Many of the brothers had difficulty observing the discipline and dignity that such a homecoming demanded, although they first had to celebrate mass to mark Father Henri's return. And it was always longer than usual because the choir had learned some new songs, or old songs were presented in new voicings for this occasion, with prayers of thanksgiving for the father's return. Arn, who still retained his lovely soprano voice, had a particularly difficult time at such masses.

   But afterward the brothers would stream out of the church chattering happily like small boys in anticipation of the ceremonies, led by Father Henri, which would begin as they unpacked the heaps of baggage. Father Henri read through his list, checking off each item and distributing God's gifts. Some brothers then went off whispering and giggling with glee with a longawaited volume in their hands, while others praised the Lord with more dignity. The same was true of those who received new items for the garden or the kitchen.

   But this time Brother Guilbert slipped away with Arn, taking him by the arm to show him the finest gift of all, though none of the other monks had any understanding of such matters: the new horses.

   When they reached the pasture Arn tried hard to understand what was making the otherwise restrained Brother Guilbert so visibly excited. To Arn's eye these horses did indeed differ a great deal from ordinary horses. They were leaner and livelier, they moved all the time as if they were nervous at being cooped up, they ran back and forth with catlike soft movements with their tails held high. Their faces looked a little wider and more triangular than those of Nordic horses, and their eyes were very big and intelligent. Their color was different. One of the mares was reddish-brown like many other horses, but had a big gray spot down her left shoulder, while her half-grown foal was almost white with gray shading. The stallion and the other mare were dapple gray in color.

   More than this Arn was unable to judge, even though he had worked a long time in the second most important of Brother Guilbert's workshops, the horseshoe smithy. Arn could shoe a horse so that neither Brother Guilbert nor any of the lay brothers had to redo his work.

   Brother Guilbert stood silently leaning over the fence of the enclosure with tears in his eyes as he looked at the horses, as if he were far away in his thoughts. Arn waited expectantly.

   To the boy's surprise, Brother Guilbert suddenly began talking to the stallion in a language Arn had never heard before; he didn't understand a word of it. But the stallion seemed to pay attention at once. He stopped and pricked up his ears toward Brother Guilbert, and after a brief hesitation calmly approached him. Brother Guilbert then rubbed his face against the horse's muzzle in an unbecoming way and again spoke the strange language.

   "Come, my boy, we're going to go riding, you and I. You can take the colt," said Brother Guilbert, swinging in under the fence and pulling Arn with him.

   "But the colt . . . that won't work, will it? He isn't broken yet, is he?" Arn objected with obvious hesitation in his voice.

   "Come here and I'll show you, it's not necessary!" said Brother Guilbert, calling the little colt, who came trotting over.

   What happened then seemed to Arn like a miracle. Brother Guilbert stroked the colt over his muzzle and cheeks and neck, again speaking the foreign language, which the horses seemed to understand better than French or Latin. After a moment he simply lifted Arn up with one arm like a mitten so that Arn ended up astride the horse. The boy automatically grabbed hold of the colt's mane so he could hold on tight when the bucking started; he had helped break horses before, but never from the very first day.

   The next moment Brother Guilbert swung himself up onto the stallion in one fluid movement; he seemed to fly up, and the stallion instantly set off on a wild gallop around the pasture. There sat Brother Guilbert bareback, holding lightly onto the stallion's mane with one hand, leaning daringly into the sharpest curves, yelling one thing after another to the horse in that odd language.

   Arn's young colt was soon infected by the glee and began running around too, although at a jerky, more infantile gait. But soon the two of them were galloping faster and faster. In his delight Arn began mimicking Brother Guilbert's foreign language, as if intoxicated by the speed and the wind.

   With a little shame Arn felt that he was now experiencing true and pure joy, and this was something he should not forget to bring up with Father Henri at his next confession. It was as if the horse's life and power were flowing through him, even though the colt was so young and so far from being an accomplished steed. And if he hadn't been broken for riding, which he certainly could not have been since he was so young, and if he had never had a rider on his back, then this in truth was a miracle.

   "You see, my young chevalier, the horse is in truth man's best friend," said Brother Guilbert much later, when the nightingales had begun their evening song and it would soon be time for vespers, as they sat in the grass in the garden simply enjoying watching the new horses. "But these new horses are not like others, as you have already seen. They are the most noble, intelligent, fast, and tolerant horses that exist. Praise God for this gift, because they are horses from the Holy Land, Outremer."

   Brother Guilbert was red in the face with excitement, and he was still breathing hard after his wild exhibition of the stallion's great power.

   Arn had already begun to understand what distinguished these horses from others, not only in their appearance and their bearing and movements, but also in how they could be used. Yet he still asked and then received the answer he was expecting.

   These horses were horses of war. What was true of swords was also true of horses: agility, agility, and more agility.

   Since the men up here in the barbaric North had not yet adopted the art of fighting on horseback, Brother Guilbert went on, Nordic men needed strong, slow horses that could carry a heavy load to the battlefield. There the Nordic men would dismount, tether their horses, and then enter the fray on foot. If the Christians had attempted to meet the accursed Saracens in that manner, Jerusalem never would have been liberated.

   But in the rest of the world, men fought on horseback; it was only the barbaric North that had not seized upon that strategy. And that's why Brother Guilbert had a clear, simple idea for using these horses, whose bloodlines he could now spread throughout Denmark. He would introduce the techniques associated with the new horses, and thus bring in a great deal of silver to the cloister. Almost the same way they did so by forging better swords for the men of the North. The one method ought to be as logical and profitable as the other.

   Still sensing the wind in his hair and the speed on the horse, Arn now asked eagerly and without the proper courtesy to be taught the art of fighting on horseback, as the Christians did out in the great civilized world.