When Eskil noticed this he straightened up and gave the house thralls a stern look; they immediately slunk off and then Eskil suggested that Arn accompany him to the accounting chamber in the tower and share a tankard or two of ale.

   Arn was about to say something about having too much work awaiting him, and that only at the end of the workday should a man enjoy the fruits of what he had accomplished by the sweat of his brow. But he quickly changed his mind when he realized that he shouldn't impose rules from his former life on the time he spent together with his own brother. After all, it was this very acknowledgment that he had been waiting for, including it in so many of his prayers. He had sensed the coolness and apprehension from both his father and his brother, and he had grieved over it. But he had also hoped that they would soon understand what he was doing, and that what he did was good. So it wouldn't be a sin to drink ale with his own brother, even if it was the middle of the afternoon.

Herr Magnus sought an excuse not to take Arn along when he had to travel north to negotiate an inheritance in the clan in Norway. Occasionally it could be difficult enough to take Eskil to visit the Norwegian kinfolk, since Norwegian feasts often devolved into all sorts of swordplay when their strong ale took effect. Anyone who was not quick or dexterous or old enough to say no to young men's games would risk coming to serious injury among the Norsemen.

   Despite this danger he wanted to have Eskil with him, because the business deals they had to do were difficult and unusual. Even after a great deal of ale Eskil was quite able to calculate in his head the value of all sorts of goods and say what it corresponded to in silver. The two of them had discussed the matter at length, deciding that it would be wisest to sell the Norwegian inheritance.

   While it was a man's honor to retain his inheritance and not let it pass to some other clan, the advantages of owning a farm next to the great fjord were small unless one intended to live there. If they sold the property they would acquire more silver, which could be spent on something better. As things now stood, since Arn had come home, they had to look toward the future when perhaps even he must have something to inherit. So it would be better to buy new property within a safe distance from Arnäs or in a province neighboring to the Erik clan south of Skara. Or why not buy from the Pål clan near Husaby? Each of these possibilities would be safer, at least for Arn's sake, than sending him to the Norsemen who were so quick to the sword.

   In the meantime a simple solution had been found to the dilemma of how to tell Arn that he must cancel his journey to Norway without hurting his feelings. It was the time of autumn when Svarte and his thrall-son Kol went out to hunt deer and wild boars. They had already brought home a good amount of game. Arn and Erika had plenty to do in the new smokehouse, since Arn had said that he was sure the wild game would be better smoked than salted and dried. But just before the journey to Norway, and the difficult, imminent conversation between Magnus and Arn about how unwise it would be for an inexperienced son to visit the Norwegians, Arn himself made a request. He wanted to accompany Svarte and Kol on their hunting trips and learn something about hunting.

   Magnus was doubly glad at this request, for now he could avoid the whole embarrassing explanation about the Norwegian kinsmen and their swords and halberds after the ale. Besides, this was the first time that Arn had shown any interest in learning something that was part of the chivalrous life. A good hunter enjoyed great respect, even if he was a thrall.

   But Magnus had little hope that Arn, who for better or worse was still a half monk, would be able to learn anything about the challenging but manly art of the hunt.

   Svarte shared this view, but he was obliged to obey. When he heard that he would have to take along the other half-man of a son, he knew at once how things would go. Once, two years before, he had been forced to do the same with the lord's eldest son, Eskil, who at least had not yet grown as round as a cask of ale. Yet he was intolerable trouble, and because of him the hunt brought in almost nothing. It was not easy to take along the master's son, who had to decide about everything but understood nothing.

   But Svarte was less sure of this second son Arn than he was of Herr Eskil, who was at least very like his father. The other thralls had talked a lot about Arn, describing him in several ways as a competent man who could do all the things that the rest of the master's family could not do, and he had a kind nature besides. He had never raised his hand to anyone, had never ordered anyone whipped, and had not even spoken in harsh words.

   Svarte sensed that this peculiarity had more to do with the odd religion of the master's family than with what the retainers and others gossiped about. For the family's belief in the gods was incomprehensible in many respects. Their gods were so numerous that no one could keep them straight, and they were always chastising people even when they hadn't done anything special; as though the punishments were mostly for what people thought. As if the gods could hear what a person was thinking!

   As far as this Arn was concerned, Svarte remembered quite well the day the boy went up in the high tower after a jackdaw and fell. The boy lost his breath for a while before he revived, but by then the master's family had prayed and pleaded to their gods and promised everything possible or impossible. The whole episode ended with their sending away the boy as punishment for themselves, or was it punishment for the boy? It was hard to know which it was, since one solution was just as difficult to understand as the other.

   But now the punishment was apparently over, and he had come home; although he was no longer like any of the others. Svarte, who was reckoned the best smith at Arnäs, had watched Arn in the smithy and he reluctantly had to admit that there wasn't much he could teach the boy about hammer and anvil. If he were to be quite truthful, the opposite was more likely, which was embarrassing enough and not easy to swallow.

   When they were about to set off, several things happened that set Svarte to thinking. Since they had a master's son with them they were allowed to go to the tower chamber and select freely from the cache of weapons. When Svarte saw how Arn picked up the bows and tested drawing them, handling even the strongest of them with no visible sign of effort, he knew that this master's boy had surely held more than one bow. Arn also unerringly chose correctly from the arrows once he decided which bow he wanted to take with him. Svarte had very dubious notions about what white Christian people did in their cloisters. The fact that they obviously practiced archery did not jibe at all with the scornful jests that he and the other thralls made about the matter.

   After they had loaded their packhorses and brought out their mounts for saddling, Kol cautiously tried to tell Arn that as the son of Arnäs he could take whatever horse he liked, and there were many better ones to choose from than that monk horse, which didn't look like much. Then Arn laughed, though not maliciously, and said that as soon as they had ridden a bit on the open field he would show them that this was no ordinary horse.