by Jan Guillou
Once the two Cecilias had decided something, that was how it would be. And so during the following summer a great deal of travelling went on between Western Götaland and Svealand. After celebrating his own wedding, Eskil set off with his son Torgils, Arn and his son Magnus Månesköld, and a large retinue to Svealand. On their way north to the betrothal ale in darkest Uppland, they stopped to visit many powerful men who were either members of Eskil’s new clan or were related to Cecilia Blanca. The betrothal ale between Torgils and Ulrika, who was the daughter of Leif, the judge at Norrgarns estate, a day’s journey from Östra Aros, took place around the feast of Saint Laurentius before the harvesting began in Uppland. The bridal ale was celebrated over five days at Arnäs later in the autumn.
But the women also did much travelling during this tranquil time. They usually met at Ingrid Ylva’s home at Ulvåsa, since it was halfway between Forsvik and Ulfshem. This meant that the two Cecilias and Ulvhilde would have only one day’s journey in order to meet. Ingrid Ylva and Ulvhilde were both Sverker daughters, Cecilia Blanca was of the Svea clan, and Cecilia Rosa was of the Pål clan from Husaby. Hence the four of them could meet without constantly thinking about Eriks or Folkungs, though they had all married into one of these clans. Ingrid Ylva had already given birth to two sons, and she was expecting her third child that summer when the women spent more time alone than with their husbands. Since Ingrid Ylva’s eldest son Birger would soon turn five, the same age as Cecilia Rosa’s daughter Alde, there was much talk about how these two must soon be given booklearning and how it might be arranged for them to learn together. Earlier in the year Ulvhilde had sent her boys to a cleric in Linköping, but it would not be wise to send young Folkungs to the Sverker stronghold during the evil times that were now upon them.
Finally Cecilia Blanca decided that Birger and Cecilia Rosa’s little Alde could be given schooling at Forsvik if they could persuade the old monk there to spend less time with the swords and horses, which would do him good. Cecilia Blanca also thought that she, as a queen with nothing to occupy her time, might be of use in a way that would arouse no objections if she too participated in teaching the children. They all found this to be such a good idea that they decided the very next day to take the first of Eskil’s boats to Forsvik and speak with the monk themselves.
And so it was that before long Brother Guilbert found himself in an unexpected position in Forsvik’s new great hall. He didn’t require much convincing to agree, partly because it was an occupation pleasing to God to teach young children, and partly because such work would cause less wear on his old body than working with swords and horses. But he grumbled that this was not the task he had been given by Father Guillaume at Varnhem.
Cecilia Blanca dismissed this objection as easily as swatting a fly by saying that what Father Guillaume wanted or did not want when it came to Folkungs and Eriks depended more on the purse of silver than on the spirit.
No matter how much Brother Guilbert may have agreed with such an impudent statement, he went on to say that he also had an agreement with Arn. Then it was Cecilia Rosa’s turn to address him, saying that she and not Arn was the owner of Forsvik.
As if grasping for the last straw, Brother Guilbert said finally that he couldn’t very well promise anything until Arn came back home. He was instantly urged to admit that if Arn had no objections, he would comply.
And with that the stubborn women smiled contentedly and exchanged victorious glances before they began drinking a great deal of wine and talking so much that Brother Guilbert soon withdrew.
When King Sverker’s Danish wife Benedikta died of the fever, there was little cause for sorrow among the Eriks and Folkungs. King Sverker’s only daughter Helena was no threat to the crown.
But their dismay was all the greater when a rumour began to spread that jarl Birger Brosa had fetched his last daughter Ingegerd from Riseberga cloister to marry her to the king. As far as anyone knew, Ingegerd was a healthy woman who looked as if she could give birth to any number of sons. Many said that this was the only foolish thing that Birger Brosa had ever done in his long life, and that black clouds were now gathering over the realm.
After King Sverker’s first cautious years in power he began concocting bolder plans, and it was also obvious that he had decided to ingratiate himself to the Church and the crowd of bishops. This became almost ridiculously clear when he imitated King Knut of Denmark by promulgating a new law completely on his own, without consulting the council or the ting.
King Knut had declared that he was king by the grace of God, so he could make any laws he desired. Naturally King Sverker didn’t dare make such a statement, but he did claim that he now chose to make laws because he had received what he called ‘divine inspiration’.
What exactly he meant by that was obscure, except that of course it had something to do with God. But his action was also futile because the new law had already been in force for many years. It stated that the Church did not have to pay tax to the king.
When it turned out that the ominous rumour was true about how Birger Brosa himself had provided a fertile, child-bearing woman to the Sverker king, the Folkungs decided to hold a clan ting. The meeting would be held at Bjälbo, since Birger Brosa pleaded old age and poor health. Most people guessed that he would rather be rebuked at home on his own estate, acting as a host rather than as a guest among kinsmen.
He did indeed have to endure many harsh words for this last foolhardy marriage arrangement of his. Those who spoke with him admitted that most previous marriages that the old jarl had arranged had been wise and served the cause of peace, but this time it was just the opposite.
Birger Brosa sat slumped in his high seat and at first did little to defend himself. That had always been his approach in his most powerful days, holding back until the end of a conversation and then summing up what the others had said and sticking the sharp sword of his tongue into the crack he would always discover between quarrelling kinsmen.
This time no such crack was discernible, and he had to start explaining his actions much earlier. As so often before he tried to get the hall to quiet down by speaking in a low voice, but this time he was merely admonished to speak louder. He cautiously raised his voice and said that if a king became a widower at a young age as Sverker had, then he was certainly bound to get himself a new queen. And if that had to happen, wouldn’t it be better if this queen were of the Folkung clan rather than a foreigner?
Such a course of events was by no means certain, said an angry Magnus Månesköld. For if a king became a widower, he might just as easily decide to marry some dowager queen, and an old crone from Denmark would have been more tolerable to everyone than a lively child-bearer, fetched healthy and ready from safekeeping in the convent.
Then Eskil took the floor and said that a blunder that was done could not be undone. Now that the bridal ale had already been celebrated, to attempt to break the betrothal would be an affront that might even lead to war. King Sverker could then say that the oath of allegiance everyone had sworn him was broken. So they would have to keep their promise and pray that Ingegerd gave birth to a long series of daughters before Sverker’s member slackened.
At the mention of the word ‘war,’ several of the younger kinsmen in the hall livened up, and they began murmuring that it might be better to forestall than to be caught napping. They turned to Arn to hear his opinion. So many youths from so many Folkung estates had already been trained at Forsvik or were there even now; everyone was confident that Arn Magnusson would be the leader in the next war.
Arn replied that they were all bound by their oath to King Sverker until he broke his. If Sverker made a Folkung woman his queen, he would certainly not be breaking any oath. So there was no acceptable reason to go to war right now.
Besides, it would be unwise. What would happen if they set off at once for Näs and killed the king? That might mean not only war with Denmark, but Archbishop Absalon in Lund might excommunicate a number of Folkungs. Regicide
was punishable by excommunication nowadays. Even an argument over who should be archbishop or who should crown the king could lead to excommunication. Only if King Sverker broke his oath could they go to war against him without encountering such risks.
Arn’s objections were both so unexpected and thought-provoking that the clan ting soon calmed down. Then Birger Brosa tried to recapture some of his former power, saying authoritatively that even if the war might be getting closer there was still plenty of time to wait. They could best use the time to prepare themselves well. He mentioned specifically that more youths should be sent to train at Forsvik, and that more weapons should be ordered from there for every Folkung estate.
There was nothing wrong with the wisdom of these words, and everyone realized that. But it seemed that Birger Brosa’s long hold over the clan ting was broken. And he too seemed aware of that fact as he left the hall first, as was the custom. His hands and his head trembled as though in terror or as if fast approaching his deathbed.
The year of Grace 1202 became the year of death. It was as though the Lord’s angels had come down to burn the dry grass and prepare the ground for entirely new powers. King Sverre of Norway died that year, mourned by as many as rejoiced. That made the alliance of both the Folkungs and the Eriks with Norway weaker and more uncertain.
King Knut of Denmark also died, and his brother Valdemar was crowned, who had been nicknamed ‘the Victor’. He had been given that name with good reason. He had recently conquered both Lübeck and Hamburg, which both paid tribute now to the Danish crown, and he had made several trips with warriors to both Livonia and Courland. Everywhere his armies had marched to victory. He would be a truly formidable foe.
As if God were jesting with the Folkungs, Eriks, and all other people in Western and Eastern Götaland, however, there was no danger that Valdemar the Victor would come north from Skåne, pillaging and burning. For King Sverker was the Danes’ man, and his land did not have to be conquered as long as he was king. For him it did not seem vexing that all trade between his lands and Lübeck would be taxed by the Danes in the future. As Eskil Magnusson once muttered between clenched teeth as he sat at his account books, now they were paying a tax on peace.
But the greatest sorrow for the Folkungs came in January of that year when Birger Brosa died. He wasn’t long on his deathbed, and few kinsmen managed to come and say farewell. But more than a thousand Folkungs accompanied the revered jarl on his last journey to Varnhem. They gathered at Bjälbo and proceeded as a long blue-clad column of warriors across the ice of Lake Vättern to Skövde and on to Varnhem.
From most of the Folkung estates came only the men, since it was a bitterly cold journey. From Arnäs, Forsvik, Bjälbo, and Ulvåsa came all the family members. Wives and children and some of the elderly, like old Herr Magnus of Arnäs, were transported in sleighs tucked under many pelts from wolves and sheep. And many riders probably wished they were riding in the sleighs, because their chain mail was like ice against their bodies, and every rest stop became more torment than respite.
From Forsvik rode Arn Magnusson first among forty-eight riders. They were the only ones in the funeral procession who didn’t seem bothered by the icy wind, even though they were riding in full armour. They had special combat clothing for winter use and absolutely no iron or steel next to their bodies. Not even their iron-clad feet seemed to suffer from the cold.
King Sverker did not come to Varnhem. There were various opinions about the reason for this. He hadn’t been able to get together a greater retinue than two hundred men, and that would have looked paltry compared with the number of Folkungs who had gathered. And people were often unruly at wakes; in their grief, who could say what would happen if someone in a red mantle let his tongue run away with him so that the first sword was drawn. It was no doubt wise and cautious of King Sverker not to show himself at the burial of the old jarl.
And yet it was hard not to think that the king had shown disdain for Birger Brosa and thus all Folkungs by viewing the jarl’s death only as an occasion for his own clan.
Birger Brosa was laid to rest near the altar, not far from King Knut whom he had served for the cause of peace and the kingdom’s welfare for so many years. His funeral mass was long, especially for those of his kinsmen who could not get a seat inside the church but had to stand outside in the snow for the entire two hours.
But soon three hundred of those who had followed Birger Brosa to Varnhem had to return on a similar errand. Old Herr Magnus of Arnäs had not fared well during the cold journey when his brother was buried. He began coughing and shivering by the first day back at Arnäs, and he was put to bed next to a big log fire on the top floor of the new residence. He never did recover. His kinsmen barely had time to summon the priest from Forshem for extreme unction and the forgiveness of sins before he died, because he kept brushing off all premonitions of the worst. A Folkung should be able to stand a little cold, he assured them time after time. Someone said that those were his last words.
Sorrow lay heavy over Forsvik during the forty days of Lent before Easter. Work continued apace in the millhouse and workshops, of course, but the usual laughter and jokes were no longer heard. It was as though the master’s sorrow had spread to everyone else.
Arn spent less time than normal with the practice sessions for the young noblemen. Fortunately many of them had now become full-grown men and already had several years’ experience training their younger kinsmen. Sune, Sigfrid, and Bengt had all chosen to stay on as instructors at Forsvik rather than return to their own estates.
The fact that there were new instructors for the young men had also made the absence of Brother Guilbert among the riders and at swordplay exercises less noticeable now than at first. He spent most of his time in the little sacristy of the newly-built church, where he taught Alde and Birger Magnusson. Already all the lectionis were held in Latin.
Yet Brother Guilbert’s instruction had not been accepted without question once Cecilia discovered that he had been in the workshops and fashioned two small bows for the children. She found him standing behind the church and urging them to try to hit a small leather ball that he’d hung by a thin cord. To Cecilia he had defended himself by saying that archery was an art that sharpened the mind, and that the children would have great use of that capacity when they eventually had to delve into Aristotle’s logic or grammar. When Cecilia suspiciously went to Arn to ask him about the topic, he agreed much too eagerly with Brother Guilbert’s words, which did nothing to lessen her suspicion.
Cecilia thought that there were great differences between Alde and Birger. Alde would eventually become the mistress of Forsvik or some other estate. No one could know for sure what awaited Birger Magnusson in the future, but as the eldest son in one of the most distinguished Folkung houses and with a mother of royal lineage, it was easy to imagine that archery, horses, and lances would assume great importance in his life. But it did not follow from this that their daughter Alde should be trained in war.
Arn tried to calm Cecilia by telling her that archery was not only for war but also for hunting, and that there were many women who were excellent hunters. No woman should be ashamed that she could singlehandedly bring home a duck or deer she had shot to the table. And as far as Birger was concerned, his schooling for life would change a great deal from the day he turned thirteen and joined the young men’s beginners’ group.
Cecilia contented herself with that explanation until she discovered that Brother Guilbert had also made small wooden swords, which Alde and Birger were using to attack each other with gusto in front of their eagerly gesticulating teacher.
Arn agreed that handling a sword might not be what he most wanted his daughter to learn. But the children’s schooling was not easy, and Brother Guilbert was a very demanding teacher; he knew that from his own experience. And surely it wasn’t wrong to shift now and then from grammar to a little play. A sound mind required a sound body, that was a basic human truth.
There had also
been tears and a squabble when Birger got his first horse at the age of seven, and Cecilia forbade Alde to ride before she was at least twelve. Horses were not only for harmless play, and they knew that especially well at Forsvik, where over the years there had been many injuries and cries when young riders fell and hurt themselves, sometimes so badly that they had to spend time in bed. For young men learning to be warriors that was a danger they had to accept. But of course that didn’t apply to Alde.
Arn found himself caught in the middle between a mother and daughter who were equally determined, and both of them were used to wrapping him around their little fingers. But in the matter of when Alde should be given her first horse, only one of them could win, and it was Cecilia.
He tried to console Alde by riding with her in front of him in the saddle, slowly and calmly while they were within sight of Forsvik, and at the dizzying speed that Arabian horses were capable of when they were out of sight. Then Alde would shriek with delight and was appeased for the moment. Although Arn began to suffer from a guilty conscience because he had tempted Alde with such great speed. There was a clear danger that she might try the same thing as soon as she got her own horse, and speed was something one ought to try last, not first, when learning to ride.
At Easter the little wooden church at Forsvik was decorated with dark tapestries made by Suom, depicting Our Saviour’s suffering on Golgotha, His path up the Via Dolorosa, and the Last Supper with His disciples. Arn still had a hard time getting used to a Jerusalem that looked more like Skara, and Jesus’ disciples that looked as though they had been brought from the nearest ting site in Western Götaland. He also had a hard time seeing pictures in God’s house, because he thought that such things disturbed the purity of thought.