King Sverker and his closest advisers had become embroiled in such a quarrel that everyone in the hall was soon aware of the whole story. The only thing that was certain was that the women had to be returned. But agreement ended there. Some thought it would be a sign of weakness to make payments in silver; it might give the Danish king, Sven Grate, the incentive to invade, plunder, and seize land. Others thought that even a great deal of silver would be less costly than being invaded and plundered, no matter who the victor might be in such a war.

   After a long, exhaustive argument the king suddenly gave a weary sigh and turned to Father Henri de Clairvaux, who sat waiting at the far end of the hall for the Lurö case to be presented.

   The priest's head was bowed as if in prayer, with his white cowl drawn over his face so no one could see whether he was praying or sleeping, although the latter was more likely. In any case, Father Henri hadn't been able to follow the heated discussion, and when he replied to the king's summons it sounded like Latin. As there was no other clergyman present, no one under stood. The king looked angrily around the hall; red in the face, he roared, "Bring me some devil who can understand this snooty cleric language!"

   Sigrid instantly saw her opportunity. She stood up and walked forward in the hall with her head bowed, curtseying deferentially first to King Sverker and then to Father Henri.

   "My king, I am at your service," she said and stood waiting for his decision.

   "If there is no man here who speaks that language, then so be it," the king sighed wearily again. "By the way, how is it that you speak it, Sigrid, my dear?" he added more kindly.

   "I'm afraid I must admit that the only thing I really learned during my banishment to the cloister was Latin," replied Sigrid demurely. Magnus was the only man in the hall who noticed her mocking smile; she often spoke in this manner, saying one thing but meaning another.

   The king promptly asked Sigrid to sit down next to Father Henri, explain the situation to him, and then ask for his view of the matter. She obeyed at once, and while she and Father Henri began a hushed conversation in the language which they alone understood among all the people in the hall, a mood of embarrassment began to spread. The men looked querulously at one another, some shrugged their shoulders, some demonstratively folded their hands and raised their eyes to heaven. A woman in the king's court among all these good men? But so be it. What was already done could not be undone.

   After a while Sigrid stood up. To quiet the muttering in the hall, she explained in a loud voice that Father Henri had considered the matter and now believed that the wisest thing to do would be to force the blackguard to marry the sister of the jarl's wife. But the jarl's wife must be sent home with gifts and fine clothing, with banners and fanfare. King Sverker and his scoundrel son would thus have to refuse a dowry, so the question of silver was solved. No consideration could be given to what the knave himself thought; if he and the sister of the jarl's wife could be married, the blood bond would prevent a war. But the rascal would have to do something to pay for his roguish behavior. War would still be the most costly solution.

   When Sigrid fell silent and sat down, it was quiet at first while those assembled considered the implications of the monk's proposal. But gradually a murmur of approval spread. Someone unsheathed his sword and slammed the broadside hard on the heavy tabletop that ran along both sides of the hall. Others followed his example and soon the hall was booming with the clamor of weapons. And so the matter was decided for the time being.

   King Sverker now decided to deal with the question of Varnhem at once. He waved over a scribe, who began to read aloud the document the king had ordered drawn up to confirm the matter before the law. According to the text, however, it sounded as if the gift came from the king alone.

   Sigrid asked to see the document so that she could translate it for Father Henri, but she also suggested cautiously that perhaps Herr Magnus should take part in the ensuing discussion. "Certainly, certainly," said the king with a wave of dismissal, and he gestured to Magnus to step forward in the hall and take a seat next to his wife.

   Sigrid quickly translated the document for Father Henri, who leaned his head back and tried to follow along in the text as Sigrid pointed. When she was ready she added hastily, so it looked as if she were still translating, that the gift was from her and not from the king, but that according to the law she needed the king's approval. Father Henri gave her a brief glance and a smile resembling her own, then nodded pensively.

   "Well," said the king impatiently, as if he wanted to dispose of the matter quickly, "does the Reverend Father Henri have anything to say or suggest in this matter?"

   Sigrid translated the question, looking the monk straight in the eye, and he had no trouble understanding her intentions.

   "Hmm," he began cautiously, "it is a blessed deed to give to the most assiduous workers in His garden. But before God as before the law, a gift may be accepted only when one is quite certain who is the donor and who is the recipient. Is this His Majesty's own property which we will now so generously share?"

   He waved his hand in a little circle as a sign to Sigrid to translate. She reeled off the translation in a monotone.

   The king was clearly embarrassed and gave Father Henri a dark look, while Father Henri gazed at the king in a friendly manner, as if he assumed everything was in order. Sigrid said not a word, waiting.

   "Yes, perhaps . . . perhaps," muttered the king self-consciously. "One might say that for the sake of the law the gift must come from the king, so that no one will be able to complain about the matter. But the gift also comes from Fru Sigrid who is here among us."

   While the king hesitated, Sigrid translated what he had just said, in the same formal, monotonous voice as before. Father Henri's face brightened as if in friendly surprise when he now heard what he already knew. Then he shook his head slowly with a smile and explained, in quite simple words but with all the serpentine courtliness required when admonishing a king, that before God it would probably be more suitable to cleave to the whole truth even in formal documents. So if this letter were now drawn up again with the name of the actual donor, and with His Majesty's approval and confirmation of the gift, then the matter would be settled and prayers of intercession could be duly vouchsafed to His Majesty as well as to the donor herself.

   And so the matter was decided in just this way, precisely as Sigrid had wished. Nothing else was possible for King Sverker; he quickly made the decision, adding that the letter should be drafted in both the vernacular and Latin; he would affix his seal to it that very day. And perhaps now they could cheer themselves up a bit by returning to the question of how and when the executions were to take place.