Spring came at a single bound. Only a few days after the sudden thaw the whole parish lay dark brown under the flooding rain. The waters rushed foaming down the hillsides, the river swelled up and lay in the valley-bottom, like a great leaden-grey lake, with lines of tree-tops floating on its waters and a treacherous bubbling furrow where the current ran. At Jörundgaard the water stood far up over the fields. But everywhere the mischief done was less than folk had feared.
Of necessity the spring work was thrown late, and the people sowed their scanty corn with prayers to God that He would save it from the night-frosts in autumn. And it looked as though He would hearken to them and a little ease their burdens. June came in with mild, growing weather, the summer was good, and folk set their faces forward in hope that the marks of the evil year might be wiped out in time.
The hay harvest had been got in, when one evening four men rode up to Jörundgaard. First came two knights, and behind them their serving-men; and the knights were Sir Munan Baardsön and Sir Baard Petersön of Hestnæs.
Ragnfrid and Lavrans had the board spread in the upper hall, and beds made ready in the guest-room over the store-house. But Lavrans begged the knights to tarry with their errand till the next day, when they should be rested from their journey.
Sir Munan led the talk throughout the meal; he turned much to Kristin in talking, and spoke as if he and she were well-acquainted. She saw that this was not to her father’s liking. Sir Munan was square-built, red-faced, ugly, talkative, and something of a buffoon in his bearing. People called him Dumpy Munan or Dance Munan. But for all his flighty bearing Lady Aashild’s son was a man of understanding and parts, who had been used by the Crown more than once in matters of trust, and was known to have a word in the counsels of them that guided the affairs of the kingdom. He held his mother’s heritage in the Skogheim Hundred; was exceeding rich, and had made a rich marriage. Lady Katrin, his wife, was hard-featured beyond the common, and seldom opened her mouth; but her husband ever spoke of her as if she were the wisest of dames, so that she was known in jest as Lady Katrin the Ready-witted, or the Silver-tongued. They seemed to live with each other well and lovingly, though Sir Munan was known all too well for the looseness of his life both before and after his marriage.
Sir Baard Petersön was a comely and a stately old man, even though now somewhat ample of girth and heavy-limbed. His hair and beard were faded now, but their hue was still as much yellow as ’twas white. Since King Magnus Haakonsön’s death he had lived retired, managing his great possessions in Nordmöre. He was a widower for the second time, and had many children, who, it was said, were all comely, well-nurtured and well-to-do.
The next day Lavrans and his guests went up to the upper hall for their parley. Lavrans would have had his wife be present with them, but she would not:
“This matter must be in your hands wholly. You know well ’twill be the heaviest of sorrows for our daughter if it should come to naught; but I see well that there are but too many things that may make against this marriage.”
Sir Munan brought forth a letter from Erlend Nikulaussön. Erlend’s proffer was that Lavrans should fix, himself, each and all of the conditions, if he would betroth his daughter Kristin to him. Erlend was willing to have all his possessions valued and his incomings appraised by impartial men, and to grant to Kristin such extra-gift and morning-gift, that she would possess a third of all his estate besides her own dowry and all such heritage as might come to her from her kin, should she be left a widow without living children. Further his proffer was to grant Kristin full power to deal at her pleasure with her share of the common estate, both what she had of her own kindred and what came to her from her husband. But if Lavrans wished for other terms of settlement, Erlend was most willing to hear his wishes and to follow them in all things. To one thing only he asked that Kristin’s kindred, on their side, should bind themselves: that, should the guardianship of his children and Kristin’s ever come to them, they would never try to set aside the gifts he had made to his children by Eline Ormsdatter, but would let all such gifts hold good, as having passed from his estate before his entry into wedlock with Kristin Lavransdatter. At the end of all Erlend made proffer to hold the wedding in all seemly state at Husaby.
Lavrans spoke in reply:
“This is a fair proffer. I see by it that your kinsman has it much at heart to come to terms with me. All the more is this plain to me by reason that he has moved you, Sir Munan, to come for the second time on such an errand to a man like me, who am of little weight beyond my own country-side; and that a knight like you, Sir Baard, hath been at the pains of making such a journey to further his cause. But concerning Erlend’s proffer I would say this: my daughter has not been bred up to deal herself with the ordering of goods and gear, but I have ever hoped to give her to such a man as that I could lay the maid’s welfare in his hands with an easy mind. I know not, indeed, whether Kristin be fit to be set in such authority, but I can scarce believe that ’twould be for her good. She is mild of mood and biddable—and ’twas one of the reasons I have had in mind in setting myself against this marriage, that ’tis known Erlend has shown want of understanding in more matters than one. Had she been a power-loving, bold and head-strong woman, then indeed the matter had taken on another face.”
Sir Munan burst out laughing:
“Dear Lavrans, lament you that the maid is not head-strong enough—?” and Sir Baard said with a little smile:
“Methinks your daughter has shown that she lacks not a will of her own—for two years now she has held to Erlend clean against your will.”
Lavrans said:
“I have not forgotten it; yet do I know well what I say. She has suffered sorely herself all this time she has stood against me; nor will she long be glad with a husband who cannot rule her.”
“Nay then the devil’s in it!” said Sir Munan. “Then must your daughter be far unlike all the women I have known; for I have never seen one that was not fain to rule herself—and her man to boot!”
Lavrans shrugged his shoulders and made no answer.
Then said Baard Petersön:
“I can well believe, Lavrans Björgulfsön, that you have found this marriage between your daughter and my foster-son no more to your liking, since the woman who had lived with him came to the end we know of last year. But you must know it has come out now that the unhappy woman had let herself be led astray by another man, Erlend’s steward at Husaby. Erlend knew of this when he went with her down the Dale; he had proffered to portion her fittingly, if the man would wed her.”
“Are you well assured that this is so?” asked Lavrans. “And yet I know not,” he said again, “if the thing is anyway bettered thereby. Hard must it be for a woman come of good kindred to go into a house hand and hand with the master, and be led out by the serving-man.”
Munan Baardsön took the word:
“’Tis plain to me, Lavrans Björgulfsön, that what goes against my cousin most with you, is that he has had these hapless dealings with Sigurd Saksulvsön’s wife. And true it is that ’twas not well done of him. But in God’s name, man, you must remember this—here was this young boy dwelling in one house with a young and fair woman, and she had an old, cold, strengthless husband—and the night is a half-year long up there: methinks a man could scarce look for aught else to happen, unless Erlend had been a very saint. There is no denying it: Erlend had made at all times but a sorry monk; but methinks your young, fair daughter would give you little thanks, should you give her a monkish husband.—True it is that Erlend bore himself like a fool then, and a yet greater fool since—But the thing should not stand against him for ever—we his kinsmen have striven to help the boy to his feet again; the woman is dead; and Erlend has done all in his power to care for her body and her soul; the Bishop of Oslo himself hath absolved him of his sin, and now is he come home again made clean by the Holy Blood at Schwerin—would you be stricter than the Bishop of Oslo, and the Archbishop at Schwerin—or whoever it may be that hath charge of that precious blood—?
“Dear Lavrans, true it is that chastity is a fair thing indeed; but ’tis verily hard for a grown man to attain to it without a special gift of grace from God. By St. Olav—Aye, and you should remember too that the Holy King himself was not granted that gift till his life here below was drawing to an end—very like ’twas God’s will that he should first beget that doughty youth King Magnus, who smote down the heathen when they raged against the Nordlands. I wot well King Olav had that son by another than his Queen—yet doth he sit amidst the highest saints in the host of heaven. Aye, I can see in your face that you deem this unseemly talk—”
Sir Baard broke in:
“Lavrans Björgulfsön, I liked this matter no better than you, when first Erlend came to me and said he had set his heart on a maid that was handfast to another. But since then I have come to know that there is so great kindness between these two young folk, that ’twould be great pity to part their loves. Erlend was with me at the last Yule-tide feasting King Haakon held for his men—they met together there, and scarce had they seen each other when your daughter swooned away and lay a long while as one dead—and I saw in my foster-son’s face that he would rather lose his life than lose her.”
Lavrans sat still awhile before answering:
“Aye; all such things sound fair and fine when a man hears them told in a knightly saga of the Southlands. But we are not in Bretland here, and ’tis like you too would ask more in the man you would choose for son-in-law than that he had brought your daughter to swoon away for love in all folk’s sight—”
The two others were silent, and Lavrans went on:
“’Tis in my mind, good Sirs, that had Erlend Nikulaussön not made great waste both of his goods and of his fame, you would scarce be sitting here pleading so strongly with a man of my estate that I should give my daughter to him. But I would be loth it should be said of Kristin that ’twas an honour for her to wed a great estate and a man from amongst the highest in the land—after the man had so beshamed himself, that he could not look to make a better match, or keep undiminished the honour of his house.”
He rose in heat, and began walking to and fro.
But Sir Munan started up:
“Now, before God, Lavrans, if the talk is of shame, I would have you know you are over-proud in—”
Sir Baard broke in quickly, going up to Lavrans:
“Proud you are, Lavrans—you are like those udal farmers we have heard of in olden times, who would have naught to do with the titles the Kings would have given them, because their pride could not brook that folk should say they owed thanks to any but themselves. I tell you, that were Erlend still master of all the honour and riches the boy was born to, yet would I never deem that I demeaned him or myself in asking a well-born and wealthy man to give his daughter to my foster-son, if I knew that the two young creatures might break their hearts if they parted. And the rather,” he said in a low voice, laying his hand on Lavrans’ shoulder, “if so it were that ’twould be best for the souls of both they should wed each other.”
Lavrans drew away from the other’s hand; his face grew set and cold:
“I scarce believe I understand your meaning, Sir Knight?”
The two men looked at each other for a space; then Sir Baard said:
“I mean that Erlend has told me, they two have sworn troth to each other with the dearest oaths. Maybe you would say that you have power to loose your child from her oath, since she swore without your will. But Erlend you cannot loose.—And for aught I can see what most stands in the road is your pride—and the hate you bear to sin. But in that ’tis to me as though you were minded to be stricter than God himself, Lavrans Björgulfsön.”
Lavrans answered somewhat uncertainly:
“It may be there is truth in this that you say to me, Sir Baard. But what most has set me against this match is that I have deemed Erlend to be so unsure a man that I could not trust my daughter to his hands.”
“Methinks I can answer for my foster-son now,” said Baard quietly. “Kristin is so dear to him that I know, if you will give her to him, he will prove in the event such a son-in-law that you shall have no cause of grief.”
Lavrans did not answer at once. Then Sir Baard said earnestly, holding out his hand:
“In God’s name, Lavrans Björgulfsön, give your consent!”
Lavrans laid his hand in Sir Baard’s:
“In God’s name!”
Ragnfrid and Kristin were called to the upper hall, and Lavrans told them his will. Sir Baard greeted the two women in fair and courtly fashion; Sir Munan took Ragnfrid by the hand and spoke to her in seemly wise, but Kristin he greeted in the foreign fashion with a kiss, and he took time over his greeting. Kristin felt that her father looked at her while this was doing.
“How like you your new kinsman, Sir Munan?” he asked jestingly when he was alone with her for a moment late that evening.
Kristin looked beseechingly at him. Then he stroked her face a little and said no more.
When Sir Baard and Sir Munan went to their room, Munan broke out:
“Not a little would I give to see this Lavrans Björgulfsön’s face, should he come to know the truth about this precious daughter of his. Here have you and I had to beg on our knees to win for Erlend a woman he has had with him in Brynhild’s house many times—”
“Hold your peace—no word of that,” answered Sir Baard in wrath. “’Twas the worst deed Erlend ever did, to lure that child to such places—and see that Lavrans never hear aught of it; the best that can happen now for all is that those two should be friends.”
The feast for the drinking of the betrothal ale was appointed to be held that same autumn. Lavrans said he could not make the feast very great, the year before had been such a bad one in the Dale; but to make up he would bear the cost of the wedding himself, and hold it at Jörundgaard in all seemly state. He named the bad year again as the cause why he required that the time of betrothal should last a year.