Birth Of The Kingdom Part 21

'Yes,' replied Arn tonelessly. 'What you say may be either treachery or something very wise, and I'd like to know which it is.'

'The king is ill,' said Birger Brosa with a sigh. 'Sometimes he s.h.i.ts blood, and anyone knows that is not a good sign. He may not even last the five years that we need in order to offer even the most token defence.'

'I have men trained as physicians with me who have too little to do. I will send them to Knut after Christmas,' said Arn.

'Men who are physicians, you say?' Birger Brosa replied, interrupting his train of thought. 'I thought it was mostly women who tended to such matters. No matter. But s.h.i.tting blood is a bad sign, and Knut's life rests in G.o.d's hands. If he dies too soon, we will be in a bad position. Isn't that true?'

'Yes,' said Arn. 'So let's consider the worst that might happen. What if Knut dies in three years? What do we do then? Is that why you're thinking of Sverker Karlsson?'

'Yes, that's where he enters the picture with his Danish men,' confirmed Birger Brosa with a gloomy nod. 'He has been married to his Danish wife, I think Benedikta Ebbesdotter is her name, for six or seven years. She gave birth to a daughter early on, but no more children since then; and more importantly, no son.'

'Then I think I understand,' said Arn. 'Without waging war, we give the crown to Sverker. But we don't make such a gift without receiving something in return. He'll have to swear that Erik jarl will become king after him. Am I right?'

'More or less,' said Birger Brosa with a nod.

'Much could go wrong with such a cunning stratagem,' brooded Arn. 'Even if Sverker Karlsson produces no son, some new kinsman might appear from Denmark with claims on our crown, and then we'd be in the same situation.'

'But by then we will have won time, and many years without war.'

'Yes, and that would be to the benefit of the Folkungs,' admitted Arn. 'We would gain the time we need to secure a victorious power. But the Eriks at Nas won't be pleased if you propose what you have now suggested to me.'

'No, I don't think they will,' said Birger Brosa. 'But the Eriks find themselves in a difficult position right now. After Erik jarl is done ranting and calling us things that he will later regret, he'll discover that without the Folkungs no war will be waged for the sake of the king's crown. Without us there is no power. No doubt his father Knut will have an easier time understanding this. Of course much depends on Knut over the next few years, but if things get worse, I will find the right occasion to describe what we must do to preserve the peace, and thereby save Erik's head as well as his crown. Knut will yield if he is ravaged by disease and if the moment for such a conversation is chosen well.'

'And after Erik jarl?' asked Arn with a scornful smile. 'Where have you thought the crown should be placed then?'

'By then I will no longer be here on this earth,' laughed Birger Brosa, raising his ale tankard and draining it to the bottom. 'But if my view from heaven is nearly as good and considering how many prayers of intercession I've paid for my soul at three cloisters, I should have quite a nice view it would be my greatest pleasure to see the first Folkung king crowned!'

'Then I suggest that you begin at once to marry off your kinsmen in Svealand rather than with Sverkers,' said Arn, his face expressionless.

'That's precisely what I intend to do!' exclaimed Birger Brosa. 'And it has occurred to me that your brother Eskil, who is a very tempting marriage prospect, needs to find a new wife very soon!'

Arn sighed, smiled, and pretending resignation raised his ale tankard toward Birger Brosa. He had great admiration for his uncle's ability to steer the struggle for power. Such men were rare, even in the Holy Land.

But he was also uneasy about the fact that no matter how many prayers of intercession had been purchased in three cloisters, even that might not be sufficient to procure a good vantage point in the next life, as Birger Brosa seemed so convinced that he had done. But Arn said not a word of what he was thinking.

The first snow came early and in great abundance that year. Among the foreigners at Forsvik, the snow and the increasing cold had a strange effect; some showed even greater diligence in their work, while others stayed indoors next to the hearth in the longhouse without doing any work at all. It wasn't difficult to explain the difference, since those who were hardworking were those who toiled in the smithies and gla.s.sworks where the heat was always so great that everyone worked in long, thin tunics and thick-soled wooden clogs with a rough leather cover across the instep, no matter how cold it might be outdoors.

The thralls at Forsvik took care of the other winter work, such as using the sled to collect more wood or keeping the courtyard clear of snow or shovelling snow pa.s.sages between the buildings. They were better on their feet when tending to such tasks.

Jacob Wachtian surprised Arn during the second week of snow by asking that the section of water conduit stretching across the field to the house of the foreign guests be covered over with snow. Arn admonished him a bit indulgently that this might not be the wisest thing to do, since it would be difficult if the water froze. But Jacob insisted that it was precisely that occurrence that he wanted to avoid, and he claimed that snow was warmer than air, and that he'd heard this from kinsmen who lived high up in the Armenian mountains. Since Jacob refused to give up this idea, although he was insistent in a most chivalrous manner, Arn decided to try out his suggestion on one of the water lines. He allowed Jacob to choose which one it would be. Cloaking his words in many unnecessary courtesies, the Christian brother then explained that so many men lived in the longhouse, and since most of them had never even seen snow before, the damage would be all the greater if the water froze and they were all forced out into the winter night to relieve themselves; it would also be difficult to wash up in the mornings and evenings.

Arn then agreed to his request, although he didn't believe that this experiment would end well. Great heaps of snow were piled on top of the section of the water line running above ground to the longhouse.

A short time later the water stopped running into his own house, but when Arn went to see the Saracens in their longhouse, he found the water running as briskly as it did in the summertime.

Muttering and grunting, he had taken Gure outside to help break open his own water conduit using iron spits and pickaxes, and forcing boiling water into several places. Finally they managed to dislodge the ice plug, which went rattling through the house, and soon the water was flowing again. Arn then had his own water line covered in the same manner as had been done at the foreigners' house. After that everything was as it should be, even during the coldest time in midwinter.

Winter was a good time because the days weren't filled with such hard work that no one had any strength left to think. On the contrary, in winter people had time to reflect on matters.

For this reason Arn inst.i.tuted majlis majlis every Thursday after midday prayers in the Saracen longhouse. He also summoned the Christian foreigners to take part. At the first meeting he apologized for not establishing this excellent custom of having a council room and conversations much earlier. But as everyone no doubt realized, there was good reason to make haste with all the work that had to be done to shelter them from the winter. Yet now the cold had overtaken them, and what they hadn't been able to finish would not get done until spring. So, what should they talk about? every Thursday after midday prayers in the Saracen longhouse. He also summoned the Christian foreigners to take part. At the first meeting he apologized for not establishing this excellent custom of having a council room and conversations much earlier. But as everyone no doubt realized, there was good reason to make haste with all the work that had to be done to shelter them from the winter. Yet now the cold had overtaken them, and what they hadn't been able to finish would not get done until spring. So, what should they talk about?

At first no one spoke. It was as if these Saracens, no matter how accustomed most of them were to the idea of majlis majlis, had forgotten much of what they had been used to since everything in the North was so unfamiliar. In the worst case, thought Arn, this had happened because they saw themselves as slaves, subject to the mercy or disfavour of their foreign master.

Arn translated what he had said to Frankish when he realized that the two Englishmen didn't understand a word of Arabic; their Frankish wasn't particularly good either.

'Wages,' said Athelsten Crossbow, who was the first to speak. 'We work a year. Where is wages?' he went on.

Arn immediately translated his question to Arabic and saw that more than one man in the hall suddenly showed interest.

Work clothes could be another topic for discussion, said one of the stonemasons. Old Ibrahim, who was the most respected of the faithful and the only one who was allowed to speak for the others, added that they ought to solve the matter of G.o.d's day of rest, since there had been a good deal of confusion about this.

After a short time the reticence of the gathering had vanished; soon so many men were talking all at once that Ibrahim and Arn had to speak up to restore order.

The first decision had to do with wages. The general opinion was that it was better to receive wages after each year served than to get five years worth of wages all at once just before they travelled back home. There were some objections, including the fact that it might be difficult to store the silver and gold, since they had no use for it while at Forsvik. Another person who was more ingratiating said that there should never be any reason to doubt the word of Al Ghouti, and everyone's gold was doubtless better stored at Al Ghouti's home at an-Nes.

Nevertheless, Arn decided that after his next visit to Arnas, which would take place during the most important Christian celebration, he would bring the wages for every man in gold coins.

The matter of work clothes was easier to solve. Most of the men in the hall knew full well what working with masonry and forges and gla.s.s entailed. Arn a.s.sured them that this would be the saddle-makers' most important task during the winter, since the masons in particular needed clothing that was reinforced with leather.

The question of a day of rest was more difficult to address; they had to discuss whether it should be Friday or Sunday. To slow the work in the smithies and at the gla.s.sworks would not be desirable. It was easiest to solve the problem with the smithies, since there were many Christians, especially if the thralls at Forsvik were considered Christian, who had no trouble working on Friday, just as the faithful could work on Sunday. It was not as simple at the gla.s.sworks, since all the skilled workers except for the Wachtian brothers were Muslim.

Then Arn asked Brother Guilbert how they had dealt with this matter when he was working with the stonemasons at Arnas. Brother Guilbert muttered with great embarra.s.sment that he had merely counted Sundays as Fridays, and no one had offered any protest. His words aroused much disapproval and many shocked glances among the builders who had worked on the fortress. Evidently they had been misled as to which days were Fridays and which were Sundays.

Arn quickly cut short the dispute that seemed likely to grow too big even for a majlis. majlis. He said that during the winter and at Forsvik, Friday would be a day of rest for every Muslim, while Sunday would be the Christians' day of rest, and so it would be. They would then think about what do at Arnas when the masonry work resumed in the spring. He said that during the winter and at Forsvik, Friday would be a day of rest for every Muslim, while Sunday would be the Christians' day of rest, and so it would be. They would then think about what do at Arnas when the masonry work resumed in the spring.

Not everyone who was present at this first majlis majlis was satisfied with what had been discussed. But that was how it usually was and would continue to be. was satisfied with what had been discussed. But that was how it usually was and would continue to be.

Arn and Cecilia had more trouble in determining when they should free their thralls. For several evenings they sat with Brother Guilbert in his chamber so as to talk undisturbed about this matter, which they wished to keep secret until it could be realized. Just to be safe, they conducted the discussion in Latin.

Brother Guilbert had no reservations whatsoever about the idea of freeing the thralls; Arn expected no less of him. But the monk realized that such important news had to be delivered with care and wisdom. If they tried to imagine themselves as thralls, it was easy to understand how such news would be received. He was most concerned that the entrenched obedience of the thralls might lead to the opposite extreme. The poor, simple souls might lose their wits and fall upon each other with weapons in order to right old wrongs, in the belief that the person who was free was allowed to strike anyone at will. Or they might simply run off to the woods.

Cecilia remarked that in the middle of winter no one would run away from Forsvik to the woods. That was why the news should be delivered soon, during the coldest period.

Arn said gloomily that it would do little good to try and guess how a thrall thought, since it must be impossible to have a sensible opinion on the matter if someone had lived his whole life as a free man. Shouldn't they ask one of them?

Both Cecilia and Brother Guilbert objected at once, saying that if even the slightest hint of what they were planning got out, Forsvik would turn into a chicken coop of rumours and misconceptions before evensong. But Arn stubbornly insisted and asked them who they might suggest to ask for advice.

They both replied at once that they should ask Gure, Suom's son.

For Gure, who had not had a free moment since the snow began falling, busy as he was with hearths and drafty doors, this sudden summons to the master's house seemed an ill omen. He stopped his work at once and made his way from the thrall quarters to the courtyard, where he cut across the open s.p.a.ce to Arn's house. He thought nervously that perhaps he had devoted too much time to the thralls and too little time to the stables and shelter for the livestock; harsh words were probably awaiting him. He did not fear the whip, because it had never been used even once at Arnas; he knew from talking to everyone that not a single thrall had been whipped at Forsvik since the new master and mistress had arrived.

Outside Arn's house he paused in the snow for a moment, feeling at a loss. From inside he heard voices that sounded loud and ominous, as if Sir Arn and those he was talking to in a foreign tongue were not in agreement. What worried him most was not the fact that he was about to be rebuked, but that he didn't know the reason. He stood outside so long that he started to freeze, but no one came out to get him. He could not enter of his own volition; no thrall was allowed inside the mistress's chamber, and he could hear that she was inside. He stuffed his hands under his armpits and started stamping his feet in the snow to stop shivering from the cold.

He wondered to himself if this was his punishment, to freeze for his sins. But if that was the case, shouldn't he at least know why? What good was a punishment without knowing the reason behind it?

Brother Guilbert unexpectedly came to his aid; it might not have happened if he had remembered the lavatorium lavatorium arrangement inside the master's house. But since he lived in the old longhouse, he was used to going outside to relieve himself. As he stepped outside and raised his robes, he discovered he was just about to spray his water on Gure waiting nearby. arrangement inside the master's house. But since he lived in the old longhouse, he was used to going outside to relieve himself. As he stepped outside and raised his robes, he discovered he was just about to spray his water on Gure waiting nearby.

Brother Guilbert quickly went about his business and then put his arm around Gure's shoulders and led him inside through the dark clothing chamber to the large room where the hearth kept it as warm as a bathhouse. The monk led him over to the great fireplace and pressed him down onto a stool a suitable distance away from the blaze while he said something to Arn in a foreign tongue.

Gure rubbed his hands to get warm as he kept his eyes on the floor, noticing how the master and mistress and the monk were all studying him, even though no one said a word. Suddenly Fru Cecilia stood up, took a tray with smoked ham on it from the bed, and carried it over to him with a knife.

Gure understood only that what had just happened could not have happened. A mistress did not serve food to a thrall, and he had no idea what he should do with the knife and ham. But she nodded and motioned for him to cut off a piece and eat it; reluctantly he did so.

'It was not our intention to keep you waiting outside in the cold, Gure,' said Sir Arn at last. 'We asked you to come here because we wish to ask you about a certain matter.'

Sir Arn fell silent, and all three again stared at Gure. The smoked ham, which he had never before tasted, turned into a lump of wax in his mouth, and he was unable to swallow it.

'What we are about to ask you must stay with us here in this room,' Fru Cecilia went on. 'We want to know your opinion, but we don't want you to repeat our words to anyone else. Do you understand?'

Gure nodded, dumbstruck by what she said. He now guessed that something valuable must have been stolen and the master wanted to ask him about it, since he was the one who had the most oversight of all the thralls at Forsvik. He could tell that he was in a bad position since he knew nothing of this matter and they might not believe him. Thieves were hanged. But what happened to the person who protected a thief with lies?

'If we gave you your freedom, Gure, what would you do?' asked Sir Arn without the slightest warning.

Gure had to think carefully about this unexpected question. With great difficulty he finally managed to swallow the piece of meat in his mouth. He realized that he had to come up with a sensible answer, and at once, because the master and mistress and the monk were all looking at him, as if antic.i.p.ating something remarkable.

'First I would thank the White Christ, then I would thank my master and mistress,' he replied at last, as if the words simply spilled from his lips. Though he immediately regretted that he hadn't named his master and mistress before the White Christ.

'And what would you do after that?' asked Fru Cecilia.

'I would go to a church man to be baptized,' he replied slyly in order to gain time. But he won only a few moments' delay because now the monk spoke up.

'I can baptize you tomorrow, but what would you do after that?' asked Brother Guilbert.

At first Gure had no answer. Freedom was a dream, but a dream that ended where it began. After that, there was nothing.

'What could a free man do?' asked Gure, thinking hard. 'Wouldn't a free man have to eat? Wouldn't a free man have to work? If I, as a free man, could do the same building work that I now do, then I would. What else would I do?'

'Do the others think the same?' asked Fru Cecilia.

'Yes, we all probably think the same way,' replied Gure, now more sure of his words. 'People have been whispering for some time that we might be freed. Some have said they are sure of it; others have snorted at the rumour, which always spreads through farms. Freedmen can stay with their masters or work new fields; everyone knows that. If we could stay at Forsvik, then we would. If you drove us away, we would have to accept that decision; there is no other choice.'

'We thank you for these words,' said Sir Arn. 'You are a man who thinks sensibly, and you have already understood what we are intending. So let me speak the truth to you. When your mistress and I come back from Christmas at Arnas, where we will stay until dawn, we intend to free all the thralls at Forsvik. That is the truth. But we don't want you to speak of this matter to any of your peers, nor to anyone else, not even your own mother. This may be the last order I give you as a thrall, but you must obey.'

'A thrall's word is of no worth, either before the law or in the view of others,' replied Gure looking Arn straight in the eye. 'Yet I give you my word, Sir Arn!'

Arn merely smiled without replying as he got up and motioned for Cecilia to do the same. That brought Brother Guilbert to his feet as well. Gure understood at once that this was a sign for him to go, but he didn't know how to take his leave; he attempted to bow and he slipped out.

As soon as Gure had shut the door behind him, Arn, Cecilia, and Brother Guilbert began talking all at once about the strange scene they had just witnessed. It was Arn's view that what they had just seen and heard with their own eyes and ears showed that the thralls were not nearly as half-witted as people said. Brother Guilbert talked about baptizing those who were freed, and that Gure should be made foreman of the freed thralls so that Arn and Cecilia wouldn't have to run around taking charge of every little matter. They both agreed about this, but Cecilia warned that perhaps not everyone was like Gure. For she had studied him closely as he spoke and thought she noticed something odd. Gure didn't speak like any other thrall she had ever heard; he spoke almost as well as they did. It had also occurred to her that he didn't look like a thrall, either. If Arn and Gure exchanged clothing, many might not be able to tell who was the thrall and who was the knight.

She didn't know what had made her say these words, but she regretted them at once when, for the first time, she saw anger flash in Arn's eyes. It didn't help matters that she tried to jest to banish her reckless words by saying that of course she meant that Gure looked more like Eskil, only thinner.

The Saint Lucia celebrations were held around the darkest night of the year, when the forces of evil were stronger than at any other time, and so a great commotion was deliberately stirred up at Forsvik. A procession of house thralls plodded three times around the courtyard in the frigid midwinter night. Everyone carried blazing torches and wore horned masks made from woven straw. In spite of the bitter cold, many shivering Saracens peered outside in surprise or crowded onto their porch wrapped in mantles and rugs to watch the strange goings-on. It was so cold that the snow creaked loudly under the straw shoes that the thralls wore over their summer footwear.

Once again, the forces of evil were kept away from Forsvik on that night, and soon the frosty silence of midwinter settled over the estate anew; only the hunters were awake.

Arn and Cecilia, Torgils and the three boys, Sune, Sigfrid, and Bengt, and the Christian foreigners at Forsvik had all returned by sleigh from Arnas after the dawn church service on Christmas Day. They had also attended the Christmas ale, which had been kept unusually moderate for the sake of old Herr Magnus. When they all returned, it was time for the big change.

On the following day, before the midday meal, all of Forsvik's thralls were summoned to the great hall in the old longhouse. They were more than thirty souls, counting a few nursing infants resting in their mothers' arms. Many of the thralls were workers in the fields or storehouses who had never set foot inside the great hall. The house thralls teased some of their kinsmen because of their wide-eyed amazement.

When everyone had gathered in the hall, Arn and Cecilia stood at the high seat. Arn was the one to speak, since Cecilia had requested that he do so, even though these thralls were rightfully her property and not his.

He briefly explained the reason for summoning them. He and Fru Cecilia had both decided that no one should be in bondage at Forsvik, since such a state was an abomination in the eyes of G.o.d. Hence they were now all free, and after their name they were allowed to add the name of Forsvik or call themselves Forsvikers, so that everyone in the villages and at other estates would know that they came from a place that had no thralls.

As free men and women, they would work for wages. Those who chose to remain at Forsvik would receive their first annual wages the following Christmas. For those who would rather work new fields near Forsvik as tenants, that too could be arranged.

After these words, Arn and Cecilia sat down. They were both surprised and disappointed that not a single thrall shrieked and no words of grat.i.tude came streaming toward them. Nor did anyone say a prayer. They could see the startled looks on many faces, so they had no reason to believe that Gure had broken his promise to keep their secret. A few embraced the person standing nearest, and a few tears were also visible.

Around New Year's the north wind began blowing, ushering in an entire week of snowstorms that wrapped Forsvik in a warm blanket of snow drifts, filling in all the crevices in the floors and windows of the old thrall houses, where the cold would have otherwise killed both those who were free and those who were not.

During the storms, not even the hunters went outside. At the smithies and gla.s.sworks, everyone continued their labours as usual, but it was impossible to conduct any riding practice. And since every vent and window of the stable was kept closed, they couldn't continue with the exercises that Brother Guilbert had started with the boys and Torgils Eskilsson. No one could shoot arrows or swing a sword in the dark.

But midwinter in the North was the time for sagas and tales. No dark night went to waste without stories or long conversations about topics that few had time for during the busier seasons of the year. In the thrall houses sagas were recounted that would have displeased the master and mistress. But most of the freed men and women thought that what they didn't hear wouldn't harm them.

Arn and Brother Guilbert spent three days together in Arn and Cecilia's chambers while she stayed with Suom and some of the former thrall women in the weaving house. It stood next to the hot gla.s.sworks, which made it easier to keep out the cold.

The question that Brother Guilbert and Arn discussed at length had to do with the difficulty of imagining goodness through violence. Many faithful Christians during that time would have had trouble understanding such a conversation. But for two Templar knights, there was nothing difficult about seeing swords and fire as serving G.o.d's cause. Indeed, that was the role of the Knights Templar, given to them by G.o.d Himself and defended by His Mother.

Instead, the question had to be asked whether the strict Rule of the Templars could be applied to an ordinary Christian life.

Brother Guilbert was going to take a greater responsibility for training the boys in the use of weapons, because Arn was unsure that he himself was the best suited for the job. But this meant that they would have to take turns supervising the construction work at Arnas, since the Muslim builders shouldn't be left alone in a land where the laws would not protect them. And quarrels might easily arise. Brother Guilbert had noticed a few thrall women at Arnas hovering around the building site at night.

For Arn it would not be easy taking his turn away from Forsvik. On one of the long winter nights Arn and Cecilia lay under the covers just as they had imagined that they would, and he recounted his long stories from the Holy Land. Now and then they were disturbed by a gust of wind striking the hearth and sending ash through the bedchamber. It was on that night that she first felt something stirring inside of her, like a little fish flicking its tail.

She understood what it was at once; she had already sensed but hadn't dared believe in such a miracle. She was over forty, after all, and she thought she was far too old for this blessing.

Arn was in the middle of a story from the Holy Land, recounting how he had just ordered that the banner be unfurled with the symbol of the Virgin Mary, the High Protectress of the Templar Knights. And he raised his hand to give the signal to attack, and in unison all the white-clad knights made the sign of the cross and took several deep breaths.

Then Cecilia quietly took Arn's hand and told him. He fell silent at once and turned to face her. And he saw that what she said was true and neither a dream nor a jest. Gently he embraced her and whispered that Our Lady had blessed them with yet another miracle.