Kristin Lavransdatter Part 52

"My Gaute." His mother put her hands on the boy's shoulders and looked into his face. "Your father has had to place important matters in your hands. If you don't know what else to do, but you feel you need to speak of this to someone, then tell your mother what's troubling you. But it would please me most if you could keep silent about this altogether, son!"

The fair complexion beneath the straight, flaxen hair, the big eyes, the full, firm red lips-he looked so much like her father now. Gaute nodded. Then he placed his arm around his mother's shoulders. With painful sweetness Kristin noticed that she could lean her head against the boy's frail chest; he was so tall now that as he stood there and she sat beside him, her head reached to just above his heart. It was the first time she had leaned for support against this child.

Gaute said, "Isak was home alone. I didn't show him what I was carrying, just told him I had something that needed to be burned. Then he made a big fire in the hearth before he went out and saddled his horse."

Kristin nodded. Then he released her, turned to face her, and asked in a childish voice full of fear and awe, "Mother, do you know what they're saying? They're saying that Father . . . wants to be king. king."

"That sounds most unlikely, child," she replied with a smile.

"But he comes from the proper lineage, Mother," said the boy, somber and proud. "And it seems to me that Father might be better at it than most other men."

"Hush." She took his hand again. "My Gaute . . . you should realize, after Father has shown such trust in you . . . You and all the rest of us must neither think nor speak, but guard our tongues well until we learn more and can judge whether we ought to speak, and in what way. I'm going to ride to Nidaros tomorrow, and if I can talk to your father alone for a moment, I'll tell him that you have carried out his errand well."

"Take me with you, Mother!" begged the boy earnestly.

"We must not let anyone think you're anything but a thoughtless child, Gaute. You will have to try, little son, to play and be as happy as you can at home-in that way you will serve him best."

Naakkve and Bjrgulf walked slowly up the hill. They came over to their mother and stood there, looking so young and strained and distraught. Kristin saw that they were still children enough to turn to their mother at this anxious time-and yet they were so close to being men that they wanted to console or rea.s.sure her, if they could find some way to do so. She reached out a hand to each of the boys. But neither of them said very much.

After a while they headed back home; Kristin walked with one hand on the shoulder of each of her eldest sons.

"Why are you looking at me that way, Naakkve?" she said. But the boy blushed, turned his head away, and did not reply.

He had never before thought about how his mother looked. It had been years ago that he began comparing his father to other men-his father was the most handsome of men, with the bearing most like a chieftain. His mother was the mother who had more and more children; they grew up and left the hands of women to join the life and companions.h.i.+p and fighting and friends.h.i.+p of the group of brothers. His mother had open hands through which everything they needed flowed; his mother had a remedy for almost every ill; his mother's presence at the manor was like the fire in the hearth. She created life at home the way the fields around Husaby created the year's crops; life and warmth issued from her as they did from the beasts in the cowshed and the horses in the stable. The boy had never thought to compare her to other women.

Tonight he suddenly saw it: She was a proud and beautiful woman. With her broad, pale forehead beneath the linen wimple, the even gaze of her steel-gray eyes under the calm arch of her brows, with her heavy bosom and her long, slender limbs. She held her tall figure as erect as a sword. But he could not speak of this; blus.h.i.+ng and silent, he walked beside her, with her hand on the nape of his neck.

Gaute followed along behind. Bjrgulf was also gripping the back of his mother's belt, and the older boy began grumbling because his brother was treading on his heels. They started shoving and pus.h.i.+ng at each other. Their mother told them to hush and put an end to their quarreling-but her somber expression softened into a smile. They were still just children, her sons.

She lay awake that night; she had Munan sleeping at her breast and Lavrans lay between her and the wall.

Kristin tried to take stock of her husband's case.

She couldn't believe that it was truly dangerous. Erling Vidkuns sn and the king's cousins at Sudrheim had been charged with treason against their king and country-but they were still here in Norway, as secure and rich as ever, although they might not stand as high in the king's favor as before.

No doubt Erlend had become involved in some unlawful activities in the service of Lady Ingebjrg. Over all these years he had maintained his friends.h.i.+p with his highborn kinswoman. Kristin knew that five years back, when he visited her in Denmark, he had done her some unlawful service that had to be kept secret. Now that Erling Vidkunssn had taken up Lady Ingebjrg's cause and was trying to acquire for her control of the property she owned in Norway-it was conceivable that Erling had sent her to Erlend, or that she herself had turned to the son of her father's cousin after the friends.h.i.+p had cooled between Erling and the king. And then Erlend had handled the matter recklessly.

Yet if that was true, it was hard to understand how her kinsmen at Sundbu could have been involved in this.

It could only end with Erlend coming to a full reconciliation with the king, if he had done nothing more than act overzealously in service of the king's mother.

High treason. She had heard about the downfall of Audun Hugleikssn; it had happened during her father's youth. But they were terrifying misdeeds that Audun had been charged with. Her father said it was all a lie. The maiden Margret Eiriksdatter had died in the arms of the bishop of Bjrgvin, but Audun took no part in the crusade, so he could not have sold her to the heathens. Maiden Isabel was thirteen years old, but Audun was more than fifty when he brought her home to be King Eirik's bride. It was shameful for a Christian to pay any heed at all to such rumors as there were about that bridal procession. Her father refused to allow the ballads about Audun to be sung at home on his manor. And yet there were unheard-of things said about Audun Hestakorn. He had supposedly sold all of King Haakon's military power to the French king and promised to sail to his aid with twelve hundred wars.h.i.+ps-and for that he had received seven barrels of gold in payment. But it had never been fully explained to the peasants of the country why Audun Hugleikssn had to die on the gallows at Nordnes.

His son fled the country; people said he had taken service in the army of the French king. The granddaughters of the Aalhus knight, Gyrid and Signe, had left their grandfather's execution site with his stable boy. They were to live like poor peasant wives somewhere in a mountain village in Haddingjadal.

It was a good thing, after all, that she and Erlend did not have daughters. No, she was not going to think about such matters. It was so unlikely that Erlend's case should have a worse outcome than . . . than that of Erling Vidkunssn and the Haftorssns.

Nikulaus Erlendssn of Husaby. Oh, now she too felt that Husaby was the most beautiful manor in all of Norway.

She would go to Sir Baard and find out all she could. The royal treasurer had always been her friend. Judge Olav, as well-in the past. But Erlend had gone too far, that time when the judge decided against him in the case of his estate in town. And Olav had taken to heart the misfortune with his G.o.ddaughter's husband.

They had no close kinsmen, neither she nor Erlend-no matter how extensive their lineage might be. Munan Baardsn no longer had great influence. He had been charged with unlawful deeds when he was sheriff of Ringerike; he was too eager in his attempts to further the position of his many children in the world-he had four from his marriage and five outside of it. And he had apparently declined greatly since Fru Katrin had died. Inge of Ry county, Julitta and her husband, Ragnrid who was married to a Swede-Erlend knew little of them. They were the remaining children of Herr Baard and Fru Aas.h.i.+ld. There had never been friends.h.i.+p between Erlend and the Hestnes people since the death of Sir Baard Petersn; Tormod of Raasvold had grown senile; and his children with Fru Gunna were all dead and his grandchildren underage.

Kristin herself had no other kinsmen in Norway from her father's lineage than Ketil Aasmundssn of Skog and Sigurd Kyrning, who was married to her uncle's oldest daughter. The second daughter was a widow, and the third was a nun. All four of the men of Sundbu seemed to be involved in the case. Lavrans had become such foes with Erlend Eldjarn over the inheritance after Ivar Gjesling's death that they had refused to see each other ever again, so Kristin did not know her aunt's husband or his son.

The ailing monk at the friars' monastery was Erlend's only close kinsman. And the one who stood closest to Kristin in the world was Simon Darre, since he was married to her only sister.

Munan woke up and began to whimper. Kristin turned over in bed and placed the child to her other breast. She couldn't take him with her to Nidaros, as uncertain as everything now stood. Perhaps this would be the last drink the poor child would ever have from his own mother's breast. Perhaps this was the last time in this world that she would lie in bed holding a little infant . . . so good, so good . . . If Erlend was condemned to death . . . Blessed Mary, Mother of G.o.d, if she had ever for an hour or a day been impatient because of the children that G.o.d had granted to her . . . Was this to be the last kiss she ever received from a little mouth, sweet with milk?

CHAPTER 5.

KRISTIN WENT TO the king's palace the next evening, as soon as she arrived in Nidaros. Where are they holding Erlend? she wondered as she looked around at the many stone buildings. She seemed to be thinking more about how Erlend might be faring than about what she needed to find out. But she was told that the royal treasurer was not in town.

Her eyes were stinging from the long boat trip in the glittering suns.h.i.+ne, and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were bursting with milk. After the servants who slept in the main house had fallen asleep, she got out of bed and paced the floor all night.

The next day she sent Haldor, her personal servant, over to the king's palace. He came back shocked and distressed.

His uncle, Ulf Haldorssn, had been taken prisoner on the fjord as he attempted to reach the monastery on the island of Holm. The royal treasurer had not yet returned.

This news also frightened Kristin terribly. Ulf had not lived at Husaby during the past year but had served as the sheriff's deputy, residing for the most part at Skjoldvirkstad, a large share of which he now owned. What kind of matter could this be when so many men seemed to be involved? She couldn't stop herself from thinking the worst, ill and exhausted as she now was.

By the morning of the third day, Sir Baard had still not returned home. And a message that Kristin had tried to send to her husband was not allowed through. She thought about seeking out Gunnulf at the monastery, but decided against it. She paced the floor at home, back and forth, again and again, with her eyes half-closed and burning. Now and then she felt as if she were walking in her sleep, but as soon as she lay down, fear and pain would seize hold of her and she would have to get up again, wide awake, and walk to make it bearable.

Shortly after mid-afternoon prayers Gunnulf Nikulaussn came to see her. Kristin walked swiftly toward the monk.

"Have you seen Erlend? Gunnulf, what are they accusing him of?"

"The news is troubling, Kristin. No, they won't allow anyone near Erlend-least of all any of us from the monastery. They think that Abbot Olav knew about his undertakings. He borrowed money from the brothers, but they swear they knew nothing about what he intended to use it for when they placed the cloister's seal on the doc.u.ment. And Abbot Olav refuses to give any explanation."

"Yes, but what is it all about? Was it the d.u.c.h.ess who lured Erlend into this?"

Gunnulf replied, "It seems instead that they had to press hard before she would agree. Someone . . . has seen drafts of a letter, which Erlend and his friends sent to her in the spring; it's not likely to fall into the hands of the authorities unless they can threaten Lady Ingebjrg to part with it. And they haven't found any drafts. But according to both the reply letter and the letter from Herr Aage Laurisen, which they seized from Borgar Trondssn in Vey, it seems certain enough that she did receive such a missive from Erlend and the men who have joined forces with him in this plan. For a long time she clearly seemed to fear sending Prince Haakon to Norway; but they persuaded her that no matter what the outcome might be, King Magnus would not possibly harm the child, since they are brothers. Even if Haakon Knutssn did not win the Crown in Norway, he would be no worse off than before. But these men were willing to risk their lives and their property to put him on the throne."

For a long time Kristin sat in utter silence.

"I understand. These are more serious matters than what came between Sir Erling or the Haftorssns and the king."

"Yes," said Gunnulf in a subdued voice. "Haftor Olavssn and Erlend were supposedly sailing to Bjrgvin. But they were actually heading for Kalundborg, and they were to bring Prince Haakon back with them to Norway while King Magnus was abroad courting his bride."

After a moment the monk continued in the same tone of voice. "It must be . . . nearly a hundred years since any Norwegian has dared attempt such a thing: to overthrow the man who was king by right of succession and replace him with an opposing king."

Kristin sat and stared straight ahead; Gunnulf could not see her face.

"Yes. The last men who dared undertake this game were your ancestors and Erlend's. Back then my deceased kinsmen of the Gjesling lineage were also on the side of King Skule," she said pensively.

She met Gunnulf's searching glance and then exclaimed hotly and fiercely, "I'm merely a simple woman, Gunnulf-I paid little attention when my husband spoke with other men about such matters. I was unwilling to listen when he wanted to discuss them with me. G.o.d help me, I don't have the wits to understand such weighty topics. But foolish woman that I am, with knowledge of nothing more than my household duties and rearing children-even I know that justice had much too long a road to travel before any grievance could find its way to the king and then back again to the villages. I too have seen that the peasants of this country are faring worse and must endure more hards.h.i.+ps now than when I was a child, and blessed King Haakon was our lord. My husband . . ." She took several quick, shuddery breaths. "My husband took up a cause that was so great that none of the other chieftains in all the land dared raise it. I see that now."

"That he did." The monk clasped his hands tightly together. His voice was hardly more than a whisper. "Such a great cause that many will think it very grave that he brought about its downfall himself . . . and in this way . . ."

Kristin cried out and leaped to her feet. She moved with such force that the pain in her breast and arms brought the sweat pouring from her body. Agitated and dizzy with fever, she turned to Gunnulf and shouted loudly, "Erlend is not to blame . . . it just happened . . . it was his misfortune . . ."

She threw herself to her knees and pressed her hands on the bench; she lifted her blazing, desperate face to the monk.

"You and I, Gunnulf . . . you, his brother, and I, his wife for thirteen years, we shouldn't blame Erlend now that he's a poor prisoner, with his life perhaps in danger."

Gunnulf's face quivered. He looked down at the kneeling woman. "May G.o.d reward you, Kristin, for accepting things in this manner." Again he wrung his emaciated hands. "G.o.d . . . may G.o.d grant Erlend life and such circ.u.mstances that he might repay your loyalty. May G.o.d turn this evil away from you and your children, Kristin."

"Don't talk like that!" She straightened her back as she knelt, and looked up into the monk's eyes. "No good has come of it, Gunnulf, whenever you have taken on Erlend's affairs or mine. No one has judged him more harshly than you-his brother and G.o.d's servant."

"Never have I judged Erlend more harshly than . . . than was necessary." His pale face had grown even paler. "I've never loved anyone on earth more than my brother. That is no doubt why . . . They stung me as if they were my own sins, sins that I had to repent myself, when Erlend dealt with you so badly. And then there is Husaby. Erlend alone must carry on the lineage which is also mine. And I have put most of my inheritance into his hands. Your sons are the men who are closest to me by blood. . . ."

"Erlend has not not dealt with me badly! I was no better than him! Why are you talking to me this way, Gunnulf? You were never my confessor. Sira Eiliv never blamed my husband-he admonished dealt with me badly! I was no better than him! Why are you talking to me this way, Gunnulf? You were never my confessor. Sira Eiliv never blamed my husband-he admonished me me for my sins whenever I complained of my difficulties to him. He was a better priest than you are; he's the one G.o.d has placed over me, he's the one I must listen to, and he has never said that I suffered unjustly. I will listen to him!" for my sins whenever I complained of my difficulties to him. He was a better priest than you are; he's the one G.o.d has placed over me, he's the one I must listen to, and he has never said that I suffered unjustly. I will listen to him!"

Gunnulf stood up when she did. Pale and distressed, he murmured, "What you say is true. You must listen to Sira Eiliv."

He turned to go, but she gripped his hand tightly. No, don't leave me like this! I remember, Gunnulf . . . I remember when I visited you here on this estate, back when it belonged to you. And you were kind to me. I remember the first time I met you-I was in great need and anguish. I remember you spoke to me in Erlend's defense; you couldn't know . . . You prayed and prayed for my life and my child's. I know that you meant us well, and that you loved Erlend. . . .

"Oh, don't speak harshly of Erlend, Gunnulf! Who among us is pure before G.o.d? My father grew fond of him, and our children love their father. Remember that he found me weak and easy to sway, but he led me to a good and honorable place. Oh, yes, Husaby is beautiful. On the night before I left, it was so lovely; the sunset was magnificent that evening. We've spent many a good day there, Erlend and I. No matter how things go, no matter what happens, he is still my husband-my husband, whom I love."

Gunnulf leaned both hands on his staff, which he always carried now whenever he left the monastery.

"Kristin . . . Do not put your faith in the red of the sunset and in the . . . love that you remember, now that you fear for his life.

"I remember, when I was young-only a subdeacon. Gudbjrg, whom Alf of Uvaasen later married, was serving at Siheim then. She was accused of stealing a gold ring. It turned out that she was innocent, but the shame and the fear shook her soul so fiercely that the Fiend seized power over her. She went down to the lake and was about to sink into the water. She has often told us of this afterwards: that the world seemed to her such a lovely red and gold, and the water glistened and felt wondrously warm. But as she stood out there in the lake, she spoke the name of Jesus and made the sign of the cross-and then the whole world grew gray and cold, and she saw where she was headed."

"Then I won't say his name." Kristin spoke quietly; her bearing was rigid and erect. "If I thought that, then I would be tempted to betray my lord when he is in need. But I don't think it would be the name of Christ but rather the name of the Devil that would bring this about. . . ."

"That's not what I meant. I meant . . . May G.o.d give you strength, Kristin, that you may have the will to do this, to bear your husband's faults with a loving spirit."

"You can see that's what I'm doing," she said in the same voice as before.

Gunnulf turned away from her, pale and trembling. He drew his hand over his face.

"I must go home now. It's easier . . . at home it's easier for me to collect myself-to do what I can for Erlend and for you. G.o.d . . . May G.o.d and all the saints protect my brother's life and freedom. Oh, Kristin . . . You mustn't ever think that I don't love my brother."

But after he had left, Kristin thought everything seemed much worse. She didn't want the servants in the room with her; she paced back and forth, wringing her hands and moaning softly. It was already late in the evening when people came riding into the courtyard. A moment later, as the door was thrown open, a tall, stout man wearing a traveling cloak appeared in the twilight; he walked toward her with his spurs ringing and his sword trailing behind. When she recognized Simon Andressn, Kristin broke into loud sobbing and ran toward him with outstretched arms, but she shrieked in pain when he embraced her.

Simon let her go. She was standing with her hands on his shoulders and her forehead leaning against his chest, weeping inconsolably. He put his hands lightly on her hips.

"In G.o.d's name, Kristin!" There was a sense of deliverance in the very sound of his dry, warm voice and in the vital male smell about him: of sweat, road dust, horses, and leather harnesswork. "In G.o.d's name, it's much too soon to lose all hope and courage. Surely there must be a way . . ."

After a while she regained her composure enough to ask his forgiveness. She was feeling quite wretched because she had been forced to take the youngest child from her breast so suddenly.

Simon heard how she had been faring the last three days. He shouted for her maid and asked angrily whether there wasn't a single woman on the estate who had enough wits to see what was wrong with the mistress. But the maid was an inexperienced young girl, and Erlend's foreman of his Nidaros manor was a widower with two unmarried daughters. Simon sent a man to town to find a woman skilled in healing, but he begged Kristin to lie down and rest. When she felt a little better he would come in and talk to her.

While they waited for the woman to arrive, Simon and his man were given food in the hall. As they ate, he talked to Kristin, who was undressing in the alcove. Yes, he had ridden north as soon as he heard what had happened at Sundbu. He had come here, while Ramborg went to stay with the wives of Ivar and Borgar. They had taken Ivar to Mjs Castle, but they allowed Haavard to remain free, although he had to promise to stay in the village. It was said that Borgar and Guttorm had been fortunate enough to flee; Jon of Laugarbru had ridden out to Raumsdal to hear the news and would send word to Nidaros. Simon had reached Husaby around midday, but he hadn't stayed long. The boys were fine, but Naakkve and Bjrgulf had begged him earnestly to bring them along.

Kristin had regained her calm and courage when Simon, late that evening, came to sit at her bedside. She lay there with the feeling of pleasant exhaustion which follows great suffering, and looked at her brother-in-law's heavy, sunburned face and his small, piercing eyes. It was a great comfort to her that he had come. Simon grew quite somber when he heard more details of the matter, and yet his words were full of hope.

Kristin lay in bed, staring at the elkskin belt around his portly middle. The large, flat buckle made of copper and chased with silver, its only decoration a filigreed "A" and "M" which stood for Ave Maria; Ave Maria; the long dagger with the gilded silver mountings and the large rock crystals on the hilt; the pitiful little table knife with its cracked horn hilt which had been repaired with a band of bra.s.s-all these things had been part of her father's everyday attire ever since she was a child. She remembered when Simon received them; it was right before her father died, and he wanted to give Simon his best gilded belt with enough silver to have extra plates made so that his son-in-law could wear it. But Simon asked for the other belt instead, and when Lavrans said that now he was cheating himself, Simon replied that the dagger was a costly item. "Yes, and then there's the knife," said Ragnfrid with a little smile, and both men laughed and said: "Yes indeed, the knife." Her father and mother had had so many quarrels over that knife. Ragnfrid had complained every day at having to look at that ugly little knife on her husband's belt. But Lavrans swore that she would never succeed in parting him from it. "I've never drawn this knife against you, Ragnfrid-and it's the best one in all of Norway for cutting b.u.t.ter, as long as it's warm." the long dagger with the gilded silver mountings and the large rock crystals on the hilt; the pitiful little table knife with its cracked horn hilt which had been repaired with a band of bra.s.s-all these things had been part of her father's everyday attire ever since she was a child. She remembered when Simon received them; it was right before her father died, and he wanted to give Simon his best gilded belt with enough silver to have extra plates made so that his son-in-law could wear it. But Simon asked for the other belt instead, and when Lavrans said that now he was cheating himself, Simon replied that the dagger was a costly item. "Yes, and then there's the knife," said Ragnfrid with a little smile, and both men laughed and said: "Yes indeed, the knife." Her father and mother had had so many quarrels over that knife. Ragnfrid had complained every day at having to look at that ugly little knife on her husband's belt. But Lavrans swore that she would never succeed in parting him from it. "I've never drawn this knife against you, Ragnfrid-and it's the best one in all of Norway for cutting b.u.t.ter, as long as it's warm."

Kristin now asked to see the knife, and she lay in bed, holding it in her hands for a moment.

"I wish that I might own this knife," she pleaded softly.

"Yes, I can well believe that. I'm glad it's mine; I wouldn't sell it for even twenty marks of silver." With a laugh Simon grabbed her wrist and took back the knife. His small, plump hands always felt so good-warm and dry.

A short time later he bade her good night, picked up the candle, and went into the main room. She heard him kneel down before the cross, then stand up and drop his boots onto the floor. A few minutes later he climbed heavily into the bed against the north wall. Then Kristin sank into a deep, sweet sleep.

She didn't wake up until quite late the next morning. Simon An-dressn had left hours earlier, and he had asked the servants to tell her to stay calm and remain at the estate.

He didn't return until almost time for mid-afternoon prayers; he said at once, "I bring you greetings from Erlend, Kristin. I was allowed to speak to him."

He saw how young her face became, soft and full of anguished tenderness. Then he held her hand in his as he talked. He and Erlend hadn't been able to say much to each other, because the man who had escorted Simon up to the prisoner never left the room. Judge Olav had won Simon permission for this meeting, because of the kins.h.i.+p that had existed between them while Halfrid was alive. Erlend sent loving greetings to Kristin and the children; he had asked about all of them, but most about Gaute. Simon thought that in a few days Kristin would surely be allowed to see her husband. Erlend had seemed calm and in good spirits.

"If I had gone with you today, they would have let me see him too," she said quietly.

But Simon thought he had been granted permission because he came alone. "Although it might be easier for you in many ways, Kristin, to gain concessions if a man steps forward in your behalf."

Erlend was being held in a room in the east tower, facing the river-one of the finer chambers, although it was small. Ulf Hal dorssn was supposedly sitting in the dungeon; Haftor in a different chamber.

Cautiously and hesitantly, as he tried to discern how much she could bear, Simon recounted what he had been able to learn in town. When he saw that she understood fully what had happened, he didn't hide that he too thought it a dangerous matter. But everyone he had spoken to said that Erlend would never have ventured to plan such an undertaking and carry it out as far as he had without being certain that he had a majority of the knights and gentry behind him. And since the ranks of the malcontent n.o.blemen were so great, it wasn't expected that the king would dare deal harshly with their chieftain; he would have to allow Erlend to be reconciled with him in some way.

Kristin asked in a low voice, "Where does Erling Vidkunssn stand in all this?"

"I think that's something that many a man would like to know," said Simon.

He didn't tell Kristin, nor had he told any of the men he talked to, but he thought it unlikely that Erlend would have a large group of men behind him who had bound themselves to support him with their lives and property in such a perilous undertaking. And certainly they would never have chosen him as chieftain; all his peers knew that Erlend was unreliable. It was true that he was the kinsman of Lady Ingebjrg and the pretender to the throne. He had enjoyed both power and respect in the last few years, he was more experienced in war than most of his peers, and he had a reputation for being able to recruit and lead soldiers. Even though he had acted unwisely so many times, he could still present his arguments in such a good and convincing manner that it was almost possible to believe he had finally learned caution from his misdeeds. Simon thought it likely that there were some who knew of Erlend's plan and had urged him on, but he would be surprised if they had bound themselves so closely that they couldn't now retreat; Erlend would be left standing with no one to back him.

Simon thought he could see that Erlend himself expected little else, and he seemed prepared to have to pay dearly for his risky game. "When cows are stuck in the mire, whoever owns them has to pull them out by the tail," he had said with a laugh. Otherwise Erlend had not been able to say much in the presence of the third man.