This sword shall serve God's righteous cause,

the truth, and the honor that is my brother's and my own.

With this faith and in this sign

I shall be victorious.

But should I waver in my faith,

God shall justly smite me to the ground.

Amen.

   Arn had to repeat the oath twice in French and then a third time in Latin, as he held the sword with both hands around the blade. Then Father Henri took the sword, kissed it, and held it out as he said a silent prayer with his eyes closed. Then he turned to Arn and said these words.

   "Never forget your oath to God, my son. This sword which is now yours for as long as you shall live is a blessed sword which can be wielded only by you or by a Templar knight of the Lord. This sword and others like it are the only swords that are allowed inside the house of God, also remember that. And bear your sword without wavering in your love for God and without betraying the honor that accompanies this sword."

   With hands that were slightly trembling, Father Henri then handed the sword to Arn, who seemed to hesitate before he finally accepted it. It looked as though he was afraid that the sword might burn him.

   But when he held it in his hands, the choir took up a new and jubilant hymn which he did not know, and it too was in French.

Arn set off that very day. But this time his departure from Varnhem was better prepared than his first journey, which had quickly ended in misfortune. The horse he now rode was the stallion Shimal, who had already served in breeding for the year and need not come back until it was time again. Arn had donned clothing made of gray and red fabric, like a man of the base world. He could not even remember the time as a child when he had worn attire other than that of a lay brother. And they had cut his hair so that it now was short but even around his head and there was no trace of the tonsure.

   Brother Rugiero had prepared a heavy knapsack, and no one was going to trick him into losing it as soon as he left the walls, not this time. It also contained a good selection of plants that had to be kept moist in their leather sacks, along with seeds and fruit pits.

   By his side hung the mighty sword in a simple leather scabbard, the sword that felt so light in his hand, as if it became a living part of himself when he swung it. The sword was so perfectly balanced that he could easily have stood upright and cleaned his toenails with it, not even holding it in both hands.

   With a few words of thinly disguised pride Brother Guilbert had told him everything about such swords and what differentiated them from ordinary swords. Well, perhaps not everything, he added modestly. But the rest Arn would soon discover for himself.

   Arn had taken a lengthy and emotional leave of them all. He was utterly filled with their love for him, which he had never really understood until that last mass when he saw and heard the great solemnity of the singers, offering him the most beautiful farewell they could give him.

   Finally, out in the receptorium he was alone with Father Henri and Brother Guilbert. Father Henri nodded silently for him to mount his horse, and Arn swung up into the saddle of the impatiently prancing Shimal.

   "There is one last thing you should think about now as you venture out into the other world better equipped than last time," said Father Henri, stopping because he seemed briefly overcome by his emotions. "You carry a mighty sword at your side, as you already know. But remember also the words of Saint Bernard: 'See, God's warriors, what are your weapons? Are they not foremost your shield of faith, your helmet of salvation, and your chain mail of gentleness?' "

   "Yes, father, I swear never to forget that," replied Arn, looking Father Henri in the eye without blinking.

   "Au revoir, mon petit chevalier Perceval," Brother Guilbert then said, and gave the impatient stallion a hard slap so that he galloped off at once with thundering hooves, heading out through the narrow stone passage to the world outside.

   "That was a bit incautious of you. What if he'd fallen off the horse?" muttered Father Henri sadly.

   "Arn doesn't fall off horses, and that's hardly the thing that threatens him most just now," said Brother Guilbert, shaking his head with a smile at his prior's unfounded concern.

   "By the way, I don't like that nonsense about Perceval and the Holy Grail and such vulgar songs," Father Henri snapped as he turned abruptly and took a few steps toward the oak gate. But as so often happened, he thought of something else he wanted to say and turned halfway around.

   "Perceval this and that, all those things will soon be forgotten like all the other base stories, it's rubbish!"

   "For something that is rubbish, you seem to know these vulgarities rather well yourself, father," Brother Guilbert said with a bold laugh, displaying a merriment he didn't usually show toward his prior.

   Without a doubt both of them were moved by the farewell with Arn, although neither of them wanted to admit it. But Brother Guilbert, unlike Father Henri, was firmly convinced that he would see Arn again. Because unlike his prior, he was also entirely certain of what the task was that God had prepared for young Arn.

Chapter 8

Herr Magnus was in a bad mood as he sat in the longhouse in the middle of a sunny afternoon, drinking too much ale. He was regretting that he was unable to love his second son Arn, whom his wife Sigrid, blessed be her memory, had loved above all else in life.

   Magnus had a hard time admitting, even though he was now forcing himself to do so with the aid of liquor, that he had two grown sons who did not bless his house with the honor that was due their clan. For what good did it do if they had royal blood in their veins, as long as people pointed their fingers and snickered at them both.

   In Eskil's case Magnus had long since accepted how matters stood, because what people still had a hard time trusting was everything that belonged to the future. This included trade and new ways of using the soil and making the silver grow in the coffers; in all this Eskil was very talented and would probably leave an inheritance twice as large as what he would one day receive. Those who reproached Eskil because he was not interested in the more manly virtues were ignorant wretches. They understood nothing of God's will behind human striving in earthly life. With regard to everything that had true meaning Eskil would become a wise and wealthy lord of Arnäs; about that there was no doubt.