Magnus and Eskil were sitting by themselves in the accounting room in the tower, and the topic they were discussing was not an easy one. It suited them that Arn was busy these days. He spent most of his time a short distance out on Lake Vänern, where he sawed blocks of ice shaped the same as building stones for walls. The ice blocks were pulled on a sledge back to Arnäs and stored in his ice cellar between layers of shavings from the carpentry shops. He had firmly announced that it had to be done now before the ice was too thin. It was just as well that he had this urgent task to do; it would have been hard to have this conversation if he were with them.
Both Magnus and Eskil knew from their own experience that young men, and apparently also young women according to what they’d heard, were struck by temptations that could be rather difficult. This was part of life, and there was not much to be done about it other than wait for it to pass, like a head cold in the spring. Magnus recalled such things from his early youth, and as he thought back he also turned sentimental and confessed to Eskil that the woman who had been the first mistress of Arnäs, and mother to Eskil and Arn, at first had meant no more to him than a pair of beautiful chestnut horses or other fine acquisitions for the estate. But over time Sigrid had become more dear to him than anyone else. What Arn called love could grow with prudence if a couple lived well and sensibly together. When Magnus thought about it more closely, he’d noticed that Erika Joarsdotter had recently become fairer and easier to deal with too, and sometimes downright pleasant. At least it had never been as easy to have her in the house as now. That’s how things went with what Arn called love.
But this was the wisdom of an elder, which could not be transmitted in words to the younger man. It was meaningless to try and talk sense in such situations, because sense was beside the point. It was the same as telling someone who had just lost a kinsman and laid him in the ground that time heals all wounds. It was true but meaningless at a time when grief was at its worst.
So what should they do with Arn and his talk about wanting to rush off to Husaby tomorrow and celebrate his betrothal ale?
Eskil thought that cooler heads ought to prevail, which would be much easier when Arn was not present, since he was like a red-hot iron. There were certain things that spoke for the betrothal and other things that spoke against it. These things and nothing else had to be weighed like silver to ascertain in the end which weighed the most.
Against Arn’s proposal, more than anything else, was the fact that right now no one knew who would hold the power of king during the next two years. Nevertheless, as long as Karl Sverkersson was king, Algot Pålsson would have to be wary of binding his clan to the king’s enemies, at least if he was a wise man. And for their own part it was also ill advised to unite by marriage with a clan that was an enemy of Knut Eriksson, who might well become king.
On the positive side, Forsvik on the shore of Lake Vättern belonged to Arnäs, and they controlled the entire northern part of Western Götaland—the section south of Tiveden Forest where the trade route between four countries would be established. The weakest part was the stretch near Kinnekulle, where Algot’s land began. If Magnus could acquire Kinnekulle and the shore of Lake Vänern south of there, it would be worth a great deal. And if an opportunity arose to make such a deal, Algot would be hard-pressed to say no and might even be persuaded to give these lands as dowry, though the value was twice as much as was customary.
It was inconceivable that this could be accomplished as long as Karl Sverkersson was alive. But Algot would be all the more amenable to doing business if Karl Sverkersson left this earthly life as swiftly as Knut Eriksson intended.
That was the situation. As long as King Karl Sverkersson sat safely in his castle in the middle of Lake Vättern, there was nothing to be done. But if he departed this life, an important deal for Arnäs could be concluded at once.
Eskil could see only one weakness in his calculation. It was the question of whether Birger Brosa and the clan ting might have other plans. That’s what had happened when his own father Magnus had considered celebrating a wedding ale with either Cecilia or Katarina, for precisely the same reasons that they had just discussed. Instead, Erika Joarsdotter had been chosen, because the clan ting found that marriage more beneficial.
But Magnus said that he hadn’t heard mention of any plans of that sort. As things now stood, they had formed a good alliance with the Erik clan through Erika Joarsdotter. Knut did have a sister, whose name was Margareta, but she was already married to King Sverre of Norway.
Since Magnus’s own brother Birger Brosa was married to Brigida, who was the daughter of King Harald Gille of Norway, the Norwegian bond was very strong. No, right now Magnus could see no marriage that would be considered more important for Arnäs or for the clan than with either Katarina or Cecilia, it didn’t matter which.
It remained to decide who would convey their decision to Arn. The message was simple. As long as King Karl was alive there would be no betrothal ale.
But though the words might be easy to formulate, it would be no easy task to say them to a young son or brother living in the fever or madness called love.
Magnus ought to tell him, since he was Arn’s father and the power over all wedding ales was rightfully his. Or perhaps Eskil should do it instead, since he was Arn’s brother but had no power; he could not be talked out of it, but merely explain. For a while they twisted and turned this matter, like a tender joint of meat, and then decided that Eskil would be the one to tell Arn how matters stood.
A week before St. Tiburtius’s Day, April 14th, when the ice still covered the lake but was beginning to soften, Knut Eriksson arrived at Arnäs without announcing himself in advance. He had traveled fast, accompanied only by Geir Erlendsen, the bard Orm Rögnvaldsen, and Berse the Strong. They had traveled far and wide in Western Götaland, where the bard had a chance to justify the good wages he was paid, and they had just come from Skara, where Knut had many eyes and ears. There they had purchased particularly good information from a man who had just left Karl Sverkersson’s service at his castle out on Visingö in the middle of Lake Vättern.
Knut didn’t reveal the purpose of his visit other than to say that he was looking for Arn, whom he found moping about among house thralls in the cookhouses, a place and a situation hardly worthy of a man like Arn, in Knut Eriksson’s opinion.
To Arn’s perplexity Knut immediately wanted to challenge him to an archery contest, so a target was made of straw bound together and set up in the castle courtyard. Arn didn’t want to refuse, but he found no joy in this exercise. They set the target at a distance of forty paces, which Arn thought seemed too difficult for Knut, but that was what he ordered. They selected the best and strongest bows, and everyone at the estate gathered to watch, for they all knew that this might be the country’s next king who was about to shoot arrows with one of the sons of Arnäs. And no one wanted to say afterward that he had failed to witness the contest.
When they stood next to each other with their bows ready, Arn still didn’t seem to have any desire for the game. So Knut took him by the shoulders, embraced him, and said the following words, which he had thought out carefully:
“Now, my dearest childhood friend, you shall shoot to win against your king and nothing less, as if everything depended on these arrows. Imagine that it’s about Cecilia; yes, I know all about you and her. Imagine that I am your king and can give her to you but only if you defeat me. Look, now I’ll shoot first. Don’t answer me now, just shoot well.”
While Arn, shaken by these words, composed himself so he might do his best, Knut shot his ten arrows and aroused great admiration, for no one knew that he was such a good shot.
Then Arn shot, with a cold expression and a great silence inside, as if everything really did depend on these arrows. Afterward all could see that there was a great difference between the two, and that Arn was the better archer.
Now Knut grabbed Arn again and embraced him, saying that it might well be that Arn had just shot his way to making Cecilia Algotsdotter his wife. Then they left the courtyard and went alone to the tower. There Knut asked to have ale brought up to them.
When they were alone, Knut did not wait for the ale before he began to explain the entire situation to Arn. The time had now arrived. For himself it was a matter of the crown, and for Arn it was Cecilia. Knut Eriksson had many informants around the country, which is how he knew everything that was important to know, and also some things that to many might seem less important, such as this matter with Arn and Cecilia.
Arn replied morosely that he could well understand that many sorts of skills were required for someone who strove to win a king’s crown, but he didn’t understand the intention behind this game with bow and arrow that they had just played. Why stage this contest when a prospective king took a great risk of losing and thus being talked about as the loser?
Just then the house thralls arrived with ale, and Knut smiled broadly at this interruption, because he seemed to understand Arn’s impatience and puzzlement. They politely drank a skål to each other first, as custom demanded, and Knut saw in Arn’s eyes the burning impatience that insisted on an immediate response. And yet he gave no answer, but began speaking of his father, Holy Saint Erik, who had been good to everyone, who had demanded nothing for himself, who had preferred his hair shirt and longs hours of prayer to courtly life, who had helped the weak and stood up to the strong, and who had died like a saint at the hands of an outlaw. Perhaps Arn had heard much of this story before, but there was one more thing to add.
Erik Jedvardsson’s father was Jedvard of Orkney, who had sailed with Sigurd Jorsalafar to the Holy Land and there performed great services for the Norwegian king. In gratitude for this Christian help, King Sigurd had granted Jedvard of Orkney two small splinters of the Holy Cross on which Our Savior was tortured and died. King Sigurd had been given a piece of the holy wood from King Baldwin of Outremer, or the Kingdom of Jerusalem.
Here Knut paused in his story and asked Arn whether he had heard of Outremer, and Arn’s happy laugh and eager nod made him quickly understand that he had.
Well, these two splinters from the Holy Cross had been inherited by Knut’s father, Erik Jedvardsson, and he’d had them cast inside a gold cross that he always wore around his neck. When Emund One-Hand chopped off his head, the holy relic fell to the ground and was conveyed by a wily man to the one who stood behind the murder, the man now called King Karl Sverkersson. So he was not only a king-killer but also an outlaw who had violated a holy relic of God. The gold cross containing the wooden splinters from Our Savior’s Cross inside was now worn by Karl Sverkersson himself around his neck, and this had to be a constant abomination in God’s eyes. Surely there could be no doubt about that.
Arn at once agreed that this must be abominable in God’s eyes, and he added that everything must be done to right this wrong.
Then Knut Eriksson smiled at Arn and repeated quietly that now the hour was upon them. But to reach the place where God’s holy relic might now be found, they would need a select few men who could tolerate cold and were able to sail well, who were skilled with a bow and could defend themselves better with a sword than any other men.
That was why they had staged this contest, Knut went on. There were men who could shoot well in a contest but could not do the same in battle, when their heads were full of anger and fear. Such had been the case for Arn when asked to shoot and simultaneously think about Cecilia, but Arn had acquitted himself well.
Now, not later, was when they must do what had to be done, Knut continued. Then a bit hesitantly and with an assurance that when he became king he would be the first to bless a wedding ale between Arn and Cecilia, Knut asked whether Arn wished to join this expedition as one of only eight men.
This was the third time that someone had told Arn he would never have Cecilia as long as Karl Sverkersson was alive. If he had hesitated the first two times, he did not do so now.
When they arrived at Forsvik by the shore of Lake Vättern, they found that Eyvind Jonsson, Jon Mickelsen, and Egil Olafsen of Ulateig had built a small but elegant ship that was broad in the beam, had a shallow draft, and could be rowed with three pairs of oars. The Norwegian retainers apologized for not adorning the ship with the runes required to finish it completely, but sea-worthiness had been foremost on their minds because the ice would soon begin to thaw. This small ship, which was built like a Norse longship, could be sailed faster than other ships of the day, especially in Western Götaland; it could be rowed faster than any other, especially with Norwegian oarsmen; and it could be dragged easily over ice. Knut was very pleased with what he saw and explained everything to Arn, who hadn’t had as much to do with Norway as others in his clan.
After three days of waiting it was time to set out. They first celebrated a mass, which Arn, to lend the words greater power, held in church language. After the mass Knut Eriksson spoke to them and spurred them on. Their strength lay in the fact that they were eight good men who would cross Lake Vättern when no one believed it was possible. Out there on the southern tip of the island of Visingö sat the king-killer Karl Sverkersson with his retainers, assuming he was safe. But God would not stand by the man who had murdered a saint for his own gain. When they had won what now had to be won, each and every one of them would be rewarded according to his merits.
More was not said. The ship was pulled by horses up from the hole in the ice by the shore where it had lain so that the water would make the planking swell and grow tight. The horses were stabled, and then they finished loading the ship. Each of the men grabbed the end of a rope for the hard task of dragging the ship out to open water. But the broad-beamed vessel was easy to drag on the ice, and eight men were not too few.
After half a day’s toil they came to a channel leading toward the open water in the middle of Lake Vättern, and from there they could already see Visingö. The wind was westerly as usual at this time of year, and they were soon able to set sail. The farther south they sailed, the more the channel widened. In the dusk they saw that the southern tip of Visingö lay surrounded by open water, and they understood then that God was with them. Had they come a day earlier they would have been forced to leave their ship out on the ice, fully visible as soon as day broke. A day later and the ice on Lake Vättern would have dispersed, and a guard would have been posted on the walls of the royal fortress of Näs to watch for dangers approaching from the sea.
They lowered their sail and rowed slowly toward Näs, reaching the shore only after it had long been dark. There they pulled in to wait in a little cove with dense alder thickets. They pulled the sail over their ship and lighted fires in two iron braziers, sending scouts ashore to make sure the fires weren’t visible. For they did need heat, since the spring nights in the North were still bitterly cold.
Knut was in a good mood, as if all the difficult things had already been accomplished. He sat close to Arn and said that this was either their last night together or their first on a long journey.
Then he talked about the man who had murdered his own father, and who had tried to murder Arn’s father with trickery and unfair single combat, but Arn interrupted him at once, saying that these words were unnecessary. He knew all this already and had given it much thought.
And yet he felt doubt, he admitted to Knut. He had sworn a holy oath not to raise his sword in anger or for his own benefit, and now it seemed that he was on his way to doing just that. He would gain much from Karl Sverkersson’s death. He said that he understood that it was not merely a question of taking back the holy relic that rightfully belonged to his good friend Knut, and which hung unjustly around Karl Sverkersson’s neck. He understood that this neck should be severed when the cross was freed.
Knut said nothing to release Arn from his anguish, because what Arn had said was entirely true. Instead Knut spoke in a low, warm tone about Cecilia and what a joy it would be as their king to bring them together in any church they liked, even before the archbishop in Östra Aros if they so desired. Arn then grew warm with tenderness despite the raw, damp late winter night, and replied that any church at all would be fine as far as he was concerned, as long as it was close by. And then they laughed together. As their laughter died away, Knut said that if he liked, Arn could borrow one of several good Norwegian swords that were not bound by a holy oath.
Then Knut lowered his voice and explained what was going to happen. In Skara they had bought much information, but most importantly from a man who a short time ago had left Karl Sverkersson’s service at Näs. They had found out that when there was no danger at Näs, such as now when the ice could neither bear nor break, Karl Sverkersson took a short walk down to the beach each morning, to be by himself. Why he did this no one quite knew, but he always followed the same route in the early morning, just at dawn, when the first light allowed him to see where he set his foot.
For this important information, Karl Sverkersson’s traitor had received the wages he so justly deserved.
If God was now with them, all this would happen by the time the night was over. All that remained now was to pray and then try to get some sleep.
A watch was set out. The ship was well hidden in the darkness behind the alders near the beach.
Arn did not sleep much on that cold night, and perhaps the other men didn’t either, even though they were Norsemen and did not seem frightened that the next day might be their last.
But everything went as though God were standing by them. Arn stood ready with bow and arrow when it was still pitch-dark. With the very first light he moved to a somewhat better position. Next to him stood Knut himself and Jon Mickelsen and Egil Olafsen of Ulateig, and they all were wearing thick wolfskins and double leggings against the cold. They stood so near the royal fortress that they could have easily reached the top of the wall with an arrow-shot. Arn wore a Norwegian sword at his side. They didn’t say much to one another.
When the heavy oak gate in the wall of Näs opened, however, it was as if all the cold in their limbs vanished, and they seemed to glow with excitement. They saw a man come out with two men by his side. They watched the three come walking toward the strand quite near to the place where they were standing. Arn made a move to draw his bow, but the other three stopped him at once.
In the faint light of dawn it was hard to distinguish colors. But when the three men from the castle walked past at a distance of a couple of paces, it seemed that the one in front was wearing a red mantle and a golden cross that gleamed at his neck. Knut Eriksson held up his hand in warning so that no one would act before he did, although they all knew it was the king walking past.
King Karl Sverkersson went all the way down to the shore of Lake Vättern. There he stopped and bent down to the water, cupping some it in his hand. He drank the water before he fell to his knees, and for the last time he offered a prayer of thanksgiving because this water had saved his life for another night.
There was no frost on the ground, so Knut Eriksson was able to stride forward as soon as the three men by the water had knelt down, and they could not hear him coming. He chopped off the head of the king at once and then did the same to one of the retainers. But he did not kill the other man. Instead he held his sword to his throat and waved for Egil and Jon to come forward at once, which they did swiftly after whispering to Arn to stay where he was.
Arn now saw how his dearest childhood friend leaned down to pick up the golden chain and rinsed it clean of blood in the water of Lake Vättern. He then walked quickly toward Arn after whispering something to his Norwegian retainers, and they dragged the survivor off with them, holding a hand over his mouth.
They pulled the ship into the water and got on board. The Norsemen sat down at the oars and Knut stood at the tiller in the stern holding the captive with one hand and the golden chain with God’s holy relic in the other. When they were ready to cast off he released his prisoner and spoke to him in a loud voice.
“Now I say to you, captive, that you are free. You have been given your life, but you shall also know who, other than God, has given you life. I am Knut Eriksson and I am now your king. Go to the mass of St. Tiburtius tomorrow and thank God for your life, for just as He saved your life, it was He who led us here. But make haste so that no one thinks you were the one who killed Karl Sverkersson!”
Then Knut signaled with his hand for the rowers to pull away, and with powerful strokes of the oars they moved swiftly out into clear water farther than an arrow-shot could reach. The captive, who had been released like a kitten into the water by King Knut Eriksson, now ran as fast as he could toward the half-open oak gate in the walls of the royal fortress, the fortress that was built so securely that no one could ever have succeeded in killing the king inside.
The oarsmen rested on their oars to await Karl Sverkersson’s retainers, who came running down to the shore with crossbows and longbows in hand. They shot their arrows in vain, and King Knut held the holy relic of God over his head in triumph.
Then they set a course for Forsvik, which lay against the wind. No pursuers in Western Götaland would be able to row against the wind like King Knut’s Norwegian kinsmen.
The week after the martyrs Filippus and Jacob were remembered on the first of May, when all the livestock were let out to pasture and the inspection of the fences was complete, the late spring all at once changed to summer. The mild south wind continued for a long time, all the tender greenery appeared at once, and among the oaks on the slopes of Kinnekulle lay a thick white carpet of wood anemones. The cuckoo was heard first in the west.
This time Arn came riding alone and at a leisurely pace toward Husaby. He seemed to want to draw out the sweet torment now that he knew that Cecilia would be his. He also had much to think about because recent days had been full of tasks in the service of Knut Eriksson. Much had happened, and he wasn’t sure whether he understood Knut’s intentions behind all of it.
When they returned to Forsvik after their successful journey to Visingö, they were able to sail right into the harbor, such was the difference in the ice after only one day. Knut immediately dispatched a messenger relay to Arnäs and Magnus Folkesson, who would send word on to Joar Jedvardsson at Eriksberg. First their own kinsmen had to be informed about what had happened, for soon armies would be assembling for war.
Arn had been prepared to ride with the news, thinking that it would arrive sooner that way. But Knut had said that there were important tasks that required Arn’s assistance on behalf of his king; he could ride to Cecilia after everything that had to be done was done.
First Knut and Arn had to sail across Vättern again with both horses and retainers, and then ride together to Bjälbo and let Birger Brosa know what had happened. There was not a single day to lose, for ignorance could be the same as death; all their kinsmen had to be rallied in time before the enemy attacked. Besides, it was only right that Birger Brosa be informed about what had happened by one of his own who had also been involved in the outlaw’s demise on Visingö. Likewise it was important to meet with the next most important man, Archbishop Stéphan in Östra Aros. Knut had to win over both Birger Brosa and the archbishop to his cause, and both these men were close to Arn. Arn had nothing to say against this.
When they came riding into Bjälbo, Birger Brosa had received them at first as if they were only young men arriving for a visit with kinsmen, and he apologized that he would have to leave the next day because he had important business in Linköping. But when they were left alone at Knut’s request and Birger Brosa learned what had transpired, he no longer spoke of taking a business trip. No one from Bjälbo would set foot in Linköping for a long time, since it had been Karl Sverkersson’s town and would now become Boleslav’s or Kol’s.
Birger Brosa sat in dull silence, pondering, without revealing with the slightest expression what his thoughts might be. Suddenly he sprang up and said that there was only one choice. Now the entire Folkung clan must stand as one man behind Knut Eriksson in his effort to take back his father’s crown. It was the only way. They had to stand united against the Sverker clan and their Danish hangers-on. They had to show strength and resolve, just as they had to make the most intelligent use of the advantage they now held in terms of time and knowledge.
Considering the condition the ice had been in the day before when Karl Sverkersson met his doom out in Lake Vättern, it would take another day before the news spread to the mainland. Birger Brosa took it upon himself to use that information in Eastern Götaland, but he proposed that Knut also had to act swiftly and set off for Östra Aros immediately. He needed to win over Archbishop Stéphan to his side if possible, and then try to rally the Swedes to a ting at Mora Stones in order to elect a new king. All this had to be done quickly, so there was no more time for a visit or a rest. Everything was to be done as Birger Brosa had said.
Knut Eriksson agreed at once with Birger Brosa’s plan, since he knew full well that Birger Brosa was the wisest of men in regard to everything having to do with the struggle for power. But when they were getting ready to depart, Knut made one request that Arn found hard to understand. He wanted them to fetch from the Bjälbo armory Folkung shields, blue mantles, and pennants to fly from the lances, as well as a large group of retainers. Birger Brosa had nodded his assent immediately, as if he understood precisely what Knut Eriksson was thinking with this request. But Arn had also come to realize that the thoughts of men like Knut and Birger often traveled along entirely different paths than his own.
In Östra Aros, Archbishop Stéphan at first refused to receive Knut Eriksson when he asked for admittance to the archbishop’s residence. According to a rumor, the archbishop had been angry and said something to the effect that this man came only for the sake of intrigue.
But when Archbishop Stéphan learned that Knut was accompanied by Arn Magnusson, he changed his mind and immediately received the two. When they met in the archbishop’s dim writing chamber Arn fell at once to his knees and kissed his hand, while Knut at first was hesitant to do the same. To Knut’s chagrin the conversation was then conducted in church language so that he was now the least important of the three; several times he was tempted to be vexed at Arn for words that were not Arn’s but the archbishop’s.
What Archbishop Stéphan had to say to Knut Eriksson was clear and easy to understand, however, even if it was unpleasant. The church neither could nor would take sides in this dispute that now approached. As archbishop, Stéphan was concerned with God’s kingdom, and not with the disputes of earthly contenders for the crown, so there could be no question of supporting either Knut or Karl Sverkersson’s brothers, or whoever else might come running from the south. Earthly power was one thing, and God’s power was another.
Knut Eriksson controlled himself well when he understood that there was nothing more to gain in this matter, but he asked Arn to request that they might both receive Holy Communion from the archbishop himself at the next day’s mass. Even though Archbishop Stéphan sensed that Knut had other motives beyond receiving communion, he agreed. Perhaps he also perceived this as a good and friendly way to disentangle himself from this dispute with a man who could well become the next king of the realm. Even if the church could not get involved in the struggle for the power of the king, the church at least ought to be on a good footing with earthly authority.
As soon as they had respectfully taken their leave of the archbishop, however, Knut showed himself full of energy and eagerness. He said that there was yet much to be gained, and when they went back to join their waiting men, still dressed in their traveling attire and without the blue colors, he told them to go into town to spread certain rumors.
Knut and Arn rode at the head of the column of retainers to mass the next day, and now they showed the blue colors from their lance tips and mantles. Knut and Arn were also fully armed, with shields displaying the Folkung lion and the three crowns.
So many people had been lured by the rumors to this mass that most could not get into the church but had to stand outside. At the church steps Knut and Arn dismounted while their retainers stayed to hold their horses.
They entered side by side, and everyone respectfully made room for them. In the vestibule, Knut unbuckled his sword as was customary and set it aside. But when they proceeded up the aisle Knut was astonished to see that Arn had not removed his sword, and leaned over to whisper to him. But Arn gave him a secretive smile and shook his head. And what occurred when they reached the archbishop to receive communion served to benefit Knut Eriksson as much as it surprised him. For when they stopped, Arn drew his sword so that a startled gasp went through the whole congregation. In the next instant he handed over the sword to the archbishop himself, who accepted it reverently, kissed it, and sprinkled holy water on it before he handed it back. Arn then bowed, sheathed the sword in its scabbard, and fell to his knees, whispering to Knut to do the same at once.
All the others had moved away, and they knelt there alone to take communion from the archbishop himself. The two did not stay for the rest of the mass but walked slowly side by side out of the church as soon as they had taken God’s holy sacrament.
When they came out onto the church steps there was already a great commotion, for the rumor of the sword that the archbishop had blessed had already reached the crowd, but no one there knew which sword it was.
Now, however, Knut drew his sword and declared in a loud voice that the sword he held in his hand was blessed by God and with this sword he had slain the man who was an outlaw and who had murdered King Erik on this very spot. Then he removed the golden chain that he wore around his neck and held it up in the sunshine so that the cross flashed. He announced that this was the holy relic of God which he had taken from the outlaw Karl Sverkersson, and since he, Knut, had equally great respect for the Swedes and their ting as his father Erik had always had, he now called a ting in five days and asked them to ride to the judges and chieftains in Svealand to tell them.
When he finished speaking a tumult broke out anew, instigated first by their own retainers, but soon enough involving everyone assembled. No one could now dispute that the archbishop himself had taken a position on the question of who should be elected king of Svealand. And so this rumor also spread with the speed of the wind.
Later the same day, when they were back in their camp, where Knut had ordered water fetched from Saint Erik’s spring so that he could personally bless all of those who came to him for this reason, Arn was released from his duties to the king.
Knut took him aside and said that now they faced some boring days of waiting and conversations with one man arriving after the other. Knut suspected that Arn might not have much patience for this. What could be finer than to ride for all he was worth to see Cecilia? For Knut did not want to be so hard on his friend that he would stand in the way of such happiness any longer.
Then Arn embraced his best friend and they soon parted. Arn rode for the sake of his dreams, and Knut stayed for the sake of power.
It had taken Arn a week to reach the slopes of Husaby, yet that was faster than any man in the North could have managed it, at least on a Nordic horse. He had also stopped at home in Arnäs to tell them everything that had happened and to scour himself and change his clothes.
Now he was finally riding along with Husaby in sight, moving so slowly and with such short reins that Shimal pranced impatiently. The closer he came to Husaby the less he cared about all the strange things he had witnessed in the struggle for power.
Algot Pålsson had been called to Arnäs to settle the dowry, and they had found it just as well that such discussions be handled between Eskil and Magnus on the one hand and Algot on the other; Arn did not need to attend.
This proposal had suited him doubly. First, he was not in the least interested in whether he and Cecilia were a good bargain, or even a bad one, for either of their fathers. Second, he would rather meet Cecilia with all the fine things he had to say to her without being watched over by her father or his suspicious retainers.
Now everything seemed too good to be true. Soon he would be with her. Soon he would hold her in his arms and tell her that it was likely that the betrothal ale would be celebrated at Husaby as early as Eskilsmas.
Magnus and Eskil had arranged it, apparently without first asking Algot, so that the betrothal ale would be held at Husaby and the wedding ale at Arnäs. Cecilia would be given Forsvik as a morning gift. It would be up to Eskil and Magnus to squeeze the dowry out of Algot.
But Arn had no worry about such matters on his conscience. A few forests or beaches, what were they compared to the greatest thing of all that God had granted humanity?
And even if Algot did not care particularly about his daughter’s feelings, just as Magnus would not take the wishes of his second son seriously in such matters, Algot was still going to secure the life and property of his own clan through this marriage. That much Arn did understand now.
A short time ago, when he’d last seen Cecilia, everything had looked dark and hopeless, but it was now suffused with light. Like Gunvor and Gunnar, Arn and Cecilia would never neglect to thank the Virgin Mary for her power, manifested once again, and for her teaching that greatest of all was love.
When Arn approached the Husaby royal estate, the thralls at work sowing turnips noticed him, and some of them ran up to the manor to announce his arrival. So a great commotion arose at once, and by the time Arn reached the house, all the thralls, retainers, and other people at the estate were lined up in a double row leading up to the door of the longhouse. When Arn rode in between them the thralls’ warbling shouts of jubilation rang out, and the retainers banged on their weapons while the thralls did the same on whatever lay to hand.
Cecilia came out on the porch of the longhouse and at first took a few steps forward, as if she had thought to run and meet Arn. But then she restrained herself, clasped her hands, and stood erect as she waited for him. Her grandmother Ulrika came out on the porch looking as if she wanted to say something stern, but when she discovered Arn approaching between the ranks of thralls and retainers she stopped herself and stood waiting in the same manner as her granddaughter.
Inside Arn a battle was raging as he dismounted from Shimal and handed the reins to a thrall who came running. Arn’s face was hot and he knew he was blushing. His heart was pounding so wildly that he thought he might lose his wits, and he had to exert all his self-restraint to go to meet Cecilia respectfully and courteously before all these eyes, just as she waited for him so calmly with her gaze lowered demurely.
But then she raised her eyes and they looked at each other briefly, and all polite control burst, and they ran to each other. When they met they threw their arms around each other in a way that was not at all proper for young people who had not yet drunk their betrothal ale. Then the thralls’ jubilant ululations rose again, and such a great noise commenced that none could make himself heard for a good long while.
The thralls of Husaby already knew everything about what had happened and what was to be expected, and many of them hoped to follow along with Cecilia after the wedding ale. They believed that anyone who went with Cecilia and young Herr Arn would be better treated than anywhere else. Among the thralls only good things were said of Arn, things that had nothing to do with swords and bows and other topics that free men discussed over their ale tankards. Instead they talked of how young Herr Arn treated thralls like men.
Cecilia and Arn did not want to let each other go, but forced themselves to do so when Grandmother Ulrika coughed for the third time. The two women and Arn then went into the longhouse so that Arn might be welcomed with some ale and break a piece of bread. Once inside the longhouse, Grandmother Ulrika spoke before the young people could say a word. She began to interrogate them about the morning gift, the dowry, and where the betrothal ale was to be celebrated. Arn had to make an effort to answer all these inquiries as if he really cared, and he had to describe the property at Forsvik, the number of outbuildings and the size of the main house, the number of thralls in the house, and other details of which he had no knowledge. Only then did Ulrika ask about things that seemed more important, about what stand the Folkungs in Eastern Götaland had taken and whether the Swedes had held a ting yet. Arn was able to reassure her that the Folkungs in both Eastern and Western Götaland stood united with the Erik clan, and that he did believe that Knut Eriksson had already been elected king at the ting of the Swedes. Judging by all he had heard from everybody as he rode south from Östra Aros through Svealand, there seemed to be no doubt in this matter. King Erik Jedvardsson had been a much loved king in Svealand, and as Arn understood it, Karl Sverkersson was not at all liked in the same way. Up there among the Swedes, they hardly knew who the king’s brothers Kol and Boleslav were, nor did they care. So presumably Knut Eriksson was already the king of the Swedes, and he would come to the landsting in Western Götaland in the summer to be elected king here as well.
Mistress Ulrika let herself be satisfied with all these glad tidings and also recognized that she had interrupted the young people by forcing Arn to talk of such concerns that of course were more important than their giddy and heated feelings and yet concerned them little right now. So she surprised them by remarking in a knowing tone that the weather was beautiful and that there was no harm in taking a horseback ride up Kinnekulle. At these words Cecilia jumped up and embraced her grandmother, who was otherwise so somber and strict.
Soon Cecilia had a good-natured mare saddled and bridled and was dressed for a ride in a loose and warm green cloak that reached from her throat to her feet. With a practiced hand she swept her cloak over one arm and was in the saddle before Arn or the thralls had time to help her. Arn accepted a leather bag containing bread and bacon and wooden cups which a house thrall kindly brought in case the ride should be a long one, as she added with a shameless laugh. In the meantime Cecilia urged on her mare and went galloping off. Some distance away she turned in the saddle and shouted to Arn to try and catch her. He cast his head back and laughed with heartfelt joy, patted Shimal lovingly on the neck, and joked that now they both had a hunt before them that must not fail. Then he leaped into the saddle with a single bound that made those who were standing around murmur in astonishment, and set off. At first he held Shimal back to a canter so that he wouldn’t catch up too soon with the fluttering green cloak and the red hair far ahead of him, and yet only a few breaths away.
When they were out of sight of the Husaby royal manor he set Shimal into a full gallop. Like the wind he caught up with and passed Cecilia, wheeled Shimal around and stormed back toward her, veering off at the last second. Then he rode circles around her, enjoying her bright laughter that made him bold and soon reckless. He stood up in the saddle and balanced with his arms in the air as he again rode past her at full speed so that she had to rein in her horse. When he turned to her with a laugh, holding his hands arrogantly on his hips, he didn’t see the thick oak limb that swept him like a glove to the ground.
It looked like a nasty fall, and he lay completely still. Beside herself with worry, Cecilia pulled up her horse, jumped off, and dashed over to Arn. She began caressing his lifeless face in despair. But then he opened first one eye and then the other, and laughing, took her in his arms, rolling around with her among the wood anemones as she feigned anger and chided him for scaring her so.
All at once they fell silent. They sat up and held each other for a long time without saying a word, as if there were no words possible just now, only the singing of the birds.
They sat there until their limbs began to ache from the uncomfortable position. She pulled away first and leaned back in the grass. He lay down next to her and caressed her face, struggling briefly with his shyness. He kissed her cautiously on the forehead first and then her cheeks and lips. Soon she returned his kisses and their shyness was as if blown away by the wind.
They came back late to the Husaby royal manor.