Simon thought Erlend sounded quite well-informed. But he wondered about Erling Vidkunss?n. Did the former regent think that Erlend Nikulauss?n was capable of making decisions in such matters? Or was Erling merely grasping for any possible support? The knight from Bjark?y would be unlikely to give up his power. He could never be accused of having used it for his own benefit, but his great wealth made this unnecessary. Everyone said that over the years he had become more and more obstinate and single-minded; and by the time the other men of the Council gradually started to oppose him, he had grown so belligerent that he hardly deigned to listen to anyone else’s opinion.
It was like Erlend for him finally to climb aboard Erling Vid kunss?n’s ship with both feet, so to speak, as soon as the winds were against it. It was uncertain whether either Sir Erling or Erlend himself would benefit, now that he seemed to have joined forces wholeheartedly with his wealthy kinsman. And yet Simon had to admit that no matter how reckless Erlend’s words might be about both people and events, what he had said did not seem entirely foolish.
But that evening he was quite wild and boisterous. Erlend was now staying at Nikulausgaard, which his brother had given to him when he joined the friars. Kristin was there too, along with their two eldest boys, their youngest son, and Erlend’s daughter Margret.
Late in the evening a large group of people came to visit them, including many of the gentlemen who had been at the meeting with the archbishop the previous morning. Erlend laughed and talked loudly as they sat drinking at the table after supper. He had taken an apple from a bowl and had cut and carved it with his knife; then he rolled it across the table into the lap of Fru Sunniva Olavsdatter, who sat opposite him.
The woman sitting next to Sunniva wanted to look at it, and she reached for the apple. But Sunniva refused to give it up, and the two women pushed and tugged at each other with much shrieking and laughter. Then Erlend cried that Fru Eyvor should have an apple from him too. Before long he had tossed apples to every woman there, and he claimed to have carved love-runes into all of them.
“You’re going to be worn out, my boy, if you try to redeem all those pledges,” one of the men shouted.
“Then I’ll have to forget about redeeming them—I’ve done that before,” replied Erlend, and there was more laughter.
But the Icelander Kl?ng had taken a look at one of the apples and exclaimed that they weren’t runes but just meaningless cuts. He would show them how runes should be carved.
Then Erlend shouted that he shouldn’t do that. “Or else they’ll tell me I have to tie you up, Kl?ng, and I can’t get along without you.”
During all the commotion Erlend’s and Kristin’s youngest son had come padding into the hall. Lavrans Erlendss?n was now a little more than two years old and an exceptionally attractive child, plump and fair, with silky, fine blond curls. The women on the outer bench all wanted to hold the boy at once; they sent him from lap to lap, caressing him freely, for by now they were all giddy and wild. Kristin, who was sitting against the wall in the high seat next to her husband, asked to be given the child; he began fretting and wanted to go to his mother, but it did no good.
Suddenly Erlend leaped across the table and picked up the boy, who was now howling because Fru Sunniva and Fru Eyvor were tugging at him and fighting over him. The father took the boy in his arms, speaking soothing words. When the child kept on crying, he began humming and singing as he held him and paced back and forth in the dim light of the hall. Erlend seemed to have completely forgotten about his guests. The child’s little blond head lay on his father’s shoulder beneath the man’s dark hair, and every once in a while Erlend would touch his parted lips to the small hand resting on his chest. He continued in this way until a serving maid came in who was supposed to watch the child and should have put him to bed long ago.
Then some of the guests shouted that Erlend should sing them a ballad for a dance; he had such a fine voice. At first he declined, but then he went over to his young daughter who was sitting on the women’s bench. He put his arm around Margret and escorted her out to the floor.
“You must come with me, my Margret. Take your father’s hand for a dance!”
A young man stepped forward and took the maiden’s hand. “Margit promised to dance with me tonight,” he said. But Erlend lifted his daughter into his arms and set her down on the other side of him.
“Dance with your wife, Haakon. I never danced with anyone else when I was so newly married as you are.”