Kristin leaned against the rock face. Now that it was over she was shaking, but what she felt most was astonishment that her prayer had been answered so quickly. Then she noticed Ingebj?rg. The girl had thrown back her hood, letting her cloak fall loosely over her shoulders, and she was arranging her thick blonde braids on her breast. Kristin burst out laughing at the sight. She sank down and had to cling to a tree because she couldn’t hold herself up; it was as if she had water instead of marrow in her bones, she felt so weak. She trembled and laughed and cried.
The gentleman came over to her and cautiously placed his hand on her shoulder.
“No doubt you have been more frightened than you dared show,” he said, and his voice was pleasant and kind. “But now you must get hold of yourself; you acted so bravely while the danger lasted.”
Kristin could only nod. He had beautiful bright eyes, a thin, tan face, and coal-black hair that was cropped short across his forehead and behind his ears.
Ingebj?rg had managed to arrange her hair properly at last; she came over and thanked the stranger with many elegant words. He stood there with his hand on Kristin’s shoulder as he spoke to the other maiden.
“We’ll take these birds along to town so they can be thrown in the dungeon,” he said to his men who were holding the two Germans, who said they belonged to the Rostock ship. “But first we must escort the maidens back to their convent. I’m sure you can find some straps to tie them up with…”
“Do you mean the maidens, Erlend?” asked one of the men. They were young, strong, and well-dressed boys, and they were both flushed after the fight.
Their master frowned and was about to give a sharp reply. But Kristin put her hand on his sleeve.
“Let them go, kind sir!” She gave a small shudder. “My sister and I would be most reluctant to have this matter talked about.”
The stranger looked down at her, bit his lip, and nodded as he gazed at her. Then he gave each of the prisoners a blow on the back of the neck with the flat of his blade so that they fell forward. “Get going,” he said, giving them a kick, and they took off as fast as they could. The gentleman turned back to the maidens and asked them if they would like to ride.
Ingebj?rg allowed herself to be lifted up into Erlend’s saddle, but it turned out that she couldn’t stay in it; she slipped down again at once. He gave Kristin a questioning look, and she told him that she was used to riding a man’s saddle.
He grasped her around the knees and lifted her up. She felt a thrill pass through her, sweet and good, because he held her away from himself so carefully, as if he were afraid to get too close to her. Back home they had never paid attention if they pressed her too close when they helped her onto her horse. She felt so strangely honored.
The knight—as Ingebj?rg called him, even though he wore silver spurs3—offered the other maiden his hand, and his men leaped onto their horses. Ingebj?rg now wanted them to go north, around the town and along the foot of the Ryen hills and the Marte outcrop, not through the streets. Her excuse was that Sir Erlend and his men were fully armed, weren’t they? The knight replied somberly that the ban against bearing weapons was not so strictly enforced for those who were traveling, or for all the people in town who were now hunting wild beasts. Kristin realized full well that Ingebj?rg wanted to take the longest and least traveled road in order to talk more with Erlend.
“This is the second time we have delayed you this evening, sir,” said Ingebj?rg.
Erlend replied gravely, “It doesn’t matter; I’m going no farther than to Gerdarud tonight—and it stays light all night long.”
Kristin was so pleased that he neither teased nor jested but spoke to her as he would to an equal, or more than that. She thought of Simon; she had never met any other young men of the courtly class. But this man was probably somewhat older than Simon.
They made their way down into the valley below the Ryen hills and up along the stream. The path was narrow, and the young leafy bushes flicked wet, fragrant branches at Kristin. It was a little darker down there, the air was chill, and the foliage was wet with dew along the streambed.
They moved slowly, and the hooves of the horses sounded muffled against the damp, grass-covered path. Kristin swayed in the saddle; behind her she could hear Ingebj?rg talking, and the stranger’s dark, calm voice. He didn’t say much, answering as if preoccupied—as if he were feeling the same as she was, thought Kristin. She felt so strangely drowsy, but safe and content now that all the events of the day had slipped away.