by Jan Guillou
As if Cecilia Blanca had read her friend’s thoughts she then gave Ulvhilde’s hand a little squeeze and whispered that there was no cause to worry.
The king himself had come down to the beach to receive his queen and his jarl along with, as he only now seemed to remember, his young Sverker guest.
He first greeted his jarl and his queen with all the courtliness that could be desired. Then he turned to Ulvhilde and looked thoughtfully at the young woman. Full of trepidation and shyness she lowered her gaze. What he saw, however, was instantly to his liking, which surprised everyone except his wife. He took a step toward Ulvhilde, placed his hand under her chin to tip up her face, and looked at her with an expression that was far removed from hatred. It was clear to everyone that he was pleased by what he saw.
But his words of greeting to Ulvhilde surprised even Birger Brosa.
“We bid you welcome to our castle, Ulvhilde Emundsdotter. What was once between us and your father is now buried, because that was war and now we have peace. So you should know that it is a joy for us to greet you as the mistress of Ulfshem. You are safe among friends here as our guest.”
His gaze lingered on Ulvhilde before he suddenly offered her his arm and then took the queen under his other arm. He then escorted them both past all the others up toward the castle.
Ulvhilde’s time at Näs was brief, but for her it felt long because there were a thousand details she had to learn regarding matters about which she had not the slightest knowledge. Eating was not just eating, but a pastime as full of rules as at Gudhem, although these new rules called for the opposite sort of behavior. The same was true of speaking and greeting people. At Gudhem Ulvhilde had learned never to speak unless spoken to and always to be the first to greet someone. Here at Näs it was just the opposite, except when it came to the king, the queen, and the jarl. So there was much embarrassment associated with such seemingly trivial things. Ulvhilde created a stir the first days when she offered a friendly greeting to stable boys and roast-turners as well as the queen’s chambermaids before they greeted her. Even more difficult was learning to be first to speak, since it seemed to be an ingrained habit to wait with bowed head until she was addressed.
Freedom was not merely something that existed like air and water. It was something one had to learn.
During this time Cecilia Blanca often thought of a swallow she had found as a girl at home in the courtyard of her father’s farm. The swallow lay on the ground chirping pitifully when Cecilia Blanca picked it up, but quieting down when she warmed it between her cupped hands. She placed the swallow in a birchbark box which she lined with the softest wool, and for two nights she slept with the little bird beside her. On the second morning she got up early, carried the bird out to the courtyard and flung it straight up in the air. With a sharp cry to greet its newfound freedom the bird instantly flew high up toward the sky and disappeared. She had never understood why she knew how to make the bird fly again, she had simply sensed it was the right thing to do.
In a similar manner she now looked at Ulvhilde, who unlike herself and Cecilia Rosa had come to Gudhem as a child rather than a maiden; she couldn’t have been older than eleven. So all the rules of the evil convent world had permeated her mind so completely, that out in the free world she was as helpless as the swallow on the ground. She didn’t even understand that she was beautiful. Ulvhilde belonged to the side of the Sverker clan of which Kol and Boleslav were chieftains; women and maidens on that side of the clan often looked like Ulvhilde, with black hair and brown eyes, slightly slanted. But Ulvhilde was unaware of her own beauty.
Cecilia Blanca had not mentioned the current situation at Ulfshem, whence she would soon accompany Ulvhilde despite the fact that the king grumbled about the journey. But leaving Ulvhilde alone in the clutches of a Folkung who was going to be evicted along with his two lustful sons was out of the question. She knew the two men slightly. The older son was named Folke, and he was of such a hot temper that it would undoubtedly shorten his life; his tongue could prove the bane of his existence. The younger son’s name was Jon, and he had gone to school with his kinsman Torgny Lagman. He was soft-spoken in a way that indicated things hadn’t been easy for him as the younger brother of a future soldier. Folke, as brothers will do, had practiced much of his fighting skills on his younger and weaker brother.
Cecilia Blanca pondered what would happen to a woman who was as beautiful and rich as Ulvhilde, and yet so innocent, when she landed among men who wanted to possess her for more than two reasons. Wouldn’t it be like releasing a lamb to the wolves at Ulfshem?
Cautiously the queen attempted to speak with Ulvhilde about what she might expect. She insisted that they ride together every day, for no matter how much Ulvhilde complained of her sore buttocks, she had to be able to ride a horse. During their rides Cecilia Blanca tried to revive the conversations the three of them had had at Gudhem when they occasionally touched on the love that Cecilia Rosa felt for her Arn, or when they had made plans to rescue Sister Leonore and the monk Lucien. But it was as if Ulvhilde shrunk from such conversations in fright, pretending to be more interested in saddles and the various gaits of horses than in love and men.
She seemed more receptive when together they spent an enjoyable time each day with Cecilia Blanca’s two sons, who were now five and three years old. The love between mother and child seemed to interest Ulvhilde considerably more than that between man and woman, although of course the first could not exist without the latter.
Just after Larsmas, when the hay-making was over in both Western and Eastern Götaland, Cecilia Blanca and Ulvhilde rode up to Ulfshem with some retainers. They sailed with the Norsemen up to Alvastra, and from there they rode along the great highway toward Bjälbo and further toward Linköping, where they would find Ulfshem halfway in between.
Ulvhilde had grown more accustomed to the saddle and didn’t complain much, although it was a two-day ride. The closer they came to Ulfshem, the more silent and self-conscious she seemed to become.
When they spied the estate Ulvhilde recognized it at once, since the new buildings had been built exactly where the old ones had stood and were of similar design. The huge ash trees on the property were the same as during her childhood, but many other things seemed smaller than she remembered.
They were expected, of course, because a queen did not pay a visit without sending word in advance. When their retinue came within sight there was suddenly a great deal of activity at Ulfshem; servants, guards, and slaves lined up in the courtyard to receive and greet them, bringing out the first bread to break with the guests before they came inside.
Cecilia Blanca was a sharp-eyed woman. She saw at once what most people would have seen sooner or later, with the possible exception of the innocent Ulvhilde. Herr Sigurd Folkesson and his two sons Folke and Jon, who stood beside him, seemed to Cecilia Blanca’s eyes to transform the closer she and Ulvhilde came to the courtyard.
If the Folkungs from a distance had looked unwilling or almost hostile in their bearing, they now tempered their stance and made an effort not to show their astonishment when they saw Ulvhilde wearing the magnificent mantle of their enemies as she climbed down from her horse.
Herr Sigurd and his eldest son Folke hurried over to assist Cecilia Blanca and Ulvhilde as they dismounted to receive the welcoming bread.
Even though Sigurd and his sons would be richly compensated and would be able to acquire estates larger than Ulfshem for some of the silver which Birger Brosa had looted during his crusade, there was still the matter of honor. No one could think that it was honorable for Folkungs to have to move for the sake of a pitiful little maiden from the Sverker clan.
But Ulvhilde was not what they had been expecting. For men seldom imagine the enemy’s women to be beauties.
Sigurd Folkesson may have thought about greeting them with harsh words, but could do little more than stammer and hem and haw as he bade them welcome, while his two sons mostly gaped, unable to take their eyes
off Ulvhilde.
When the confused welcome speech seemed to be over, Cecilia Blanca sought to rescue Ulvhilde from her embarrassment by saying the words required in response. But Ulvhilde spoke first.
“I greet you Folkungs, Sigurd Folkesson, Folke and Jon, with joy as I return to my childhood home,” Ulvhilde began without the least hint of shyness. Her voice was calm and clear. “What was once between us Sverkers and Folkungs has now been buried, because that was war and now we have peace. So you shall know that it is a pleasure for me to welcome you to Ulfshem and that I feel happy to have you as my friends and guests.”
Her words made such a strong impression that all the Folkungs were speechless. Then Ulvhilde held out her arm to Sigurd Folkesson so that he could lead her into the main building on her property. The eldest son, Folke, eventually realized that he should offer the queen his arm.
As they entered Ulfshem through the large double gate made of oak, Cecilia Blanca smiled with relief; at the same time she was rather amused. The worthy words with which Ulvhilde had surprised her Folkung guests had been borrowed shamelessly from the king. It was almost word for word what King Knut had said to greet Ulvhilde as a guest at Näs not so long ago.
Ulvhilde was a quick learner, as were all who were forced to live in cloisters, thought the queen. But it didn’t help much to be swift to learn; one also needed good sense in order to use what one learned. And that was what Ulvhilde had now shown in a manner as powerful as it was surprising.
The swallow flew, rising steadily on small, swift wings toward the sky.
Chapter 9
If it was really God’s will for the Christians to lose the Holy Land, then He had assigned them such a long and winding road to the great defeat at Saladin’s hands that in each small decisive event it became almost impossible to discern His will.
If that was the case, then the first big step toward the catastrophe was the Christians’ defeat by Saladin at Marj Ayyoun in the year of grace 1179.
As Count Raymond III of Tripoli told Arn when their friendship began, and when they together tried to drown their sorrow at the fortress of Beaufort belonging to the Hospitallers, the defeat at Marj Ayyoun could of course be viewed as merely one in an endless series of battles over almost a hundred years. No side could count on winning every time; for that they were altogether too susceptible to the whims of fate, to weather and wind, reinforcements that did or did not arrive in time, wise and foolish decisions on both sides, and for those who seriously claimed that this was the decisive factor, to God’s ever-inscrutable will. No matter how they tried to explain their fortunes in war, and how much they prayed to the same God, each side would inevitably lose some battles and win others.
But among the knights from King Baldwin IV’s army who were captured at Marj Ayyoun was one of the foremost in the ruling class of barons in Outremer, Baldwin d’Ibelin. For a man of Baldwin d’Ibelin’s position to fall into captivity was naturally mortifying and costly, but it was not a mortal blow.
However, Saladin was the warrior of that era who was more meticulous than any other in obtaining information about the enemy; nothing that had to do with power in Antioch, Tripoli, or Jerusalem escaped Saladin’s attention.
For that reason he knew to set a high price for the release of Baldwin d’Ibelin. He demanded the dizzying sum of 150,000 besants in gold, the highest ransom ever demanded from either side in the almost hundred-year war.
What Saladin knew, and what determined his price, was that Baldwin d’Ibelin was probably going to be the next king of Jerusalem. The leprous King Baldwin IV’s days were numbered, and the reigning monarch had already failed once in his attempt to arrange the succession to the throne by marrying his sister Sibylla off to William Longsword. This Longsword had soon died, presumably from one of the shameful diseases that ravaged the court of Jerusalem, although people called it consumption.
After William Longsword’s death, Sibylla gave birth to a son whom she named after her brother, King Baldwin. But she was in love with Baldwin d’Ibelin, and the king had nothing at all against such an alliance. The Ibelin family was one of the most respected among the land-owning gentry in Outremer, and the marriage between Sibylla and Baldwin d’Ibelin would strengthen the position of the court and diminish the opposition to the worldly landowners in the Holy Land.
Unfortunately for Baldwin d’Ibelin, Saladin was fully informed of this. And since he could claim that in essence he had a king in captivity, he demanded a king’s ransom.
But 150,000 besants in gold was more than the combined assets of the entire Ibelin family, and in this part of the world there was only one man who might put up such a fortune, and that was Emperor Manuel of Constantinople.
Baldwin d’Ibelin sued for his freedom from Saladin by swearing on his honor either to borrow the sum or to return to captivity. Saladin, who had no occasion to doubt the word of a respected knight, agreed to the proposal, and Baldwin d’Ibelin traveled to Constantinople to attempt to persuade the Byzantine emperor to lend him the money.
Emperor Manuel found it rather convenient to have a claim on the next king of Jerusalem for the rest of his life by making an admittedly large contribution. So he lent Baldwin all the gold he needed, and the latter sailed off for Outremer and paid Saladin. Then he was able to return to Jerusalem to report the good news about his freedom and once again resume his love affair with Sibylla.
But Emperor Manuel, Saladin, and Baldwin d’Ibelin himself had not reckoned with the women at the court of Jerusalem and their attitude toward men with large debts. The mother of both the king and his sister Sibylla, the constantly scheming Agnes de Courtenay, had little difficulty in convincing her daughter of the folly of such a relationship burdened by a debt of 150,000 besants in gold.
One of Agnes de Courtenay’s many lovers was a crusader knight who had never exchanged sword blows with the enemy but preferred exercises in bed. His name was Amalrik de Lusignan. Even though he was no warrior he was not slow in seeing the opportunities in the play for power at court. To Agnes he began praising his younger brother Guy, who was said to be a handsome man as well as quite a passable lover.
So while Baldwin d’Ibelin went to Constantinople to see Emperor Manuel, Amalrik de Lusignan was in France to fetch his brother Guy.
When Baldwin d’Ibelin, after many trials, returned to Jerusalem, he found that Sibylla had transferred her affections to the newly arrived Guy de Lusignan.
The difference between having Guy de Lusignan rather than Baldwin d’Ibelin as king of Jerusalem would have been like darkness versus light or fire versus water. Without realizing it himself, Saladin had shortened the path to his ultimate victory.
As far as the Knights Templar were concerned, the defeat at Marj Ayyoun was also of great significance, since Grand Master Odo de Saint Armand was one of the survivors and was taken prisoner after the battle. Normally all Hospitallers and Templars were beheaded as soon as they landed in captivity. Their Rule forbade them to be ransomed, so they had no financial value as prisoners. They were also the Christians’ best knights, and from Saladin’s point of view they were better off beheaded than exchanged for Saracen prisoners, which was the other possibility besides ransom.
With a Grand Master, however, Saladin thought the situation was different. The Grand Masters of both the Hospitallers and Templars held all power in their hands; their brothers in the order had to obey their decisions, without question. A Grand Master might be valuable if they could convince him to cooperate.
But Saladin got nowhere with Odo de Saint Armand. The Grand Master referred merely to the Rule, which forbade ransoms for Templar knights, and so Odo de Saint Armand’s captivity in Damascus was brief. Within a year he was dead, though no one knew the cause.
It was most likely that the new Grand Master of the Templar order would be Arnoldo de Torroja, who held the next highest position as Jerusalem’s Master.
Because power in the Holy Land was divided among the court in Jerusalem, the two spiritual
orders of knights, and the barons and landowners, it was of great importance who became Grand Master, and what sort of warrior, spiritual leader, and negotiator he was. It was even more important, of course, that he held a conciliatory attitude toward the Saracens, for the sake of peace in the Holy Land.
Arnoldo de Torroja had made a long career as a member of the Knights Templar in Aragon and Provence before he came to the Holy Land. He was much more of a businessman and wielder of power than his warlike predecessor Odo de Saint Armand.
Looking at these potential power shifts from Saladin’s point of view, the royal power in Jerusalem seemed on its way to landing in the clutches of an ignorant adventurer who would be little threat on the battlefield. And the mighty Order of the Knights Templar had in Arnoldo de Torroja acquired a leader who was more a man of compromise and negotiation than his predecessor, who was more like Count Raymond of Tripoli.
For Arn de Gothia, master of Gaza, Arnoldo de Torroja’s elevation to Grand Master had a more immediate effect. Arn was summoned to Jerusalem in order to assume without delay the office of Jerusalem’s Master.
For the two Cistercian monks, Father Louis and Brother Pietro, who at this time arrived at the center of the world as the special envoys of the Holy Father in Rome, their encounter with Jerusalem was a mixture of violent disappointments and pleasant surprises. But almost nothing was as they had expected.
Like all newly arrived Franks, secular or ecclesiastical, they’d imagined the City of Cities to be a wonderfully peaceful place with streets of gold and white marble. What they found was an indescribable tumult of teeming crowds and jabbered languages and narrow streets filled mostly with garbage. Like all Cistercians they had an image of their military brother organization the Knights Templar as a group of uneducated roughnecks who could scarcely spell their way through the Pater Noster in Latin. What they found first was Jerusalem’s Master, who addressed them in Latin. And almost immediately they all fell into an interesting discourse about Aristotle while waiting for the Grand Master whom they had come to meet in person.