“Jesus, Jesus—did ever any hear such a dreadful thing—they are bringing Arne Gyrdson home dead on a sleigh—God help Gyrd and Inga in this misery—”
A man who dwelt in a cottage a little way down the road came in with Halvdan. It was these two who had met the bier.
The women crowded round them. Outside the circle stood Kristin, white and shaking. Halvdan, Lavrans’ own body-servant, who had known Arne from his boyhood, wept aloud as he told the story:
It was Bentein Priestson who had killed Arne. On New Year’s Eve the men of the Bishop’s household were sitting and drinking in the men’s hall, and Bentein had come in—he had been given a clerkship now with the Corpus Christi prebendary. The men did not want him amongst them at first, but he had put Arne in mind that they were both from the same parish, and Arne had let him sit by him, and they had drunk together. But presently they had quarrelled and fought, and Arne had fallen on so fiercely that Bentein had snatched a knife from they table and stabbed him in the throat and then more than once in the breast. Arne had died almost at once.
The Bishop had taken this mischance much to heart; he himself had cared for the laying-out of the corpse, and had it brought all the long way home by his own folk. Bentein he had thrown into irons, cast him out from the church, and if he were not already hanged, he was going to be.
Halvdan had to tell all this over again many times as fresh people streamed in. Lavrans and Simon came over to the kitchen too, when they marked all the stir and commotion about the place. Lavrans was much moved; he bade them saddle his horse, he would ride over to Brekken at once. As he was about to go, his eyes fell on Kristin’s white face.
“May be you would like to go with me?” he asked. Kristin faltered a little; she shuddered—but then she nodded, for she could not utter one word.
“Is’t not too cold for her?” said Ragnfrid. “Doubtless they will have the wake to-morrow, and then ’tis like we shall all go together—”
Lavrans looked at his wife; he marked Simon’s face too; and then he went and laid his arm round Kristin’s shoulders:
“She is his foster-sister, you must bear in mind,” said he. “Maybe she would like to help Inga with the laying-out the body.”