Текст книги "Birth of the Kingdom"

Автор книги: Ян Гийу

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And what rule said that you couldn’t make good men into Folkungs, just as you could inject new blood into a breed of horse? By breeding the heavy, powerful Gothic horses with the fast, agile Arabian horses they were about to develop a new breed that would be more suited to heavy cavalry. That was the next big venture they were going to start at Forsvik. It was a matter of combining the best of the Arabian and the Gothic breeds, just as they worked with different layers of iron and steel when making swords at Forsvik. Why not make Folkungs the same way?

Although he did have to see to it that those two lads were rebaptized, if they had ever been baptized at all. No Folkung horsemen could be called Sigge and Orm.

Sverker Karlsson arrived at Näs, travelling with a stately retinue of a hundred horsemen from Denmark, intending to move in with his people. He had waited with his journey until the end of the year when the ice lay thick and solid on Lake Vättern.

After the New Year he summoned all the prominent men among the Folkungs, Eriks and Swedes to the king’s Näs to elect him after he took his oath. Three days of feasting would follow.

Never had so many red mantles been seen at Näs, not even during the reign of King Karl Sverkersson. It was not merely the Sverker colour, for also among the Danes red was most common. Erik jarl, who had been at Näs when the Sverkers arrived, whispered in disgust to Arn that it looked like a river of blood had come running across the ice.

Birger Brosa, his brother Folke, and Erik jarl were the only worldly men in the king’s new council who were not Danes or Sverkers. Eskil had been forced to give up his seat on the council when Sverker declared that such serious matters as the trade of the kingdom must be left in the hands of more knowledgeable Danes. For marshal he appointed his friend Ebbe Sunesson, who was related to the Folkungs at Arnäs, since his kinsman Konrad was married to Arn and Eskil’s half-sister Kristina. Sverker thought that this kinship was like a bridge between the Danes and the Folkungs.

Archbishop Petrus beamed like a sun and praised God over and over because finally, in His infinite wisdom and justice, He had brought home the son of the murdered King Karl to the crown of the Goths and Swedes. With that, God’s will was done, Petrus assured them.

But Sverker would not be allowed to wear the crown before he swore in front of the whole council and the royal tingof notables to uphold the law and justice with the help of God. He also had to swear that he renounced all claim to the crown for his kinsmen, since Erik jarl was the one next in line for the crown. And after Erik jarl followed his younger brothers Jon, Joar, and Knut, who would now live in the realm with all the rights pertaining to sons of the king.

Archbishop Petrus, who administered the oath, had in several places attempted to skip one thing and another but was immediately reprimanded by both the Swedes and Goths. Only when everything was truly legal did the tingof the whole kingdom swear its allegiance to King Sverker for as long as he lived – and as long as he kept his vow.

During the three days of feasting, the Danes showed how a royal feast was conducted out in the great world, with jousting between knights who rode at each other with lance and shield. Only the Danes took part in these games, since the new masters took it for granted that no man up in backward Western Götaland or Svealand could fight on horseback. And judging by the many admiring and astonished expressions that King Sverker could observe among his new subjects, these knightly arts, which had already been long established in Denmark, were something no one had ever seen up here in the North.

Arn watched closely, keeping his face expressionless as he observed the actions of the Danish knights. Some were not half bad, others were as lax as he had expected. None of them would have passed muster even as sergeants in the Order of Knights Templar, but on Nordic battlefields they would be hard to combat. If they were going to overcome these Danes out on the open field, it would require another few years of training at Forsvik. But their lead was no bigger than that.

During the feast days King Sverker and his marshal Ebbe Sunesson spent their time mostly in the great hall surrounded by Danish courtiers, summoning the important men in the kingdom one by one for discussions. Birger Brosa made the introductions. King Sverker was always careful to be friendly and to treat Folkungs and Eriks like his own Sverker kinsmen.

When it was Eskil and Arn’s turn to go before the king and his Danish courtiers, Birger Brosa announced that Eskil was a merchant and previously sat on King Knut’s council and was the heir to the estate Arnäs. About Arn he said only that he had spent much of his life in the cloister, also in Denmark, and now was the master of the forest estate of Forsvik.

Arn exchanged a quick, puzzled glance with Birger Brosa about his somewhat incomplete description of what Arn had done in between his childhood years at the cloister and his present life at Forsvik. Birger Brosa merely winked back, unnoticed by anyone else.

King Sverker was happy to speak with someone who had no difficulty understanding the speech of the Danes; many of the slow Swedes seemed to find the language incomprehensible. And for Arn it was easy to fall back into the language he had spoken as a child. He still sounded more like a Dane than a Gothic man.

At first the conversation revolved around innocent topics such as how beautiful it was on the shore of Limfjord near the cloister of Vitskøl, and about the mussel cultivation they had tried at the cloister without much success, since people living on the fjord believed that it was contrary to God’s word to eat mussels. That was no longer so, King Sverker assured him. Then he invited Arn and Eskil to visit Denmark with his letter of safe passage so that they might see their half-sister Kristina. When the brothers did not look as though this journey was of great interest to them, the king promised instead to invite both Kristina and her husband Konrad Pedersson to Näs sometime next summer. He was clearly trying to demonstrate that all old animosities had been forgotten.

So it seemed both tactless and unnecessary of marshal Ebbe Sunesson to remember suddenly how he had once gotten into a little fight at Arnäs with one of their kinsmen. But of course they bore no hard feelings about that, did they?

He had spoken calmly but with an irritating smirk on his face. Birger Brosa shook his head to warn Arn, who with great difficulty controlled himself before he replied that the one who had died was their brother Knut. He said that they both prayed for their brother’s soul, but that neither of them had a mind for revenge.

There Ebbe Sunesson should have let it rest. He may have drunk too much during the festivities, or perhaps he was elated because he had been the victor in the jousting contest. Or it could be that he and his friends had already convinced themselves that they had become lords of folk that were not worthy of respect. For what he now said made both Birger Brosa and King Sverker blanch, although for different reasons.

With open scorn he explained to Arn and Eskil that they didn’t need to feel in the least embarrassed. If it was so that they had not received their just honour after their brother’s regrettable death, he would gladly meet one of them with the sword. Or why not both at once? Then it would only be a question of whether they had enough honour and enough courage.

Arn looked down at the stone floor and with great effort stifled his first impulse to propose a duel. It must have looked as if he were ashamed because he dared not take up the challenge that had been delivered with words as clear as a slap in the face.

When the silence had become unbearable, he raised his head and said calmly that upon reflection he found it unwise for the new king and his men to begin their time in the land of the Swedes and Goths with blood. In either case, whether Herr Ebbe killed yet another Folkung from Arnäs, or he himself killed the king’s marshal, this would not benefit King Sverker or the peace they all desired.

The king then placed his hand on Ebbe Sunesson’s arm and prevented him from answering, which he seemed all too eager to do. The king said that he felt honoured that among those who had sworn allegiance to him there were good men like Eskil and Arn Magnusson who understood how to place the peace of the realm before their own honour.

They did not reply, but bowed and left without another word. Arn had to step outside in the cold air at once, since he was boiling with humiliation. Eskil hurried after to assure him that nothing good would have come of it if a Folkung, in the very first week of King Sverker’s reign, had killed his marshal. And besides, these insulting words could have been avoided if Birger Brosa had been a bit more accurate in his description of what sort of cloister life Arn had lived. As things now stood, the arrogant marshal had no idea how close to death he had come.

‘I still can’t understand what God had in mind by placing our brother’s murderer within a single sword-length of me,’ Arn muttered between clenched teeth.

‘If God wants to bring the two of you together with weapons, then He will do so. That was apparently not His intention just now,’ said Eskil, at a loss.

ELEVEN

The only news from Näs during King Sverker’s first two years which pleased the Folkungs and Eriks was that by the second Christmas ale, Archbishop Petrus had eaten himself to death. Otherwise they heard very little, either good or bad. It was as if whatever had to do with the highest power in the realm was no longer of any concern to the Folkungs and Eriks.

Not even when King Sverker sent a crusade to the east did he find any reason to ask for help from the Folkungs and Eriks; instead he allied himself with the Danes and Gotlanders. Of course it was not much of a crusade. The intention was for the Sverkers to be sent by ship to Courland to save the country once again for the true faith and bring home anything of value that they might find. But a southerly storm drove the two hundred vessels with the crusaders north so that they landed in Livonia instead. There they plundered for three days, loaded their spoils of war on board ship, and then went home.

Surely it was of little importance to have missed out on three days of plundering, but the Swedes up in the dark North Woods were especially insulted that they hadn’t been trusted to send a single fylkingof troops or a single ship, and that the king and his Danes thought so little of them.

For the Folkungs at Arnäs and Forsvik it was actually an advantage that the new king disdained their services, because it meant that they could spend their time on more useful endeavours. At Arnäs, villages were built inside the walls as wells were dug and the storehouses were completed. At Forsvik Cecilia’s ledgers were finally showing a profit.

This was partially due to the glass from Forsvik that was now being sold in Linköping and Skara, Strängnäs, Örebro, Västra Aros and Östra Aros, and even in Norway. And a considerable number of young men had spent so many years as apprentices that it was now time for them to return home. When they did so, it was their responsibility to equip their own estates and teach their own retainers and archers. They then purchased all of their new weapons from Forsvik. In this way an ever-growing number of the weapons that had been produced for many years without payment in order to arm Arnäs and Bjälbo now began to provide Forsvik with an income. Unlike the story in the Holy Scriptures, they had endured seven lean years before the fat years had come. But when the tide indeed began to turn, Cecilia at first did her calculations several times, since she thought there must be some mistake. Instead of silver flowing out, it had begun to flow in, and at an increasingly rapid pace.

These last years before the turn of the thirteenth century, which according to some doomsayers and prelates would bring the end of the world, were tranquil times for the Folkungs, but they also involved a good deal of travelling and many wedding ales.

It no longer seemed of any use for them to marry members of the Sverker clan; that was the opinion of Birger Brosa as well as his brothers Magnus and Folke. And because Eskil had finally had his marriage to the treacherous Katarina annulled, and she had been banished to Gudhem convent for the rest of her life, he had to set a good example. With courtship in mind, he went to Västra Aros and the regions around the town of Sigtuna. There he soon found what he was seeking in the person of Bengta Sigmundsdotter from Sigtuna. Her husband had been killed several years earlier when the Estonians arrived on a plundering expedition. But she had been wise, almost as if she had been able to see into the future. Although she and her husband owned the largest trading house in Sigtuna, she had refused to keep all of the riches they had acquired in the city. Instead, she had ordered them transported north to her parents’ home. In this way she became one of the few residents in Sigtuna to emerge from the fire as a rich woman.

It might well be that she was not so rich that she could provide a dowry worthy of a marriage with Eskil, but it was unlikely there was such a woman anywhere in the realm. And with widows, the clan was not as strict about such matters; nor was a betrothal ale required, since widows made their own decisions regarding marriage. The bridal ale could be celebrated immediately once Eskil and Bengta had come to an agreement.

The bridal couple were fond of each other, and it was everyone’s opinion that they seemed particularly well-matched. For a woman, Bengta was unusually capable of handling business matters, and trade was after all Eskil’s great joy in life. From the first day they met they had already started talking about leaving the business in Sigtuna and moving Bengta’s trading house either to Visby on Gotland or Lübeck. In that way they would strengthen each other’s dealings.

To find a woman from Svealand for young Torgils Eskilsson turned out to be more difficult. But the dowager queen Cecilia Blanca was from there, and after the death of King Knut she could no longer bear to live at Näs even though the new lord, King Sverker, had ingratiatingly told her that she could stay as his guest as long as she liked. Yet that was not the impression that the new king’s contemptuous Danes displayed. Her sons Erik jarl, Jon, Joar, and Knut were to be kept more like prisoners in a gilded cage at Näs, but she herself was allowed to leave. She had pretended to set off for Riseberga cloister, which was a befitting residence for a dowager queen with no power, but at Forsvik she had disembarked from the boat, having decided to go no further. The two Cecilias were soon making plans for young Torgils’ wedding, and they had decided that the daughter of a chief judge would be best, for judges held a very strong position among the Swedes; it would be important to establish ties to that sort of power.

Once the two Cecilias had decided something, that was how it would be. And so during the following summer a great deal of travelling went on between Western Götaland and Svealand. After celebrating his own wedding, Eskil set off with his son Torgils, Arn and his son Magnus Månesköld, and a large retinue to Svealand. On their way north to the betrothal ale in darkest Uppland, they stopped to visit many powerful men who were either members of Eskil’s new clan or were related to Cecilia Blanca. The betrothal ale between Torgils and Ulrika, who was the daughter of Leif, the judge at Norrgarns estate, a day’s journey from Östra Aros, took place around the feast of Saint Laurentius before the harvesting began in Uppland. The bridal ale was celebrated over five days at Arnäs later in the autumn.

But the women also did much travelling during this tranquil time. They usually met at Ingrid Ylva’s home at Ulvåsa, since it was halfway between Forsvik and Ulfshem. This meant that the two Cecilias and Ulvhilde would have only one day’s journey in order to meet. Ingrid Ylva and Ulvhilde were both Sverker daughters, Cecilia Blanca was of the Svea clan, and Cecilia Rosa was of the Pål clan from Husaby. Hence the four of them could meet without constantly thinking about Eriks or Folkungs, though they had all married into one of these clans. Ingrid Ylva had already given birth to two sons, and she was expecting her third child that summer when the women spent more time alone than with their husbands. Since Ingrid Ylva’s eldest son Birger would soon turn five, the same age as Cecilia Rosa’s daughter Alde, there was much talk about how these two must soon be given booklearning and how it might be arranged for them to learn together. Earlier in the year Ulvhilde had sent her boys to a cleric in Linköping, but it would not be wise to send young Folkungs to the Sverker stronghold during the evil times that were now upon them.

Finally Cecilia Blanca decided that Birger and Cecilia Rosa’s little Alde could be given schooling at Forsvik if they could persuade the old monk there to spend less time with the swords and horses, which would do him good. Cecilia Blanca also thought that she, as a queen with nothing to occupy her time, might be of use in a way that would arouse no objections if she too participated in teaching the children. They all found this to be such a good idea that they decided the very next day to take the first of Eskil’s boats to Forsvik and speak with the monk themselves.

And so it was that before long Brother Guilbert found himself in an unexpected position in Forsvik’s new great hall. He didn’t require much convincing to agree, partly because it was an occupation pleasing to God to teach young children, and partly because such work would cause less wear on his old body than working with swords and horses. But he grumbled that this was not the task he had been given by Father Guillaume at Varnhem.

Cecilia Blanca dismissed this objection as easily as swatting a fly by saying that what Father Guillaume wanted or did not want when it came to Folkungs and Eriks depended more on the purse of silver than on the spirit.

No matter how much Brother Guilbert may have agreed with such an impudent statement, he went on to say that he also had an agreement with Arn. Then it was Cecilia Rosa’s turn to address him, saying that she and not Arn was the owner of Forsvik.

As if grasping for the last straw, Brother Guilbert said finally that he couldn’t very well promise anything until Arn came back home. He was instantly urged to admit that if Arn had no objections, he would comply.

And with that the stubborn women smiled contentedly and exchanged victorious glances before they began drinking a great deal of wine and talking so much that Brother Guilbert soon withdrew.

When King Sverker’s Danish wife Benedikta died of the fever, there was little cause for sorrow among the Eriks and Folkungs. King Sverker’s only daughter Helena was no threat to the crown.

But their dismay was all the greater when a rumour began to spread that jarl Birger Brosa had fetched his last daughter Ingegerd from Riseberga cloister to marry her to the king. As far as anyone knew, Ingegerd was a healthy woman who looked as if she could give birth to any number of sons. Many said that this was the only foolish thing that Birger Brosa had ever done in his long life, and that black clouds were now gathering over the realm.

After King Sverker’s first cautious years in power he began concocting bolder plans, and it was also obvious that he had decided to ingratiate himself to the Church and the crowd of bishops. This became almost ridiculously clear when he imitated King Knut of Denmark by promulgating a new law completely on his own, without consulting the council or the ting.

King Knut had declared that he was king by the grace of God, so he could make any laws he desired. Naturally King Sverker didn’t dare make such a statement, but he did claim that he now chose to make laws because he had received what he called ‘divine inspiration’.

What exactly he meant by that was obscure, except that of course it had something to do with God. But his action was also futile because the new law had already been in force for many years. It stated that the Church did not have to pay tax to the king.

When it turned out that the ominous rumour was true about how Birger Brosa himself had provided a fertile, child-bearing woman to the Sverker king, the Folkungs decided to hold a clan ting.The meeting would be held at Bjälbo, since Birger Brosa pleaded old age and poor health. Most people guessed that he would rather be rebuked at home on his own estate, acting as a host rather than as a guest among kinsmen.

He did indeed have to endure many harsh words for this last foolhardy marriage arrangement of his. Those who spoke with him admitted that most previous marriages that the old jarl had arranged had been wise and served the cause of peace, but this time it was just the opposite.

Birger Brosa sat slumped in his high seat and at first did little to defend himself. That had always been his approach in his most powerful days, holding back until the end of a conversation and then summing up what the others had said and sticking the sharp sword of his tongue into the crack he would always discover between quarrelling kinsmen.

This time no such crack was discernible, and he had to start explaining his actions much earlier. As so often before he tried to get the hall to quiet down by speaking in a low voice, but this time he was merely admonished to speak louder. He cautiously raised his voice and said that if a king became a widower at a young age as Sverker had, then he was certainly bound to get himself a new queen. And if that had to happen, wouldn’t it be better if this queen were of the Folkung clan rather than a foreigner?

Such a course of events was by no means certain, said an angry Magnus Månesköld. For if a king became a widower, he might just as easily decide to marry some dowager queen, and an old crone from Denmark would have been more tolerable to everyone than a lively child-bearer, fetched healthy and ready from safekeeping in the convent.

Then Eskil took the floor and said that a blunder that was done could not be undone. Now that the bridal ale had already been celebrated, to attempt to break the betrothal would be an affront that might even lead to war. King Sverker could then say that the oath of allegiance everyone had sworn him was broken. So they would have to keep their promise and pray that Ingegerd gave birth to a long series of daughters before Sverker’s member slackened.

At the mention of the word ‘war,’ several of the younger kinsmen in the hall livened up, and they began murmuring that it might be better to forestall than to be caught napping. They turned to Arn to hear his opinion. So many youths from so many Folkung estates had already been trained at Forsvik or were there even now; everyone was confident that Arn Magnusson would be the leader in the next war.

Arn replied that they were all bound by their oath to King Sverker until he broke his. If Sverker made a Folkung woman his queen, he would certainly not be breaking any oath. So there was no acceptable reason to go to war right now.

Besides, it would be unwise. What would happen if they set off at once for Näs and killed the king? That might mean not only war with Denmark, but Archbishop Absalon in Lund might excommunicate a number of Folkungs. Regicide was punishable by excommunication nowadays. Even an argument over who should be archbishop or who should crown the king could lead to excommunication. Only if King Sverker broke his oath could they go to war against him without encountering such risks.

Arn’s objections were both so unexpected and thought-provoking that the clan tingsoon 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 tingwas 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 lectioniswere held in Latin.