The first thing he saw as he entered the house was Erlend’s laughing face. The light from the candle on the table shone directly on him as he sat on the bench and fended off Ulvhild, who was kneeling beside him and trying to scratch him or whatever she was doing. She was flailing her hands at the man’s face and laughing so hard that she hiccupped.
Erlend sprang to his feet and tried to push the child aside, but she gripped the sleeve of his tunic and hung on to his arm as he walked across the room, erect and light-footed, to greet his brother-in-law. She was nagging him for something; Erlend and Simon could barely get a word in.
Her father ordered her, rather harshly, to go out to the cookhouse with the maids; they had just finished setting the table. When the maiden protested, he took her hard by the arm and tore her away from Erlend.
“Here!” Ulvhild’s uncle took a lump of resin out of his mouth and stuck it into hers. “Take it, Ulvhild, my little plum cheeks! That daughter of yours,” he said to his brother-in-law with a laugh as he gazed after the maiden, “is not going to be as docile as Arngjerd!”
Simon hadn’t been able to resist telling his wife how well Arngjerd had handled the marriage matter. But he hadn’t intended for her to tell the people of J?rundgaard. And it was unlike Ramborg to do so; he knew that she had little affection for Erlend. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like the fact that Ramborg had spoken of this matter, or that she was so capricious, or that Ulvhild, little girl though she was, seemed so charmed by Erlend—just as all women were.
He went over to greet Kristin. She was sitting in the corner next to the hearth wall with Andres on her lap. The boy had grown quite fond of his aunt during the time she nursed him when he was recovering from his illness the previous fall.
Simon realized that there must be some purpose for this visit since Erlend had come too. He was not one to wear out the doorstep at Formo. Simon couldn’t deny that Erlend had handled the difficult situation admirably—considering how things had turned out between the brothers-in-law. Erlend avoided Simon as much as he could, but they met as often as necessary so that gossip wouldn’t spread about enmity between kinsmen, and then they always behaved like the best of friends. Erlend was quiet and a bit reticent whenever they were together but still displayed a free and unfettered manner.
When the food had been brought to the table and the ale set out, Erlend spoke, “I think you’re probably wondering about the reason for my visit, Simon. We’re here to invite you and Ramborg to a wedding at our manor.”
“Surely you must be jesting? I didn’t think you had anyone of marrying age on your estate.”
“That depends on how you look at it, brother-in-law. It’s Ulf Haldorss?n.”
Simon slapped his thigh.
“Next I’ll expect my plow oxen to produce calves at Christmastime!”
“You shouldn’t call Ulf a plow ox,” said Erlend with a laugh. “The unfortunate thing is that the man has been far too bold . . .”
Simon whistled.
Erlend laughed again and said, “Yes, you can well imagine that I didn’t believe my own ears when they came to the estate yesterday—the sons of Herbrand of Medalheim—and demanded that Ulf should marry their sister.”
“Herbrand Remba’s? But they’re nothing but boys; their sister can’t be old enough that Ulf would . . .”
“She’s twenty winters old. And Ulf is closer to fifty. Yes.” Erlend had turned somber. “You realize, Simon, that they must consider him a poor match for Jardtrud, but it’s the lesser of two evils if she marries him. Although Ulf is the son of a knight and a well-to-do man; he doesn’t need to earn his bread on another man’s estate, but he followed us here because he would rather live with his kinsmen than on his own farm at Skaun . . . after what happened. . . .”
Erlend fell silent for a moment. His face was tender and handsome. Then he continued.
“Now we, Kristin and I, intend to celebrate this wedding as if he were our brother. That’s why Ulf and I will ride south in the coming week to Musudal to ask for her hand at Medalheim. For the sake of appearances, you understand. But I thought of asking you a favor, brother-in-law. I remember, Simon, that I owe you a great deal. But Ulf is not well liked here in the villages. And you are so highly respected; few men are your equal . . . while I myself . . .” He shrugged his shoulders and laughed a little. “Would you be willing, Simon, to ride with us and act as spokesman on Ulf’s behalf? He and I have been friends since we were boys,” pleaded Erlend.