“Is that why you’re with the Dyfrin people now?” he asked. Then she grew so full of despair that she couldn’t answer.
She saw Fru Angerd and Simon appear in the doorway. Erlend’s hand lay on his knee, close to her own, but she could not touch it.
“I have to talk to you,” he said fiercely. “We haven’t said a word to each other of what we should have talked about.”
“Come to the mass at the Maria Church after the last day of the Christmas season,” Kristin said hastily, as she stood up and stepped forward to meet the others.
Fru Angerd was quite loving and kind toward Kristin on the way home, and she helped the maiden into bed herself. Kristin didn’t have a chance to speak to Simon until the following day.
Then he said, “How is it that you would agree to convey messages between this Erlend and Ingebj?rg Filippusdatter? You should not lend a hand in this matter, if they have some secret business between them.”
“I don’t think there’s anything behind it,” said Kristin. “She’s just a chatterbox.”
“I thought you would have been more sensible,” said Simon, “than to venture into the woods and out onto roads alone with that magpie.” But Kristin reminded him with some fervor that it was not their fault they had gone astray. Simon didn’t say another word.
The next day the Dyfrin people escorted her back to the convent before setting off for home themselves.
Erlend came to vespers at the convent church every day for a week, but Kristin didn’t have the chance to exchange a single word with him. She felt as if she were a hawk that sat chained to a roost with a hood pulled over its eyes. She was also unhappy about every word they had said to each other at their last meeting; that was not the way it was supposed to have been. It didn’t help that she told herself it had happened so suddenly for both of them that they hardly knew what they were saying.
But one afternoon, at dusk, a beautiful woman who looked like the wife of a townsman appeared in the parlatory. She asked for Kristin Lavransdatter and said that she was the wife of a clothing merchant. Her husband had just arrived from Denmark with some fine cloaks, and Aasmund Bj?rgulfs?n wished to give one of them to his niece, so the maiden was to go with her to select it herself.
Kristin was allowed to accompany the woman. She thought it unlike her uncle to want to give her a costly gift, and peculiar that he would send a stranger to get her.
At first the woman said little, replying only briefly to Kristin’s questions, but when they had walked all the way into town, she suddenly said, “I don’t want to fool you, lovely child that you are. I’m going to tell you how things truly stand so you can decide for yourself. It wasn’t your uncle who sent me, but a man—maybe you can guess his name, and if you can’t, then you shouldn’t come with me. I have no husband, and I have to make a living for myself and mine by keeping an inn and serving ale. So I can’t be too afraid of either sin or servants—but I will not let my house be used for purposes of deceiving you within my walls.”
Kristin stopped, her face flushed. She felt strangely hurt and ashamed on Erlend’s behalf.
The woman said, “I will accompany you back to the convent, Kristin, but you must give me something for my trouble. The knight promised me a large reward, but I was also beautiful once, and I too was deceived. And then you can remember me in your prayers tonight. They call me Brynhild Fluga.”
Kristin took a ring from her finger and gave it to the woman.
“That was kind of you, Brynhild, but if the man is my kinsman Erlend Nikulauss?n, then I have nothing to fear. He wants me to reconcile him with my uncle. You will not be blamed—but thank you for warning me.”
Brynhild Fluga turned away to hide her smile.
She led Kristin through the alleys behind Clement’s Church and north toward the river. A few small, isolated farms were situated on the bank. They walked between several fences, and there came Erlend to meet them. He glanced around and then took off his cape and wrapped it around Kristin, pulling the hood forward over her face.
“What do you think of this ruse?” he asked quickly, in a low voice. “Do you think I’ve done wrong? But I had to talk to you.”
“It won’t do much good for us to think about what’s right and what’s wrong,” said Kristin.
“Don’t talk like that,” implored Erlend. “I take the blame. Kristin, I’ve longed for you every day and every night,” he whispered close to her ear.