'So you were not present when Knut Eriksson killed my father at Forsvik?' asked Ulvhilde after a long silence.

'No,' said Arn. 'My brother Eskil was there, but his only task was to handle the terms of the transaction when we purchased Forsvik from your father. Once the purchase was made and sealed, Eskil rode home to Arnas. Knut stayed behind for revenge.'

'For what purpose did he seek revenge upon my father?' asked Ulvhilde in surprise, as if she had never heard even a whisper about this matter before.

'It was said that Emund was the one who had chopped off the head of Knut's father, Saint Erik,' replied Arn. 'I do not know if that was true, but Knut was convinced of it. And so he killed Emund in the same manner as his own father had been killed.'

'And yet Emund could no longer defend himself, since he had only one hand, and you were to blame for that!' exclaimed Jon, as if to defend Ulvhilde.

'What you say is true,' replied Arn in a low voice. 'But when it comes to blood revenge in our land, I have learned that one hand or two, it makes little difference.'

'Killings are to be taken up at the ting ting and should not lead to more killings!' replied Jon. and should not lead to more killings!' replied Jon.

'That may be what the law says,' admitted Arn, 'but when it comes to the killing of a king, no laws apply; then it's the right of the strongest. And you are a Folkung, as I am, so surely you know that the killing of a Folkung is never a matter for the ting. ting.'

'That sort of justice is no justice at all!' declared Jon.

No one had anything to say against him in this matter. But after Ulvhilde had sat in silence for a while, she got up and solemnly went over to Arn. She took his sword-hand and pressed it to her lips, kissing it three times. That was the sign of reconciliation, according to ancient custom.

The evening did not get any merrier after that; there was no jesting or loud laughter. But it still felt as if the air had been cleared between them, as when the sun is about to reappear after a thunderstorm on a hot day in late summer.

And with that, Arn's first visit to Ulfshem did not end as badly as it had begun. And the enticement that he knew Sune and Sigfrid represented for all boys of their age also had its effect. After the visit Ulvhilde and Jon had no peace from their youngest son Emund, who tirelessly nagged them about going to his mother's ancestral estate of Forsvik. That he didn't intend to make a similar pilgrimage to his father's land was as clear as water. He had been infected with the dream of becoming a knight. And in the end his parents promised that he would be allowed to go as soon as he turned thirteen.

Upon returning to Forsvik, Arn and Cecilia found that the estate had by no means suffered because the master and mistress had been gone for ten days. The newly purchased thrall named Gure had found many helping hands among the other thralls to repair their living quarters. And with the smiths, the fletchers, the potters, and the feltmakers the work was proceeding apace and without quarrel. Since it was nearly all foreigners engaged in these tasks, and all the crops had been harvested except for the turnips, there were many thralls available to work with Gure. He was a great a.s.set to Forsvik, and the others were quick to obey his slightest command, as if he were their master and not their equal.

The Wachtian brothers had taken turns making lists of all the new goods that had come in, and they delivered these lists to Cecilia's accounting chamber so that she simply had to enter the items in her ledger books. The brothers were also eager to take Arn and Cecilia to the millhouse to show them a new tool they had built.

Jacob was the one who always came up with the first designs and ideas. Then Marcus went to the smithy and shaped these ideas into iron and steel.

The question that had long preoccupied them was how the water power might be used for a saw. Since the power consisted of a water wheel that turned axles, it had proved unfeasible to transform the circular motion into the type of back-and-forth motion used when sawing by hand. So then they had asked themselves whether they ought to concentrate on the rotating motion, and in the end they had created a saw that was round. They finally found a way to make the saw blade spin evenly without warping and with a cutting edge that could withstand the heat from the rotation. But then new problems arose. It turned out to be impossible to press a log by hand against the saw blade, since the force was too great. For this reason, they had built a sled that moved along the floor and carried the logs toward the blade. But the floor was uneven; when they solved that problem other difficulties appeared.

Now they thought it was ready, so they called for help from Gure and his work team. And in a very short time, before the childishly delighted Arn, they sawed a log into four boards, like the planking at the bottom of a ship.

When Cecilia asked them what the planks were for, they told her they were meant to be floorboards. Floors for the stone house at Arnas was what they first planned. But perhaps also for here at Forsvik, since the rough-hewn logs that they were now using were not the best. But that could be decided later on. First it was a matter of putting in a good store of planks so they would dry over the winter and next summer; then they would see if the boards were actually an improvement over the old method. The amount of work hours would be only a tenth if they compared making a floor from these sawed timbers with using hewn limestone.

And this was only the first of many saws they wanted to make. When they dug a ca.n.a.l with new water wheels, they would be able to make more circular saws, both big and small. And the brothers claimed that it would save much time and make it possible to saw more timber than merely for their own needs.

Arn pounded them heartily on the back and said that such new ideas and tools were like gold for the estate, but also for those who had thought of them.

The following week Arn, along with Ali and Mansour, spent every morning teaching the three boys to ride. The afternoons were then devoted to archery and swordsmanship. At first Arn practiced several hours on his own and then with his three young warriors.

He had the smithies make several swords with dull blades that he let the boys wield almost as if they were real swords. Even though the weapons lacked real blades, they felt quite real in the hands of Sune, Sigfrid, and Bengt. Arn tested them until he judged that each boy had a practice sword of the proper heft since the strength of their arms varied. He also had chain mail made for them, which Cecilia found more childish than sensible, since surely no one would expect such young boys to go to war.

A bit offended, Arn had explained that such was not his intention, but he wanted them to become accustomed to moving in this heavy armour. When she insisted that they would soon grow too big for these costly trappings, he a.s.sured her that other boys would follow these three in learning the same skills. With time, Forsvik would have armour and practice weapons of every size, suitable for any age between thirteen and a full-grown man.

This gave Cecilia much to ponder. She had taken it for granted that it was out of kindness and Arn's inability to refuse that these boys had ended up at Forsvik; not because of his own wishes but rather because of their importunate entreaties. As if he were merely doing a favour for his young kinsmen.

But now she envisioned rows of chain mail and swords hanging like saddles in the stable with numbers written above. There was something menacing about the image, mostly because she didn't truly understand what she saw.

Arn was unaware of the puzzled distress that Cecilia felt, since he was busy brooding over how he should best train such young boys to handle weapons. His first mistake was to allow them to practice with each other after they had been given their chain mail. They set upon each other at once with great ferocity and wildness. Bengt Elinsson, in particular, fought with a fury that was almost frightening to behold, not only because Sune and Sigfrid both had bruises on their arms and legs, but more because of the hatred that Arn thought he could discern in the boy's heart.

Arn soon altered the sword exercises so that they struck at a post instead of each other. He set logs on end and with an axe made four marks in each post to represent the head, upper arm, knee, and foot of an opponent. Then he showed the boys the most common exercises and pointed to the various spots on his own body that might be injured by too much practice. In that instance, it would be best to stop. It didn't surprise him that Bengt Elinsson was the one who ignored the initial warnings that his body gave him and instead continued for so long that he made himself sick and reluctantly had to put down his sword and rest for a week.

Sooner or later, of course, they would have to practice fighting each other, but before that time, Arn planned to devise better protection for the head, hands, and cheeks. Pain during practice was fine, since it promoted a necessary respect for the opponent's sword. But if the young apprentices suffered too much pain and too many wounds, it might lead to fear. Perhaps things would be better when Brother Guilbert came to Forsvik during the winter, Arn thought, consoling himself. For Brother Guilbert had truly made a knight of Arn, and the ability to teach was now considered invaluable at Forsvik.

Thinking about Brother Guilbert also aroused feelings of guilt in Arn. For three months he had left Brother Guilbert to tend to the hard work of a.s.sisting the Saracen stonemasons at Arnas. Yet Arn had not visited them even once, nor had he sent any words of encouragement.

He was ashamed by this sudden insight and set off for Arnas at once with Abu Anaza, taking the direct route through the woods and across fields. By doing so he arrived by early evening on the same day he had left Forsvik.

When he saw his Saracen brothers toiling with the stone at Arnas, his eyes filled with tears as he noticed that their clothes hung in rags and sweat glistened on foreheads and bare arms. Even the robe of a lay brother worn by Brother Guilbert had been ripped to shreds by many sharp stone edges and were so filthy with mortar that he too looked more like a thrall than a monk.

No matter how much Arn felt ashamed by his thought-lessness, he couldn't help riding around the walls to see what had been accomplished. And what he saw matched in every stone and line all his greatest hopes and dreams; in some cases even far exceeding what he had envisioned.

The shortest section of the wall facing Lake Vanern and the harbour was now done, with both corners protected by round towers projecting past the exterior. Above the gaping s.p.a.ce of the portal facing the harbour loomed a rectangular tower, and they had finished building twenty paces of the longest part of the wall, the one extending west to east. Accomplishing so much in only a few months and with so few hands would have overwhelmed Saladin himself, thought Arn. This was in truth the beginning of an impregnable fortress.

He was torn from his dreams and brought back to his guilty conscience when the builders discovered his presence. He rode over to meet them, gesturing them forward with both hands. Then he dismounted from his horse and fell to his knees before them. They were all so surprised that none of them said a word.

'Brothers of the faith!' he said as he stood up and bowed. 'Great is the work that you have done, and just as great is my debt to you. Great too has been my neglect, leaving you here as if you were slaves. But I must tell you that I have been working just as hard to see to it that you will be able to endure our h.e.l.lish Nordic winter. I invite you now to finish this hard work before winter arrives, and two day from now, when you are ready, you will journey with me to the winter quarters where you will rest. The month of fasting will soon be over, and we shall celebrate together; it will be a memorable feast. One more thing I will tell you. I came to see you who are doing the building before I even sought out my kinsmen here at Arnas!'

When he was done speaking, the Saracens still remained silent, glancing at each other with expressions that showed more surprise than joy upon hearing that their hard work was about to come to such an abrupt halt. Arn went over to Brother Guilbert and embraced him for a long time without saying a word.

'If you don't let go of me soon, little brother, you will bring shame upon us both, in the eyes of these believers, as you call them,' grunted Brother Guilbert at last.

'Forgive me, brother,' said Arn. 'I can only say the same to you as I said to the Saracens, that I have laboured hard and without interruption to ensure a good winter for all of us. I am sorry to see how much all of you have suffered here.'

'Most of us have doubtless endured worse things than building with stone in cool weather,' muttered Brother Guilbert. He was not used to seeing the full-grown Arn so easily moved.

'Perhaps we can leave here in a day's time instead of two!' said Arn, his face brightening. 'What needs to be done in order to secure the building site for the winter?'

'Not very much,' replied Brother Guilbert. 'We've tried to arrange the construction with a thought to the coming winter. Or rather, that's what I have done. These friends of ours have no idea what cold, ice, and frost can do to a structure. We've been careful to seal it from the top, but much of the masonry is wet.'

'What if we use hides to cover the top?' suggested Arn.

'Yes, that would probably be best,' replied Brother Guilbert with a nod. 'Do you think you could obtain lead in the spring?'

'Lead?' repeated Arn, looking puzzled. 'Yes, but perhaps not in large amounts. What will you need lead for?'

'The joints at the very top,' replied Brother Guilbert, taking in a deep breath. 'Just picture us pouring molten lead from the top and down along every joint that's exposed to the open air. Does that help you understand what I have in mind?'

'Yes,' said Arn, nodding. 'If we could apply lead to the joints at the very top, then no water would run down...or ice. That's a good idea. I'll try to procure the lead that you need. But tell me instead that you are well and that your body doesn't ache more than it should after labouring so hard and that you forgive me for leaving you here.'

'I'll wait with that until I've seen my winter quarters and had my first bite of ham, because during the month of fasting, there hasn't been much of that here,' said Brother Guilbert with a laugh. And he gave Arn a shake, as had been his custom when he chastised his young apprentice at Varnhem.

'But surely Ramadan doesn't apply to you,' said Arn, opening his eyes wide. 'Because you haven't-?'

'By no means!' replied Brother Guilbert, cutting off the question before it might sound offensive. 'But if I am to work with these unbelievers, I've found it best to fast along with them. That way there is no chance of any grumbling.'

'No food between sunrise and sundown?' mused Arn. 'And at the same time doing such hard work. How do you manage it?'

'A man just gets fat from all that eating,' muttered Brother Guilbert, feigning ill-humour. 'And we spend the first hours of work p.i.s.sing away all the water that we've drunk. Then we eat like genies as soon as the sun sets. We eat for hours, and it's fortunate that we don't wash down all that mutton with wine.'

While Brother Guilbert took the Saracen builders with him to strike camp, Arn rode over to Arnas and immediately found those he was looking for. Eskil and his son Torgils were sitting in the accounting room of the big tower. His father, Magnus, was up in the highest chamber with the physician Yussuf. They gave Arn a hearty welcome, and all three of his kinsmen began talking at the same time about the new construction work, which they wanted to show him at once. Arn didn't need any persuading.

They had to climb a bit over the scaffolding to reach the area where the work was being done, since the new walls were almost twice as high as the old ones. Up there they were able to proceed a short distance along the machicolations where all the arrow loops were built so that they were wide on the inside but only a narrow slit on the outside. Anyone could clearly understand the reason for this without any explanations from Arn. A man standing at the arrow slit could aim his bow or cross-bow with a good view in all directions, while anyone standing below on the other side of the moat would have a hard time shooting an arrow through the narrow opening that was visible from the outside.

But there were other things that did require explanations from Arn. The tower located above the great gate facing the lake jutted out from the wall. That was so that archers could shoot from there along the wall if the enemy attempted to raise scaling ladders.

But it would be difficult to raise such ladders around the gate tower here since the walls were twice as thick at the bottom as up near the machicolation. There were two reasons for constructing the walls with that sort of incline, Arn explained. If anyone tried to raise a scaling ladder, they would have to be long and st.u.r.dy or they would break in half as soon as the besiegers started to climb up. And the heavier the ladders, the harder it would be to position them quickly and with any degree of surprise.

The other reason for the sloping wall at this particular location near the harbour was that the enemy would encounter a slippier foothold on the ice in the winter. If the enemy tried to use battering rams, he would have to hoist them up, and build a big sort of cradle where the ram could be swung back and forth. Because if he just struck against the slanting base of the wall, he wouldn't produce much result for all the trouble. But to build scaffolding for battering rams was no simple matter, since such work could not be done without meeting resistance from the defenders up on the walls and in the gate tower.

The entrance from the harbour was high up and in the middle of the tower, creating a small archway. There Arn showed his kinsmen how the gate itself would be constructed, first with a wrought-iron portcullis that could be lowered from inside the tower. That could be accomplished in a few minutes if an attack came quickly and suddenly. Afterwards the drawbridge made of heavy oak would be raised so that it fit securely on the outside of the iron portcullis. The gates were always the weak points of a stronghold; that was why this gate was so high above the ground that it would be difficult to reach it with battering rams and other siege engines. Especially since anyone who attempted such an attack would be exposed to a constant barrage of arrows from the two corner towers. They would also have all sorts of things dumped upon them from the highest battlements of the gate tower.

For the time being it was still possible to walk a short distance from the two corner towers in the direction where the walls would eventually be constructed. Standing up there and looking at the site where the building was due to commence, it was easy to picture how it would look when everything was finished. At that time a mightier fortress would not be found in the entire kingdom.

Arn asked to have as many of the untanned hides as they could find to cover the tops of the walls and the machicolations for the winter. Both his father Magnus and Eskil said at once, and almost reckless in their swift response, that whatever he wanted they would readily agree to, provided it was something within their power to grant. For by now they had both doubtless realized what a new era was dawning with all this construction, a time when no power would be greater than that possessed by the Folkungs. In the midst of this lively and spirited discussion, Herr Magnus happened to mention that Birger Brosa would soon be coming to Arnas to hold a ting ting for the clan. for the clan.

The mood turned gloomy at once. Birger Brosa had specifically commanded that Arn Magnusson not be invited to this ting ting, since both his father and elder brother could speak on his behalf. There was nothing to be done about this. Birger Brosa was the leader of the Folkungs and the jarl of the realm. Whatever his command, it must be obeyed.

But at the banquet that evening, there was no sense of gloom, since there were a thousand things to talk about regarding the construction going on at Arnas, as well as what Arn was accomplishing at Forsvik. By now both Eskil and Herr Magnus were aware that Forsvik was becoming the other support in the power structure of the Folkungs.

They had been discussing all these plans for the future only a short time when young Torgils reminded them of the promise that he would enter an apprenticeship at Forsvik. Arn replied tersely that as far as he was concerned, Torgils was welcome at any time. Torgils said that he wanted to leave at once. Eskil was clearly not happy with this decision, but he offered no objections.

Before Arn and his party boarded the ship that would take them up Lake Vanern to the reloading area for riverboats, he had a brief private conversation with the physician Yussuf. It was then decided that Yussuf would also accompany all of the Saracens to Forsvik; Ibrahim had already left with the first group of foreigners. For to be left here at Arnas over the winter and to witness the dreadful gorging on pork, which was part of the Christmas celebrations, was not a welcome reward for a lone Muslim. Arn was fully aware of this, even though he didn't speak of it aloud. His father Magnus was now in such good condition that he no longer needed daily care. In spite of this, Arn still took his father aside to repeat in a courteous but firm manner everything that Yussuf had told him to do. Each day his father had to make sure to move about, not too much and not too little, but without neglecting a single day. In addition, he was to eat less pork and more salmon and veal, and he should drink wine instead of ale when the Christmas festivities began.

Herr Magnus muttered that he would have been able to think of all this himself. It was a sad but well-known fact that Christmas ale presented a danger to all men of his age.

During the time that Arn was away at Arnas, Cecilia had grown even more bewildered by the foreigners at Forsvik. At night there was a great deal of commotion evident inside their longhouse, and from the smell of meat roasting and bread baking, it was clear to everyone that constant feasting was going on. They disdained the bread to be found at Forsvik after the great baking that took place every autumn. Instead, they had built from clay their own ovens, which looked like big upside-down wasps' nests. Every evening they baked their own bread shaped in big flat sheets. They got up late in the morning, and only slowly did they begin their work.

Cecilia could only guess at what this all meant, and she was inclined to think that it was Arn's absence that had encouraged this sort of idleness from the foreigners. Although this was not true of all of them. The brothers Marcus and Jacob worked just as diligently as always, as did the two English fletchers, John and Athelsten. She had long considered asking Arn about this and other matters that she hadn't really been able to understand. But the long winter nights seemed far away, in more than one sense. She had imagined that when the north wind whistled around the corners of the house, they would lie close together in front of the fire, and he would tell her about the many wondrous and horrible things in the Holy Land, and answer all her questions.

Ever since the time when they had gone out riding alone and Our Lady had gently shown them again the joyful rights of the flesh which they had once misused but were now fully ent.i.tled to, their nights had been so delightful that Cecilia blushed to even think of them. And so there had been very little time for talk of serious matters in their bedchamber.

When Arn returned on the river, it turned out that he had brought not only young Torgils along with him but also more foreigners, including all the stonemasons from Arnas. They looked so wretched in their tattered clothes, but they seemed to have other and better clothing packed in big bundles. They had broken camp at Arnas and were going to spend the winter at Forsvik. Cecilia was a bit miffed that she hadn't been told of this in advance, since she a.s.sumed that if this many free men came to Forsvik, they should be treated as guests. She grew almost angry when, with much laughter and shaking of heads, they all declined her attempts to welcome them with salt, ale, and bread. It was truly not the custom in Western Gotaland to refuse such a greeting.

She was all the more puzzled on that first night after the new foreigners arrived to hear an ever greater commotion coming from the foreigners' house. Arn replied curtly to her questions, saying that it was a celebration called Laylat al-Qadr, which meant 'the power of the night.' She had then innocently asked what sort of power this meant, and she went cold inside upon hearing that it was a celebration of Muhammed's first vision.

Arn didn't even notice her stony reaction. Grumbling sleepily, he had shown a greater interest in the joys of fleshly love than in anything else. And since he had already displayed such an inclination, she couldn't very well jump out of bed to stamp her foot and say that right now she'd rather have a discussion about Muhammed. Instead, she soon found herself floating into his warm stream, and she forgot all else.

But two or three days later he asked her to put on her finest attire for the evening, since they had been invited to a banquet. She asked where they would be going, but he replied that it was not far and they could easily walk there in their banquet garb. When she cautiously tried to find out whether he was jesting, he showed her his own clothing, which he had laid out on the bed, with the blue wedding mantle underneath.

Just before sundown, the brothers Marcus and Jacob Wachtian appeared, dressed for the banquet, along with Brother Guilbert, wearing his white Cistercian robes. They had come to fetch Arn and his wife for the celebration. Out in the courtyard the smoke from roasting meat was already blending with the aroma of exotic spices.

Cecilia had not been inside the guests' longhouse since the time when Arn had shown it to her. But that was where they were all now headed, and when she stepped through the door, she could hardly recognize the place. Even more colourful rugs had been spread on the floor, and on the walls hung tapestries with the most fanciful star patterns. Benches had been arranged in a rectangle in the room, with heaps of cushions and pillows behind them. From the ceiling hung burning lamps made of copper and iron and coloured gla.s.s, and before the long hearth stood gridirons in which trout from Lake Vattern were being grilled.

The physician Ibrahim, who was dressed in a long coat made of shimmering material and a headdress made of a length of fabric wrapped many times around his head, received the guests at the door. He then led them to the place of honour in the row of benches and cushions closest to the west.

Artfully made copper pitchers were brought forth, along with gla.s.ses made at their own gla.s.sworks; all of them were lined up along the benches. Cecilia was about to sit down on the bench, but Arn showed her with a laugh that she should kneel down among the cushions behind the long wooden bench. He also whispered to her not to touch either food or drink until someone else did so first.

They were waiting for the sun to set, and gradually the foreigners all took their places, except for a few who tended to the grilled fish, and old Ibrahim, who went out to the courtyard.

Much to her annoyance, Cecilia discovered that Brother Guilbert, the Wachtian brothers, and Arn all seemed able to cope with these unfamiliar customs and smells and showed no sign of discomfort. They talked and laughed quietly, speaking the language that Cecilia could now recognize as Frankish.

Arn soon noticed Cecilia's confusion, and with an apology to the other men, he turned to her and began to explain.

It was a clear and star-strewn night, one of the first nights with frost during this mild autumn, and outside in the courtyard, Ibrahim was now carefully scanning the sky to the northwest. When darkness fell, he would soon catch sight of the slender crescent moon that foretold a new month, and then the celebration called Eid al-Fitr would begin, heralding the end of the month of fasting.

Cecilia was about to object that the fasting month was in the spring, not in October, but she stopped herself when she realized this was not in truth the time for a conversation about church customs.

Ibrahim came in from the courtyard and made an announcement in his incomprehensible foreign tongue. Everyone in the room immediately said a short prayer. Arn then grabbed the tin-plated copper pitcher sitting on the table in front of him and poured a gla.s.s, which he handed to Cecilia. Then he poured some for Brother Guilbert and the Wachtian brothers. Everyone else at the table did the same, raising their gla.s.ses and drinking greedily before pouring another. Cecilia, who had been slower and more hesitant about raising the gla.s.s to her lips began coughing when she found that there was only water in the gla.s.s and not wine, as she had thought.

The meal consisted of roast mutton, goose, and trout, along with other small dishes that Cecilia didn't recognize; all of the food was served on large, round wooden platters. Strange-looking instruments were played, and someone began singing a song; others quickly joined in.

Arn broke off a piece of the soft flat bread and showed Cecilia how to dip it into the meat sauce surrounding the mutton. When she did so, her mouth filled with a spicy taste that at first made her hesitate. After a moment she found it palatable, and after a few more minutes, she found it to be utterly delicious. The mutton was the most tender she had ever eaten, and the trout tasted entirely different, spiced with something that reminded her of c.u.min.

Arn amused himself by taking tidbits from various platters and putting them in Cecilia's mouth, as if she were a child. When she tried to resist, he laughed and said it was merely a chivalrous way for a man to show affection for his wife or close friend.

At first all the foreigners ate quickly and voraciously. But after they seemed to have sated the worst of their hunger, most of the men leaned back on the cushions and ate more slowly. With their eyes half-closed, they seemed to be enjoying the melancholy music played by two men on stringed instruments that resembled those played by the Frankish minstrels at the wedding at Arnas.

It didn't take long before Cecilia also leaned back against the comfortable cushions which several men, bowing politely, had brought to support her back. She no longer felt so nervous, and she slowly partook of all the delicacies, merely raising an eyebrow when she noticed how much of the estate's honey had been used for the sweet that was served after the meat and fish. The dessert was small pieces of bread with shredded carrots and filled with hazelnuts, drenched in honey. All the foreign aromas and smells were somehow soothing and made her feel sleepy; she even began to take pleasure in the music, although it had sounded off-key at first. She started imagining herself in foreign lands. What made this banquet so different from those she was used to was the fact that everyone became more and more quiet as the evening wore on, just as the songs played on the stringed instruments became more yearning and sorrowful. No one started brawling, and no one vomited. She brooded a bit over these foreign ways, until she recalled that it was water they were drinking and not ale or wine. She dozed and dreamed more and more about this foreign world until Arn took her arm and whispered that it would be good manners for the two guests of honour to leave the banquet first instead of last.

He led her over to the door leading to the house lavatorium. lavatorium. There he took her hand, bowed, and said something in the foreign tongue that made all the men in the room stand up and bow deeply in reply. There he took her hand, bowed, and said something in the foreign tongue that made all the men in the room stand up and bow deeply in reply.

The night air was cold and frosty, and it revived her at once, as if breaking a spell. She thought that this was going to be the first of the winter nights when Arn explained all the foreign customs to her.

When he blew some life into the fire and they crawled into their big bed, she fluffed up their pillows so that they could sit side by side and look into the flames. Then she asked him to begin his account; the first thing she wanted to know was how it was possible that they had come to welcome the worst enemies of Christendom as guests in a Christian home.

At first sounding a bit reluctant, he told her that these Muslims, as the followers of Muhammed were called, had worked for the Christians in the Holy Land. They would have been killed by their own kind if they hadn't fled with him to the North. The same was true for the Wachtian brothers, who were Christians from the Holy Land. Their workshop and their trade had been on Al Hammediyah, which was the biggest business district in Damascus. So the question of who was a friend and who was an enemy in the Holy Land was not solely determined by a person's faith.

Cecilia found this incomprehensible, even though she offered only cautious objections.

Then he began his story, which would continue for many winter nights.

In the Holy Land there were great men whose eminence far exceeded that of all others. Arn was thinking in particular about two of them; the first was a Christian named Raymond of Tripoli, and some night he would tell Cecilia about him. But it was more important to speak of the other, for he was a Muslim and his name was Yussuf Ibn Ayyub Salah ad-Din. For the sake of simplicity, the Christians called him simply Saladin.

When Arn said the name of the worst enemy of Christendom, Cecilia involuntarily gasped. She had heard thousands of oaths, reeking of brimstone, p.r.o.nounced over that name by nuns and priests.

Yet Saladin was his friend, Arn went on, undaunted by her expression of alarm. And their friendship had followed such a course over the years that not even the greatest of skeptics would see anything but G.o.d's hand behind it.

It all started when Arn unintentionally saved Saladin's life; upon closer examination, that could not have happened without G.o.d's hand. Because why else would a Templar knight, one of G.o.d's most devoted warriors and defenders of His Tomb, be the one to save the man who in the end would crush the Christians to the ground?