For a while the three stood in silence. Kristin trembled; but yet, in this first moment, she felt a strange, sweet thrill—from deep within her something rose, scenting the combat between two men—she drew a deep breath; here was an end to these endless months of dumb waiting and longing and dread. She looked from one to the other, pale and with shining eyes—then the strain within her broke in a chill, unfathomable despair. There was more of cold scorn than of rage or jealousy in Simon Darre’s eyes and she saw that Erlend, behind his defiant bearing, burned with shame. It dawned upon her, how other men would think of him, who had let her come to him in such a place, and she saw ’twas as though he had had to suffer a blow in the face; she knew he burned to draw his sword and fall upon Simon.
“Why have you come hither, Simon?” she cried aloud in dread.
Both men turned toward her.
“To fetch you home,” said Simon. “Here you cannot be—”
“’Tis not for you, any more, to lay commands on Kristin Lavransdatter,” said Erlend fiercely, “she is mine now—”
“I doubt not she is,” said Simon savagely, “and a fair bridal bower have you brought her to—” He stood a little, panting; then he mastered his voice and spoke quietly: “But so it is that I am her betrothed still—till her father can come for her. And for so long I mean to guard with edge and point so much of her honour as can be saved—in others’ eyes—”
“What need of you to guard her; I can—” he flushed red as blood under Simon’s eyes. Then, flying out: “Think you I will suffer threats from a boy like you,” he cried, laying his hand on his sword-hilt.
Simon clapped both hands behind him.
“I am not such a coward as to be afraid you should deem me afraid,” said he as before. “I will fight you, Erlend Nikulaussön, you may stake your soul upon that, if within due time, you have not made suit for Kristin to her father—”
“That will I never do at your bidding, Simon Andressön,” said Erlend angrily; the blood rushed into his face again.