The Road To Jerusalem (45 page)

In Ostra Aros, Archbishop Stephan 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 Stephan learned that Knut was ac companied 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 Stephan 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, Stephan 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 Stephan 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 Arnas 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 Palsson had been called to Arnas 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 Arnas. 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 Gotaland 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 Gotaland 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 Ostra 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 Gotaland 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.