They reached the bridge across the convent creek and walked more slowly up the slope on the other side.
“Kristin,” said Simon suddenly, “your father must never hear of this.”
“How did you know that I was . . . there?” Kristin asked.
“I came to talk to you,” replied Simon tersely. “Then I heard about the servant sent by your uncle. I knew that Aasmund was at Hadeland. The two of you aren’t very good at inventing ruses. Did you hear what I just said?”
“Yes,” replied Kristin. “I was the one who sent word to Erlend that we should meet at the Fluga house. I knew the woman.”
“Then shame on you! But you couldn’t have known what kind of woman she is—and he . . . Now listen,” said Simon sternly. “If it is possible to conceal it, then you should conceal from Lavrans what you have thrown away. And if you cannot, then you must try to spare him the worst of the shame.”
“You certainly show great concern for my father,” said Kristin, trembling. She tried to speak defiantly, but her voice was about to break with tears.
Simon walked on a short distance. Then he stopped—she caught a glimpse of his face as they stood out there alone in the fog. She had never seen him look that way before.
“I’ve noticed it every time I’ve been out to visit your home,” he said. “You, his women, have so little understanding of the kind of man Lavrans is. Trond Gjesling says that he doesn’t keep you all in line. But why should Lavrans bother with such things when he was born to rule over men? He had the makings of a chieftain, he was someone men would have followed, gladly; but these are not the times for such men. My father knew him at Baagahus. And so it has ended with him living up there in the valley, almost like a peasant. He was married off much too young; and your mother, with that temperament of hers, was not the one to make it any easier for him to lead such a life. It’s true that he has many friends, but do you think that any one of them can measure up to him? His sons he was not allowed to keep; it was you daughters who were to continue the lineage after him. Will he now have to endure the day when he sees that one is without health and another is without honor?”
Kristin clasped her hands to her heart. She felt that she had to hold on to it to make herself as hard as she needed to be.
“Why are you telling me this?” she whispered after a moment. “You neither want to possess me nor marry me anymore.”
“That . . . I do not,” said Simon uncertainly. “God help me, Kristin. I remember you on that night in the loft at Finsbrekken. But may the Devil take me alive if I ever trust a maiden by her eyes again!
“Promise me this, that you will not see Erlend until your father arrives,” he said as they stood at the gate.
“I won’t promise that,” said Kristin.
“Then he will make me this promise,” said Simon.
“I won’t meet him,” replied Kristin quickly.
“That poor little dog I once sent you,” said Simon before they parted. “You must let your sisters have him—they’re so fond of him—if you don’t mind seeing him in the house, that is.
“I’m heading north tomorrow morning,” he said, taking her hand in farewell as the sister keeping the gate looked on.
Simon Darre walked down toward the town. He struck at the air with his clenched fist as he walked, muttering in a low voice and cursing at the mist. He swore to himself that he wasn’t sorry about her. Kristin was like something he had believed to be pure gold, but when he saw it up close, it was merely brass and tin. White as a snowflake, she had knelt and put her hand into the flame; that was a year ago. This year she was drinking wine with an excommunicated rogue in Fluga’s loft. The Devil take it, no! It was because of Lavrans Bj?rgulfs?n, who was sitting up there at J?rundgaard and believed . . . Never would it have occurred to Lavrans that they might betray him in this way. Now he would have to bring Lavrans the message himself and be an accomplice in lying to this man. That was why his heart was burning with grief and rage.
Kristin had not intended to keep her promise to Simon Darre, but she managed to exchange only a few words with Erlend, one evening up on the road.
She stood there holding his hand, strangely submissive, while he talked about what had happened up in Brynhild’s loft the last time they had met. He would speak to Simon Andress?n some other time. “If we had fought up there, news of it would have spread all over town,” said Erlend angrily. “He knew that quite well, that Simon.”