The event had made a big impression on Arn, giving him much to think about. He felt sorry for the robbers, who were affected with the deadly sin of greed, which had led them so rapidly into perdition where they were now suffering eternal torment. He could understand that they felt their rights had been subverted. It was true that plundering shipwrecks had been their ancient right as coastal dwellers, and it must feel wrong for for eign monks to take that income away. And besides, the men had been drunk. Even though Arn didn't know much about intoxication, a couple of brothers sometimes drank too much wine, hence proving quiet clearly that where wine went in, wits went out. Afterwards they had to do penance for months on bread and water. So Arn thought he grasped that a person who was drunk didn't really fully understand his responsibilities.

   But Arn could not comprehend why Brother Guilbert had acted the way he did. The men who attacked them were fishermen, after all, who knew nothing about the weapons they were holding in their hands; at least that's what Arn believed. Brother Guilbert could have taken their weapons from them and sent them fleeing. Then the theft would never have taken place, and the royal soldiers wouldn't have had to track the men down and hang them. Didn't love for one's fellow man mean trying to ameliorate his stupidity if one could?

   Arn had hesitated to discuss the matter with Brother Guilbert. Since the monk had acted as he did and had not saved the lost men from their own stupidity, he must be convinced that he had done the right thing.

   But Arn did take up the problem with Father Henri, admitting that he was still praying for the souls of the hanged robbers.

   Father Henri had no objection to Arn praying for the souls of those wretches. He viewed such a response as a demonstration of the boy's strong empathy with the example set by Jesus Christ for the way life should be lived on earth. He saw only good in it.

   But it was more disturbing that Arn obviously did not understand why it was impossible for Brother Guilbert to use violence. Thou shalt not kill was a commandment that was utterly without compromise.

   Arn argued that the Holy Scriptures were full of commandments that were unreasonable. Take the fact that Brother Guy le Breton had so far failed to get the Danes to eat mussels. Out in the fjord the mussel beds had rapidly grown as soon as Brother Guy had come to Vitae Schola. But so far it had led only to the brothers themselves feasting on mussels prepared in one peculiar way after another, because the Danes around Limfjord believed that "whatever does not have fins and scales you shall not eat; it is unclean for you." According to Deuteronomy 14:8 or whatever it was.

   Deuteronomy 14:10, Father Henri corrected him. 14:8 prohibited the eating of pigs and rabbits. Which basically illustrated the same problem, or at least the reverse of the problem, since the Danes certainly had nothing against eating pigs or rabbits. Nevertheless, and Arn ought to know by now that there was a big difference between various small prohibitions of that sort and more serious prohibitions. If one searched for small prohibitions in the Holy Scriptures one could find many that were downright ridiculous—for instance, the hair should not be shorn in a certain way when in mourning—as well as things that were unreasonable and un-Christian in their severity, such as: he who contradicts his mother or father shall be stoned to death.

   But once again the important thing was how one learned to understand the Holy Scriptures, and the guiding principle in that respect was of course the Lord Jesus himself. Through his example he had shown how the text should be understood. In short, killing was among the most forbidden of actions.

   But Arn refused to yield. He now claimed, using the logic in argumentation that Father Henri had personally pounded into his head for most of his life, that a letter could kill as easily as a sword. By writing to King Valdemar, Father Henri had sealed the fate of the unfortunate and unsuccessful robbers, since the outcome was never in any doubt the moment the king received the letter from Vitae Schola.

   In the same way one could kill through omission, by not using force. If Brother Guilbert had knocked two or three of the un successful robbers to the ground, wouldn't he have committed only a comparatively little sin?

   Arn was astonished that Father Henri did not interrupt him or scold him, but instead moved his hand in a gentle circle as a sign for Arn to continue his argument.

   So, if Brother Guilbert committed a little sin, for which he easily would have been able to do penance for a month, by giving a couple of robbers a beating and thus scaring off the others, the result could have been good. The robbers wouldn't have turned into robbers but merely drunkards out on a foolish foray. They would have been prevented from committing theft, they would not have been hanged, their children would not have been fatherless, and their wives would not now be widows. Weighing the pros and cons in this equation, one would probably find that Brother Guilbert, by employing violence without anger, would have served a good purpose. And so he probably wouldn't have done anything evil, would he? After all, this was a theme that Saint Bernard himself often repeated.

   Arn fell silent. He was so astonished by the priest's silence that he could not go on with his argument: Father Henri sat deep in thought with his brow furrowed in a way that usually meant he didn't want to be disturbed, because he was trying to crack a hard nut.

   Arn waited patiently for a long time, since he had not been dismissed. Finally Father Henri looked up at Arn and gave him an encouraging smile, patting him lightly on the hand and nodding in agreement as he prepared to give an explanation, preceded by much clearing of his throat, as usual. Arn waited tensely.

   "Young man, you surprise me by showing such acuity in an area which was perhaps not one of your best," he began. "You have touched on two problems, although they are related. Your argument that a little sin from Brother Guilbert could have obviated something worse than a little sin is formally correct. And yet it is false. When Brother Guilbert had to choose between using violence, the worst sin he of all people could commit, or acting as he did, if he had known at that moment what the result would be, then but only then would your reasoning be valid. Without being unkind to you, however, I must point out that the formal way in which you have set up the argument, although Aristotle himself would have approved it, still presupposes that Brother Guilbert is not the man he is—a mortally sinful person—but rather that he is God and can see the truth and all that is to come. But it's an uplifting example, because it so clearly shows how clumsy we humans can be even when with a clear conscience we try to act justly. A very uplifting example, indeed."

   "Not especially uplifting for the poor devils who were led further into sin, were hanged, and now must suffer eternal torment in hell," Arn muttered crossly and was instantly given a sharp rebuke to pray ten Pater Nosters for his impertinence.