukes, and thought it a most foul deed—yet all these questions of state seemed far away from her. No one spoke much of such things at home in the Dale; she remembered, too, that her father had been to the war against Duke Eirik at Ragnhildarholm and Konungahella. Then Aasmund told her of all that had come and gone between the King and the Dukes. Kristin understood but little of this, but she gave careful heed to all her uncle told of the making and breaking of the betrothals of the King’s daughters. It gave her comfort to think ’twas not everywhere as it was at home in her countryside, that a betrothal once fixed by word of mouth was held to bind nigh as fast as a wedding. Then she took courage to tell of her adventure on the evening before Halvard-wake, and asked her uncle if he knew Erlend of Husaby. Aasmund spoke well of Erlend—said, he had guided his affairs unwisely, but his father and the King were most to blame; they had borne themselves as though the young lad were a very limb of the devil only because he had fallen into this misfortune. The King was over-pious in such matters, and Sir Nikulaus was angry because Erlend had lost much good land, so they had thundered about whoredom and hell fire—“and there must be a bit of the daredevil in every likely lad,” said Aasmund Björgulfsön. “And the woman was most fair. But you have no call now to look Erlend’s way, so trouble yourself no more about his doings.”
Erlend came not to the mass, as he had promised Kristin he would, and she thought about this more than of God’s word. She felt no sorrow that this was so—she had only that strange new feeling that she was cut off from all the ties that she had felt binding on her before.
She tried to take comfort—like enough Erlend deemed it wisest that no one in whose charge she was should come to know of their friendship at this time. She could understand herself that ’twas wise. But her heart had longed so for him, and she wept when she had gone to rest in the loft-room where she was to sleep with Aasmund’s little daughters.
The day after, she went up into the wood with the youngest of her uncle’s children, a little maid of six years. When they were come to the pastures among the woods a little way off, Erlend came running after them. Kristin knew it was he before she had seen who was coming.
“I have sat up here on the hill spying down into the courtyard the whole day,” said he. “I thought surely you would find a chance to come out—”
“Think you I came out to meet you then?” said Kristin, laughing. “And are you not afraid to beat about my uncle’s woods with dogs and bow?”
“Your uncle gave me leave to take my pastime hunting here,” said Erlend. “And the dogs are Aasmund’s—they found me out this morning.” He patted them and lifted the little girl up in his arms.
“You know me, Ragndid? But say not you have spoken with me, and you can have this”—and he took out a bunch of raisins and gave them to the child. “I had brought them for you,” he said to Kristin. “Think you this child can hold her tongue?”
They talked fast and laughed together. Erlend was dressed in a short close-fitting brown jacket and had a small red silk cap pulled down over his black hair—he looked so young; he laughed and played with the child; but sometimes he would take Kristin’s hand, and press it till it hurt her.
He spoke of the rumours of war and was glad: “ ’Twill be easier for me to win back the King’s friendship,” said he, “and then will all things be easy,” he said vehemently.
At last they sat down in a meadow up among the woods. Erlend had the child on his lap; Kristin sat by his side; under cover of the grass he played with her
