"Monseigneur, I truly beg your pardon, I can only defend myself by saying that I was a child and knew no better," Arn replied, blushing with shame as he imagined himself laying a hand on an archbishop. But then both the archbishop and Father Henri burst out laughing.

   "Now now, young man, I was trying to jest. I'm not actually here to demand vengeance for that tiny offense. I should be grateful, from what I've heard, that it's not today you choose to strike me. No, don't apologize again! Instead, you must listen to me. My dear old friend Henri and I have discussed your situation back and forth, as we also did when you came here as a child. You do know that it was a miracle that brought you to us, don't you, my son?"

   "I've read the account," Arn said quietly. "But I don't remember any of it myself; I only recall what I read."

   "But if Saint Bernard and the Lord did raise you up from the realm of the dead to bring you to us, what sort of conclusion would you draw from that? Have you contemplated that dilemma?" the archbishop asked in a new and more serious tone, as if he were now beginning the conversation in earnest.

   "When I was a little boy and fell from a high wall, the Lord showed mercy toward me and perhaps toward my mother and father as well for their fervent prayers. That's what is true, that much we can consider certain," replied Arn, still not daring to raise his eyes.

   "Certain, well, that's not saying too much, is it?" said Archbishop Stéphan with a scarcely perceptible hint of impatience in his voice. "But then don't we come immediately to the question of why?"

   "Yes," said Arn. "We do come to the question of why, but I've never been able to find an answer. When it comes to the grace of the Lord, it is many times beyond what humans can conceive. I'm not exactly the only one who cannot understand everything about the grace of God."

   "Aha! Now I'm starting to recognize the little rascal who tried to strike me and called me an old codger. That's good, young man! Just keep talking back, and I'm not being sarcastic; I like it when you talk back. So we haven't transformed you into some sort of passive vegetable in the garden; you have your free will and your mind intact, and we both think that is splendid. Henri has made a point of describing this characteristic of yours. By the way, I haven't spoken French in a long time, do you mind if we switch to Latin?"

   "No, Your Grace."

   "Good. Actually I had just intended to retaliate, because when we met the first time you chided me for not speaking very good Norse. Well, that jest fell flat, since your French is excellent. How can that be, since most of your studies are in Latin?"

   "We've had an arrangement whereby I speak Latin about spiritual and academic matters, French when doing the other half of the work, and Norse with the lay brothers who don't speak much French," replied Arn, raising his head for the first time and looking the archbishop in the eye. By now he had conquered the worst of his embarrassment.

   "An excellent arrangement. It's good that you retain your Norse language, even better if things turn out the way I think," muttered the archbishop pensively. "But let me now ask you something specific, and I really want an honest answer. Has the Lord God spoken to you? Has He revealed His intentions for you?"

   "No, Your Grace. God has never spoken directly to me, and I know nothing of His intentions for me," Arn replied, once again feeling embarrassed and at a disadvantage. It was as if through sin he had made himself unworthy of God's original plan, whatever it may have been.

   The two older men pondered Arn's reply thoughtfully and in silence. They said nothing at all for a long time, but at last they exchanged a knowing look and nodded to each other. Father Henri made a great show of clearing his throat, the way he always did before launching into a long explanation.

   "My beloved son, you must now listen to me and not be frightened," Father Henri began with visible emotion. "My good friend Stéphan and I have reached a decision which we believe is the only right one. We know as little as you do about what God has in mind for you; all we know is that it must be something special. But since none of us knows, it might be that His call has simply not been made as yet. Our task, and yours, could be to prepare you as well as possible for the call when it does come, don't you think?"

   "Yes, of course, Father," Arn replied in a low voice. His throat was suddenly dry.

   "Your education is remarkable and the work of your hands is of great joy to us here within these walls," Father Henri went on. "But you know nothing of the world outside. That is why you must now go out into that world; you must return to your father's estate at Arnäs, which lies a day's ride from here. Well, a Nordic day's ride, that is . . . you know what I mean, with horses from Outremer it would probably take half a day, I would guess. This is the command we now give you. You must return to the place that was once your home."

   "I . . . I will naturally obey your command," said Arn, although the words stuck in his throat. He felt as though he'd been felled by an unexpected blow, as if he'd been excommunicated, cast out from the holy community.

   "I see that you are not happy with our command," said the archbishop.

   "No, Your Grace. I've tried to acquit myself well here at the cloister, and I don't mean to boast in any way when I say that, but I can honestly argue that I've done my best," said Arn, crushed.

   "You are a Cistercian, my young friend," said Archbishop Stéphan. "Think on that. You will always be one of us, for what is done cannot be undone. Perhaps it is also intended that you shall remain one of us intra muros forever, that is what we do not know. Perhaps you will come back after finding that the world out there does not suit you, fully prepared to make your vows to the cloister. But first you must learn of the things about which you have no knowledge, and you can't learn about the outside world in here, no matter how hard you study. We want what is best for you. You should know that both Henri and I truly love you, and we will both pray for you while you are out there. But you must learn something about the other world, that is what is needed."

   "When may I come back? How long do I have to stay out there?" asked Arn with a new spark of hope.

   "When God wills it, you will come back to us. If God does not will it, He will give you another purpose out there. You must ask Him in your prayers. It's not something we can decide, since it's a matter between you and God," said the archbishop, starting to stand up as if the conversation were over. But then he thought of something to add and brightened up a little.