The Road to Jerusalem - Crusades Trilogy 01

by Jan Guillou

  At this point in his explanation Arn had to pause and think about how to continue. He would have preferred to avoid it altogether, as he thought he had already said what needed to be said, and as he was not the least bit proud of what he had done, but instead felt great remorse. Yet he had learned enough about how people thought out in the base world that he assumed they might find him boastful. The one who was bragging was actually the cathedral dean, who in his pride thought he had witnessed a miracle of the Lord, when it was merely an accident, but that too was difficult to assert without speaking ill of the dean.

  In the intolerable silence that followed, Cecilia asked that he continue. He looked up and met her gaze, and it was as if the Virgin Mary spoke to him and told him how to couch his words to fashion a good story.

  He passed quickly over the painful part. Drunken peasants had by mistake set out to kill someone they thought was a defenseless monk boy, although it was Arn, who had been trained in the art of the sword by a Templar knight of the Lord. So the fight was brief. It was no miracle, just as it was no miracle at the Axevalla ting.

  And yet there was a miracle in this story, a miracle of love.

  For in the subsequent events that the dean had not witnessed or failed to understand—the union of Gunvor and Gunnar—one could truly see the Virgin Mary's ineffable goodness and Her care for those who set their trust in Her. Arn blushed a bit at his audacious words regarding the dean, but no one in the hall scolded him or frowned.

  Having come this far in his account, Arn then recited the verses from the Holy Scriptures about victorious eternal love, which he knew so well that he could recall them at any time. With this he made a great impression on everyone at the table and especially on Cecilia, just as he had hoped.

  The priest from Husaby had turned thoughtful and attested that the words Arn had recited were all truly God's word. He added that love truly could accomplish miracles; the Holy Scriptures had many examples of this. It was assuredly no simple matter to understand, since most people who lived in the society of Western Gotaland were forced to celebrate the wedding ale for entirely different reasons than those granted to Gunvor and Gunnar. But Arn had told this story with good ecclesiastical understanding, and for that reason the priest of Husaby was in agreement with him. Our Lady had truly demonstrated a miracle of love and faith and not a miracle of the sword or violence. From this there was certainly something to be learned.

  To all around the table it seemed rather unclear what was to be learned, although it was a lovely story. But the priest of Husaby did not choose to clarify further. On the other hand, he did take Algot aside after the conclusion of the meal and prayers and had a conversation with him that no one else heard.

  It may have been this conversation that caused Algot to have a number of new ideas, for the next morning Algot asked Arn if he, who was good with horses, would take Cecilia with him on a ride in the beautiful spring weather. Arn did not have to be asked twice.

  And so it was that Cecilia and Arn rode side by side up the southern slopes of Kinnekulle on this first warm day of spring with gentle breezes. There were catkins on the pussy willows, there was plenty of water in the streams, and the ground was only flecked with snow. At first they didn't dare speak to each other although they were finally alone, for the retainers who followed them kept a polite distance so they could keep watch but stay out of earshot. All that Arn had said to her in his feverish nighttime thoughts or when he galloped along on Shimal and yelled the words to the wind now remained unsaid. Instead he soon found himself entangled in childish descriptions of Shimal's superior qualities and why horses from the Holy Land were so much better than other steeds.

  Cecilia seemed only moderately interested in the topic. But she smiled as if to encourage him to speak in any case. She had also had long nocturnal conversations with Arn in her dreams, although then she had always imagined that he would say the right words first and that she would then urge him on so that he said more of the same. Faced with talk of horses' qualities and the best way to breed horses, she had little to say.

  When Arn was near despair at his own shyness and the betrayal of all he had promised to say to her as soon as he had a chance, he prayed silently to the Holy Mother of God to give him just a little of the power that Gunvor had received. And at once the words came to him as if Our Lady were showing him the way with a gentle smile. He slowed Shimal, glanced nervously back at the retainers who were still out of earshot, and recited the words to Cecilia with his gaze fixed on her eyes and jubilation in his heart:

  You have taken my heart, you my sister, my bride, you have taken my heart

  with a single glance

  with a single link of the chain

  around your neck.

  How beautiful is your love,

  you my sister, my bride!

  Yes, sweeter than wine, and the scent

  of your salves surpasses all spices.

  Your lips drip with sweetness

  my bride

  your tongue hides honey and milk and the scent of your clothing is like the scent of Lebanon.

  When Cecilia heard the words of the Lord, which were also Arn's words to her, she reined in her horse and gave him a long look, speaking to him with her eyes, just as they had been forced to say everything until now. She sat quite still in the saddle but was breathing hard.

  "You can never understand, Arn Magnusson, how much I have longed for these words from you," she said at last without lowering her gaze. "Ever since our eyes met as our voices merged in our first song. I want to be yours more than I want anything else on this earth."

  "I am also yours, Cecilia Palsdotter, more than anything else on earth and for all time," replied Arn, filled with a solemnity that made the words sound like a prayer. "It's true that you took my heart with a single glance, as the word of God says. From you I never want to part."

  They rode a bit in silence until they came to an ancient and half-dead oak leaning over a small stream. There they got down from their horses and sat on the ground, leaning against the oak tree. The retainers from Husaby hesitantly stopped a short distance away and seemed to disagree whether they should come closer. The sound from the stream meant that they couldn't hear anything unless they came very close. They chose to sit where they were so that they could see but not hear.

  Cecilia and Arn took each other's hands and looked at each other without saying a thing for a long time, since they both felt the miracle within them.

  Finally Arn said that now he had to ride back to Arnas, no matter how hard it was to part, and explain to his father Magnus how things now stood. Perhaps, he said, they could hold the betrothal ale this summer.

  At first his words made her so happy that she clutched at her heart almost in pain, but then a cloud seemed to come over her face.

  "Perhaps we may need as much support from the Holy Virgin Mary as Gunvor and Gunnar did in that beautiful story you told," she said gravely. "For our love has difficult tests and great obstacles ahead, as you probably know, don't you?"

  "No, I know no such things," said Arn. "There are no great obstacles, not a mountain that is too high, not a forest that is too deep, or a sea that is too wide to sail across. With God's help nothing shall stand in our way."

  "We will have to pray mightily for God's help," she replied, with her eyes lowered. "For my father is Karl Sverkersson's man, and your father is Knut Eriksson's man; everyone knows that. My father fears for his life because of this, and as long as Karl is alive my father will probably not dare bind himself to the Folkungs. That's how it is, my dear beloved Arn. Oh, what a joy to say those words! Nevertheless, our love has more than a great sea to cross as long as Karl Sverkersson is king and my father is the king's man."

  But Arn refused to be cast down by this. Not only was his confidence great, but he believed that the Virgin Mary was on their side. And no matter how much he knew about Aristotle and Holy Saint Bernard de Clairvaux, about Plato's high and base worlds, and about the Cisterci
an rules for living—matters that people in Western Gotaland knew nothing about—he still knew very little about the rules that applied in the struggle for power. And that is what people in Western Gotaland knew everything about.

  He relied entirely on his belief that the greatest of all things was love.

  Chapter 11

  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 Vanern, where he sawed blocks of ice shaped the same as building stones for walls. The ice blocks were pulled on a sledge back to Arnas 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 Arnas, 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 Palsson 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 Vattern belonged to Arnas, and they controlled the entire northern part of Western Gotaland—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 Vanern 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 Vattern, there was nothing to be done. But if he departed this life, an important deal for Arnas 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 Arnas 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 Arnas without announcing himself in advance. He had traveled fast, accompanied only by Geir Erlendsen, the bard Orm Rognvaldsen, and Berse the Strong. They had traveled far and wide in Western Gotaland, 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 Visingo in the middle of Lake Vattern.

  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 Arnas. 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 e
xpression 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 skdl 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.