He took his dogs, his spear, and his bow and went up into the mountains that same evening. There was still a great deal of snow on the high plateau. He went to his hut to get a pair of skis and then stayed out by the lake south of the Boar Range and hunted reindeer for a week. But on the night he headed back toward the village, he grew uneasy and afraid again. It would be just like Ramborg to have said something to her father all the same. As he crossed the meadow near J?rundgaard’s mountain hut, he saw smoke and sparks coming from the roof. He thought Lavrans himself might be there, so he went over to the hut.
From the other man’s demeanor Simon thought he had guessed right. But they sat and talked about the bad summer the year before and about when might be a good time to move the livestock up to the mountain pastures; about the hunting and about Lavrans’s new falcon, which was sitting on the floor, flapping its wings over the entrails of the birds roasting on a spit over the fire. Lavrans had come up to see to his horse shed in Ilmandsdal; it was reported to have collapsed, according to several people from Alv dal who had passed through earlier that day. The two men spent most of the evening in this fashion.
Then Simon finally said, “I don’t know whether Ramborg has said anything to you about a matter which we discussed one evening?”
Lavrans said slowly, “I think you should have spoken to me first, Simon. You might imagine what kind of answer you would have received. Yes, well—I can understand how it happened that you mentioned it first to the maiden—and it will make no difference. I’m happy to give my child into the hands of a good man.”
Then there’s not much more to say, thought Simon. And yet it was strange—here he sat, a man who had never intended to come too close to any virtuous maiden or woman, and now he was bound on his honor to marry a girl he did not truly want. But he made an attempt.
“It’s not true, Lavrans, that I’ve been courting your daughter behind your back. I thought I was so old that she wouldn’t consider it anything but brotherly affection from the past if I talked with her so often. And if you think I’m too old for her, I wouldn’t be surprised nor would I allow it to end the friendship between us.”
“I’ve met few men I would rather see take a son’s place than you, Simon,” replied Lavrans. “And I would rather give Ramborg away myself. You know who would be the man to arrange her marriage after I’m gone.” That was the first time any mention was made between them of Erlend Nikulauss?n. “In many ways my son-in-law is a better man than I took him for when I first met him. But I don’t know whether he’s the right person to make a wise decision about a young maiden’s marriage. And I can tell that this is what Ramborg wants herself.”
“She thinks so now,” said Simon. “But she’s hardly more than a child, and I don’t intend to press you, if you think we should wait a little longer.”
“And I,” said Lavrans with a slight frown, “do not intend to force my daughter upon you—you mustn’t believe that.”
“You should know,” said Simon quickly, “that there is not another maiden in all of Norway I would rather have than Ramborg. If truth be told, Lavrans, my good fortune seems much too great if I’m to have such a fair, young, and good bride, who is rich and descended from the best lineage. And you as my father-in-law,” he added, a little self-consciously.
Lavrans chuckled with embarrassment. “You know how I feel about you. And you will deal with my child and her inheritance in such a way that her mother and I will never have cause to regret this arrangement.”
“That I promise you, with the help of God and all the saints,” said Simon.
Then they shook hands. Simon remembered the first time he had secured such an arrangement by clasping Lavrans’s hand. His heart felt small and pained in his breast.
But Ramborg was a better match than he could have expected. There were only the two daughters to divide up the inheritance after Lavrans’s death. He would step into the role of son with the man whom he had always respected and loved above all others he knew. And Ramborg was indeed young and sweet and lively.
Surely he must have acquired the wisdom of a grown man by now. Had he actually thought he could win Kristin as a widow even though he couldn’t have her as a maiden? After the other man had enjoyed her youth—and with a dozen stepsons of his lineage? No, then he deserved to have his brothers declare him incapable and refuse to let him handle his own affairs. Erlend would live to be as old as the stone of the mountain—that type of fellow always did.
So now they would be called brothers-in-law. They hadn’t seen each other since that night in the house in Oslo. Well, no doubt it would be even more uncomfortable for Erlend than for him to be reminded of that.
He would be a good husband to Ramborg, with no deceptions. And yet it was possible that the child had lured him into a trap.
“You’re sitting there laughing?” said Lavrans.
“Was I laughing? It was just something that struck me . . .”
“You must tell me what it is, Simon, so I can laugh too.”
Simon Andress?n fixed his small, sharp eyes on the other man’s face.
“I was thinking about . . . women. I wonder whether any woman respects the laws and beliefs of men as we do among ourselves—when she or her own kind can win something by stepping over them. Halfrid, my first wife . . . Well, I haven’t spoken of this to a single Christian soul before you, Lavrans Bj?rgulfs?n, and I will never speak of it again. She was such a good and pious and virtuous woman that I don’t think she has ever had an equal. I’ve told you about what she did when Arngjerd was born. But back when we realized how things stood with Sigrid—well, Halfrid wanted us to hide my sister and she would pretend that she herself was with child and then present Sigrid’s child as her own. In that way we would have an heir and the child would be cared for, and Sigrid could live with us and wouldn’t have to be separated from her son. I don’t think Halfrid realized that this would have been a betrayal of her own kinsmen.”
After a moment Lavrans said, “Then you could have stayed at Mandvik, Simon.”
“Yes.” Simon Darre laughed harshly. “And perhaps with just as much right as many other men occupy lands they call their ancestral estates. Since we have nothing more to rely on in such matters except the honor of women.”
Lavrans pulled the hood over the falcon’s head and lifted the bird onto his wrist.
“This is a strange topic of conversation for a man who is thinking of marriage,” he said quietly. There was a hint of displeasure in his voice.
“Of course no one would think such things of your daughters,” replied Simon.
Lavrans looked down at his falcon, scratching it with a twig.
“Not even about Kristin?” he whispered.
“No,” said Simon firmly. “She didn’t deal with me kindly, but I never found that she was untruthful. She told me honestly and openly that she had met another man whom she cared for more than me.”
“When you so willingly let her go,” said Lavrans softly, “that was not because you had heard . . . any rumors about her?”
“No,” said Simon in the same firm voice. “I never heard rumors about Kristin.”
It was agreed that the betrothal would be celebrated that very summer and the wedding would take place during Easter of the following year, after Ramborg had turned fifteen.
Kristin had not seen J?rundgaard since the day she rode away as a bride, and that was eight winters ago. Now she returned with a great entourage: her husband, Margret, five sons, nursemaids, serving men and women, and horses carrying their traveling goods. Lavrans had ridden out to meet them and found them at Dovre. Kristin no longer cried as easily as she had in her youth, but when she saw her father riding toward them, her eyes filled with tears. She reined in her horse, slipped down from the saddle, and ran to greet her father; when she reached him, she grabbed his hand and kissed it humbly. Lavrans at once jumped down from his horse and took his daughter in his arms. Then he shook hands with Erlend, who had done as the others had and came to meet his father-in-law on foot, with respectful words of greeting.