“Is that you?” he asked in a low voice. “Alone? Is there . . . is something . . . ?” And a moment later he said, “How is it that you’ve come here like this?”
“Here’s the reason.” Erlend pulled himself together and looked his father-in-law in the eye. “I thought I could do no less than to come here myself to bring you the news. Kristin gave birth to a son on the morning of the Feast of the Annunciation.
“And yes, she is doing well now,” he added quickly.
Lavrans stood in silence for a moment. He was biting down hard on his lip—his jaw trembled and quivered faintly.
“That was news indeed!” he said then.
Little Ramborg had come over to stand at her father’s side. She looked up, her face flaming red.
“Be quiet,” said Lavrans harshly, even though the maiden hadn’t uttered a word but had merely blushed. “Don’t stand here—go away.”
He didn’t say anything more. Erlend stood leaning forward, with his left hand gripping his staff. His eyes were fixed on the snow. He had stuck his right hand inside his tunic.
Lavrans pointed. “Have you injured yourself?”
“A little,” said Erlend. “I slipped down a slope yesterday in the dark.”
Lavrans touched his wrist and pressed it cautiously. “I don’t think there are any bones broken,” he said. “You can tell her mother yourself.” He started for the house as Ragnfrid came out into the courtyard. She looked in amazement at her husband; then she recognized Erlend and quickly walked over to him.
She listened without speaking as Erlend, for the second time, presented his message. But her eyes filled with tears when Erlend said at the end, “I thought you might have noticed something before she left here in the fall—and that you might be worried about her now.”
“It was kind of you, Erlend,” she said uncertainly. “For you to think of that. I think I’ve been worried every day since you took her away from us.”
Lavrans came back.
“Here is some fox fat—I see that you’ve frozen your cheek, son-in-law. You must stay for a while in the entryway, so Ragnfrid can attend to it and thaw you out. How are your feet? You must take off your boots so we can see.”
When the servants came in for the evening meal, Lavrans told them the news and ordered special foreign ale to be brought in so they could celebrate. But there was no real merriment about the occasion—the master himself sat at the table with a cup of water. He asked Erlend to forgive him, but this was a promise he had made during his youth, to drink water during Lent. And so the servants sat there quietly, and the conversation lagged over the good ale. Once in a while the children would go over to Lavrans; he put his arm around them when they stood at his knee, but he gave absentminded answers to their questions. Ramborg replied curtly and sharply when Erlend tried to tease her; she would show that she didn’t like this brother-in-law of hers. She was now eight winters old, lively and lovely, but she bore little resemblance to her sisters.
Erlend asked who the other children were. Lavrans told him the boy was Haavard Trondss?n, the youngest child at Sundbu. It was so tedious for him over there among his grown-up siblings; at Christmastime he had decided to go home with his aunt. The maiden was Helga Rolvsdatter. Her kinsmen had been forced to take the children from Blakarsarv home with them after the funeral; it wasn’t good for them to see their father the way he was now. And it was nice for Ramborg that she had these foster siblings. “We’re getting old now, Ragnfrid and I,” said Lavrans. “And she’s more wild and playful, this one here, than Kristin was.” He stroked his daughter’s curly hair.
Erlend sat down next to his mother-in-law, and she asked him about Kristin’s childbirth. The son-in-law noticed that Lavrans was listening to them, but then he stood up, went over, and picked up his hat and cape. He would go over to the parsonage, he said, to ask Sira Eirik to come and join them for a drink.
Lavrans walked along the well-trodden path through the fields toward Romundgaard. The moon was about to sink behind the mountains now, but thousands of stars still sparkled above the white slopes. He hoped the priest would be at home—he could no longer stand to sit there with the others.
But when he turned down the lane between the fences near the courtyard, he saw a small candle coming toward him. Old Audun was carrying it, and when he sensed there was someone in the road, he rang his tiny silver bell. Lavrans Bj?rgulfs?n threw himself down on his knees in the snowdrift at the side of the road.