Birth Of the Kingdom (2010) (35 page)

‘Many of the thralls don’t even believe in God,’ remarked Arn. ‘But I have had the same thought that you mention. Am I the one who is wrong? Or am I so much wiser and better than all of our kinsmen? Even Birger Brosa and Eskil?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You and I are in agreement about this matter.’

‘But if we do indeed agree, then what should we do?’ Arn mused. ‘If we were to free all the thralls at Forsvik tomorrow, so that no one was allowed to own thralls anymore, what would happen then?’

At first Cecilia had no answer. She sat for a while, leaning her chin on her hand and pondering the matter. It occurred to her that the easy part was to forswear the sin, but the hard part was to clear up the confusion that might then arise.

‘Wages,’ said Arn at last. ‘We free all of them, let’s say sometime in midwinter so that cold will keep them sensible
and they won’t go running off in all directions with their freedom. Then we will institute wages. At the start of each year every thrall, I mean every man and woman, will receive a certain amount of silver coins. Another possibility, which my blessed mother Sigrid employed, was to allow freed men to work new fields and pay a tenant’s fee each year. I suggest that we try to proceed along both these paths.’

‘But so much in wages would mean heavy expenses for us in pure silver,’ sighed Cecilia. ‘And here I was just beginning to see brighter prospects when it comes to our account books.’

‘He who gives alms to the poor performs a deed that pleases God, even when his silver pouch grows lighter,’ said Arn as he brooded. ‘It is the righteous thing to do, and you and I wish to live a righteous life. That alone is reason enough. Another reason is that those tenants that my mother freed from Arnäs worked harder. Without costing us any winter fodder, they increased our wealth. What if freed men always work harder than thralls, what if it would be good business to free them?’

‘In that case, our thrall-owning kinsmen are not merely sinners, but also short-sighted,’ laughed Cecilia. ‘I can see that we both share a certain arrogance in thinking these thoughts, my dear Arn.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ said Arn. ‘But you and I wish to cleanse ourselves of a sin, so let’s do it! Whether the Lord will reward us or not, it is not our concern. And if we find it costly in terms of silver, then so be it. We can afford it. So let’s try!’

‘Yes, and we’ll wait until midwinter so they don’t go running off like chickens when they are freed,’ said Cecilia with a smile, as if picturing all the tumult that would then occur at Forsvik.

When they reached Bjälbo, Birger Brosa’s estate, Arn and Cecilia were not as well received as they had hoped. When they rode in among the welcoming fires outside the church, they were received by house thralls who showed them into one of the guest houses, as if they were supposed to share lodgings with their retainers. They had not brought a large retinue with them, just the boys Sune and Sigfrid, who may have pictured themselves as offering protection to their master and mistress, but others saw them merely as boys.

This was one of the few things that Birger Brosa himself mentioned in a brief conversation with Arn. He said that it was not befitting for a Folkung to ride without retainers, especially since the Sverkers at this banquet might take it as an insult.

Ingrid Ylva’s father was also cold in tone and handshake when he greeted Arn. Sune Sik said only a few words about the fact that the blood between them could not be washed away until after the bridal ale.

A grim mood reigned over the high seat since neither Birger Brosa nor his wife Brigida was willing to speak a single kind word to Arn or Cecilia, and the mood spread throughout the hall. As a betrothal feast, this gathering at Bjälbo was not going to be remembered as festive.

On all three evenings Arn and Cecilia withdrew as early as possible without offending the honour of their host. They barely had a chance to speak to their son Magnus or his future wife Ingrid Ylva, since the betrothal seats, decorated with leafy boughs, were far from the high seat.

They didn’t stay even an hour longer than the three days that custom dictated.

Nor did Arn find the situation much better when they arrived at Ulfshem, the next estate they were to visit and the home of Cecilia’s dear friend Ulvhilde Emundsdotter. It was in a beautiful location between Bjälbo and Linköping. There
was wine for Arn and Cecilia, who both preferred not to partake of all the ale-drinking, and the meat that was served was tender. But there was a shadow between Arn and Ulvhilde that would not recede, and everyone saw it, although no one said a word.

And Ulvhilde’s husband, Jon, who was more inclined to the law than the sword, had a hard time carrying on any sort of sensible conversation with Arn, since he assumed that Arn was a man who understood nothing but war. Arn constantly felt as if Jon were addressing a halfwit or a child.

For his part, Jon found it difficult to see his young sons Birger and Emund watching Arn with their eyes bright with admiration. In one sense the situation improved, though in another sense it did not, when Arn suggested that the young Sune and Sigfrid join Jon’s sons outdoors rather than be forced to keep the older people company. The boys obediently retreated, but soon the clanging of weapons was heard from out in the courtyard, which didn’t surprise Arn, though it clearly annoyed Jon.

On the second evening, which was to be their last at Ulfshem, Arn and Cecilia, Jon and Ulvhilde were sitting at the long hearth in the great hall. It was as if the two women discovered too late that while they had a thousand things to discuss, their husbands were less pleased with each other’s company. On this evening the conversation also seemed sluggish, and the topics were inoffensive matters that would not lead to anyone’s discomfort.

Arn was fairly certain what lay at the bottom of this dark lake, and at the beginning of the evening he was determined to leave it alone. But when the first few hours had crawled by with dreary talk, too many silences, and not a single laugh, he decided it was more difficult to carry on in this way than to lance the boil.

‘Let’s speak of the matter that lies between us, since it will
not get any better if we pretend it’s not there,’ said Arn in the middle of a discussion about the mild autumn they were now enjoying compared to the severe cold of the previous year.

At first there was utter silence so that only the crackling of the fire was heard.

‘You mean my father Emund Ulvbane,’ said Ulvhilde at last. ‘Yes, it would be better to speak of him now rather than later. I was only a child when he was so treacherously killed, and perhaps what I know of the matter is not the whole truth. Cecilia Rosa is my dearest friend, you are her husband, and between us there should be no lies. Tell me what happened!’

‘Your father Emund was King Sverker’s greatest and most loyal warrior,’ began Arn after taking a deep breath. ‘It was said that no man could defeat him. At the
ting
of all Goths at Axevalla, he offended my father Magnus so deeply that honour demanded a duel between the two, or with the son taking the father’s place, as the law provides. My father has never been a swordsman and could expect a certain death at Emund’s hands. He called for a priest, gave his confession, and said farewell to his kinsmen. But I fought against Emund in my father’s place. I was only seventeen and had no desire to kill anyone. I did all in my power, and twice I offered your father the chance to withdraw from the duel when he was at a disadvantage. But it did no good. In the end I thought the only thing to do was to wound him so badly that he would have to yield, but with his honour still intact. Today I might have managed things better, but at the time I was too young.’

‘So you were not present when Knut Eriksson killed my father at Forsvik?’ asked Ulvhilde after a long silence.

‘No,’ said Arn. ‘My brother Eskil was there, but his only task was to handle the terms of the transaction when we
purchased Forsvik from your father. Once the purchase was made and sealed, Eskil rode home to Arnäs. Knut stayed behind for revenge.’

‘For what purpose did he seek revenge upon my father?’ asked Ulvhilde in surprise, as if she had never heard even a whisper about this matter before.

‘It was said that Emund was the one who had chopped off the head of Knut’s father, Saint Erik,’ replied Arn. ‘I do not know if that was true, but Knut was convinced of it. And so he killed Emund in the same manner as his own father had been killed.’

‘And yet Emund could no longer defend himself, since he had only one hand, and you were to blame for that!’ exclaimed Jon, as if to defend Ulvhilde.

‘What you say is true,’ replied Arn in a low voice. ‘But when it comes to blood revenge in our land, I have learned that one hand or two, it makes little difference.’

‘Killings are to be taken up at the
ting
and should not lead to more killings!’ replied Jon.

‘That may be what the law says,’ admitted Arn, ‘but when it comes to the killing of a king, no laws apply; then it’s the right of the strongest. And you are a Folkung, as I am, so surely you know that the killing of a Folkung is never a matter for the
ting.
’

‘That sort of justice is no justice at all!’ declared Jon.

No one had anything to say against him in this matter. But after Ulvhilde had sat in silence for a while, she got up and solemnly went over to Arn. She took his sword-hand and pressed it to her lips, kissing it three times. That was the sign of reconciliation, according to ancient custom.

The evening did not get any merrier after that; there was no jesting or loud laughter. But it still felt as if the air had been cleared between them, as when the sun is about to reappear after a thunderstorm on a hot day in late summer.

And with that, Arn’s first visit to Ulfshem did not end as badly as it had begun. And the enticement that he knew Sune and Sigfrid represented for all boys of their age also had its effect. After the visit Ulvhilde and Jon had no peace from their youngest son Emund, who tirelessly nagged them about going to his mother’s ancestral estate of Forsvik. That he didn’t intend to make a similar pilgrimage to his father’s land was as clear as water. He had been infected with the dream of becoming a knight. And in the end his parents promised that he would be allowed to go as soon as he turned thirteen.

Upon returning to Forsvik, Arn and Cecilia found that the estate had by no means suffered because the master and mistress had been gone for ten days. The newly purchased thrall named Gure had found many helping hands among the other thralls to repair their living quarters. And with the smiths, the fletchers, the potters, and the feltmakers the work was proceeding apace and without quarrel. Since it was nearly all foreigners engaged in these tasks, and all the crops had been harvested except for the turnips, there were many thralls available to work with Gure. He was a great asset to Forsvik, and the others were quick to obey his slightest command, as if he were their master and not their equal.

The Wachtian brothers had taken turns making lists of all the new goods that had come in, and they delivered these lists to Cecilia’s accounting chamber so that she simply had to enter the items in her ledger books. The brothers were also eager to take Arn and Cecilia to the millhouse to show them a new tool they had built.

Jacob was the one who always came up with the first designs and ideas. Then Marcus went to the smithy and shaped these ideas into iron and steel.

The question that had long preoccupied them was how
the water power might be used for a saw. Since the power consisted of a water wheel that turned axles, it had proved unfeasible to transform the circular motion into the type of back-and-forth motion used when sawing by hand. So then they had asked themselves whether they ought to concentrate on the rotating motion, and in the end they had created a saw that was round. They finally found a way to make the saw blade spin evenly without warping and with a cutting edge that could withstand the heat from the rotation. But then new problems arose. It turned out to be impossible to press a log by hand against the saw blade, since the force was too great. For this reason, they had built a sled that moved along the floor and carried the logs toward the blade. But the floor was uneven; when they solved that problem other difficulties appeared.

Now they thought it was ready, so they called for help from Gure and his work team. And in a very short time, before the childishly delighted Arn, they sawed a log into four boards, like the planking at the bottom of a ship.

When Cecilia asked them what the planks were for, they told her they were meant to be floorboards. Floors for the stone house at Arnäs was what they first planned. But perhaps also for here at Forsvik, since the rough-hewn logs that they were now using were not the best. But that could be decided later on. First it was a matter of putting in a good store of planks so they would dry over the winter and next summer; then they would see if the boards were actually an improvement over the old method. The amount of work hours would be only a tenth if they compared making a floor from these sawed timbers with using hewn limestone.

And this was only the first of many saws they wanted to make. When they dug a canal with new water wheels, they would be able to make more circular saws, both big and small. And the brothers claimed that it would save much
time and make it possible to saw more timber than merely for their own needs.

Arn pounded them heartily on the back and said that such new ideas and tools were like gold for the estate, but also for those who had thought of them.

The following week Arn, along with Ali and Mansour, spent every morning teaching the three boys to ride. The afternoons were then devoted to archery and swordsmanship. At first Arn practiced several hours on his own and then with his three young warriors.

He had the smithies make several swords with dull blades that he let the boys wield almost as if they were real swords. Even though the weapons lacked real blades, they felt quite real in the hands of Sune, Sigfrid, and Bengt. Arn tested them until he judged that each boy had a practice sword of the proper heft since the strength of their arms varied. He also had chain mail made for them, which Cecilia found more childish than sensible, since surely no one would expect such young boys to go to war.