Birth of the Kingdom. Jan Guillou

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СКАЧАТЬ son Erik would be prevented from inheriting the crown if this lie were believed.

      If Cecilia Rosa were now promoted to abbess, she could deliver an oath stating that the queen had never taken the vows but had served only as the other lay sisters at Gudhem had done. This would unravel the whole knot. And that was precisely Birger Brosa’s idea.

      The jarl did not lack good reasons for his demand. Cecilia Rosa had not been able to go to the bridal bed with Arn Magnusson as had been both intended and promised, but instead had effectively been sentenced to twenty years of penance. Yet the jarl had never abandoned her. He had taken her son Magnus, who was born out of wedlock at Gudhem, as his own, first as a son, later as a younger brother. Magnus had been raised at Bjälbo and was also brought into the clan at the ting. In addition the jarl had done much to alleviate Cecilia Rosa’s torments under Rikissa. He had supported and aided her as if she, like her son, had been accepted into the Folkung clan, although she had been merely a poor penitent. It was now time for her to repay that debt.

      It wasn’t easy to contradict the wisdom of these ideas; the two Cecilias had always been in agreement on that. Cecilia Rosa had only been able to present one strong objection to the jarl. She believed that since she and Arn had sworn to be faithful to each other, and after their time of penance to fulfil what had been interrupted by slander and strict laws in equal measure, she could not take these cloister vows. That would be to betray her word. It would be the same as trampling on Arn Magnusson’s vow.

      During the first years after her time of penance had expired, Birger Brosa, although he grumbled, accepted this objection. Many times he had assured her that he too wished and prayed that Arn Magnusson would return home unharmed, for any kingdom would have great need of such a warrior. Indeed, such a man ought to be made marshal at the king’s council, particularly since he was a Folkung.

      But now more than four years had passed since the time of penance had expired, and they had heard nothing about Arn after the time of his great victories in the Holy Land, of which blessed Father Henri had informed them. Now the Christians had lost Jerusalem, and thousands upon thousands of Christian warriors had fallen in battle without anyone knowing their names.

      Yet Cecilia Rosa had never given up hope; every evening she had directed the same prayers to Our Lady for Arn’s speedy return.

      But there were limits to patience, as there were to hope. How could she go before the council the next day – before the king, the jarl, the marshal, the tax-master, the archbishop, and the other bishops – and say that it was impossible for her to accept the high calling of abbess because her earthly love for a man was greater? No, it was hard to imagine such conduct. It was much easier to imagine what a tumult that would provoke. Love was undoubtedly of little consequence. Greater were the struggle for power and the question of war or peace in the kingdom.

      Cecilia Rosa had never before expressed this idea as clearly and as despondently as she did now. Cecilia Blanca took her hand in consolation, and they both sat there, dejected and silent.

      ‘It would have been easier for me to do this,’ the queen said at last. ‘I’m not like you; I’ve never loved any man more than I’ve loved myself or you. I envy you that, because I’d like to know what it’s like. But I don’t envy you the choice you now have to make.’

      ‘Don’t you even love King Knut?’ asked Cecilia Rosa, although she knew the answer.

      ‘We have lived a good life for the most part. I’ve borne him a daughter and four sons that lived and two that died. It was not always easy, and two of the childbeds were terrible, as you know. But I have no right to complain. Keep in mind that you had a chance to experience true love and gave birth to a wonderful son in Magnus. Your life could have been much worse.’

      ‘You’re right,’ said Cecilia Rosa. ‘Just think, if the war with the Sverkers had turned out differently, we both would have been trapped forever at Gudhem. True, it’s ungrateful to grumble about our lot. And we’ll always have our friendship, even if I soon must wear the veil and a cross around my neck.’

      ‘Would you like us to pray one last time to Our Lady for a miraculous salvation?’ asked Queen Cecilia Blanca. But Cecilia Rosa just looked down at the ground and mutely shook her head. All her prayers seemed to have vanished.

      Three riders approached at a leisurely pace from the wharves to the north, but the two Cecilias paid no attention, since many riders were expected at the council meeting.

      Then the two castle maidservants returned from the lily field with their aprons full of the loveliest flowers. Laughing they handed them to the queen and her friend. Both were given more lilies than they could carry. Queen Blanca, as she was usually called, then ordered the maids to fetch the baskets quickly. The lilies would soon wither if they grew too warm in their hands, as if they shrank from the captive embrace of humans. As she spoke she glanced without much interest toward the three horsemen who were now quite close. It was the tax-master Herr Eskil, some Norseman, and a Folkung.

      Suddenly she was struck dumb by an odd feeling, which she was later never able to explain. It was like a gust of wind or a portent from Our Lady. With her elbow she cautiously nudged Cecilia Rosa, who stood looking the other way at the maids returning with their flower baskets.

      When Cecilia Rosa turned around she first saw Eskil, whom she knew well. In the next instant she saw Arn Magnusson.

      He got down from his horse and walked slowly toward her. She dropped all her lilies to the ground and moved aside in confusion so as not to step on the flowers.

      She took his hands which he held out to her, but she was unable to say a thing. He too seemed totally at a loss for words. He tried to move his lips but not a sound came out.

      They sank to their knees and held each other’s hands.

      ‘I prayed to Our Lady for this moment during all these years,’ he finally said, his voice quavering. ‘Did you do that too, my beloved Cecilia?’

      She nodded as she gazed into his ravaged face and was filled with sympathy for all the hardships he had endured, now evident in these white scars.

      ‘Then let us thank Our Lady for never forsaking us, and because we never gave up hope,’ whispered Arn.

      They bowed their heads in prayer to Our Lady, who so clearly had shown them that hope must never be abandoned and that love was truly stronger than the struggle for power – stronger than anything else.

       THREE

      That day at the King’s Näs would be remembered as the Great Tumult. Seldom had anyone seen Birger Brosa in such a rage. The man who was best known for always speaking in a low voice even in the most difficult negotiations now created a din that was heard throughout the castle.

      That was not how things began when Arn Magnusson rode into Näs in the company of his brother Eskil, Queen Blanca, and Cecilia Rosa. At first there had been much embracing and show of emotion. Both the jarl and the king had greeted Arn with tears and words of thanksgiving to Our Lady. White Rhine wine was brought out, and everyone was talking at once. It looked to be a day of true joy.

      But all at once everything changed, as soon as Arn let slip a few words concerning his coming bridal ale with Cecilia Rosa Algotsdotter.

      At first the jarl behaved as was his custom. He turned cold and quiet and suggested, although it sounded more like СКАЧАТЬ