Kristin was now grown-up, and she was exceedingly beautiful. She most resembled her father. She was tall and small-waisted, with slender, elegant limbs, but she was also buxom and shapely. Her face was rather short and round; her forehead low and broad and as white as milk; her eyes large, gray, and gentle under finely etched brows. Her mouth was a little too big, but her full lips were a fresh red, and her chin was round like an apple and nicely shaped. She had lovely thick, long hair, but it was rather dark now, more brown than gold, and quite straight. Lavrans liked nothing better than to hear Sira Eirik boast about Kristin. The priest had watched the maiden grow up, had taught her reading and writing, and was very fond of her. But Lavrans was not particularly pleased to hear the priest occasionally compare his daughter to a flawless and glossy-coated young mare.
Yet everyone said that if the accident had not befallen Ulvhild, she would have been many times more beautiful than her sister. She had the prettiest and sweetest face, white and pink like roses and lilies, with white-gold, silky-soft hair that flowed and curled around her slender neck and thin shoulders. Her eyes resembled those of the Gjesling family: they were deep-set beneath straight black brows, and they were as clear as water and grayish blue, but her gaze was gentle, not sharp. The child’s voice was also so clear and lovely that it was a joy to listen to her whether she spoke or sang. She had an agile talent for book learning and for playing all types of stringed instruments and board games, but she took little interest in needlework because her back would quickly tire.
It seemed unlikely that this pretty child would ever regain the full health of her body, although she improved somewhat after her parents took her to Nidaros to the shrine of Saint Olav. Lavrans and Ragnfrid went there on foot, without a single servant or maid to accompany them, and they carried the child on a litter between them for the entire journey. After that, Ulvhild was so much better that she could walk with a crutch. But it was not likely that she would ever be well enough to marry, and so, when the time came, she would probably be sent to a convent with all the possessions that she would inherit.
They never talked about it, and Ulvhild was not aware that she was any different from other children. She was very fond of finery and beautiful clothes, and her parents didn’t have the heart to refuse her anything; Ragnfrid stitched and sewed for her and adorned her like a royal child. Once some peddlers came through the village and stayed the night at Laugarbru, where Ulvhild was allowed to examine their wares. They had some amber-yellow silk, and she was set on having a shift made from it. Lavrans normally never traded with the kind of people who traveled through the villages, illegally selling goods from the town, but this time he bought the entire bolt at once. He also gave Kristin cloth for her bridal shift, which she worked on during the summer. Before that she had never owned shifts made of anything but wool, except for a linen shift for her finest gown. But Ulvhild was given a shift made of silk to wear to banquets and a Sunday shift of linen with a bodice of silk.
Lavrans Bj?rgulfs?n now owned Laugarbru as well, which was tended by Tordis and Jon. Lavrans and Ragnfrid’s youngest daughter Ramborg lived with them there; Tordis had been her wetnurse. Ragnfrid would hardly even look at the child during the first days after her birth because she said that she brought her children bad luck. And yet she loved the little maiden dearly and was constantly sending gifts to her and to Tordis. Later on she would often go over to Laugarbru to visit Ramborg, but she preferred to arrive after the child was asleep, and then she would sit with her. Lavrans and the two older daughters often went to Laugarbru to play with the little one; she was a strong and healthy child, though not as pretty as her sisters.
That summer was the last one that Arne Gyrds?n spent at J?rund gaard. The bishop had promised Gyrd to help the boy make his way in the world, and in the fall Arne was to leave for Hamar.
Kristin had undoubtedly noticed that Arne was fond of her, but in many ways her feelings were quite childish, so she didn’t give it much thought and behaved toward him as she always had, ever since they were children. She sought out his company as often as she could and always took his hand when they danced at home or on the church hill. The fact that her mother didn’t approve of this, she found rather amusing. But she never spoke to Arne about Simon or about her betrothal, for she noticed that he grew dispirited whenever it was mentioned.
Arne was good with his hands and he wanted to make Kristin a sewing chest to remember him by. He had carved an elegant and beautiful box and frame, and now he was working in the smithy to make iron bands and a lock for it. On a fine evening with fair weather late in the summer, Kristin went over to talk to him. She took along one of her father’s shirts to mend, sat down on the stone doorstep, and began to sew as she chatted with the young man inside the smithy. Ulvhild was with her too, hopping around on her crutch and eating raspberries that were growing among the stones piled up on the ground.
After a while Arne came over to the smithy door to cool off. He wanted to sit down next to Kristin, but she moved away a bit and asked him to take care not to get soot on the sewing that she was holding on her lap.
“So that’s how things have become between us?” said Arne. “You don’t dare let me sit with you because you’re afraid that the farm boy will get you dirty?”
Kristin looked at him in surprise and then said, “You know quite well what I meant. But take off your apron, wash the coal from your hands, and sit down here with me and rest a while.” And she made room for him.
But Arne lay down in the grass in front of her.
Then Kristin continued, “Now don’t be angry, dear Arne. Do you think I would be so ungrateful for the lovely present that you’re making for me, or that I would ever forget that you’ve always been my best friend here at home?”
“Have I been?” he asked.
“You know you have,” said Kristin. “And I’ll never forget you. But you, who are about to go out into the world—maybe you’ll acquire wealth and honor before you know it. You’ll probably forget me long before I forget you.”
“You’ll never forget me,” said Arne and smiled. “But I’ll forget you before you forget me—you’re such a child, Kristin.”
“You’re not very old yourself,” she replied.
“I’m just as old as Simon Darre,” he said. “And we can bear helmets and shields just as well as the Dyfrin people, but my parents have not had fortune on their side.”
He had wiped off his hands on some tufts of grass. Now he took hold of Kristin’s ankle and pressed his cheek against her foot, which was sticking out from the hem of her dress. She tried to pull her foot away, but Arne said, “Your mother is at Laugarbru, and Lavrans rode off from the farm—and from the buildings no one can see us sitting here. Just this once you must let me talk about what’s on my mind.”
Kristin replied, “We’ve always known, both you and I, that it would be futile for us to fall in love with each other.”
“Can I put my head in your lap?” asked Arne, and when she didn’t reply, he did it anyway, wrapping his arm around her waist. With the other hand he tugged on her braids.
“How will you like it,” he asked after a moment, “when Simon lies in your lap like this and plays with your hair?”