But time passed, and it looked as if Erlend was to have the good fortune that he was counting on. Kristin noticed that no one at the convent ever suspected her, although Ingebj?rg had discovered that she met with Erlend. But Kristin could see that the other girl never thought it was anything more than a little amusement she was allowing herself. That a betrothed maiden of good family would dare to break the agreement that her kinsmen had made was something that would never occur to Ingebj?rg. And for a moment fear raced through Kristin once more; perhaps this was something completely unheard of, this situation she had landed in. And then she wished again that she would be found out, so that it could be brought to an end.
Easter arrived. Kristin couldn’t understand what had happened to the winter; each day that she had not seen Erlend had been as long as a dismal year, and the long gloomy days had become linked together into endless weeks. But now it was spring and Easter, and it seemed to her as if they had just celebrated Christmas. She asked Erlend not to seek her out during the holidays; and it seemed to Kristin that he acquiesced to all her wishes. It was just as much her fault as his that they had sinned against the strictures of Lent. But she wanted them to observe the Easter holiday—even though it hurt not to see him. He might have to leave quite soon; he hadn’t said anything about it, but she knew that the king was now dying, and she thought that this might cause some change in Erlend’s position.
This was how matters stood for Kristin, when, a few days after Easter, she was summoned down to the parlatory to speak with her betrothed.
As soon as Simon came toward her and put out his hand, she realized that something was wrong. His face was not the same as usual; his small gray eyes weren’t laughing, and they were untouched by his smile. Kristin couldn’t help noticing that it suited him to be a little less jovial. And he looked quite handsome in the traveling clothes he wore: a long, blue, tight-fitting outer garment that men called a cote-hardie, and a brown shoulder-cape with a hood, which he had thrown back. His light brown hair was quite curly from the raw, damp air.
They sat and talked for a while. Simon had been at Formo during Lent, and he was over at J?rundgaard almost daily. They were all well there. Ulvhild was as healthy as anyone could expect. Ramborg was home now; she was charming and lively.
“The time is almost over, the year that you were supposed to spend here at Nonneseter,” said Simon. “They’re probably preparing everything for our betrothal feast at your home.”
Kristin didn’t reply as Simon continued.
“I told Lavrans that I would ride to Oslo to speak with you about it.”
Kristin looked down and said quietly, “Things are such, Simon, that I would prefer to speak with you in private about this matter.”
“I too have felt that this would be necessary,” replied Simon Andress?n. “I was going to ask that you obtain Fru Groa’s permission for us to walk in the garden together.”
Kristin stood up abruptly, and slipped soundlessly out of the room. A short time later she returned, accompanied by one of the nuns with a key.
A door from the parlatory opened onto the herb garden, which lay beyond the buildings on the west side of the convent. The nun unlocked the door, and they stepped out into a fog so dense that they could see only a few steps in front of them amidst the trees. The closest trunks were black as coal; beads of moisture clung to every branch and twig. Small patches of new snow were melting on the wet soil, but beneath the bushes tiny white and yellow lilies had already sprouted flowers, and it smelled fresh and cool from the violet-grass.
Simon led her to the nearest bench. He sat down, leaning forward slightly with his elbows propped on his knees. Then he looked up at her with an odd little smile.
“I almost think I know what you want to tell me,” he said. “There’s another man that you like better than me?”
“That is true,” replied Kristin softly.
“I think I know his name too,” said Simon, his voice more harsh. “Is it Erlend Nikulauss?n of Husaby?”
After a moment Kristin said in a low voice, “So this has come to your attention?”
Simon hesitated before he answered.
“Surely you can’t think me so stupid that I wouldn’t notice anything when we were together at Christmastime? I couldn’t say anything then, because my father and mother were present. But this is the reason that I wanted to come here alone this time. I don’t know whether it’s wise of me to speak of this matter, but I thought that we ought to talk of such things before we are joined in marriage.
“But as it happened, when I arrived here yesterday, I met my insman, Master ?istein. And he spoke of you. He said that he saw you walking across Clement’s churchyard one evening, and that you were with a woman they call Brynhild Fluga. I swore a sacred oath that he must have been mistaken. And if you tell me that it’s untrue, I will take you at your word.”
“The priest was right,” replied Kristin stubbornly. “You forswore yourself, Simon.”
He sat in silence for a moment before he spoke again.
“Do you know who this Brynhild Fluga is, Kristin?” When she shook her head, he said, “Munan Baards?n set her up in a house here in town after he was married—she sells wine illegally and other such things.”
“Do you know her?” asked Kristin derisively.
“I’ve never been inclined to become a monk or a priest,” said Simon, turning red. “But I know that I have never acted unjustly toward a maiden or another man’s wife. Don’t you realize that it’s not the conduct of an honorable man to allow you to go out at night in such company?”
“Erlend did not seduce me,” said Kristin, blushing and indignant. “And he has promised me nothing. I set my heart on him though he did nothing to tempt me. I loved him above all men from the first moment I saw him.”
Simon sat there, playing with his dagger, tossing it from one hand to the other.
“These are strange words to be hearing from one’s betrothed,” he said. “This does not bode well for us now, Kristin.”
Kristin took a deep breath. “You would be poorly served to take me for your wife, Simon.”
“Almighty God knows that this seems to be so,” said Simon Andress?n.
“Then I trust that you will support me,” said Kristin, meek and timid, “so that Sir Andres and my father will retract this agreement between us?”
“Oh, is that what you think?” said Simon. He was silent for a moment. “God only knows whether you truly understand what you’re saying.”
“I do,” Kristin told him. “I know that the law is such that no one can force a maiden into a marriage against her will; then she can bring her case before the ting.”
“I think it’s before the bishop,” said Simon, smiling harshly. “But I’ve never had any reason to look into what the law says about such matters. And don’t think you’ll have any need to do so either. You know I won’t demand that you keep your promise if you’re so strongly opposed to it. But don’t you realize . . . it’s been two years since our betrothal was agreed upon, and you’ve never said a word against it until now, when everything is being prepared for the betrothal banquet and the wedding. Have you thought about what it will mean if you step forward and ask for the bond to be broken, Kristin?”
“You wouldn’t want me now, anyway,” said Kristin.
“Yes, I would,” replied Simon curtly. “If you think otherwise, you had better think again.”