Arn obediently said his prayers, and Father Henri was grateful for the respite, which he spent thinking further, and not without a certain amount of guilt. He found to his shock that he was no longer sure of his counterargument.

   Wouldn't it be exaggerating to say that Brother Guilbert would have had to be God to foresee that measured violence, without anger, could in that situation have done a greater good than the usual peaceful response enjoined by Christ?

   Wasn't it true instead that Brother Guilbert had once lived a life in which, with God on his side, he could smite anyone who attacked him when he was protecting the church's property? But afterwards he had imposed on himself such strict penance for sins he'd committed in the Holy War that he had to refrain from violence in any situation. Wasn't it simply that Brother Guilbert was now closed off, or had closed himself off, from any sort of intellectual examination in such a context and blindly followed his self-imposed penance?

   In that case Brother Guilbert was certainly pure and without sin with regard to the way he had acted. But little Arn had also for the first time shown proof of theological acumen and, what was even better, a genuine insight into the faith.

   However, it was the larger problem that Arn had touched on that would be easier to take up just now. They would come back to the other issue a week later when Father Henri had had time to collect his thoughts and read up on it.

   "Now let's take up your second problem," Father Henri said, displaying great friendliness to Arn after he had rattled off his ten Pater Nosters. "Saint Bernard pointed out quite rightly that whatsoever is done with good intent—you know what I mean, let's skip the definitions—whatsoever is done with good intent cannot lead to evil. In what context does this assurance have the greatest practical significance?"

   "When it applies to the crusades, obviously," replied Arn obediently.

   "Correct! But a crusade involves killing large numbers of Saracens, doesn't it? So, doesn't the commandment against killing apply here? And if not, why not?"

   "It doesn't apply because it is done, always done, with the blessing of the Holy Father in Rome," Arn replied cautiously.

   "Yes, but that's a circular argument, my son. I asked why?"

   "Because we have to imagine that the good is very good, that the good in preserving the Holy Sepulchre for believers is so much greater than the evil of killing Saracens," Arn ventured hesitantly.

   "Yes, you're on the right track," Father Henri assured him with a thoughtful nod. "But even when the Lord Jesus drove the moneylenders out of the temple he was never close to killing them, was he?"

   "No, but that could be because, through his Father's wrath, which naturally is much different from our human wrath, he used only as much force as was necessary. He actually did drive the moneylenders out of the temple. He didn't need to kill them; it's as if Brother Guilbert had—"

   "All right! Let's get back to the question at hand," Father Henri interrupted him brusquely. But behind his stern mask he was secretly smiling at how Arn had suddenly and as if by chance managed to find an almost devastating argument that would strengthen his earlier position that Brother Guilbert should have used limited force. He should have simply acted as did the Lord Jesus himself in the temple.

   "Did the Lord Jesus repudiate the soldiers, did he ever condemn them for being soldiers?" asked Father Henri in a deliberately subdued tone of voice.

   "No, not that I know of . . ." Arn pondered. "Like that part about the coin, render unto Caesar what is Caesar's and unto God what . . . something like that. And then of course we have almost the same thing in the gospel of Luke, 3:14, I think . . . 'Then some soldiers asked him, "And what should we do?" He replied, "Don't extort money and don't accuse people falsely— be content with your pay." ' If the soldiers behave like honest men when they're not soldiers . . . then it's not wrong to be a soldier?"

   "Correct! And what do soldiers do?"

   "They kill people. Like the ones who came in response to your letter to the king, Father. But soldiers and kings out there in the base world, what do they have to do with us?"

   "Your question is very interesting, my son. Because you're simply asking the following: Is there a situation when such as you or I would be able to kill? I see that you are doubtful, and before you say anything foolish that you might regret I will answer you. There is indeed an exception. The Lord Jesus in his ineffable kindness of course meant that we should not kill other children of God, not even Roman soldiers, or Danish ones for that matter. But there is a people not included in the Lord's prohibition, and I think you can guess who they are, can't you?"

   "The Saracens!" Arn said at once.

   "Right again! Because the Saracens are the most nefarious race that the Devil has put on our earth. They are not human beings, they are devils in human form. They do not hesitate to impale Christian babies on their spears and roast them over fires and then eat their fill. They are known for their dissolute lives, their excessive drinking, and their constant habit of sodomy and fornication with animals. They are the scum of the earth, and every dead Saracen is a pleasing sight for Our Lord, and whoever kills Saracens has committed a holy act and is therefore assured of a place in Paradise!"

   Father Henri had gradually grown more agitated as he enumerated the heinous ways of the Saracens, and Arn's eyes had grown wider and wider as he listened to these comments. What Arn had heard surpassed his understanding. His mind refused even to picture such a scene with these detestable creatures eating roasted Christian babies from their spear points. He couldn't conceive how such devils could take the form of human beings.

   But he could easily understand that it would be a pleasing deed to God, even for brothers within walls, to kill such evil. He also drew the conclusion that there was a vast distance between the Danish riffraff that had so unfortunately turned to the path of robbery and the Saracens. In that one case the commandment Thou shalt not kill was valid without exception. In the second case it was the direct opposite.

   Although such a simple and clear conclusion had little practical importance up here in the North.

During the years Arn had not been able to sing, he had changed, just as his work had changed. The time that he previously would have spent with Brother Ludwig and the choir brothers, several hours each day, had now become time spent with Brother Guy down by the shore. Brother Guy soon taught him the methods from his home district for knotting nets, catching fish, and maneuvering small boats. For safety's sake Brother Guy had also seen to it that Arn learned how to dive and swim.