The tears were running down over Ragnfrid’s cheeks, but her face was quite calm now, and so too was her voice:
“God knows I never bore him or you a grudge for the love that was between you. Methought ’twas little enough joy I had brought him in the years we had lived together; I was glad that he had joy in you. I thought, too, that had my father, Ivar, been such a father to me—
“There are many things, Kristin, that a mother should have taught her daughter to beware of. But methought there was little need of this with you, who have followed about with your father all these years—you should know, if any know, what right and honour are. That word you spoke but now—think you I could believe you would have the heart to bring on Lavrans such a sorrow—?
“I would say but this to you—my wish is that you may win for husband a man you can love well. But that this may be, you must bear you wisely—let not Lavrans have cause to think that he you have chosen is a breeder of trouble, and one that regards not the peace of women, nor their honour. For to such an one he will never give you—not if it were to save you from open shame. Rather would Lavrans let the steel do judgment between him and the man who had marred your life—”
And with this the mother rose and went from her.
II
At the Haugathing held on the day of Bartholomew’s Mass, the 24th of August, the daughter’s son of King Haakon of happy memory was hailed as King. Among the men sent thither from Northern Gudbrandsdal was Lavrans Björgulfsön. He had had the name of kingsman since his youth, but in all these years he had seldom gone nigh the Household, and the good name he had won in the war against Duke Eirik he had never sought to turn to account. Nor had he now much mind to this journey to the homaging, but he could not deny himself to the call. Besides, he and the other Thing-men from the upper valley were charged to try and buy corn in the South and send it round by ship to Romsdal.
The folk of the parishes round about were heartless now, and went in dread of the winter that was at hand. An ill thing, too, the farmers deemed it that once again a child would be King in Norway. Old folks called to mind the time when King Magnus was dead and his sons were little children, and Sira Eirik said:
“Vae terrae, ubi puer rex est. Which in the Norse tongue is: No resting o’ nights for rats in the house where the cat’s a kitten.”
Ragnfrid Ivarsdatter managed all things on the manor while her husband was gone, and it was good both for Kristin and for her that they had their heads and hands full of household cares and work. All over the parish the folks were busy gathering in moss from the hills and stripping bark from the trees, for the hay-crop had been but light, and of straw there was next to none; and even the leaves gathered after St. John’s Eve were yellow and sapless. On Holy Cross day, when Sira Eirik bore the crucifix about the fields, there were many in the procession who wept and prayed aloud to God to have mercy on the people and the dumb beasts.
A week after Holy Cross Lavrans Björgulfsön came home from the Thing.
It was long past the house-folks’ bedtime, but Ragnfrid still sat in the weaving-house. She had so much to see to in the daytime now, that she often worked on late into the night at weaving and sewing. Ragnfrid liked the house well, too. It had the name of being the oldest on the farm; it was called the Mound-house, and folk said it had stood there ever since the old heathen ages. Kristin and the girl called Astrid were with Ragnfrid; they were sitting spinning by the hearth.
They had been sitting for a while sleepy and silent, when they heard the hoof-beats of a single horse—a man came riding at a gallop into the wet farm-place. Astrid went to the outer room to look out—in a moment she came in again, followed by Lavrans Björgulfsön.
Both his wife and his daughter saw at once that he had been drinking more than a little. He reeled in his walk, and held to the pole of the smoke-vent while Ragnfrid took from him his dripping wet cloak and hat and unbuckled his sword-belt.
“What have you done with Halvdan and Kolbein?” she said, in some fear; “have you left them behind on the road?”
“No, I left them behind at Loptsgaard,” he said with a little laugh. “I had such a mind to come home again—there was no rest for me till I did—the men went to bed down at Loptsgaard, but I took Guldsveinen and galloped home—”
“You must find me a little food, Astrid,” he said to the servant. “Bring it in here, girl; then you need not go so far in the rain. But be quick, for I have eaten no food since early morning—”
“Had you no food at Loptsgaard, then?” asked his wife
