Katarina and Mother Rikissa soon got what they both wanted, although they had very different reasons for wishing it to be so. Two weeks later Bishop Bengt announced at the mass in Skara cathedral that Cecilia Algotsdotter and Arn Magnusson had been excommunicated. No clergyman in all of Western Götaland could have anything to do with either of them. The only sanctuary they would be able to seek was within a cloister.

For the second time Arn and Cecilia traveled together to Gudhem cloister, but this time their journey was lamentable. Magnus had sent an escort to accompany them on the road, and all the retainers were strictly enjoined to bear the Folkung colors and pennants. Magnus did not want his son to ride in shame and neglect to his penance and sanctuary.

   They had not much to say to each other on the way, since everything had already been said before. Cecilia had found it difficult to forgive Arn, no matter how many times he explained that he was so drunk on ale when Katarina came to him that he hardly knew what was happening. But Cecilia objected to the fact that he had kept it from her anyway, so that she was unknowingly dragged into a sin that could have been avoided. He feebly tried to defend himself by saying that he hadn't found it easy to tell the one person in the world he loved above all others that he had sinned with her sister. And he hadn't known of the law that declared it an abomination. She believed him on the latter point, although she found it odd that he of all people wouldn't know the Christian law. After they had hashed this over again and again until it was more than enough, they started to think about the road ahead. As Arn understood the situation, it might take a long time before the sin was confessed to Rome and absolved, perhaps a year or even longer. She had a gloomier view of the future.

   When they parted outside the walls of Gudhem he swore before God that he would come back one day to take her out of there. He swore on his sword to convince her even further, though she merely found that childish. But he stubbornly repeated that she had to believe him, and never waiver in that belief. For as long as he breathed he would always look forward to the day when they could be reunited, and he beseeched her not to take the three cloister vows, because such vows could not be taken back. Better to live as a novice, although novices, like lay brothers, had a worse time of it in the cloister than those who took the vows. She nodded silently at his words, tore herself away from him, and ran toward the gate where Mother Rikissa, scornful and stern, awaited her. When the iron-mounted oak gate slammed shut behind Cecilia, Arn felt such great sorrow that he thought he would breathe no more. He fell to his knees and prayed for a long time. In silence the retainers waited patiently some distance away. They too were filled with sorrow for his sake, for the sake of the Folkungs, and for all the joy that had been stolen from them and their Erik kinsmen. They felt hatred toward the Sverker clan because everyone knew that they were behind what had happened.

   Arn rode only a short way together with his men from Arnäs. Then he stopped and changed into the Folkung battle garb, the simple gray homespun garment with a red border that he had worn as his first worldly clothing on that day less than a year ago when he had ridden out from Varnhem. At that time it was expected that he would learn something about the base world. He had indeed learned much in the past year, but right now he found that most of it was evil.

   He decided abruptly that he would ride alone toward Varn hem along the eastern shore of Hornborga Lake and through the forest of the mountain Billingen. The retainers certainly tried to dissuade him from this, for the times were uncertain and no one could know for sure what lurked in the forests. Arn replied coldly that in truth he had no intention of relinquishing his sword and may the Lord preserve any highwaymen or other rabble who attacked him in his present state of mind. With that he wheeled Shimal around and rode off without another word. All the retainers in his escort knew that none of them would be able to follow his stallion at the pace it had set, and they could do nothing but begin the dismal return to Arnäs without the one whose life they had sworn to protect, with their own if necessary.

   Arn rode a long time across fens and bogs where there was no human dwelling. It had already grown dark by the time he reached the slopes of Billingen. He knew that he needed only to continue north and he would soon come upon the fields of Varnhem, where he would either recognize the way or be able to ask directions. But it was risky to ride in the hills at night, and the sky was overcast, with neither moon nor stars lighting his way. He continued on listlessly for as long as he could see where he was steering Shimal, but he soon had to prepare to stop for the night. It was going to be cold, since he had no sheepskins with him and only a thin cloak, but he took this as only the beginning of the tests and the penance that he knew lay before him. He wanted to suffer much, if only it shortened the time of punishment, so that with God's help he would be able to fulfill his holy vow to fetch Cecilia from Gudhem.

   In the dusk he found a little hut where a fire was glowing, and next to it stood a tumbledown stable where a cow lowed restlessly when he approached. He surmised that freed or escaped thralls lived here, but he would rather sleep in their hut than out in the cold woods.

   He boldly entered the hut to ask for shelter for the night. He now feared nothing, since he could imagine nothing worse than what had already befallen him, and he had silver to offer as payment, which was the honorable and Christian thing to do instead of showing his sword as reason enough for his visit.

   Yet he was somewhat shocked by the stooped old woman who sat by the fire stirring a kettle. She spoke in a croaking voice and greeted him not at all politely but with scorn and words that he didn't understand, saying that such as he should fear the dark, while such as she was a friend of the dark.

   Arn answered her calmly and explained that he simply sought shelter for the night so that his horse might not be injured by continuing over the mountain in the dark. He added that he would pay her well for this service. When she didn't answer he went outside and removed the saddle from Shimal and put him in the stable with the lone skinny cow. When he came back to the hut he unbuckled his sword and tossed it on an empty bunk as a sign that this was where he intended to sleep. Then he pulled a little three-legged stool up to the fire and sat down to warm his hands.

   The old woman peered at him suspiciously for a long while before she finally asked if he was someone who had a right to bear a sword, or one who bore a sword anyway. Arn replied that there were various opinions on that matter, but that she in any case had nothing to fear from his sword. As if to calm her he took out the little leather purse Eskil had given him when he left and fished out two silver coins, which he put down next to the fireplace so that they were lit by the glow. She picked up a coin and bit it, which Arn found incomprehensible, as he could not understand how anyone could doubt his word or good intentions. But she seemed satisfied with what her few teeth told her and asked if like all the others he had come here to find out what awaited him in the future. Arn replied that the future lay in God's hands, and no one else could predict it. She laughed so loud at this that she revealed her gaping mouth with only a few blackened teeth. She stirred her pot in silence for a while and then asked whether he would like some of the soup. Arn politely declined. He was already resigned to a long penance on bread and water.