The Road To Jerusalem (40 page)

He was in a very good mood because he liked singing and because the Christmas hymns were those that he believed everyone knew by heart, and besides, Christmas was a happy holy day which made the notes easy to sing, even for those who had not had much practice.

But among the singers in the choir he was not the only one who had received his training from the Cistercians. There was also Cecilia Palsdotter, who in recent years had taken turns with her sister Katarina in being trained at Gudhem convent near Hornborga Lake.

He heard her voice as soon as he stepped inside the cold church. Her voice hovered clear and pure above all the others, and Arn stopped in amazement to listen. He had never heard anything so beautiful. That was how a boy’s soprano could soar forth from a choir, just as he may have sounded as a boy at Vitae Schola. But he probably thought this was even better. There was more fullness and more life in this female soprano.

He had stopped far away from the singers who were rehearsing, and he couldn’t see whose heavenly voice it was. Nor did he much care, since he had his eyes fixed on the stone floor so as not to be disturbed by anything as his ears tried to catch every last nuance of the music.

After the choir at the front of the church had sung four of the sixteen verses that Arn knew the hymn contained, the priest leading the singers paused to make a correction and scold someone singing in the second voice. Then Arn went over to greet the priest and bowed a bit timidly to the group of singers.

It was now that he saw her for the first time. It was as though he had seen Birgite from the Limfjord again, but now as a grown woman. The Birgite for whose sake he’d had to do so much penance. She had also caused him to argue with Father Henri about the true nature of love. He saw the same thick red hair in a plait down her back, the same merry brown eyes, and the same pale and lovely face. He must have been gaping at the young woman, because she gave him a teasing smile, apparently used to having young men stare at her. But she didn’t know who he was, for the priest hadn’t said anything about the fact that he had asked for an extra singer; he had especially refrained from mentioning who the singer might be, since he couldn’t be sure that a son of Arnas would take the trouble to come there just to practice a few carols.

The priest at Husaby was glad, of course, for if Arn was only half as good a singer as the somewhat boorish priest at Forshem boasted, this was going to be an unusually beautiful early Christmas mass. He already had an especially lovely soprano for the first voice. And as he was a priest who was more merry than strict and who welcomed a good jest and surprises if the occasion presented itself, he at once arranged a little practical joke.

He said only that another singer would be joining them from the church at Forshem, which Arn found to be a rather odd introduction, and now they would try the same piece they had just sung but with only two singers in two-part harmony. Then he motioned for Cecilia, who stepped forward with obvious confidence, once again showing her amusement at the staring peasant boy from Forshem.

Arn realized now that she was the one with the beautiful heavenly voice, and this insight made his gaping expression even more sheeplike.

Cecilia now did as the priest had asked, starting to sing the first voice by herself. She sang even louder, mischievously trying to put the singer from Forshem in his place.

But suddenly she then heard . . . no, it was more than hearing, she felt it through her whole body, as the new singer placed his second voice so close to hers, following her as if in a dance. Their voices intertwined, moving into each other, out, and then back, with the same ease as if they had always sung together. And she couldn’t help raising her eyes to his. He was already gazing at her, and when their eyes met they both felt as though the Lord’s voice had spoken through the other’s voice. Then she began to vary her song, making it much more difficult. And he followed her, still in second voice, with the same ease as before; they no longer saw the other singers or the priest standing nearby. Everyone had been struck dumb by the beauty that now streamed out like light beneath the vault of the church, but the two young people saw only each other and they did not stop until all sixteen verses were sung.

It was a lengthy practice session that day but a great deal was accomplished. The Husaby priest was good to them all and in a brighter mood than anyone had ever seen him before. He showed kindness to those he wanted to correct, and soon everyone began to gain in confidence, understanding how all the carols should be sung. They now had the opportunity to hear two singers alone, each taking a separate part, but they also sang as a choir with two lead singers, and as a choir with one soprano voice, one second voice, and even a lone third voice, for Arn would insert a third voice wherever he liked in these simple, happy carols.

So all were in a very good mood when they stopped for supper. Now that Arn and Cecilia had a chance to talk to each other, they fell into lively conversation about where they each had learned to sing. Soon they were both talking at once about Gudhem convent and Vitae Schola and Varnhem. With eyes only for each other they came out onto the church steps where Cecilia’s two retainers waited with her cloak and horse. Without staying for the evening meal, they were to accompany her home to Husaby manor for the night, as her father Algot had strictly prescribed.

One of the retainers took a couple of angry steps toward the singer boy, who was walking much too close to the maiden whose virtue he’d been sent to protect. But the second retainer, who had been at Axevalla
landsting
, took the man by the arm in warning, then pushed past and courteously greeted Herr Arn of Arnas.

That was when Cecilia Algotsdotter came to an abrupt halt in all her happy chatter about singing at the convent, for she thought she must have heard wrong. This fair youth with the kind eyes could simply not be the man that everyone was talking about over every tankard of ale throughout Western Gotaland.

“What is your name, cloister singer?” she asked with doubt in her voice.

“I am Arn Magnusson of Arnas,” Arn replied quickly and realized in the same instant that for the first time in his life he had said his name as it was. “And who might you be?” he added, with his gaze lingering on hers.

“I am Cecilia Algotsdotter of Husaby,” she replied shyly, thereby making the same impression upon Arn as he had done upon her when he said his name. Both now understood that it truly was the Lord who had brought them together, just as they both had felt so strongly during the hot, intertwining encounter of their singing voices inside the church.

The early Christmas mass at Husaby church in the year of Grace

1166 would live on in everyone’s memory. More beautiful praisesongs to the Lord had never been heard there before, on that everyone could agree. And during this mass it was as though not a single person succumbed to the weariness that usually came over everyone sooner or later from standing so long on the stone floor.

It seemed as though God were speaking even through what they all saw. The young Folkung in his blue mantle and with his blond hair stood beside the red-haired Palsdotter in her green clan color. And when they sang together with such great joy and power, everyone could see what the Lord intended with these two. If their fathers, who were both present, didn’t see it, there would be many at the coming feast at Husaby willing to speak to them about it. They all knew that there was neither silver nor business standing in the way, just as everyone knew that Algot Palsson was in dire straits. It was as though Christ the Lord were speaking to the assembled congregation when he allowed the heavenly voices of the two young people to spread the joyful message of Christmas: that love is what redeems, love is the power that stands against evil, and love as they now saw and heard it at this Christmas mass was strong and clear.

Certainly Algot Palsson had seen just as clearly what all the others who stood further back in the church could see. As the king’s steward at the royal manor, he stood among the foremost parishioners, next to Judge Karle Eskilsson and Herr Magnus. And what he saw and what everyone else saw certainly did kindle a hope within him. But he knew from much experience that it was not easy to do business with Herr Magnus and his son Eskil. As things now stood, people were talking a great deal about the second son Arn, who was a close friend of Knut Eriksson, about whom it was whispered that he would be the country’s next king. So what now looked like a clearly burning hope could turn to ashes as soon as business needed to be transacted. Perhaps the residents of Arnas had big plans for a much finer match, perhaps they wanted to bind the Erik clan and the Folkungs even closer, perhaps they had thoughts of yet another Norwegian king’s daughter. The fact that Cecilia and Arn had dreams that flew high and sang like birds for all to see and hear might not mean a thing when it came to negotiating a proper betrothal.

Algot Palsson was thus cast between hope and despair as he pondered these possibilities. He also feared the feast, because it would be like burning all his ships on the beach behind him as their forefathers had done in the sagas when no return was possible. For Algot there was now no turning back.

Algot’s obligation as steward of the royal estate was to see to it that the king could arrive whenever he liked, with as large a retinue as he wished, to be regaled for as long as he desired. A royal manor had to be ready at any moment to handle a large feast.

If the king himself, Karl Sverkersson, had sent outriders and announced that he and his retinue would be coming to the early Christmas mass in Husaby, as he and other kings had done many times before, everything would have been as it should be. But it also would have been unwise, considering what had happened to the king’s father Sverker the Old on the road to the Christmas festivities. And right now Western Gotaland was not safe ground for the men of the Sverker clan.

Instead a message had arrived that the Folkungs, with the judge and the men of Arnas in the vanguard and many retainers, would be celebrating Christmas at Husaby as if the rights of the king were their own. To refuse would have been difficult, especially if Algot gave the only true reason, that this royal estate belonged to Karl Sverkersson and not to the Folkungs. Saying what was true and right would have been a death sentence.

But to say yes, as Algot Palsson had done, might also be the same as death. Now it was winter and there was much snow, so no royal army would be coming before spring, and perhaps not even then. But if a royal army did come and proved victorious, it would not be easy to explain that the conquered enemy had eaten the king out of house and home at his own royal manor. The only thing Algot Palsson had left to hope for was that the Folkungs and their kinsmen would be victorious in the spring. Otherwise he probably did not have long to live. He hadn’t said a word to his daughter Cecilia about this quandary, and he had no idea whether in that girl’s head of hers she would even comprehend what had happened.

But it was a very good feast. Of course, Algot Palsson did at first feel squeezed tight between the shields when he sat with Judge Karle next to him in the high seat and the three foremost Folkungs from Arnas seated in the places that followed in rank. It was not that difficult to see what they all thought about boldly eating the king’s food as if it were their own. They showed no compunction in joking about the matter, every so often drinking a
skal
to the king, and each time laughing louder.

Cecilia and Arn had no opportunity to be alone at this feast. They could speak to each other with their eyes, for they sat only a few paces from each other. But this method of talking was the least discreet, since what they said was as clear to the eyes of everyone as bells tolling in the great hall.

Magnus and Eskil soon realized that they had a thorny problem facing them, but they had also agreed briefly in whispers that now was definitely not the right time or place to discuss the matter, either with Arn or amongst themselves.

After the Christmas feast at Husaby the Folkungs and their retainers rode south to Eriksberg to visit Joar Jedvardsson, Knut Eriksson, and their kinsmen for several days.

After much entertainment they returned wearily to Arnas. But it wasn’t long before Knut Eriksson and his wild Norwegian retainers arrived at Arnas. They came armed as if they intended to do more than go on a successful wolf hunt up toward Tiveden Forest, although the hunt was the excuse they gave.

The weather, however, was at the moment unfit for hunting, which seemed to suit Knut Eriksson even better, since he had many things to discuss with the Folkungs. With Eskil he wanted to talk about what sort of business he ought to conduct once he became the king of the Swedes and Goths, and Eskil had plenty to say on that subject. Above all, Eskil thought that whoever ruled both Svealand and Eastern Gotaland should do much more business with Saxony and Lubeck than they had done before. They had not understood how to exploit the Eastern Sea, acting as if it ended at the boundary with Denmark south of the forests of Smaland. Such a trade route by sea could be very profitable, if they were allowed to have it in peace, which would mean concluding an agreement with the Lubeckers above all. But then they would also have to see about minting new royal coins, for the time was undoubtedly past when they could merely trade marten pelts for foreign goods. And then they would have to establish a trade route between Norway and the eastern parts of the realm that would extend from Lodose across Lake Vanern, traversing the lands of Arnas and then Lake Vattern. Above all Eskil thought that this route would be able to do plenty of business in dried fish from Lofoten, which could be purchased for almost nothing and then sold at a tidy profit.

Knut Eriksson was very enthusiastic about these business ideas. He said that as soon as he had won the three royal crowns, Eskil would become his foremost adviser in everything that had to do with money and trade.

There was only one thing that could be done at once, however, and that was the negotiation with Emund One-Hand over Forsvik, since his land was the missing link in the route from Norway to Svealand and Eastern Gotaland. But since it was an arrangement that could be very good for one party and less favorable for the other, Eskil thought that they would have to conclude it in the new way, with a written bill of sale. There was little parchment and few writing implements at Arnas but surely enough to accomplish this. Arn was asked whether he could compose such a document, and he said he could. At both Vitae Schola and Varnhem he had repeatedly worked alongside the archivarius, and at both these monasteries they archived many letters of this type dealing with donations and purchases. If they told him who would be buying what from whom and at what price, Arn could draw up such a letter immediately.