They greeted each other and walked across the slope toward the spot where the men’s horses were tethered. As they exchanged words about the weather, the beautiful mass, and the great crowd of people in attendance, the fat, ruddy-faced gentleman—he wore golden spurs and his name was Sir Munan Baards?n—offered his hand to Ingebj?rg. He seemed to find the maiden exceedingly attractive. Erlend and Kristin fell behind; they walked along in silence.
There was a great hubbub on the church hill as people began to ride off. Horses jostled past each other and people shouted, some of them angry, some of them laughing. Many of them rode in pairs—men with their wives behind them or children in front on the saddle—and young boys leaped up to ride with a friend. They could already see the church banners, the nuns, and the priest far below them.
Sir Munan rode past; Ingebj?rg was sitting in front of him, in his arms. They both shouted and waved.
Then Erlend said, “My men are both here with me. They could take one of the horses and you could have Haftor’s—if you would prefer that?”
Kristin blushed as she replied, “We’re so far behind the others already, and I don’t see your men, so . . .” Then she laughed and Erlend smiled.
He leaped into the saddle and helped her up behind him. At home Kristin often sat sideways behind her father after she grew too old to sit astride the horse’s loins. And yet she felt a little shy and uncertain as she placed one of her hands over Erlend’s shoulder; with the other hand she supported herself against the horse’s back. Slowly they rode down toward the bridge.
After a while Kristin felt that she ought to speak since he did not, and she said, “It was unexpected, sir, to meet you here today.”
“Was it unexpected?” asked Erlend, turning his head around toward her. “Hasn’t Ingebj?rg Filippusdatter brought you my greeting?”
“No,” said Kristin. “I haven’t heard of any greeting. She has never mentioned you since that day when you came to our aid back in May,” she said slyly. She wanted Ingebj?rg’s duplicity to come to light.
Erlend didn’t turn around, but she could hear in his voice that he was smiling when he spoke again.
“And what about the little black-haired one—the novitiate—I can’t remember her name. I even paid her a messenger’s fee to give you my greetings.”
Kristin blushed, but then she had to laugh. “Yes, I suppose I owe it to Helga to tell you that she earned her pay,” she said.
Erlend moved his head slightly, and his neck came close to her hand. Kristin shifted her hand at once to a place farther out on his shoulder. Rather uneasy, she thought that perhaps she had shown greater boldness than was proper, since she had come to this feast after a man had, in a sense, arranged to meet her there.
After a moment Erlend asked, “Will you dance with me tonight, Kristin?”
“I don’t know, sir,” replied the maiden.
“Perhaps you think it might not be proper?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, he went on. “It could be that it’s not. But I thought perhaps you might not think it would do any harm if you took my hand tonight. And by the way, it has been eight years since I took part in a dance.”
“Why is that, sir?” asked Kristin. “Is it because you are married?” But then it occurred to her that if he were a married man, it would not have been seemly for him to arrange this rendezvous with her. So she corrected herself and said, “Perhaps you have lost your betrothed or your wife?”
Erlend turned around abruptly and gave her a peculiar look. “Me? Hasn’t Fru Aashild . . .” After a moment he asked, “Why did you blush when you heard who I was that evening?”
Kristin blushed again but did not reply.
Then Erlend went on. “I would like to know what my aunt has told you about me.”
“Nothing more than that she praised you,” said Kristin hastily. “She said you were handsome and so highborn that . . . she said that compared to a lineage such as yours and hers, we were of little consequence, my ancestors and I.”
“Is she still talking about such things, there, where she now resides?” said Erlend with a bitter laugh. “Well, well, if it comforts her . . . And she has said nothing else about me?”
“What else would she say?” asked Kristin. She didn’t know why she felt so strange and anxious.
“Oh, she might have said . . . ,” replied Erlend in a low voice, his head bowed, “she might have said that I had been excommunicated and had to pay dearly for peace and reconciliation.”
Kristin said nothing for a long time. Then she said quietly, “I’ve heard it said that there are many men who are not masters of their fortunes. I’ve seen so little of the world. But I would never believe of you, Erlend, that it was for any . . . ignoble . . . matter.”
“God bless you for such words, Kristin,” said Erlend. He bent his head and kissed her wrist so fervently that the horse gave a start beneath them. When the animal was once again walking calmly, he said with great ardor, “Won’t you dance with me tonight, Kristin? Later I’ll tell you everything about my circumstances—but tonight let’s be happy together.”
Kristin agreed, and they rode for a while in silence.
But a short time later Erlend began asking about Fru Aashild, and Kristin told him everything she knew; she had much praise for her.
“Then all doors are not closed to Bj?rn and Aashild?” asked Erlend.
Kristin replied that they were well liked and that her father and many others thought that most of what had been said of the couple was untrue.
“What did you think of my kinsman, Munan Baards?n?” asked Erlend with a chuckle.
“I didn’t pay much heed to him,” said Kristin, “and it didn’t seem to me that he was much worth looking at anyway.”
“Didn’t you know that he’s her son?” asked Erlend.
“Fru Aashild’s son?” said Kristin in astonishment.
“Yes, the children couldn’t take their mother’s fair looks, since they took everything else,” said Erlend.
“I didn’t even know the name of her first husband,” said Kristin.
“They were two brothers who married two sisters,” said Erlend. “Baard and Nikulaus Munans?n. My father was the older one; Mother was his second wife, but he had no children by his first wife. Baard, who married Aashild, wasn’t a young man either, and apparently they never got on well. I was a child when it all happened, and they kept as much from me as they could. But she left the country with Herr Bj?rn and married him without the counsel of her kinsmen—after Baard was dead. Then people wanted to annul their marriage. They claimed that Bj?rn had slept with her while her first husband was still alive and that they conspired together to get rid of my father’s brother. But they couldn’t find any proof of this, and they had to let the marriage stand. But they had to give up all their possessions. Bj?rn had killed their nephew too—the nephew of my mother and Aashild, I mean.”