The Wreath (Kristin Lavransdatter #1)(69)
That same afternoon Ulv, Erlend’s own servant, appeared at the speaking gate. He said he was Aasmund Bj?rgulfs?n’s man and had been sent by his master to ask whether Aasmund’s niece might come into town for a while, because he didn’t have time to come up to Nonneseter himself. Kristin thought this would never work; but when Sister Potentia asked her whether she knew the messen ger, she said yes. So she went with Ulv over to Brynhild Fluga’s house.
;Erlend was waiting for her in the loft. He was nervous and tense, and Kristin realized at once that he was again afraid of the one thing that he seemed to fear most.
She always felt a pang in her heart that he should be so terrified that she might be carrying a child, when they couldn’t seem to stay away from each other. So anxious was she feeling that evening that she said as much to him, quite angrily. Erlend’s face turned dark red; he lay his head on her shoulder.
“You’re right,” he said. “I should try to leave you alone, Kristin, and not keep testing your luck in this way. If you want me to ...”
She threw her arms around him and laughed, but he clasped her tightly around the waist and pressed her down onto a bench; then he sat down on the other side of the table. When she reached her hand across to him, he impetuously kissed her palm.
“I’ve been trying harder than you have,” he said fiercely. “If you only knew how important I think it is for both of us that we be married with full honor.”
“Then you should not have taken me,” said Kristin.
Erlend hid his face in his hands.
“No, I wish to God that I hadn’t done you this wrong,” he said.
“Neither one of us wishes that,” said Kristin with a giddy laugh. “And as long as I can be reconciled and make peace in the end with my family and with God, then I won’t grieve if I have to be wed wearing the wimple of a married woman. As long as I can be with you, I often think that I could even do without peace.”
“You’re going to bring honor back to my manor,” said Erlend. “I’m not going to pull you down into my disgrace.”
Kristin shook her head. Then she said, “You’ll be glad to hear that I have spoken to Simon Andresson—and he’s not going to bind me to the agreements that were made for us before I met you.”
Erlend was jubilant, and Kristin had to tell him everything, although she kept to herself the derogatory words that Simon had spoken about Erlend. But she did mention that he refused to let Lavrans think he was the one to blame.
“That’s reasonable,” said Erlend curtly. “They like each orher, your father and Simon, don’t they? Lavrans will like me less.”
Kristin took these words to mean that Erlend understood she would still have a difficult path ahead of her before they had settled everything, and she was grateful for that. But he didn’t return to this topic. He was overjoyed and said he had been afraid she wouldn’t have the courage to speak to Simon.
“I can see that you’re fond of him, in a way,” he said.
“Does it matter to you,” asked Kristin, “after all that you and I have been through, that I realize Simon is both a just and capable man?”
“If you had never met me,” said Erlend, “you could have enjoyed good days with him, Kristin. Why do you laugh?”
“Oh, I’m thinking about something that Fru Aashild once said,” replied Kristin. “I was only a child back then. But it was something about good days being granted to sensible people, but the grandest of days are enjoyed by those who dare to act unwisely.”
“God bless Aunt Aashild for teaching you that,” said Erlend, taking her onto his lap. “It’s strange, Kristin, but I haven’t noticed that you were ever afraid.”
“Haven’t you ever noticed?” she asked, pressing herself to him.
He set her on the edge of the bed and took off her shoes, but then he pulled her back over to the table.
“Oh no, Kristin—now things look bright for both of us. I wouldn’t have acted toward you as I have,” he said, stroking her hair over and over, “if it hadn’t been for the fact that every time I saw you, I thought it was so unlikely that they would ever give me such a fine and beautiful wife. Sit down here and drink with me.”
At that moment there was a pounding on the door, as if someone were striking it with the hilt of a sword.
“Open the door, Erlend Nikulauss?n, if you’re in there!”
“It’s Simon Darre,” said Kristin softly.
“Open up, man, in the name of the Devil—if you are a man!” shouted Simon, striking the door again.
Erlend went over to the bed and took his sword down from the peg. He looked around in bewilderment. “There’s no place here for you to hide—except in the bed ...”
“It wouldn’t make things any better if I did that,” said Kristin. She had stood up and spoke quite calmly, but Erlend saw that she was trembling. “You’ll have to open the door,” she said in the same voice. Simon was hammering on the door again.
Erlend went over and drew back the bolt. Simon stepped inside, holding a drawn sword in his hand, but he stuck it back into its scabbard at once.
For a moment the three of them stood there without saying a word. Kristin was shaking, and yet in those first few moments she felt an oddly sweet excitement—deep inside her something rose up, sensing this fight between two men—and she exhaled slowly: here was the culmination to those endless months of silent waiting and longing and fear. She looked from one man to the other, their faces pale, their eyes shining; then her excitement collapsed into an unfathomable, freezing despair. There was more cold contempt than indignation or jealousy in Simon Darre’s eyes, and she saw that Erlend, behind his obstinate expression, was burning with shame. It dawned on her how other men would judge him—he who had allowed her to come to him in such a place—and she realized that it was as if he had been struck in the face; she knew that he was burning to pull out his sword and fall upon Simon.