Birth of the Kingdom. Jan Guillou
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Название: Birth of the Kingdom

Автор: Jan Guillou

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Историческая литература

Серия:

isbn: 9780007351862

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ saying that the master was out on the lake tending to the trout nets, and since she had not expected company it would be a while before they would have supper ready for their guests.

      Eskil grumbled a bit, but Arn quickly explained that this was even better, since all three of them would like to take a ride around the property at Forsvik. They would be back in a few hours.

      The mistress curtseyed in relief, not noticing the displeasure in Eskil’s eyes. Reluctantly he went over to his horse and led it around the watering trough, where he could more easily mount by placing one foot on the trough before he heavily hoisted himself into the saddle.

      Arn and Harald were ready to go. Without mounting, Arn slapped both of their horses so that they started off at a slow trot past Eskil. When Eskil, puzzled, looked up at the riderless horses, Arn and Harald came running fast from behind and then jumped, each landing with both hands on the hindquarters of his horse before pushing himself forward into the saddle and galloping off, the way all Templar knights did when there was an alarm.

      Eskil didn’t seem the least amused by the performance.

      At first they rode to the south. Outside the farm buildings was a garden where the bright green vines had already climbed up their poles to the height of a man. Then they headed down toward the rapids and bridge, where the blossoms from an apple orchard covered the ground like snow.

      Across the bridge the fields of Forsvik stretched before them. The closest field lay fallow, and there they discovered to their surprise four youths practicing on horseback with wooden lances and shields. The boys were so engrossed in their game that they didn’t notice the three strangers ride up and stop at the edge of the field. The men watched the boys with amusement for a long while before they were discovered.

      ‘They’re of our clan, Folkungs all four,’ Eskil explained as he raised his hand and waved to the four young riders. The boys rode over to them at a gallop, then sprang from their mounts. Holding on to the reins, they came over and knelt quickly before Eskil.

      ‘What sort of foreign manners are these? I thought you were hoping for a place in the royal guard, or with Birger Brosa or myself?’ Eskil greeted them jovially.

      ‘This is the new custom. It’s the practice of everyone at King Valdemar’s court in Denmark, and I’ve seen it myself,’ replied the eldest of the boys, giving Eskil a steady gaze.

      ‘We aim to become knights!’ one of the younger boys said cockily, since it may have seemed that Eskil misunderstood.

      ‘Indeed? It’s no longer enough to be a retainer?’ asked Arn, leaning forward in his saddle with a stern look for the boy who had just spoken to Eskil as if he were an elderly kinsman who understood nothing. ‘Then tell me, what does a knight do?’

      ‘A knight…’ began the boy, quickly turning unsure as he noticed the Norwegian retainer’s amusement. Harald was vainly trying to hide his mirth with a hand over his brow and eyes.

      ‘Don’t mind the northerner, my young kinsman; he doesn’t know much,’ said Arn kindly and without the slightest ridicule. ‘Illuminate me instead! What does a knight do?’

      ‘A knight rides with lance and shield, protects maidens in distress, slays the forces of evil, or the dragon like Saint Örjan, and most of all is the foremost defender of the land during times of war,’ said the boy, now quite sure of himself and looking Arn straight in the eye. ‘And the foremost of all knights are the Knights Templar in the Holy Land,’ he added, as if wanting to demonstrate that he did know what he was talking about.

      ‘I see,’ said Arn. ‘Then may Our Lady hold her protective hands over all of you as you practice for such a good cause, and let us hinder you no longer.’

      ‘Our Lady? We pray to Saint Örjan, the patron saint of knights,’ replied the boy boldly, now even more certain that he was the one who was the expert on this topic.

      ‘Yes, that is true, many pray to Saint Georges,’ said Arn, turning his horse to the side to continue his survey of Forsvik. ‘But I mentioned Our Lady because She is the High Protectress of the Knights Templar.’

      When the three men had ridden off a way, they all had a good laugh. But the boys didn’t hear them. With great earnestness and renewed zeal they rode at each other, holding out their short wooden lances as if they were attacking with Saracen swords.

      By nightfall as they returned to Forsvik, they had seen what they needed to see. In the north the Tiveden woods began, the forest that according to ancient belief was without end. There was timber and fuel in immeasurable quantities, and close at hand. To the south along the shore of Lake Vättern there were fields with pasture that would feed more than five times the livestock and horses now at Forsvik. But the fields for grain and turnips were meagre and sandy, and the living quarters decaying and rank.

      Eskil now said bluntly that he had wanted Arn to see Forsvik before they decided. A son of Arnäs ought to own a better farm than this, and Eskil at once proposed either of the farms Hönsäter or Hällekis on the slopes of Kinnekulle facing Lake Vänern. Then they could also live on neighbouring farms to their mutual enjoyment.

      But Arn stubbornly insisted on Forsvik. He admitted that there was much more to build and improve than he had imagined. But such things were only a matter of time and sweat. Forsvik had the advantage of possessing enough water power to drive the forging machines, the bellows, and the mills. And there was one more important thing that had already occurred to Eskil. Forsvik was the heart of Eskil’s trade route, and that’s why he had placed Folkungs as caretakers and not more lowly folk. Whoever controlled Forsvik held a dagger to the entire route, and no one could be better suited to the task than a brother from Arnäs.

      There was a constant stream of loaded ships in both directions between Lödöse and Linköping. If Arn was in charge, great smithies would soon be thundering at Forsvik. If the iron from Nordanskog came by boat from Linköping, steel and forged weapons would continue on to Arnäs and plowshares toward Lödöse. If limestone came from Arnäs and Kinnekulle, the boats could continue toward Linköping or return to Arnäs with mortar. And if barrels of unmilled grain came from Linköping, barrels of flour would move in the other direction.

      Much more could be said, but basically these were Arn’s ideas. And he had many foreign craftsmen with him; not all those at Arnäs were fortress-builders. Here at Forsvik they would soon be able to manufacture a great number of new things that would benefit all of them. And which could be sold at a good profit, he added with such emphasis that Eskil burst out laughing.

      At supper, as was the custom, the master and mistress of the house sat in the high seat together with the three noble guests Eskil, Harald, and Arn. The four boys with bruises on their faces and knuckles sat at the table farther away. They knew enough of manners and customs to understand that the warrior who had asked the childishly ignorant question about knights was no ordinary ruffian of a retainer, since he sat next to their father in the high seat. They also saw that like Herr Eskil he bore the Folkung lion on the back of his mantle, and no mere retainer was allowed to do that. So who was this highborn lord of their clan who treated Eskil as a close friend?

      The master and mistress of the house, Erling and Ellen, who were the parents of three of the boys with dreams of knighthood, made a great fuss about their guests in the high seat. Erling had already raised his tankard of ale twice in a toast to Herr Eskil. Now, the third time, he was red in the face and spoke with a bit of a stammer as he sometimes did, exhorting all to drink to Sir Arn Magnusson.

      An uncomfortable feeling began to come over one of the boys, Sune Folkesson, who was a foster brother at СКАЧАТЬ