This was what Knut Eriksson had hired the skald Orm to recite at each and every house that they visited. Knut's intention was that no man in the land would be able to escape knowing this story.

   The next day they had great success with the wolf hunt at Arnäs and shot eight animals. There was nothing better than wolf pelts in the winter.

That year a great mass was to be held early on Christmas morning at Husaby Church, which was the king's church. But no king would show himself there, for the West Goths had defended themselves against all such. But Judge Karle would be coming to Husaby, as the most distinguished man in Western Götaland. And that was why the Folkungs would be celebrating their early Christmas mass in Husaby and not at their own church in Forshem.

   But some days in advance a message came to Arnäs with a pupil sent by the priest in Forshem. He in turn had received an inquiry from the royal priest in Husaby which he himself had provoked by bragging about how good the choir singers were at his masses. Now the question was whether Arn could come a few days early to Husaby to practice with the choir so that the Christmas mass would benefit from his skill. Arn found this to be a Christian proposal that he could not refuse; he put aside his trowel and at once prepared to ride to Husaby. Magnus wanted to send retainers with him since Arn was now a man whose death would secure great renown for anyone who managed to kill him; he was also a man whose death would gladden the followers of the Sverkers. But Arn refused all such protection, declaring that on horseback and in daylight no one would dare attack him, at least not if he was allowed to ride his own miserable monk horse, he added with a laugh.

   These days Magnus could also laugh at this matter, since he had realized that he was as wrong about Arn's horse as about his sword. Arn set off at dawn the next day, well armed and well wrapped in wolfskins, with church clothing in his saddlebags. There was a biting cold, but he set a good pace so that both he and Shimal kept warm without sweating, and he reached Husaby church and presbytery by noon. As soon as he had stabled Shimal and drunk a little welcome ale and broken bread with the priest's wife as custom required, he went to the church, which was the largest in Western Götaland after the cathedral in Skara. It had a huge tower on the west side which was built further back in time than anyone could remember.

   He was in a very good mood because he liked singing and because the Christmas hymns were those that he believed everyone knew by heart, and besides, Christmas was a happy holy day which made the notes easy to sing, even for those who had not had much practice.

   But among the singers in the choir he was not the only one who had received his training from the Cistercians. There was also Cecilia Pålsdotter, who in recent years had taken turns with her sister Katarina in being trained at Gudhem convent near Hornborga Lake.

   He heard her voice as soon as he stepped inside the cold church. Her voice hovered clear and pure above all the others, and Arn stopped in amazement to listen. He had never heard anything so beautiful. That was how a boy's soprano could soar forth from a choir, just as he may have sounded as a boy at Vitae Schola. But he probably thought this was even better. There was more fullness and more life in this female soprano.

   He had stopped far away from the singers who were rehearsing, and he couldn't see whose heavenly voice it was. Nor did he much care, since he had his eyes fixed on the stone floor so as not to be disturbed by anything as his ears tried to catch every last nuance of the music.

   After the choir at the front of the church had sung four of the sixteen verses that Arn knew the hymn contained, the priest leading the singers paused to make a correction and scold someone singing in the second voice. Then Arn went over to greet the priest and bowed a bit timidly to the group of singers.

   It was now that he saw her for the first time. It was as though he had seen Birgite from the Limfjord again, but now as a grown woman. The Birgite for whose sake he'd had to do so much penance. She had also caused him to argue with Father Henri about the true nature of love. He saw the same thick red hair in a plait down her back, the same merry brown eyes, and the same pale and lovely face. He must have been gaping at the young woman, because she gave him a teasing smile, apparently used to having young men stare at her. But she didn't know who he was, for the priest hadn't said anything about the fact that he had asked for an extra singer; he had especially refrained from mentioning who the singer might be, since he couldn't be sure that a son of Arnäs would take the trouble to come there just to practice a few carols.

   The priest at Husaby was glad, of course, for if Arn was only half as good a singer as the somewhat boorish priest at Forshem boasted, this was going to be an unusually beautiful early Christmas mass. He already had an especially lovely soprano for the first voice. And as he was a priest who was more merry than strict and who welcomed a good jest and surprises if the occasion presented itself, he at once arranged a little practical joke.

   He said only that another singer would be joining them from the church at Forshem, which Arn found to be a rather odd introduction, and now they would try the same piece they had just sung but with only two singers in two-part harmony. Then he motioned for Cecilia, who stepped forward with obvious confidence, once again showing her amusement at the staring peasant boy from Forshem.

   Arn realized now that she was the one with the beautiful heavenly voice, and this insight made his gaping expression even more sheeplike.

   Cecilia now did as the priest had asked, starting to sing the first voice by herself. She sang even louder, mischievously trying to put the singer from Forshem in his place.

   But suddenly she then heard . . . no, it was more than hearing, she felt it through her whole body, as the new singer placed his second voice so close to hers, following her as if in a dance. Their voices intertwined, moving into each other, out, and then back, with the same ease as if they had always sung together. And she couldn't help raising her eyes to his. He was already gazing at her, and when their eyes met they both felt as though the Lord's voice had spoken through the other's voice. Then she began to vary her song, making it much more difficult. And he followed her, still in second voice, with the same ease as before; they no longer saw the other singers or the priest standing nearby. Everyone had been struck dumb by the beauty that now streamed out like light beneath the vault of the church, but the two young people saw only each other and they did not stop until all sixteen verses were sung.

   It was a lengthy practice session that day but a great deal was accomplished. The Husaby priest was good to them all and in a brighter mood than anyone had ever seen him before. He showed kindness to those he wanted to correct, and soon everyone began to gain in confidence, understanding how all the carols should be sung. They now had the opportunity to hear two singers alone, each taking a separate part, but they also sang as a choir with two lead singers, and as a choir with one soprano voice, one second voice, and even a lone third voice, for Arn would insert a third voice wherever he liked in these simple, happy carols.