Kristin had regained her calm and courage when Simon, late that evening, came to sit at her bedside. She lay there with the feeling of pleasant exhaustion which follows great suffering, and looked at her brother-in-law’s heavy, sunburned face and his small, piercing eyes. It was a great comfort to her that he had come. Simon grew quite somber when he heard more details of the matter, and yet his words were full of hope.
Kristin lay in bed, staring at the elkskin belt around his portly middle. The large, flat buckle made of copper and chased with silver, its only decoration a filigreed “A” and “M” which stood for Ave Maria; the long dagger with the gilded silver mountings and the large rock crystals on the hilt; the pitiful little table knife with its cracked horn hilt which had been repaired with a band of brass—all these things had been part of her father’s everyday attire ever since she was a child. She remembered when Simon received them; it was right before her father died, and he wanted to give Simon his best gilded belt with enough silver to have extra plates made so that his son-in-law could wear it. But Simon asked for the other belt instead, and when Lavrans said that now he was cheating himself, Simon replied that the dagger was a costly item. “Yes, and then there’s the knife,” said Ragnfrid with a little smile, and both men laughed and said: “Yes indeed, the knife.” Her father and mother had had so many quarrels over that knife. Ragnfrid had complained every day at having to look at that ugly little knife on her husband’s belt. But Lavrans swore that she would never succeed in parting him from it. “I’ve never drawn this knife against you, Ragnfrid—and it’s the best one in all of Norway for cutting butter, as long as it’s warm.”
Kristin now asked to see the knife, and she lay in bed, holding it in her hands for a moment.
“I wish that I might own this knife,” she pleaded softly.
“Yes, I can well believe that. I’m glad it’s mine; I wouldn’t sell it for even twenty marks of silver.” With a laugh Simon grabbed her wrist and took back the knife. His small, plump hands always felt so good—warm and dry.
A short time later he bade her good night, picked up the candle, and went into the main room. She heard him kneel down before the cross, then stand up and drop his boots onto the floor. A few minutes later he climbed heavily into the bed against the north wall. Then Kristin sank into a deep, sweet sleep.
She didn’t wake up until quite late the next morning. Simon Andress?n had left hours earlier, and he had asked the servants to tell her to stay calm and remain at the estate.
He didn’t return until almost time for mid-afternoon prayers; he said at once, “I bring you greetings from Erlend, Kristin. I was allowed to speak to him.”
He saw how young her face became, soft and full of anguished tenderness. Then he held her hand in his as he talked. He and Erlend hadn’t been able to say much to each other, because the man who had escorted Simon up to the prisoner never left the room. Judge Olav had won Simon permission for this meeting, because of the kinship that had existed between them while Halfrid was alive. Erlend sent loving greetings to Kristin and the children; he had asked about all of them, but most about Gaute. Simon thought that in a few days Kristin would surely be allowed to see her husband. Erlend had seemed calm and in good spirits.
“If I had gone with you today, they would have let me see him too,” she said quietly.
But Simon thought he had been granted permission because he came alone. “Although it might be easier for you in many ways, Kristin, to gain concessions if a man steps forward in your behalf.”
Erlend was being held in a room in the east tower, facing the river—one of the finer chambers, although it was small. Ulf Hal dorss?n was supposedly sitting in the dungeon; Haftor in a different chamber.
Cautiously and hesitantly, as he tried to discern how much she could bear, Simon recounted what he had been able to learn in town. When he saw that she understood fully what had happened, he didn’t hide that he too thought it a dangerous matter. But everyone he had spoken to said that Erlend would never have ventured to plan such an undertaking and carry it out as far as he had without being certain that he had a majority of the knights and gentry behind him. And since the ranks of the malcontent noblemen were so great, it wasn’t expected that the king would dare deal harshly with their chieftain; he would have to allow Erlend to be reconciled with him in some way.
Kristin asked in a low voice, “Where does Erling Vidkunss?n stand in all this?”