"Well, let's stop there and talk a bit about that. It's not dangerous; in fact I think it's good for you," Brother Guilbert continued as if changing the subject, having said what he wanted to say. "If I understood all this correctly, a man came at you at an angle from behind and took aim at your head, is that right?"

   "Yes, I think so," said Arn, squirming a bit. He didn't like the turn the conversation was taking.

   "You ducked, of course, and changed your sword to your other hand at the same time. The man facing you dropped his guard because he wasn't looking at your sword but at your head, which he thought would fall to the ground. You saw the opening and struck at once. But at the same time you instinctively knew that you should turn around fast and step to the side so you wouldn't have the second man on you again. And so you did. The second man managed to raise his sword but now had to shift his weight to the other foot, and you saw the opening at his midriff between his elbow and his bent knee and struck again. That's how it happened, all faster than you or anyone else could imagine. Am I right?"

   Brother Guilbert had spoken with his eyes closed, concentrating hard, as if he were picturing it all again in his mind's eye.

   "Yes, that's exactly right," replied Arn, shamefaced. "But I—"

   "Stop!" Brother Guilbert interrupted, holding up his hand. "Don't apologize any more for what you did; you already have been given absolution. But now, back to what Father Henri ordered me to explain to you. It wouldn't have made any difference if there had been three or four of those peasant louts, you could have killed them all. I honestly don't think that your equal with a sword exists out there, at least not in this country. But imagine if you and I were really to fight to the death. What do you think would happen then?"

   "Before I had a chance to blink twice you would strike me down . . . or maybe before I could blink three times," replied Arn in bewilderment. He couldn't imagine such an unlikely scenario.

   "Not at all!" snorted Brother Guilbert. "Of course I don't mean that we should practice, which is what we've always done with me giving the commands and you obeying them. But what if you could think for yourself and were forced to do it, how would you attack me?"

   "I can't think such sinful thoughts. I would never be able to raise a weapon in malice against the one I love," said Arn in shame, as if that thought had just occurred to him.

   "I'm ordering you to think of this; we're dealing with theory, and that's nothing to balk at. So, how would you attack me in theory?"

   "I probably wouldn't go straight for you," Arn began hesitantly, thinking a moment before he obediently continued wrestling with the problem. "If I went straight for you, your strength and reach would quickly prove decisive. I would have to keep my distance, circle around you, wait and wait until—"

   "Yes?" said Brother Guilbert with a little smile. "Until what? "

   "Until . . . an opportunity arose, until you moved so much that your weight and strength were no longer to your advantage. But I would never—"

   "That's how it is when you're allowed to think for yourself!" Brother Guilbert interrupted him. "And moving on to more important matters; Father Henri's idea never to tell you who you were is easy to understand, from a logical standpoint, isn't it? We had to prevent at all costs a boy from becoming conceited, we had to protect him from all pride, especially when it concerned matters that here in the cloister are counted as base things, though that was hardly the case where I was before I came here. I trained many brothers during my life in Outremer; that's all we did when there was no war. But I've seen few men who possess your God-given gifts when it comes to dexterity with weapons, and you have two secrets that make you very strong. I believe you know what one of them is, don't you?"

   "I can change from my right to my left hand," Arn answered in a low voice, looking down at the table before him. It was as if he were ashamed without understanding why.

   "Precisely," said Brother Guilbert. "And now I'm going to tell you what your other secret is. You're not a tall man like myself. More than half the men you may encounter with a sword out there will look bigger and stronger. But all your life you have trained to fight someone who is bigger, and that's what you do best. So never fear the man who looks big, rather fear the one who is your own size or smaller. There is one more important thing. The danger of pride, which worried Father Henri so much, truly exists, although perhaps not in the way he had imagined. I have seen many men die simply because they were vain. In the midst of a battle with an inferior opponent, or perhaps someone who merely looked smaller, they came to admire their own prowess too much. God knows I have seen men die with a vain smile still on their lips. Remember this and remember it well! For although all your countrymen out there might be inferior to you in practice, which I do believe, almost any one of them could wound you or kill you the moment you are struck by pride. It's as if God's punishment somehow strikes more quickly the one who sins with weapon in hand. It is the same with anger or greed. I tell you this, and you must never forget it: the art you have been taught within these sacred walls is a blessed art. If you raise your sword in sin, you will bring down God's punishment upon you. For the third time, never forget this. Amen."

   When Brother Guilbert had finished his explanation they sat in silence for a while. Arn fixed his gaze absently on one of the three flickering candle flames, while Brother Guilbert surreptitiously observed him. They seemed to be sitting there waiting each other out; neither wanted to speak first, afraid that the other might want to talk about something else.

   "Perhaps you're wondering which sin it was that drove me from the Knights Templar to the Cistercians?" Brother Guilbert asked him at last.

   "Yes, that's clearly what I'd like to know," said Arn. "But I can't imagine you as a great sinner, dear Brother Guilbert. It simply doesn't add up."

   "No doubt that's because you can't imagine the world out there, for the world is full of sin and temptations; it's a quagmire, it's a field with many pitfalls. My sin was simony, the worst sin in the rules of the Templar knights. Do you even know what that is?"

   "No," replied Arn truthfully, though he was also astonished. He had heard a thousand sins spoken of, large and small, but never this "simony."

   "It means to take money for carrying out services on behalf of the Lord," said Brother Guilbert with a sigh. "In our order we certainly did administer large sums of money back and forth, and sometimes it could be difficult to see what was sin and what was not. But I won't make excuses for myself; I confessed my sin and I'm doing penance for it even today. It was not granted to me to die blessed for God's cause with sword in hand. So it goes. But if it weren't for my sin which led me to this peaceful order, you never would have met me. Then you would have been a completely different man than you are today. You should also think about this, since God has a plan for everything that happens."