Birth Of the Kingdom (2010) (46 page)

Arn’s objections were both so unexpected and thought-provoking that the clan
ting
soon calmed down. Then Birger Brosa tried to recapture some of his former power, saying authoritatively that even if the war might be getting closer there was still plenty of time to wait. They could best use the time to prepare themselves well. He mentioned specifically that more youths should be sent to train at Forsvik, and that more weapons should be ordered from there for every Folkung estate.

There was nothing wrong with the wisdom of these words, and everyone realized that. But it seemed that Birger Brosa’s long hold over the clan
ting
was broken. And he too seemed aware of that fact as he left the hall first, as was the custom. His hands and his head trembled as though in terror or as if fast approaching his deathbed.

The year of Grace 1202 became the year of death. It was as though the Lord’s angels had come down to burn the dry grass and prepare the ground for entirely new powers. King Sverre of Norway died that year, mourned by as many as rejoiced. That made the alliance of both the Folkungs and the Eriks with Norway weaker and more uncertain.

King Knut of Denmark also died, and his brother Valdemar was crowned, who had been nicknamed ‘the Victor’. He had been given that name with good reason. He had recently conquered both Lübeck and Hamburg, which both paid tribute now to the Danish crown, and he had made several trips with warriors to both Livonia and Courland. Everywhere
his armies had marched to victory. He would be a truly formidable foe.

As if God were jesting with the Folkungs, Eriks, and all other people in Western and Eastern Götaland, however, there was no danger that Valdemar the Victor would come north from Skåne, pillaging and burning. For King Sverker was the Danes’ man, and his land did not have to be conquered as long as he was king. For him it did not seem vexing that all trade between his lands and Lübeck would be taxed by the Danes in the future. As Eskil Magnusson once muttered between clenched teeth as he sat at his account books, now they were paying a tax on peace.

But the greatest sorrow for the Folkungs came in January of that year when Birger Brosa died. He wasn’t long on his deathbed, and few kinsmen managed to come and say farewell. But more than a thousand Folkungs accompanied the revered jarl on his last journey to Varnhem. They gathered at Bjälbo and proceeded as a long blue-clad column of warriors across the ice of Lake Vättern to Skövde and on to Varnhem.

From most of the Folkung estates came only the men, since it was a bitterly cold journey. From Arnäs, Forsvik, Bjälbo, and Ulvåsa came all the family members. Wives and children and some of the elderly, like old Herr Magnus of Arnäs, were transported in sleighs tucked under many pelts from wolves and sheep. And many riders probably wished they were riding in the sleighs, because their chain mail was like ice against their bodies, and every rest stop became more torment than respite.

From Forsvik rode Arn Magnusson first among forty-eight riders. They were the only ones in the funeral procession who didn’t seem bothered by the icy wind, even though they were riding in full armour. They had special combat clothing for winter use and absolutely no iron or steel next to their
bodies. Not even their iron-clad feet seemed to suffer from the cold.

King Sverker did not come to Varnhem. There were various opinions about the reason for this. He hadn’t been able to get together a greater retinue than two hundred men, and that would have looked paltry compared with the number of Folkungs who had gathered. And people were often unruly at wakes; in their grief, who could say what would happen if someone in a red mantle let his tongue run away with him so that the first sword was drawn. It was no doubt wise and cautious of King Sverker not to show himself at the burial of the old jarl.

And yet it was hard not to think that the king had shown disdain for Birger Brosa and thus all Folkungs by viewing the jarl’s death only as an occasion for his own clan.

Birger Brosa was laid to rest near the altar, not far from King Knut whom he had served for the cause of peace and the kingdom’s welfare for so many years. His funeral mass was long, especially for those of his kinsmen who could not get a seat inside the church but had to stand outside in the snow for the entire two hours.

But soon three hundred of those who had followed Birger Brosa to Varnhem had to return on a similar errand. Old Herr Magnus of Arnäs had not fared well during the cold journey when his brother was buried. He began coughing and shivering by the first day back at Arnäs, and he was put to bed next to a big log fire on the top floor of the new residence. He never did recover. His kinsmen barely had time to summon the priest from Forshem for extreme unction and the forgiveness of sins before he died, because he kept brushing off all premonitions of the worst. A Folkung should be able to stand a little cold, he assured them time after time. Someone said that those were his last words.

Sorrow lay heavy over Forsvik during the forty days of
Lent before Easter. Work continued apace in the millhouse and workshops, of course, but the usual laughter and jokes were no longer heard. It was as though the master’s sorrow had spread to everyone else.

Arn spent less time than normal with the practice sessions for the young noblemen. Fortunately many of them had now become full-grown men and already had several years’ experience training their younger kinsmen. Sune, Sigfrid, and Bengt had all chosen to stay on as instructors at Forsvik rather than return to their own estates.

The fact that there were new instructors for the young men had also made the absence of Brother Guilbert among the riders and at swordplay exercises less noticeable now than at first. He spent most of his time in the little sacristy of the newly-built church, where he taught Alde and Birger Magnusson. Already all the
lectionis
were held in Latin.

Yet Brother Guilbert’s instruction had not been accepted without question once Cecilia discovered that he had been in the workshops and fashioned two small bows for the children. She found him standing behind the church and urging them to try to hit a small leather ball that he’d hung by a thin cord. To Cecilia he had defended himself by saying that archery was an art that sharpened the mind, and that the children would have great use of that capacity when they eventually had to delve into Aristotle’s logic or grammar. When Cecilia suspiciously went to Arn to ask him about the topic, he agreed much too eagerly with Brother Guilbert’s words, which did nothing to lessen her suspicion.

Cecilia thought that there were great differences between Alde and Birger. Alde would eventually become the mistress of Forsvik or some other estate. No one could know for sure what awaited Birger Magnusson in the future, but as the eldest son in one of the most distinguished Folkung houses and with a mother of royal lineage, it was easy to imagine
that archery, horses, and lances would assume great importance in his life. But it did not follow from this that their daughter Alde should be trained in war.

Arn tried to calm Cecilia by telling her that archery was not only for war but also for hunting, and that there were many women who were excellent hunters. No woman should be ashamed that she could singlehandedly bring home a duck or deer she had shot to the table. And as far as Birger was concerned, his schooling for life would change a great deal from the day he turned thirteen and joined the young men’s beginners’ group.

Cecilia contented herself with that explanation until she discovered that Brother Guilbert had also made small wooden swords, which Alde and Birger were using to attack each other with gusto in front of their eagerly gesticulating teacher.

Arn agreed that handling a sword might not be what he most wanted his daughter to learn. But the children’s schooling was not easy, and Brother Guilbert was a very demanding teacher; he knew that from his own experience. And surely it wasn’t wrong to shift now and then from grammar to a little play. A sound mind required a sound body, that was a basic human truth.

There had also been tears and a squabble when Birger got his first horse at the age of seven, and Cecilia forbade Alde to ride before she was at least twelve. Horses were not only for harmless play, and they knew that especially well at Forsvik, where over the years there had been many injuries and cries when young riders fell and hurt themselves, sometimes so badly that they had to spend time in bed. For young men learning to be warriors that was a danger they had to accept. But of course that didn’t apply to Alde.

Arn found himself caught in the middle between a mother and daughter who were equally determined, and both of them were used to wrapping him around their little fingers.
But in the matter of when Alde should be given her first horse, only one of them could win, and it was Cecilia.

He tried to console Alde by riding with her in front of him in the saddle, slowly and calmly while they were within sight of Forsvik, and at the dizzying speed that Arabian horses were capable of when they were out of sight. Then Alde would shriek with delight and was appeased for the moment. Although Arn began to suffer from a guilty conscience because he had tempted Alde with such great speed. There was a clear danger that she might try the same thing as soon as she got her own horse, and speed was something one ought to try last, not first, when learning to ride.

At Easter the little wooden church at Forsvik was decorated with dark tapestries made by Suom, depicting Our Saviour’s suffering on Golgotha, His path up the Via Dolorosa, and the Last Supper with His disciples. Arn still had a hard time getting used to a Jerusalem that looked more like Skara, and Jesus’ disciples that looked as though they had been brought from the nearest
ting
site in Western Götaland. He also had a hard time seeing pictures in God’s house, because he thought that such things disturbed the purity of thought.

Spring arrived late that year which would be remembered as the Year of Death, and the ice around Forsvik and on the river was too thin to walk across but too thick for boats. So Christians had to stay where they were and celebrate the Easter masses themselves at Forsvik. But Brother Guilbert could handle all of the priestly duties, and besides, he had excellent singers to help him; not only Arn but the two Cecilias knew all the hymns by heart. Even though Forsvik’s church didn’t look like much to the outside world, resembling as it did a Norwegian stave church, it was likely that the Easter masses held there in the Year of Death 1202 were sung more
beautifully than in all other churches in Western Götaland, except for those at the cloisters.

After they had sung praises to the Lord and the resurrection on the third day, an Easter dinner of lamb was held for all the Christians in the new banquet hall. The clouds of sorrow seemed to disperse, and not only because Lent was over and Our Saviour resurrected. The Saracen method of preparing lamb won the admiration of all.

Now was the first time they could celebrate the fact that Marcus Wachtian had found himself a German wife. Her name was Helga and she was also from Lübeck. When his brother Jacob had his own child and became more unwilling to make long journeys twice a year to the German cities, Marcus had volunteered to take over for him. Naturally he had brought back things that were both pleasurable and useful to Forsvik, everything from huge anvils that they could not cast themselves to sword blanks from somewhere called Passau which were marked with a running wolf. These sword blanks were made of extremely good steel, and they could quickly and easily be forged into finished swords. When Cecilia calculated what it cost to make swords from scratch versus buying them half-finished, she found that the latter method was more economical. She was counting not only the outlay of silver but also the time they could save and use for other smithy work that also brought an income in silver. It was a new way of reckoning, but both the Wachtian brothers and Arn agreed with Cecilia’s view that it was probably better and more feasible.

Of everything that Marcus brought back from Germany, though, Helga was what he prized most highly. And not only because, as he said in jest, he hadn’t been forced to pay Danish toll on her when he brought her home.

It was a good feast, with the first laughter that had been heard in a long time at Forsvik. Arn sat in the high seat
between the two Cecilias, with Alde and little Birger below them. Next to the Wachtian brothers and their German wives sat the foreman Gure, who had decided to be baptized as soon as he was freed, and Brother Guilbert. Farther away in the hall at two longtables sat almost sixty young men in Folkung colours, growing louder and louder as the ale was consumed in great quantities.

Then Cecilia ordered wine and glasses to be brought to their house, inviting all the older folks to continue the Easter feast over there, since the noise coming from the young men would not diminish as the evening wore on.

They drank and talked until the small hours, but then Arn excused himself by saying that he needed to get some sleep because he had to get up early to do some heavy work. The others gave him surprised looks, so he explained that early in the morning, just after dawn, there was going to be a strenuous exercise on horseback with all the young men. They had apparently learned how to drink ale like men. Now they also had to learn what it cost in headaches if they had to show up and perform.

It was Alde and Birger who found Brother Guilbert. He was sitting with his quill pen in his hand, calmly leaning back in his sacristy where he had the morning sun, and he looked like he was asleep. But when the children couldn’t wake him they went to Cecilia and complained. Soon there was a great commotion at Forsvik.

When Arn understood what had happened he went without a word to his clothing chamber, taking down the widest of the Templar mantles he could find; he fetched a needle and coarse thread from the workshops and sewed the dead man inside the mantle. He had Brother Guilbert’s most beloved horse saddled, a powerful sorrel stallion of the type they used in practice for the heavy cavalry. Then with no special
ceremony he draped the body of his dead friend over the saddle in the great white sack that the mantle formed, with arms and legs hanging down on either side. As the stable workers saddled Abu Anaza, Arn dressed in full armour, not in Folkung colours but in those of the Knights Templar. Around the pommel he hung a water bag of the type only horsemen from Forsvik used, along with a purse of gold. Half an hour after the body had been found, Arn was ready to set off for Varnhem.