Birth Of the Kingdom (2010) (48 page)

In this situation it was unthinkable that anyone at the
ting
would utter a word about those whom Arn had admitted to the clan. If he wished, he could now make the stones in the field into Folkungs, so strongly had the clan’s hopes been pinned on him. For everyone believed that war with the Sverker followers and their Danes was inevitable.

Sune Folkesson’s life had changed so dramatically that it now almost resembled a dream. He wouldn’t have been able to imagine what had happened to him in recent years, even in his best or worst moments. No young Folkung could have felt the same torment in his breast and at the same time such devouring fire.

Two years had now passed since the day Sir Arn had called him over in his own house at Forsvik, carefully closed the door, and told him the astounding news that he was going to be sent off as a traitor. Sune was to forsake Forsvik, to which he had devoted nine years of his life and where he was now one of the three highest commanders under Sir Arn himself, and he was to flee to Näs and seek service with King Sverker.

At first he didn’t believe his ears when he heard these words, which Sir Arn spoke quite calmly and kindly. Soon the situation was made more understandable, but no less surprising.

Since jarl Birger Brosa had died, Sir Arn went on to explain softly, the Folkungs had no information about what was
happening with King Sverker. With their confederates, the Eriks, they were also unable to consult, because the leader of the clan, Erik jarl, was being held as a ‘guest’ at Näs and was never expected to escape.

Information was half the victory, or defeat, in war. Perhaps there would indeed be war, because everything indicated that King Sverker sooner or later would break his oath to the council and royal
ting.
The king had made his son Johan the jarl of the realm when he was but a babe, and it was not difficult to understand that he saw Johan and not Erik jarl as the next king of the realm. He had also joined forces with Valdemar the Victor, who was the most fearful opponent there was in the North. However, King Valdemar was no Saladin, nor was he incapable of being beaten. Hence information was even more important.

Sune Folkesson had better chances than anyone else of taking on this heavy yoke and pretending to be a traitor. His mother was Danish, and he owned neither goods nor gold in the lands of the Goths. So it would be easy to believe that he, as half Danish, would be tempted to seek a more ambitious position than as a simple retainer at a Folkung forest estate.

Sir Arn emphasized that he would have to present himself just like that – as a simple retainer and not as the commander of three squadrons of light cavalry of the sort the Knights Templar employed. Also, when they tested him with sword and lance, he should avoid showing more than necessary of his true skills. That might arouse suspicion and curiosity. He didn’t need to be the best to become a royal retainer at Näs, because it would be sufficiently tempting for the Danes to take in a Folkung with Danish blood.

Worst of all to endure was the fact that this stratagem they had now agreed on must remain a secret, known only to the two of them. Even Sune’s own brothers among the
young nobles at Forsvik must believe that he had simply deserted them; they would spit after saying his name if it were ever mentioned.

Why it had to be this way was not easy to accept. But if only Sir Arn and Sune himself knew the secret, that he hadn’t deserted his clan or his brothers and was only a spy at Näs, he could never be betrayed. If the two of them met at Näs they would avoid looking at each other or show mutual contempt.

And they could never meet or exchange words even in deepest secrecy before the day came when Sune had to flee Näs to bring word to Forsvik. And then it would not be about some trifle, but information about where and when a foreign army would invade. He should flee back to his kinsmen when it was a matter of life or death, but not before. During his time at Näs he would naturally take note of everything he saw – how the Danes rode, what sort of lance tips they used, or anything else that might be of value. Such information was important but not reason enough to flee.

Arn would leave a sealed letter with his son Magnus Månesköld in which he told the true story. So if he should be killed while Sune was still on his dangerous mission, the truth would be passed down and remain in the hands of the Folkungs.

Sune must be careful to show restraint before he left Forsvik, and seek support in prayer. He could not take along anything to Näs except his practice weapons. And to none of his brothers could he disclose the secret before he set off. He could easily steal a little purse of silver coins to take along, Sir Arn concluded, handing him the purse.

Sune had been especially quiet after this meeting and spent more time than any of the young nobles in church. In the early hours of one November night he stowed away on a boat among sleepy sailors taking a load of flour and glass
to Linköping. Then he jumped off at Mo and proceeded down the east coast of Lake Vättern until he found a trout fisherman to take him over to Visingsö, paying the man well.

Everything that Sir Arn had surmised about his reception at Näs met their expectations and more. When Sune reported to the leader of the royal guard the next morning the man laughed at him, because he seemed so young and destitute. But when he told them he was a Folkung on his father’s side and Danish on his mother’s, and that he had already served a long time as a guard, they changed their tune. He was told to wait until the marshal himself, a Danish gentleman named Ebbe Sunesson, had time to receive him. Then everything went more smoothly than he could have imagined. Ebbe Sunesson knew his mother well, because she had remarried to a man in the Hvide clan. And the marshal didn’t want to criticize this Danish woman because when she returned to her fatherland she had left a son behind. Who could know how hard it might have been to wrest a son from the hands of the savage Folkungs? They should also keep in mind that if she had succeeded with this, young Sune would have grown up as a Dane. Perhaps they should view it as God’s will that he had now returned to his kinsmen.

But blood was not everything. Sune also had to show that he was skilled enough to be a royal guard.

The tests he found easy, and he had to make an effort to remember Arn’s words about not showing too much or to let his pride run away with his reason. The Danish guards who were ordered to swing their swords at him were easy opponents; a lad of seventeen at Forsvik would have had no trouble defeating them.

The very first day at Näs he’d been given the red Sverker uniform to wear, and it was the most humiliating moment of his life. In the evening he was invited to sit at the king’s
table, since it was joyous news that a bold Folkung had joined the king’s guard.

It was on that first evening that his eyes fell upon the king’s daughter Helena with the long, golden hair. And she looked often at him. But after that night he was not allowed to sit at the king’s table; instead his task was to wait on those seated there. Many were the differences between the customs of the Danes and the Goths; the Danes preferred not to have house thralls or freedmen waiting on the king’s table in the evening, but young men whom they called pages. So Sune began his life at Näs not as a guard, which he had expected, but as a person who did the work of house thralls. Naturally he could have asked someone whether this was an affront or not, but that question soon lost all importance because he got to see Helena every evening. Even though he never had a chance to speak to her, their eyes continued to meet in secret understanding.

At the royal table, King Sverker always sat in the high seat along with his new Folkung queen Ingegerd Birgersdotter and Helena. Next to the high seat sat the king’s Danish marshal Ebbe Sunesson, and sometimes the queen brought her little son Johan jarl with her; she always dressed him with a little crown on his head.

She seemed to be well aware that this was a clear insult to the four Erik sons, who all sat in an inferior place at the table. She always spoke loudly of her son Johan as the jarl, while she addressed Erik jarl as Erik Knutsson. It was not hard to see what queen Ingegerd thought about who should be the next king.

Erik jarl and his brothers Jon, Joar, and Knut never showed any joy at the table, since every meal was yet another affront to them. When the king happened to mention them as his dear guests, toasting them and feigning happiness at having them so close, many of the Danes in the hall laughed in a
vulgar manner. The Erik sons were captives at Näs and nothing more.

To Sune they showed only hostility and contempt and were unwilling to be served by him; they said they had sensitive noses and the smell of a traitor did not go well with ale and roast meat. They often drank themselves senseless, and sometimes they had to be dragged from the table. King Sverker was more than willing to let this go on, and he was often the one who ordered more ale just as they looked to be finished drinking for the evening.

During the first autumn, winter, and spring it was almost impossible for Sune to get a single good night’s sleep. He lay in a damp, cold stone room with ten other snoring and foul-smelling guards, and tossed and turned in his bunk. The shame of treachery burned inside him, as did the sorrow of seeing the Erik sons drinking their honour under the table and constantly showing him their contempt. But the flame that Helena Sverkersdotter had ignited in him was even more consuming, so that he felt trapped between fire and ice. If he dreamed anything when he finally fell asleep, it was of her face, her long hair, and her lovely eyes. Sleep came as a liberator when he finally was able to succumb to it.

Just before Midsummer Helena celebrated her eighteenth birthday, and there was to be a great banquet at Näs. In her honour there would be Danish and Frankish games, contests with quarter-staff and sword – things that simple Swedes and Goths could not even imagine.

Sune was well aware that he ought to stay away from these festivities, just as Sir Arn had warned him. But then it was announced that the victor of the games would have the honour of being prince for two days and even wear a crown as he sat by young Helena’s side for the rest of the feast. Then Sune could no longer keep his reason stronger than the longing of his heart.

The contest would be held as a Frankish game in which anyone who felt himself called could participate, although at his own risk. The inner courtyard at Näs was cleaned and high wooden bleachers were erected along one wall, where the king and his guests would have a good view of the games.

Sune suffered great anguish when he heard the other guards talking about the games, which most of them intended to enter with horse and battle-club. No guard could win such a contest; that honour would fall to one of the Danish noblemen. But it was a great honour for anyone who made it to the final stages of the competition.

The more the others talked about the contest and how it would proceed, the more impossible it became for Sune to resist the temptation. Finally he dressed himself like the others, grabbed a red shield, a battle-club, and the horse he was most accustomed to riding.

Horns blared and drums thundered as the forty horsemen with shields and clubs rode in a circle before the king and his guests. When an hour or so had passed, only one of them would still be on his horse. As if to egg them all on, the king got to his feet and held up the victor’s crown; all fell silent and the contestants prayed a
Pater Noster
for themselves. Then a loud horn blast transformed the castle courtyard to a shouting and thundering melee of horses and warriors ferociously hacking at each other. A full dozen men fell to the ground at once.

Sune had cautiously moved toward the outermost circle of horsemen and at first was more concerned about keeping himself away from the swinging clubs than trying to knock someone else out of the saddle. With a horse from Forsvik, he thought, he wouldn’t have had to raise a hand to any of them, but simply ride off until he was the last one left. But his Danish horse was too sluggish for such a simple fight
and had to be continually urged forward with a jab from his spurs.

As the guards fell they were dragged off by stable thralls who also tried to catch the loose horses. When half of all the guards had fallen, the Danish nobles concentrated more on one another. They all reckoned that the victor could only be one of them and that any remaining guards would be easier to handle when they had more space and there was less risk of a surprise blow delivered from behind.

So Sune had a very easy time of it for the first half hour. He kept out of the fray and stayed alert, always in motion so he would never be a ready target.

When only ten riders were left, Sune knocked his first man out of the saddle with a blow to his helmet from behind. This brought laughter and a surprised gasp from the onlookers, because it was one of the Danish nobles who fell. But now the others also seemed to have discovered Sune and began to take him seriously, because he was one of the last three guards still in the saddle. Suddenly he was everybody’s prey; they chased him around the courtyard, which was not without risk for his pursuers, since several of them were struck by men lying in wait and riding in the opposite direction.

When only four nobles and Sune remained, it would have been wisest to let himself be vanquished. Yet it seemed that the intention was for the king’s marshal Ebbe Sunesson to win, because no one dared attack him even if the situation was favourable. But Sune’s burning will to sit next to Helena was much stronger than his reason. He had reserved his energy and so far displayed only half the skill of which he was capable. Now the decisive moment was approaching and if he didn’t want to lose he would have to assert himself.

When two of the nobles charged him side by side while Herr Ebbe and the fourth remaining Dane just sat still and
watched, Sune knew that he could actually win the game. He rode around once with the two pursuing him. Then he cut across obliquely and stopped his horse abruptly in the middle of the courtyard. The steed reared up and turned in the air so that one of the nobles was knocked off by the horse’s front hooves and the other was struck in the face by Sune’s battle club.