Birth of the Kingdom. Jan Guillou

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СКАЧАТЬ about, you and I, and we shall, be sure of that. But right now my brother awaits, and I want only to ask you a small favour for this evening.’

      Erika threw out her arms in delight and said something about a favour on any evening, speaking in a suggestive manner that Arn did not fully understand. But the other women broke out in ill-concealed giggles in the midst of the bustle of the cookhouse. Arn pretended not to notice, even though he only half perceived the joke. He quickly hastened to request that the smaller feast served out by the tents contain lamb, veal, and venison, but no meat from swine – either wild or the fatter, tame variety. Since his wishes at first seemed difficult to understand, he hurried to add that in the Holy Land, where the guests came from, there was no pork, and that everyone would much prefer lamb. He also asked that besides ale, they also serve plenty of fresh water with the meal.

      It was clear that Erika found this request odd. She stood deep in thought for a moment, her cheeks flushed from the cookhouse heat and breathless from all the rushing about, making her bosom heave. But then she promised to take care of everything just as Arn had asked, and hurried off to arrange for more slaughtering and more spit-turners.

      Arn hurried to the tower. The lower port was now being watched by two guards who stared as if petrified at his white mantle and surcoat as he approached. But this expression, which many men assumed upon seeing a Templar knight coming towards them, was something that Arn had years ago learned to ignore.

      He found his rather impatient brother up in the accounting chamber. Without explanation Arn unhooked his white mantle, pulled off his surcoat, and folded both garments carefully in the manner prescribed by the Holy Rule. He placed them carefully on a stool, sat down, and motioned for Eskil also to take a seat.

      ‘You have become a man who is used to being in command,’ Eskil muttered with a mixture of levity and petulance.

      ‘Yes, I have been a commander in war for many years, and it takes time to become accustomed to peace,’ replied Arn, crossing himself. He seemed to murmur a brief prayer to himself before he went on. ‘You are my beloved older brother. I am your beloved younger brother. Our friendship was never broken, and the longing of both of us has been great. I have not come home to command; I have come home to serve.’

      ‘You still sound like a Dane when you speak, or rather a man of the Danish church, perhaps. I don’t think we should overstate the part about service, because you are my brother,’ Eskil jested, making an exaggerated gesture of welcome across the table.

      ‘Now the time has come that I feared most when I longed so for my homecoming,’ Arn continued with unabated gravity, as if to show that he had no interest in the levity that had been offered.

      Eskil collected himself at once.

      ‘I know that our childhood friend Knut is now king,’ Arn went on. ‘I know that our father’s brother Birger Brosa is jarl, I know that for many years there has been peace in the realm. So now to everything I do not know…’

      ‘You already know the most important things, but how did you obtain this knowledge on your long journey?’ Eskil interrupted his brother, seemingly out of genuine curiosity.

      ‘I come from Varnhem,’ Arn resolutely continued. ‘We first intended to sail all the way to the wharves outside Arnäs, but we could not make our way past the Troll’s Rapids, since our ship was too big.’

      ‘So it was your ship with the cross on the sail!’

      ‘Yes, a Templar ship that can carry a large cargo. It will surely be of great use. But let’s speak of that later. We were forced to take the land route from Lödöse, and I found it wise to stop at Varnhem. It was there that I obtained the information, along with my friend Brother Guilbert and the horses you saw out in the pasture. Now to my question. Is Cecilia Algotsdotter still alive?’

      Eskil stared in astonishment at his younger brother, who seemed to be suffering as he waited for the answer. Arn gripped the tabletop hard with his scarred hands as if preparing himself for the blow of a whip. When Eskil recovered from his surprise at this unexpected question, which came at a time when there were so many important things to discuss, he at first broke out in laughter. But Arn’s burning gaze made him quickly cover his mouth with his hand, clear his throat, and turn serious again.

      ‘The first thing you ask about is Cecilia Algotsdotter?’

      ‘I have other questions that are equally important to me, but first this one.’

      ‘Ah well,’ sighed Eskil, hesitating with his reply and smiling in a way that made Arn think of his childhood memories of Birger Brosa. ‘Ah well, yes, Cecilia Algotsdotter is alive.’

      ‘Is she unmarried, has she taken vows at a convent?’

      ‘She is unmarried and is the yconoma at Riseberga convent; she does the bookkeeping.’

      ‘So she has not taken vows, yet she manages the convent’s affairs. Where is this Riseberga?’

      ‘Three days’ journey from here, but you should not ride there,’ Eskil teased him.

      ‘Why not? Are there enemies there?’

      ‘No, by no means. But Queen Blanca has been there for some time and she is now on her way to Näs, which is the king’s fortress…’

      ‘Remember, I’ve been there!’

      ‘Ah yes, that’s true. When Knut killed Karl Sverkersson; it’s such things one should not forget, although it would be preferable to do so. But now Queen Blanca is on her way to Näs, and I’m sure that Cecilia is with her. Those two are as hard to separate as clay and straw. No, calm yourself, and don’t stare at me like that!’

      ‘I am calm! Completely calm.’

      ‘Yes, I can see that. So listen calmly to this. In two days’ time I’m going to ride to the council meeting at Näs to meet with the king, the jarl, and a bunch of bishops. I think that everyone at Näs would probably be pleased if you came with me.’

      Arn had fallen to his knees and clasped his hands in prayer. Eskil found no reason to interrupt him, even though he felt ill at ease with this continuous kneeling. Instead he stood up thoughtfully as if testing an idea. Then he nodded to himself and quietly sneaked out to the stairs leading down to the armoury. What he intended to fetch he might as well do now rather than later; he had already made up his mind.

      When he came huffing back upstairs, without disturbing Arn, he sat down again to wait until he thought the rambling prayer had gone on long enough. Then he cleared his throat.

      Arn stood up at once with a glint of joy in his eyes that seemed to Eskil too childish for words. He also thought that Arn’s sheepish expression was inconsistent with a man clad in expensive chain mail from his head down to his steel-reinforced shoes with spurs of gold.

      ‘Look here!’ said Eskil, shoving a surcoat over to Arn. ‘If you must wear warrior clothes, you should probably be honouring these colours from now on.’

      Arn unfolded the surcoat without a word and briefly regarded the Folkung lion rampant above three streams. He nodded as if to confirm something to himself before he swiftly donned the garment. Eskil stood up with a blue mantle in his hands and walked around the table. He gave Arn a brief and solemn look before he draped the Folkung mantle over his brother’s shoulders.

      ‘Welcome for a second СКАЧАТЬ