But during the singing in the church he still felt himself led astray into sin even though he sang with Cecilia as ecstatically as at Christmas. In lines of text when the words spoke of love for Our Lady he looked Cecilia in the eyes and meant every word for her, and in her voice when she replied he felt that she was singing in the same way and meant the same as he did.

   Without realizing that he was thereby trampling on Algot Pålsson's self-respect, he invited himself to stay a few days at the Husaby royal manor so that he and Cecilia could practice new songs before the next mass. Arn had sensed, without knowing the reason for it, that Algot Pålsson was not a man to refuse any request that came from a son of Arnäs. So little needed to be said about the matter, before everything was arranged as Arn had requested.

   But after that a conflict broke out between the two young people on the one hand, and everyone who wanted to or was required to watch over them on the other. They tried to use all their cunning to find a chance to speak together in private. Algot and the older women in the house saw this and in turn used all their cunning to watch them at every moment. As long as they sat demurely in the hall with other people close by and sang the Lord's praises in one song more beautiful than the last, no one had any objections. Both Arn and Cecilia had a great tolerance for sitting together and singing, but it was no greater than other people's tenacity in watching them. And a careful vigil was kept that they did not sit too close. At supper the two young people sat in the high seat, but with Algot as a mighty breakwater between them, and they couldn't come near each other except when Cecilia politely poured more ale for Arn, which caused him some torment because he had vowed never again in his life to drink as much ale as he had at the first feast in Husaby.

   Just before Annunciation Day, Priest Sune in Husaby had attended a collegium with Bishop Bengt in Skara. Despite the terrible condition of the roads at this time of year, many more clergymen from the diocese had gathered than expected, a sign of the great unrest that had spread on the winds of gossip in all of Western Götaland after the landsting at Axevalla. Everyone knew that King Karl Sverkersson would not be content after having lost all power in Western Götaland, just as everyone knew that Knut Eriksson was the foremost contender to oppose the king and take his crown from him. If the worst happened, King Karl would come with an army to Western Götaland, and it was not easy to say who would win that battle. The only certainty was that such a war would severely ravage the land.

   The question that the collegium with Bishop Bengt had to resolve was whether the church should speak for one or the other in this struggle for earthly power. The clergymen were equally divided between those who supported King Karl, including the bishop himself, and those who preferred Knut Eriksson. But most thought that the only wise position for the church to take would be not to get involved in this struggle. For if the church interjected itself in such a game, much grief could come from it.

   But there were also other matters to discuss when the clergymen of the diocese had gathered. The cathedral dean had recounted for those who wanted to listen, and also for those who no longer wished to hear, how he had been an eyewitness to a miracle when a little defenseless monk boy from Varnhem, with the help of the archangel Gabriel, smote two warriors to the ground.

   Since Priest Sune now sat at the supper table in the Husaby royal manor and saw Arn seated there too, he was reminded of this story of the miracle and recounted the tale as he had heard it. Everyone listened with eager attention except Arn, who did not seem to like what he heard. The priest was then struck by a thought that Arn perhaps knew more about this event; he came from Varnhem, after all. Perhaps he even knew the monk boy involved. So the priest asked Arn if he was familiar with the story.

   Everyone could see that Arn found the question awkward, but they could not understand why. It was hard to believe that Arn might feel envy toward one of the other monk boys.

   Arn was slow to reply since he felt himself trapped, but unlike other people, he could not resort to lies. So he told the truth, pointing out that the cathedral dean's version of the story was all wrong. There was no question of a miracle, nor was the little monk boy defenseless, since Arn himself was the person in question. What happened was that drunken peasants had come running from a wedding ale and absurdly accused him of being a bride-robber, despite the fact that he had been outside the cloister walls for only a few hours. They had sought to kill him, but so that the killing would seem more honorable, they had given him a sword to defend himself.

   At this point in his explanation Arn had to pause and think about how to continue. He would have preferred to avoid it altogether, as he thought he had already said what needed to be said, and as he was not the least bit proud of what he had done, but instead felt great remorse. Yet he had learned enough about how people thought out in the base world that he assumed they might find him boastful. The one who was bragging was actually the cathedral dean, who in his pride thought he had witnessed a miracle of the Lord, when it was merely an accident, but that too was difficult to assert without speaking ill of the dean.

   In the intolerable silence that followed, Cecilia asked that he continue. He looked up and met her gaze, and it was as if the Virgin Mary spoke to him and told him how to couch his words to fashion a good story.

   He passed quickly over the painful part. Drunken peasants had by mistake set out to kill someone they thought was a defenseless monk boy, although it was Arn, who had been trained in the art of the sword by a Templar knight of the Lord. So the fight was brief. It was no miracle, just as it was no miracle at the Axevalla ting.

   And yet there was a miracle in this story, a miracle of love.

For in the subsequent events that the dean had not witnessed or failed to understand—the union of Gunvor and Gunnar—one could truly see the Virgin Mary's ineffable goodness and Her care for those who set their trust in Her. Arn blushed a bit at his audacious words regarding the dean, but no one in the hall scolded him or frowned.

   Having come this far in his account, Arn then recited the verses from the Holy Scriptures about victorious eternal love, which he knew so well that he could recall them at any time. With this he made a great impression on everyone at the table and especially on Cecilia, just as he had hoped.

   The priest from Husaby had turned thoughtful and attested that the words Arn had recited were all truly God's word. He added that love truly could accomplish miracles; the Holy Scriptures had many examples of this. It was assuredly no simple matter to understand, since most people who lived in the society of Western Götaland were forced to celebrate the wedding ale for entirely different reasons than those granted to Gunvor and Gunnar. But Arn had told this story with good ecclesiastical understanding, and for that reason the priest of Husaby was in agreement with him. Our Lady had truly demonstrated a miracle of love and faith and not a miracle of the sword or violence. From this there was certainly something to be learned.