He seated her on the bed-side and drew off her shoes, but then drew her back again to the table.
“Oh, my Kristin—now at last it looks as if bright days might come for us two. Methinks I had never dealt with you as I have done,” he said stroking and stroking her hair, “had it not been that each time I saw you, I thought ever ’twas not reason that they should give so fine and fair a wife to me.—Sit you down here and drink to me,” he begged.
A moment after came a knock on the door—it sounded like the stroke of a sword hilt.
“Open, Erlend Nikulaussön, if you are within.”
“’Tis Simon Darre,” said Kristin in a low voice.
“Open, man, in the devil’s name—if you be a man!” shouted Simon and beat on the door again.
Erlend went to the bed and took his sword down from the peg in the wall. He looked round, at a loss what to do: “There is nowhere here you can hide—”
“’Twould scarce make things better if I hid,” said Kristin. She had risen to her feet; she spoke very quietly, but Erlend saw that she was trembling. “You must open,” she said in the same tone. Simon hammered on the door again.
Erlend went and drew the bolt. Simon stepped in; he had a drawn sword in his hand, but he thrust it back into its sheath at once.