"I have four pieces of bread baked this morning," said Arn truthfully.

   "Fine, we'll take them. Give us the bread at once!" called all three. And it seemed to Arn that they suddenly looked happy.

   Fortified by the thought that he could make his neighbor happy so easily, Arn opened his knapsack and handed over the pieces of bread. The three boys snatched them away and ran off, laughing wildly and without a word of thanks. Arn watched them go in amazement. He suspected that he'd been fooled in some way, but he didn't understand why anyone would want to do such a thing, so he felt guilty for thinking ill of his neighbor.

   When he tried to go through the gate, two sleepy men with weapons in their hands prevented him from doing so. First they wanted to know his name and what business he had there. Arn replied that he was lay brother Arn from Varnhem and that he had come to visit the cathedral, but that he would be moving on soon. They let him in with a laugh and said something mysteri ous about how he should mind he didn't commit some act that he didn't understand either. And because his confusion was so obvious from his expression, the two men laughed even more.

   When Arn entered through the gate he wasn't sure which way to go. The direction of the cathedral was clear from the two tall towers visible from anywhere in town. But there seemed to be nothing but compost amongst all the low and tightly packed wooden buildings. At first Arn thought he would have to find another way through all the garbage. But then he saw a man come riding down an alley that seemed to head straight for the cathedral. The hooves of his horse sank deeper with every step into sludge, manure, and rotting garbage. Very hesitantly and with the stench tickling his nostrils, Arn took the same alley in the opposite direction. It was still morning, or time that was reckoned as morning inside the town. Everywhere cocks were crowing, and at several spots along the alley he was almost struck by garbage thrown out from pots and cooking vessels. The people apparently shared living quarters with their livestock and poultry. He was filled with more astonishment than disgust.

   But when Arn finally emerged from the alley and found himself in front of the cathedral itself, the crowded streets gave way to a large market square with long rows of tents where all sorts of trade was conducted. The ground was also cleaner out here.

   Cautiously he dismounted from his horse, careful where he set his feet, and tied the reins to a post outside the cathedral where two other horses stood. He hesitated for a moment, wondering whether he should let his curiosity take over and go to see what was being sold in the tents, or whether he should go inside God's house first. As soon as he posed that question to himself he was ashamed that he'd had even the slightest doubt; he walked straight in through the church door, fell to his knees, and crossed himself.

   It was almost deserted inside and so dark that he had to pause for a moment to let his eyes adjust. Up by the altar burned a score of small candles; he saw a woman just lighting a new one before kneeling down to pray.

   Somewhere up ahead in the darkness a choir began singing hymns, but it didn't sound very good. He could clearly discern two voices singing off-key, and it filled him with wonder, as if they were mocking the Lord by singing like that in His house.

   Arn went over to one of the side aisles and sat down on a little stone bench to meditate. He did not feel at home in this house of God. Up by the altar hung large tapestries woven in garish colors along with two pictures of saints and a Virgin Mary painted in blue, yellow, red, and green. Across from him, light shone through a glass window up along the side of the tower, breaking into all the colors of the rainbow. It made a presumptuous and false impression on Arn, as if the gaudiness were duplicitous. The image of Jesus Christ on one of the walls of the tower was spangled in gold and silver, as if the Lord had been an earthly prince. He knelt down and prayed first for the forgiveness of his sins and then asked God to forgive the people who had turned His house into a worldly manifestation of loathsome and idolatrous taste.

   But from the limestone of the little bench he felt an odd warmth when he sat back down, as if the stone were talking to him. He had the notion that he had sat there before, although that was impossible. Then he saw his mother before him, as if she were coming toward him, smiling. But the vision vanished abruptly when the choir in front took up a new hymn.

   This time the choir sang in only two-part harmony, but it still did no good, since the lead singer of the second voice kept leading the others astray. In the belief that he might now do a good deed, Arn went to stand next to the choir, taking up the second voice and singing it correctly. He had known the lyrics since he was a mere babe.

Chaplain Inge felt at first as if God in jest, weary of all the false notes, had decided to correct them. But then he discovered that there was a young lay brother from Varnhem standing nearby, and he had shamelessly taken over the lead of the second voice. When they had finished the hymn the chaplain, who was leading the choir, went right over to Arn and put him in the middle of the choir, thus engaging his services for the rest of the mass.

   Afterward several of the singers eagerly wanted to ask questions of Arn, but the chaplain quickly took him aside and led him into the sacristy, where light came in through two small windows so that they could see each other as they talked. Arn was asked to take a seat and was given a mug of water; the chaplain joked that it was poor compensation for such beautiful singing.

   Arn, not realizing that this was said in jest, immediately refused the water, saying that he certainly wasn't demanding payment for singing in God's house. When asked his name he replied that he was called Arn of Varnhem, nothing more.

   The chaplain now got excited because he thought he'd made a discovery. Here was clearly a young man who could not be admitted as a full brother by the Cistercians, who for some reason had been cast out and thus might be available as a blessed addition to the choir. No matter what anyone said about those foreign monks, they could certainly sing to delight God's angels; that much no one could deny.

   Since no one had ever spoken to Arn with hidden intentions, he understood nothing of the import of all the questions that the anxious chaplain now showered upon him.

   So he had left Varnhem to return home? And where was home exactly? And what did his father and mother do? Oh, his mother was dead, peace be with her memory and blessings on her soul. But his father, what did he do? Worked like everyone else in the sweat of his brow? Did the young man mean in agriculture? Was his father a peasant or a freedman then?

   Arn answered as best he could without lying, except when it came to the difficult question of whether his father was rich, which he quickly denied. He considered the word "rich" to mean something shameful and didn't want to think such thoughts about his own father. And he wasn't sure what the words peasant or freedman signified exactly, even though he doubted either had anything to do with his father.