“Not in this land, maybe. ’Tis therefore we fly to Sweden. Her forefather, Laurentius Lagmand, was never wed to the Lady Bengta in any other sort—they could never win her brother’s consent. Yet was she counted as a wedded lady—” “There were no children,” said Aashild. “Think you my sons will hold their hands from your heritage, if Kristin be left a widow with children, and their lawful birth can be cast in dispute?” “You do Munan wrong,” said Erlend. “I know but little of your other children—I know indeed that you have little cause to judge them kindly. But Munan has ever been my trusty kinsman. He is fain to have me wed; ’twas he went to Lavrans with my wooing—Besides, afterwards, by course of law, I can assure our children their heritage and rights.” “Aye, and thereby mark their mother as your concubine,” said Lady Aashild. “But ’tis past my understanding how that meek and holy man, Jon Helgesön, will dare to brave his Bishop by wedding you against the law.” “I confessed—_all_—to him last summer,” said Erlend in a low voice. “He promised then to wed us, if all other ways should fail.” “Is it even so?” said Lady Aashild, slowly—“A heavy sin have you laid upon your soul, Erlend Nikulaussön. ’Twas well with Kristin at home with her father and mother—a good marriage was agreed for her with a comely and honourable man of good kindred—” “Kristin hath told me herself how you said once that she and I would match well together. And that Simon Andressön was no husband for her—” “Oh—I have said, and I have said!” Aashild broke in. “I have said so many things in my time—Neither can I understand at all that you can have gained your will with Kristin so lightly. So many times you cannot have met together. And never could I have thought that maid had been so light to win—” “We met at Oslo,” said Erlend. “Afterward she was dwelling out at Gerdarud with her father’s brother. She came out and met me in the woods.” He looked down and spoke very low: “I had her alone to myself out there—” Lady Aashild started up. Erlend bent his head yet lower. “And after that—she still was friends with you?” she asked, unbelievingly. “Aye,” Erlend smiled a weak, wavering smile. “We were friends still. And ’twas not so bitterly against her—but no blame lies on her. ’Twas then she would have had me take her away—she was loth to go back to her kin—” “But you would not?” “No. I was minded to try to win her for my wife with her father’s will.” “Is it long since?” asked Lady Aashild. “’Twas a year last Lawrencemass,” answered Erlend. “You have not hasted overmuch with your wooing,” said the other. “She was not free before from her first betrothal.” “And since then you have not come nigh her?” asked Aashild. “We managed so that we met once and again.” Once more the wavering smile flitted over the man’s face. “In a house in the town.”