Текст книги "The Road to Jerusalem"
Автор книги: Jan Guillou
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But Arn didn't know what to do when offered an opportunity to boast, and he replied briefly, instead praising his thralls as skilled hunters. This was not received well by the host and hostess. So at the beginning of the feast the conversation dragged along reluctantly, like a forest slug on a dry path. At last Algot asked whether Arn himself had shot any of the animals, which was a wickedly bold question even though the guest could always exaggerate without anyone thinking ill of him. Arn replied in a low voice and looking down at the table that he had shot six of the deer and seven of the boars, but he was quick to add that his thralls had shot almost as many. Silence fell over the table, and Arn didn't understand that no one believed him. They were all now thinking that he certainly was allowed to brag a little, but not so much that it was obvious he had told a bald-faced lie.
A young man whose kinship with Algot had not been made clear to Arn now asked with a sneer whether Arn may have missed a shot or two, or if he'd had such luck that he felled all the animals with the first shot. Arn, who didn't see the trap in this question, replied honestly that he had killed all the animals with the first shot. But then the young man laughed derisively and asked to be allowed to raise his goblet in respect for such a great archer. Arn drank the toast in all seriousness, but his cheeks burned when he saw scorn and mockery in the other man's eyes. He was well aware that he hadn't answered the questions he was asked wisely. But he had merely spoken the truth; why would it have been wiser to tell a lie? That question bore thinking about, for just now he almost wished he had been able to tell some clever lie and evade the disdain and contempt he saw all around him.
Algot Pålsson attempted to come to Arn's rescue, hastening to change the subject, saying that he had heard about some new plants at the cloister, and he wondered whether Arn might describe them. But the young man who had mocked Arn didn't want to let him wriggle off the hook, and with a knowing glance toward Katarina he loudly declared that it would be a shame if braggarts should win good women whom they didn't deserve in their own right. He uttered other, similar surly remarks, which made Arn suspect that the hostile man was in love with Katarina, though that was absolutely none of Arn's business.
Algot made a new attempt to steer the conversation toward the peaceful subject of the cloister and away from archery, which could only bring more dissension to the table. But Tord Geirsson, as the scornful young man was named, wanted to vanquish Arn and thus show Katarina how strong he was himself. Now he proposed that they fetch a bow so they might compete for a few shots, since the hall was quite long. Arn agreed to this at once, since he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Algot Pålsson had taken in a breath and was about to avert the contest.
House thralls were sent immediately to fetch a bow and quiver, and a tied-up bale of hay was set up by the door at the other end of the hall, at a distance of twenty-five paces. Tord Geirsson took the bow and the arrows, proclaiming that this wasn't a very difficult distance from which to shoot wild boar. Perhaps Herr Arn, who was so skillful, would show them first how it was done, and then Tord would take the second round.
Arn felt coldly resolute and stood up at once. He did not like the position he had landed in by telling the truth, and he wanted to get out of this predicament right away; as far as he knew there was only one way to do that. With long strides he went over to Tord Geirsson and almost rudely snatched the bow from him. He strung it quickly and skillfully, and carefully selected three arrows, holding two in his bow hand and nocking the third onto the bowstring. He drew it back as far as the bow would tolerate, wanting to shoot with the bow's full power so that the arrow would drop as little as possible on the way. And then he loosed the arrow. It struck the center, a mere thumb's-breadth below the middle of the bale of hay. They all craned their necks to see and then began whispering to one another. Arn now knew how the bow shot, and he took careful aim with the two following shots, which he loosed without hurry, and striking somewhat better. Then without a word he handed the bow to Tord Geirsson and went to sit down.
Tord Geirsson was white in the face as he stared at the three arrows protruding from the target in a tight pattern. He realized that he had lost, but he didn't know how to handle the quandary he had landed himself in. Of all the methods he could imagine, he found every single one shameful. He did not choose wisely. He flung the bow to the floor in pique and left the hall without saying a word, but with the loud laughter of everyone in his ears.
Arn said a silent prayer for him, asking that his anger might abate and hoping that he had learned something from his pride. For his own part he prayed that Saint Bernard continue to remind him about pride and that he might not be seduced into exaggerating the importance of this simple incident.
When Algot Pålsson recovered from his astonishment over Arn's skill, he was very pleased and soon had everyone around the table drinking a skål to Arn in earnest, now that he had proven what a skillful archer he was. Much more ale was brought in, and Arn began to feel more at ease, soon even deciding that the tough, unhanged venison tasted quite good. And he tried to drink ale like a real man.
Katarina had taken the liberty of pouring ale for Arn herself, which was polite and something she should have done from the start, since she sat in the mistress's place and Arn in that of the guest of honor. At first she had found him much too uncertain and humble. Now she found his stature more than impressive.
Soon she had changed places with her father in the high seat so that she was sitting next to Arn, close enough that he was aware of her body when she spoke to him, which she did more and more eagerly, showing how clever she found everything that Arn said. Her hands touched his now and then, as if accidentally.
Arn was even more enlivened by this, and drank more ale every time it was set before him. He was pleased that Katarina, who had seemed to look at him with such cold and scornful eyes when he first entered the hall, now beamed and smiled at him with such warmth that he felt the heat touch his own skin and rise up inside himself.
If Algot Pålsson had handled his position as lord of the manor with greater chivalry, he would have rebuked his daughter for this flirtatious behavior. But he decided that there was a considerable difference when such unsuitable behavior for a young woman was directed toward a proud but poor clan kinsman such as Tord Geirsson, instead of toward a young nobleman from Arnäs. So he looked through his fingers at such things when he noticed what good fathers cannot avoid discovering and usually choose to reprove.
Arn's head was soon spinning from all the ale, and almost too late he noticed that he had to vomit. He made his way quickly out of the hall so as not to defile the place where people ate. When the cold air struck him in the face outside, he bent over to empty his stomach of what seemed like half a tough deer and a good cask of ale. He bitterly regretted his actions but could not think of praying before he was done.
Afterward he wiped his mouth carefully and took deep breaths of the cold air, admonishing himself about how foolish he looked no matter what he tried. Then he went inside to say good night without eating any more, wishing everyone God's peace, and thanking them for all the generous food. Then he staggered on stiff but resolute legs out of the hall, into the courtyard, and over to the spring which now lay shrouded in darkness and drizzling rain. He splashed cold water on his face, chastised himself loudly in a slurred voice, and fumbled his way over to the guesthouse. He found his bed in the dark and fell forward like a clubbed ox.
When night came to the longhouse and only snoring was heard, Katarina cautiously crept off into the night. Algot Pålsson, who usually slept poorly after big ale feasts, heard her sneak off and understood full well where she was heading. As a good father he should have prevented her from such antics and chastised her roundly.
As a good father, he consoled himself, he could also refrain from doing so; if nothing else, in hopes of having a daughter at Arnäs.
Chapter 9
For anyone who did not know, it might look as though the Folkungs were now going to set off to war from Arnäs. Even for those who knew everything, this was conceivable.
A great host of soldiers had crowded into the castle courtyard, and between the stone walls there were echoes of the horses' iron shoes and snorting, the rattling of weapons, and impatient voices. The sun was on its way up and it was going to be a cold day, but without snow and with good road conditions. Two heavily loaded carts were dragged on ironclad oak wheels whining and creaking out through the gate to make room for all the horsemen. They were waiting for the headmen of the clan who were saying prayers in the high tower room, and some joked that they could well be lengthy prayers up there if the young monk was in charge. As if to keep warm or burn off some of their impatience, four of the Arnäs retainers began fighting one another with sword and shield, while terrified thralls had to hold their restless stallions and kinsmen outside shouted merrily and offered good advice.
It was indeed Arn who had led the prayers with his father and his uncle Birger Brosa and Eskil, for they truly needed the protection of God and the Saint before this journey, which might end well but also might end with the ravages of war sweeping across all of Western Götaland.
When Arn came out into the castle courtyard and saw the four retainers hacking away at one another with swords, he stopped short. He stood speechless in amazement when he discovered that these men, who were supposed to be his father's finest fighters and armed guard, didn't know how to handle a sword. He never would have imagined anything like this. Although they were full-grown men and heavily clad in knee-length chain mail and tunics bearing the colors of the Folkungs, they looked like little boys who barely knew a thing about using sword and shield.
Magnus, who saw his son's sheepish stare and thought that Arn might have been frightened by these wild games, placed his hand calmly on Arn's shoulder and consoled him by saying that he had no cause to be afraid of such men as long as they were in the family's pay. But they were huge giants, which was good for Arnäs.
Then for the first time in a long while Arn looked as if he were slow to comprehend. But then a light apparently went on for him, and he smiled uncertainly at his father's consoling words, assuring him that he hadn't been frightened of the fighting at all. He said he felt safe at seeing that they bore the colors of the Folkungs like himself. He didn't want to hurt his father by saying what he thought of the ability of these men to wield a sword. For by now he had learned that sometimes it was wise out in the base world not to speak the truth.
There was more trouble when Magnus discovered that Arn had heedlessly fastened the sword he'd received from the monks at his side. That sword would only arouse ridicule, so he went straight to the armory and fetched a good, beautiful Norwegian sword to offer Arn instead. But then Arn turned stubborn, the same way he did about wanting to ride his skinny monk horse instead of a manly Nordic stallion.
Magnus tried to explain that the Folkungs now had to ride with a great force to put fear into the enemy and pacify them. Even Arn who was clad in the Folkung colors had to do his share so that he did not entice ridicule. And it would be ridiculous if a son so close to the headman of the clan carried a sword like a woman's and rode a horse that was good for nothing.
Arn restrained himself for a good long while before replying. But then he suggested politely that he might consider riding one of the sluggish black stallions, but that he would rather not carry a sword at all than relinquish his own. And faced with this dilemma Magnus relented, not entirely pleased yet relieved at being quit of the most mortifying spectacle of his son on a horse that would arouse ridicule.
Finally the mighty force could ride out from Arnäs on its way to the ting of all the Goths, the ting that was now called a landsting because King Karl Sverkersson himself would participate for the first time in two years. This time he would have to choose between war and peace.
In the vanguard the leader of the retainers rode alone with the banner of the Folkungs raised on a lance. Then followed Birger Brosa and Magnus Folkesson riding side by side, clad in silver and blue. They were wrapped in their wide blue mantles lined with marten fur, and they wore shiny pointed helmets on their heads. On the left side behind the saddle they had fastened their shields on which the rampant golden lion of the Folkungs stood defiantly posed for battle. After them rode Eskil and Arn, dressed and armed in the same manner as the headmen of the clan, and then followed a double rank of retainers who all carried lances with the colors of the Folkungs fluttering in the wind from the tips.
An equal number of Folkungs would meet up with them from the southern and western parts of the country, and outside Skara they would join with the Erik clan to demonstrate clearly, when they rode into the ting as the strongest contingent, that war would make both the Folkung and the Erik clans enemies of King Karl, since they belonged together not merely through their bond of blood but also through their shared determination never to be subjugated. The ting of all Goths would be held outside the royal manor at Axevalla.
If two young men other than Eskil and Arn had been forced to ride side by side for such a long way, they would have talked most about the struggle for power in which they themselves had unavoidably become involved. But Arn was still as passive and quiet as he had been ever since returning from Varnhem. The morning after the night he spent at Husaby, he had ridden in a wild dash to Varnhem to confess to Father Henri. When he eventually returned home he had morosely reforged the two helmets that he understood they were going to compel him and his brother to wear. What he changed was not visible so much on the outside, but the helmets were padded and warm on the inside so that they would not freeze their ears off in the cold.
But two brothers could not ride together in silence, Eskil thought. He supposed it would be better if he broke the ice and talked about what was preoccupying his mind; afterward they could more easily tackle what was obviously bothering Arn.
And so Eskil talked about the Norwegian business transactions, which had gone very well. They had succeeded in acquiring an offer of first refusal, so that the farms in question might be said to remain within the same clan, yet they had still brought home so much Norwegian silver that it was good for Arnäs. The best thing was that they had been able to sell without arousing discontent or dispute.
What concerned Eskil right now was something else: dried fish that was called clipfish in Norway—split dried cod. Up in northern Norway ocean fish were caught in huge numbers. Near a place called Lofoten they were caught in such quantities that it was more than they could eat and sell in all of Norway. This meant there was a surplus of clipfish that was cheap to buy, easy to ship, and almost like magic could last without spoiling until it was softened up in water. Eskil's idea was to buy up all such surplus Norwegian fish and sell it in the Gothic lands, because there were many periods of fasting, especially the forty days before Easter, when it was considered a sin to eat meat. The fish that people caught in lakes and seas in the Gothic lands was not sufficient, particularly for those who lived in large communities and far from fishing waters, such as in the cities of Skara and Linköping.
To Eskil's surprise, Arn knew at once what he was talking about, although his word was not clipfish but cabalao, which he said he had eaten often and not only during fasting. Such fish had been common in the cloister world for a long time. Arn thought that if they could convince the town dwellers of the benefits of dried fish, which he didn't think would be an easy matter because he had a low opinion of town dwellers, then the business would surely bring in a lot of silver for whoever was first to provide the fish. It was definitely true that such fish were excellent for storing, shipping, and eating, and that the need for good food could be great at fasting times and during winters that were much too long. If one did not live in a cloister, that is.
Eskil was very glad to hear this, and he was convinced that he had discovered a new business that would soon yield much silver. He imagined hordes of slovenly town dwellers gobbling down his fish in great quantities, and he decided at once to send a trading party to his Norwegian kinsmen to place a large order. Dried fish was definitely something that belonged to the future.
When the mighty Folkung column rode past Forshem church, the last of the riders could not be seen at the same time as the first. The bell of Forshem church tolled as if to proclaim misfortune or wishes for success, and the peasants stood lined up along the road to watch the spectacle. But they stood silent and scared, for it was impossible to know whether this force of warriors was riding off to plunge the country into adversity or to maintain the peace, since that could not be seen with the naked eye. For an ordinary peasant the Folkung retinue was a sight that instilled more fear than hope.
After taking their rest at the halfway point, they would soon meet up with their kinsmen, and the host would swell to almost twice its present size. Eskil began cautiously to question Arn about what was making him so taciturn that he seemed almost dejected. He also asked about the reason for Arn's visit to Varnhem cloister, where he had submitted to ten days of penance with the hair shirt, which Eskil had noticed though Arn had tried to hide it, and only bread and water to eat. He hurried to add that he wasn't trying to breach the holy secrecy of the confession, but he was Arn's brother, and a brother should be able to talk to his brother even about things that were difficult, and not merely about fish and silver.
Arn then told him without circumlocution about how he had disgraced himself by getting drunk and vomiting, and how that night up at Husaby he had done something with a woman that belonged to the sacrament of marriage. And for these stupidities he felt great remorse.
But Eskil was not at all disturbed to hear this. On the contrary, he laughed out loud so that their father turned around in his saddle up ahead and gave them both a stern look, for the Folkungs were not riding to the ting in order to spread merriment.
In a lower voice but still in a cheerful tone Eskil told Arn that now he understood everything, since it wasn't hard to guess what Arn meant. As for vomiting after consuming too much food and ale, that was nothing to worry about; it merely showed that he had enjoyed the entertainment, and it was good manners. But then there was the matter of Katarina, because she was the one, wasn't she? Well, even if nothing was decided yet, it could well be that he or Arn would end up married to either Katarina or Cecilia. But since Algot Pålsson of Husaby was in a bind because he lacked silver yet constantly had to pay out silver, and he had no understanding of such things, it could turn out that his lands would eventually end up within the confines of Arnäs, without having to resort to a wedding ale. All the waiting had no doubt caused impatience up there in Husaby, and what Katarina had seen fit to do was simply a way to hasten God's plans in that respect. But that was more worthy of a laugh than a worried frown.
Arn still had a hard time laughing about what had happened. No matter how he twisted and turned the matter, he couldn't escape the thought that he was responsible to God for what he did of his own free will. Even if this free will might be perilously jeopardized because of so much ale. Like Eskil, however, Father Henri had taken a lighter view of this sin than Arn had expected, and although Father Henri had asked many questions, he had come to the same conclusions as Eskil. A lustful and greedy woman had seduced Arn with both ale and such wiles as women use when they are being as sly as snakes. And Arn, who was innocent in more than one respect, had therefore had a difficult time defending himself against these ploys.
That was why Arn had gotten off so easily with ten days' penance, and before God he was absolved of his sin. Even so he had a hard time feeling happy about what should have been a great relief to him. It was as if for the second time he had committed a grave sin and yet had received scant punishment, which had not made him happy at all, though both Eskil and Father Henri had obviously expected it would. He had a disquieting thought that his sin, even though it was forgiven, was still lodged somewhere inside him. For as he recalled, he had not been especially reluctant after Katarina showed him what he was supposed to do.
King Karl Sverkersson stood on the crest of Axevalla's wall together with his closest men and saw the Folkungs and the Erik clan riding together toward the site of the ting. It was like watching a big blue sea approaching, for the Folkung colors were blue and silver and the Erik clan's blue and gold. The lance points with the fluttering blue pennants were like a forest that stretched farther than the eye could see. They had definitely not come with only a few dozen representatives, known as oath-swearers, but as a well-equipped army, and the message they wanted to convey was not hard to grasp. And what was worse, among those riding in the vanguard were not only Joar Jedvardsson and his son-inlaw Magnus Folkesson, as could be expected, but also Birger Brosa from Bjälbo. That message was also easy to read. Now the Bjälbo clan, the strongest branch of the Folkungs, had joined up with the enemy.
Fortunately the aspirant to the throne, the young Knut Eriksson, King Erik Jedvardsson's son, was not part of the blue army. If he were, peace at the ting would be hard to hold. But the fact that Knut Eriksson was not included was also a sign of the Erik clan's good will to maintain the peace.
After that one could still hope for a happy outcome of the dispute between Emund Ulvbane and Magnus Folkesson. Because there was a well-set trap and Magnus was in certain respects the weakest link in the Folkung chain. If they could make that link burst then much would be gained.
The ting would not begin until noon, when the sun stood at its zenith, so there was now plenty of time for discussion. Outside the largest tent in the blue camp the Folkung coat of arms was raised with the golden lion, along with the Erik clan's new emblem, three golden crowns against a blue sky. This emblem could be viewed as an affront to King Karl Sverkersson: the Erik clan seemed to be heralding King Erik Jedvardsson as their king, since everyone knew that the three crowns had been his mark and no one else's. And anyone who heralded King Erik Jedvardsson in the presence of King Karl Sverkersson was thereby taking a stand that could be interpreted as hostile. The enmity was even clearer since all now knew for certain that Karl Sverkersson was behind the murder of Erik Jedvardsson and that the Dane, poor Magnus Henriksen, had merely been Karl's tool. He was lost the moment that Erik Jedvardsson fell dead to the ground. For in that instant, when Magnus Henriksen believed himself to be a victor up north in Östra Aros with a dead king at his feet, all support ceased and all promises were broken by Karl Sverkersson down in Linköping, who now instead took the field against his own regicide henchman.
That was how Karl Sverkersson had won the king's crown. And rumor had it that the man he sent to aid Magnus Henriksen in the murder of Erik Jedvardsson was Emund Ulvbane, and that Emund was also the one who wielded the sword that severed Erik Jedvardsson's head from his body.
If this rumor spoke true, then Magnus Folkesson was embroiled in a dispute with a king-killer, so it was important for him to think carefully about how this dispute should be handled. It was easy to see that it involved more than some outlying farms in between the lands of Arnäs and the land that the king's half brother Boleslav had recently granted to Emund.
But if he remained calm and did not get carried away or allow himself to become agitated by those who surely wanted to in flame matters, then the game would be possible to win without much difficulty. For the judge himself, Karle Eskilsson, who was the grandson of the judge Karle of Edsvära, had also married into the Folkung clan. And now he came to join the council in the Folkung tent.
Also present were Joar Jedvardsson, Birger Brosa, Magnus and his two sons, and the two leaders of the Folkung and Erik clan retainers.
There were two things to discuss, and Judge Karle, who was the most distinguished man in the tent, presided over the discussion. He spoke gruffly and straight to the point so that no time would be wasted. If King Karl now attempted to proclaim himself king of Western Götaland as well, which might be his intention, and all the Folkungs and men of the Erik clan then rejected him, the matter would be clear. In that situation no judge and no bishop could approve the requested position of king. But if, as rumor also had it, King Karl chose instead to seek the ting's approval of his son Sverker as jarl over Western Götaland, how would they then react?
Birger Brosa said that in his opinion this might be a very good solution. King Karl would avoid ridicule and it would make him less desirous of going to war. Western Götaland would remain free of his royal power, and if he chose to call a mere babe a jarl, it might assuage his pride but had no real meaning. Only many years from now would such a jarl be able to act as the king's sword, but for now it was only a title. In this way war could be avoided between parties of equal strength, which was the worst sort of war.
Joar Jedvardsson and Magnus Folkesson agreed at once. War between those of equal strength was something that ought to be avoided. Whoever won such a war would pay for his victory dearly, ending up surrounded by many widows and fatherless children, as well as devastated and burned fields.
Judge Karle found that everyone was unanimous regarding this matter, and no one contradicted him.
Then they turned to the next issue, the property dispute between Magnus and young Boleslav's man Emund Ulvbane. There was something fishy about this dispute. The matter was too minor to incite dissension, and it seemed even odder to bring it before a landsting, so the intention may have been to start a quarrel which like a wildfire could flare up into war. Behind Emund Ulvbane stood King Karl's half brother Boleslav. But Boleslav was a child, not yet even an adolescent, and incapable of forging warlike intrigues on his own. Behind Boleslav stood King Karl, so he must be the one who wanted a quarrel.
Judge Karle said that he was well aware that this dispute had to be resolved with a light hand if peace were to be preserved. But since both sides in the dispute could bring forward dozens of oath-swearers, endless numbers if needed, the dispute could not be resolved in the manner prescribed by law. So what other approach could they take? What was Magnus's own opinion in this matter?
Magnus now spoke, briefly and in a manly fashion, and explained that he had thought this was exactly what would happen, that with oath-swearers the dispute would remain in the same place when the ting ended as when it began. So he intended to propose a reconciliation by offering 30 marks in silver for the farms in dispute. That might be 10 marks more than the farms were actually worth, but the price was not too high if by this means the dispute could be settled. If peace could be bought for the land for only 10 marks, then the price was cheap.
Judge Karle nodded thoughtfully and approvingly and then explained how they should proceed: First they would take an oath in which all declared that the dispute had reached an impasse and could not be resolved. Then Magnus would carry in his 30 marks in silver to the ting and offer a compromise just as he had proposed. After that it would be a simple matter for the judge and his lay assessors to declare a reconciliation, and no one would be able to offer any objections.
Eskil and Arn went off by themselves to look at horses and weapons and say hello to members of their own clan that Eskil knew though Arn did not. They also greeted people from the Erik clan that neither of them knew, while Eskil explained to Arn how a ting functioned. Arn needed to know, for instance, that swords were not allowed inside the white chalk ring, which was the boundary of the ting site itself. And when he had to swear an oath he needed to know the words and say them loudly and clearly without unmanly hesitation or stammering, since such things would make him seem unreliable. The words were as follows:
As true by the grace of the gods do I speak truly.
When Arn objected that such an oath was heathen, Eskil merely laughed and explained that even if the words in the oath were from their ancestors' time, they referred to none other than the Lord God. To convince Arn of this he pointed out that the very first words in the law of the Goths made this matter clear as water, since they were:
