Kristin ran off toward home, and Kortelin danced around at her feet as he nipped at her clothing and barked, making all his tiny silver bells ring.
CHAPTER 6
ARNE WAS HOME at Finsbrekken for the last time before he left for Hamar. His mother and sisters were outfitting him with clothes.
The day before he was supposed to ride south he went to J?rundgaard to say farewell. There he asked Kristin in a whisper whether she would meet him on the road south of Laugarbru on the following evening.
“I would like us to be alone, just the two of us, the last time we meet,” he said. “Do you think that’s too much to ask? We who have grown up together as brother and sister?” he added when Kristin hesitated a moment before replying.
Then she promised to come if she could slip away from home.
The next morning it snowed, but later in the day it began to rain and soon the roads and fields were nothing but gray mud. Wisps of fog hovered and drifted along the mountain ridges, occasionally dropping down and twining into white mist at the foot of the mountains, but then the weather closed in again.
Sira Eirik came over to help Lavrans put together several boxes of letters. They went into the hearth house because it was more comfortable there in that kind of weather than in the larger house where the fireplace filled the room with smoke. Ragnfrid was at Laugarbru, where Ramborg was recuperating from an illness and fever she had suffered earlier that fall.
So it was not difficult for Kristin to slip away from the farm unnoticed; she didn’t dare take a horse, so she went on foot. The road was a morass of slushy snow and withered leaves; the air smelled mournfully raw and dead and moldy, and now and then a gust of wind would blow the rain right into her face. Kristin pulled her hood up over her head and held her cloak closed with both hands as she walked briskly onward. She was a little apprehensive—the clamor of the river sounded so muffled in the oppressive air, and the clouds were black and ragged, drifting above the mountain crests. Occasionally she would stop and listen behind her, thinking that she might hear Arne.
After a while she became aware of a horse’s hooves on the sodden road, and then she stopped, for she had reached a rather desolate spot and thought it would be a suitable place for them to say goodbye to each other undisturbed. A moment later she saw the rider appear behind her, and Arne jumped down from his horse, leading it forward as he walked toward her.
“It was good of you to come,” he said, “in this awful weather.”
“It’s worse for you, who will have to ride such a long way. But why are you leaving so late in the evening?”
“Jon has invited me to stay at Loptsgaard tonight,” said Arne. “And I thought it would be easier for you to come here at this time of day.”
They stood in silence for a moment. Kristin thought she had never before realized how handsome Arne was. He wore a shiny steel helmet, and under it a brown woolen hood that framed his face and spread out over his shoulders; underneath, his thin face looked so bright and fair. His leather breastplate was old, flecked with rust, and scratched from the coat of mail that had been worn over it—Arne’s father had given it to him—but it fit snugly on his slender, lithe, and strong body. He wore a sword at his side and carried a spear in his hand; his other weapons hung from his saddle. He was a full-grown man and looked imposing.
Kristin put her hand on his shoulder and said, “Do you remember, Arne, that you once asked me whether I thought you were as splendid a fellow as Simon Andress?n? I want to tell you something now, before we part. You seem to me as much his superior in fair appearance and bearing as he is held above you in birth and wealth by people who value such things most.”
“Why are you telling me this?” asked Arne breathlessly.
“Because Brother Edvin impressed on my heart that we should thank God for His good gifts and not be like the woman who wept because she had no bowls when Saint Olav multiplied the meat for her. So you shouldn’t fret over the fact that He hasn’t given you as much wealth as He has physical gifts…”
“Is that what you meant?” said Arne. And when Kristin didn’t reply he went on, “I was wondering whether you meant that you would rather have been married to me than to that other man.”
“I probably would, at that,” she said quietly. “For I know you much better.”
Arne threw his arms around her so tight that he lifted her feet off the ground. He kissed her face many times, but then he set her down.
“God help us, Kristin. You’re such a child!”