So all were in a very good mood when they stopped for supper. Now that Arn and Cecilia had a chance to talk to each other, they fell into lively conversation about where they each had learned to sing. Soon they were both talking at once about Gudhem convent and Vitae Schola and Varnhem. With eyes only for each other they came out onto the church steps where Cecilia's two retainers waited with her cloak and horse. Without staying for the evening meal, they were to accompany her home to Husaby manor for the night, as her father Algot had strictly prescribed.

   One of the retainers took a couple of angry steps toward the singer boy, who was walking much too close to the maiden whose virtue he'd been sent to protect. But the second retainer, who had been at Axevalla landsting, took the man by the arm in warning, then pushed past and courteously greeted Herr Arn of Arnäs.

   That was when Cecilia Algotsdotter came to an abrupt halt in all her happy chatter about singing at the convent, for she thought she must have heard wrong. This fair youth with the kind eyes could simply not be the man that everyone was talking about over every tankard of ale throughout Western Götaland.

   "What is your name, cloister singer?" she asked with doubt in her voice.

   "I am Arn Magnusson of Arnäs," Arn replied quickly and realized in the same instant that for the first time in his life he had said his name as it was. "And who might you be?" he added, with his gaze lingering on hers.

   "I am Cecilia Algotsdotter of Husaby," she replied shyly, thereby making the same impression upon Arn as he had done upon her when he said his name. Both now understood that it truly was the Lord who had brought them together, just as they both had felt so strongly during the hot, intertwining encounter of their singing voices inside the church.

The early Christmas mass at Husaby church in the year of Grace

1166 would live on in everyone's memory. More beautiful praisesongs to the Lord had never been heard there before, on that everyone could agree. And during this mass it was as though not a single person succumbed to the weariness that usually came over everyone sooner or later from standing so long on the stone floor.

   It seemed as though God were speaking even through what they all saw. The young Folkung in his blue mantle and with his blond hair stood beside the red-haired Pålsdotter in her green clan color. And when they sang together with such great joy and power, everyone could see what the Lord intended with these two. If their fathers, who were both present, didn't see it, there would be many at the coming feast at Husaby willing to speak to them about it. They all knew that there was neither silver nor business standing in the way, just as everyone knew that Algot Pålsson was in dire straits. It was as though Christ the Lord were speaking to the assembled congregation when he allowed the heavenly voices of the two young people to spread the joyful message of Christmas: that love is what redeems, love is the power that stands against evil, and love as they now saw and heard it at this Christmas mass was strong and clear.

   Certainly Algot Pålsson had seen just as clearly what all the others who stood further back in the church could see. As the king's steward at the royal manor, he stood among the foremost parishioners, next to Judge Karle Eskilsson and Herr Magnus. And what he saw and what everyone else saw certainly did kindle a hope within him. But he knew from much experience that it was not easy to do business with Herr Magnus and his son Eskil. As things now stood, people were talking a great deal about the second son Arn, who was a close friend of Knut Eriksson, about whom it was whispered that he would be the country's next king. So what now looked like a clearly burning hope could turn to ashes as soon as business needed to be transacted. Perhaps the residents of Arnäs had big plans for a much finer match, perhaps they wanted to bind the Erik clan and the Folkungs even closer, perhaps they had thoughts of yet another Norwegian king's daughter. The fact that Cecilia and Arn had dreams that flew high and sang like birds for all to see and hear might not mean a thing when it came to negotiating a proper betrothal.

   Algot Pålsson was thus cast between hope and despair as he pondered these possibilities. He also feared the feast, because it would be like burning all his ships on the beach behind him as their forefathers had done in the sagas when no return was possible. For Algot there was now no turning back.

   Algot's obligation as steward of the royal estate was to see to it that the king could arrive whenever he liked, with as large a retinue as he wished, to be regaled for as long as he desired. A royal manor had to be ready at any moment to handle a large feast.

   If the king himself, Karl Sverkersson, had sent outriders and announced that he and his retinue would be coming to the early Christmas mass in Husaby, as he and other kings had done many times before, everything would have been as it should be. But it also would have been unwise, considering what had happened to the king's father Sverker the Old on the road to the Christmas festivities. And right now Western Götaland was not safe ground for the men of the Sverker clan.

   Instead a message had arrived that the Folkungs, with the judge and the men of Arnäs in the vanguard and many retainers, would be celebrating Christmas at Husaby as if the rights of the king were their own. To refuse would have been difficult, especially if Algot gave the only true reason, that this royal estate belonged to Karl Sverkersson and not to the Folkungs. Saying what was true and right would have been a death sentence.

   But to say yes, as Algot Pålsson had done, might also be the same as death. Now it was winter and there was much snow, so no royal army would be coming before spring, and perhaps not even then. But if a royal army did come and proved victorious, it would not be easy to explain that the conquered enemy had eaten the king out of house and home at his own royal manor. The only thing Algot Pålsson had left to hope for was that the Folkungs and their kinsmen would be victorious in the spring. Otherwise he probably did not have long to live. He hadn't said a word to his daughter Cecilia about this quandary, and he had no idea whether in that girl's head of hers she would even comprehend what had happened.

   But it was a very good feast. Of course, Algot Pålsson did at first feel squeezed tight between the shields when he sat with Judge Karle next to him in the high seat and the three foremost Folkungs from Arnäs seated in the places that followed in rank. It was not that difficult to see what they all thought about boldly eating the king's food as if it were their own. They showed no compunction in joking about the matter, every so often drinking a skål to the king, and each time laughing louder.

   Cecilia and Arn had no opportunity to be alone at this feast. They could speak to each other with their eyes, for they sat only a few paces from each other. But this method of talking was the least discreet, since what they said was as clear to the eyes of everyone as bells tolling in the great hall.