Well, well, said Erlend. Doubtless some way could be found to have the goods sent through in the autumn. But he had been glad, and had thought it seemed a wise counsel, when the Abbot had proffered to have the goods brought in the Church galleass. The Abbot had reminded him of their kinship. “They are all ready now to remember that,” said Erlend, smiling. His father-in-law’s displeasure seemed not to trouble him in the least. But in the end it was agreed that Erlend should be given the loan of a cart and should take away a cartload of the things Kristin would need most when first she came to her new home. The day after they were busy with the packing. The big and the little loom the mother thought might go at once—Kristin would scarce have time for weaving much more before the wedding. Ragnfrid and her daughter cut off the web that was on the loom. It was undyed wadmal, but of the finest, softest wool, with unwoven tufts of black sheep’s wool that made a pattern of spots. Kristin and her mother rolled up the stuff and laid it in the leather sack. Kristin thought: ’twould make good warm swaddling-cloths—and right fair ones, too, with blue or red bands wrapped round them. The sewing-chair, too, that Arne had once made her, was to be sent. Kristin took out of the box-seat all the things Erlend had given her from time to time. She showed her mother the blue velvet cloak patterned in red that she was to wear at the bridal, on the ride to church. The mother turned it about and about, and felt the stuff and the fur lining. “A costly cloak, indeed,” said Ragnfrid. “When was it Erlend gave you this?” “He gave it me when I was at Nonneseter,” said her daughter. Kristin’s bride-chest, that held all the goods her mother had gathered together and saved up for her since she was a little child, was emptied and packed anew. Its sides and cover were all carved in squares, with a leaping beast or a bird amidst leaves in each square. The wedding-dress Ragnfrid laid away in one of her own chests. It was not quite ready yet, though they had sewed on it all winter. It was of scarlet silk, cut to sit very close to the body. Kristin thought: ’twould be all too tight across the breast now. * * * * * Toward evening the whole load stood ready, firmly bound under the wagon-tilt. Erlend was to set forth early the next morning. He stood with Kristin leaning over the courtyard gate, looking northward to where a blue-black storm-cloud filled the Dale. Thunder was rolling far off in the mountains—but southward the green fields and the river lay in yellow, burning sunshine. “Mind you the storm that day in the woods at Gerdarud?” he asked softly, playing with her fingers. Kristin nodded and tried to smile. The air was so heavy and close—her head ached, and at every breath she took her skin grew damp with sweat.