Kristin flushed as she replied: “We are so far behind the others already—I see not your serving-men hereabouts, and—” Then she broke into a laugh, and Erlend smiled.
He sprang to the saddle and helped her to a seat behind him. At home Kristin had often sat thus sidewise behind her father, after she had grown too big to ride astride the horse. Still she felt a little bashful and none too safe as she laid a hand upon Erlend’s shoulder; the other she put on the horse’s back to steady herself. They rode slowly down towards the bridge.
In a while Kristin thought she must speak, since he was silent, so she said:
“We looked not, sir, to meet you here to-day.”
“Looked you not to meet me?” asked Erlend, turning his head. “Did not Ingebjörg Filippusdatter bear you my greeting then?”
“No,” said Kristin. “I heard naught of any greeting—she hath not named you once since you came to our help last May—,” said she, guilefully—she was not sorry that Ingebjörg’s falseness should come to light.
Erlend did not look back again, but she could hear by his voice that he was smiling when he asked again:
“But the little dark one—the novice—I mind not her name—her I even feed to bear you my greeting.”
Kristin blushed, but she had to laugh too: “Aye, ’tis but Helga’s due I should say that she earned her fee,” she said.
Erlend moved his head a little—his neck almost touched her hand. Kristin shifted her hand at once further out on his shoulder. Somewhat uneasily she thought, maybe she had been more bold than was fitting, seeing she had come to this feast after a man had, in a manner, made tryst with her there.