He was not in the hall where the young people were served dinner and where they danced after the tables had been cleared away. Kristin had to dance with Simon that evening.
Along one wall stood a built-in table, and that’s where the king’s servants set ale and mead and wine all night long. Once when Simon took Kristin over there and drank a toast to her, she saw that Erlend was standing quite close to her, behind Simon. He looked at her, and Kristin’s hand shook as Simon gave her the goblet and she raised it to her lips. Erlend whispered fiercely to the man who was with him—a tall, heavyset, but handsome older man, who shook his head dismissively with an angry expression. In the next moment Simon led Kristin back to the dance.
She had no idea how long that dance lasted; the ballad seemed endless and every moment was tedious and painful with longing and unrest. At last it was over, and Simon escorted her over to the table for drinks again.
One of his friends approached and spoke to him, leading him away a few paces, over to a group of young men. Then Erlend stood before her.
“I have so much I want to say to you,” he whispered. “I don’t know what to say first. In Christ’s name, Kristin, how are things with you?” he asked hastily, for he noticed that her face had turned as white as chalk.
She couldn’t see him clearly; it was as if there was running water between their faces. He picked up a goblet from the table, drank from it, and handed it to Kristin. She thought it was much too heavy, or that her arm had been pulled from its socket; she couldn’t manage to raise it to her lips.
“Is that how things stand—that you’ll drink with your betrothed but not with me?” asked Erlend softly. But Kristin dropped the goblet and swooned forward into his arms.
When she woke up she was lying on a bench with her head in the lap of a maiden she didn’t know. They had loosened her belt and the brooch on her breast. Someone was slapping her hands, and her face was wet.
She sat up. Somewhere in the circle of people around her she saw Erlend’s face, pale and ill. She felt weak herself, as if all her bones had melted, and her head felt huge and hollow. But somewhere in her mind a single thought, clear and desperate, shone—she had to talk to Erlend.
Then she said to Simon Darre, who was standing close by, “It must have been too hot for me. There are so many candles burning in here, and I’m not accustomed to drinking so much wine.”
“Are you all right now?” asked Simon. “You frightened everyone. Perhaps you would like me to take you home?”
“I think we should wait until your parents leave,” said Kristin calmly. “But sit down here. I don’t feel like dancing anymore.” She patted the cushion beside her. Then she stretched out her other hand to Erlend.
“Sit down here, Erlend Nikulauss?n. I didn’t have a chance to give you my full greeting. Ingebj?rg was just saying lately that she thought you had forgotten all about her.”
She saw that he was having a much more difficult time composing himself than she was. It cost her great effort to hold back the tender little smile that threatened to appear on her lips.
“You must thank the maiden for still remembering me,” he said, stammering. “And here I was so afraid that she had forgotten me.”
Kristin hesitated for a moment. She didn’t know what message she could bring from the flighty Ingebj?rg that would be interpreted correctly by Erlend. Then bitterness rose up inside her for all those months of helplessness, and she said, “Dear Erlend, did you think that we maidens would forget the man who so magnificently defended our honor?”
She saw that he looked as if she had struck him. And she regretted it at once when Simon asked what she meant. Kristin told him of her adventure with Ingebj?rg out in the Eikaberg woods. She noticed that Simon was not pleased. Then she asked him to go in search of Fru Angerd, to see if they would be leaving soon. She was tired after all. When he had gone, she turned to look at Erlend.
“It’s odd,” he said in a low voice, “how resourceful you are—I wouldn’t have thought it of you.”
“I’ve had to learn to conceal things, as you might well imagine,” she said somberly.
Erlend breathed heavily. He was still quite pale.
“Is that it?” he whispered. “But you promised to go to my friends if that should come about. God knows, I’ve thought about you every single day, about whether the worst had happened.”
“I know what you mean by the worst,” replied Kristin tersely. “You needn’t worry about that. It seems worse to me that you would not send me a word of greeting. Can’t you understand that I’m living there with the nuns like some strange bird?” She stopped because she could feel the tears rising.