Then Brother Guilbert replied calmly that naturally he was not praying for something as simple as salvaged goods. He was praying for the souls of these misguided men now that they were about to make themselves unhappy for the rest of their earthly days. At first the man with the battle-axe was surprised, but then he became even angrier, and he spurred his horse forward to aim a mighty blow at Brother Guilbert.

   Arn, who was sitting on Khamsiin only a few yards away, now knew instinctively what Brother Guilbert was going to do, and at least in the first moment Arn was right. The drunken wreckplunderer raised his battle-axe, gripping it with both hands and directing the blow at a downward angle, a blow that would have killed if it struck home. But Brother Guilbert made two almost imperceptible adjustments with his legs that made Nasir move quick as a snake, taking one step to the side and one step back. The man with the battle-axe struck into thin air and was dragged from his saddle by his own momentum, flipping a half turn in the air before he thumped to the ground on his back.

   If this had been an exercise session with Brother Guilbert and Arn had been crawling there on the ground, at the next instant he would have felt Brother Guilbert's foot land on his sword hand, his weapon would have been taken from him, and then he would have been roundly rebuked.

   But now Brother Guilbert sat with his hands clasped before him, holding Nasir's reins in a light grip between his little fingers.

   The humiliated robber crawled to his feet. Swearing, he grabbed his battle-axe again and now attacked on foot, which ended the same way. He ran at Brother Guilbert, aimed a mighty blow, and then found himself again striking at the air. He fell to the ground from his own weight. His fellow criminals couldn't help laughing, which made him even more furious.

   When he gripped his battle-axe a third time Brother Guilbert held up his palm to stop him and explained that no one would prevent the robbery if that was the only reason for the attack. But he wanted to warn the man one last time against repeating his attempts at assault.

   "You have a choice," he explained calmly. "All of you steal what you came here to steal. We neither can nor will stop you by force. But think on this, that then all of you will have sold your souls to the Devil and become criminals who can expect a severe punishment from the king. Or else you can repent and go home. Then we will forgive you and pray for you."

   But the man with the battle-axe didn't want to hear any such talk. Like a fool he repeated that the salvage goods since ancient times had belonged to the people on the coast. The men behind him shook their lances, pitchforks, and a few swords in agitation, and one of them suddenly threw a lance straight at Brother Guilbert.

   It was a heavy, slow lance with an old-fashioned broad-bladed point, so Arn had plenty of time to picture what would happen. Brother Guilbert leaned lightly to the side in his saddle, grabbed the lance in the air, and then pointed it at the mob, as if for a brief instant he considered attacking. Arn saw the robbers' eyes widen and gleam with fear. But then Brother Guilbert quickly turned the lance over his knee and broke it in two as if he were snapping a little twig. Contemptuously he flung the bits to the ground.

   "We are the Lord's servants, we cannot fight with you and you know it!" he shouted. "But if you absolutely want to make yourselves miserable for the rest of your wretched earthly lives, then steal what you want to steal. We can't stop you from such foolishness."

   The mob deliberated for a moment. The man with the battleaxe staggered back to his followers and a vehement argument ensued. Brother Guilbert gathered his brothers and Arn around himself and said that if it came to violence, each of them should save himself by running from this place. There was nothing else to do. Arn was sharply admonished to stay at a safe distance from all the robbers and, should things turn violent, ride home at once to tell everyone what had happened.

   The robbers' problem was that they thought they could certainly steal whatever they wanted from the heavy load. But they wouldn't be able to kill all the witnesses, as they before had killed all the unfortunate seamen who survived a shipwreck to wash ashore, thinking they were saved, only to discover at the last moment of their lives that they had been rescued by wreckplunderers. But here the robbers would never be able to kill the two monks on horseback. They decided to take what they wanted anyway in the hope that, since no one was killed, no royal revenge would befall them just because there was a little less weight in the fat monks' heavily loaded wagons.

   That's how the matter was settled. The robbers took what they could carry and anything that seemed valuable, while the monks stood back and prayed for their lost souls. When the robbers had finished plundering the wagons and, loudly bellowing, left the scene, the monks repacked their loads and continued home to Vitae Schola.

   When they arrived, Father Henri wrote a letter of complaint to King Valdemar, whose royal command had been flouted. Shortly thereafter soldiers were sent out to arrest the guilty parties, which proved a simple matter. Most of the goods that were stolen were returned to Vitae Schola with the soldiers. The robbers were all hanged.

   The event had made a big impression on Arn, giving him much to think about. He felt sorry for the robbers, who were affected with the deadly sin of greed, which had led them so rapidly into perdition where they were now suffering eternal torment. He could understand that they felt their rights had been subverted. It was true that plundering shipwrecks had been their ancient right as coastal dwellers, and it must feel wrong for for eign monks to take that income away. And besides, the men had been drunk. Even though Arn didn't know much about intoxication, a couple of brothers sometimes drank too much wine, hence proving quiet clearly that where wine went in, wits went out. Afterwards they had to do penance for months on bread and water. So Arn thought he grasped that a person who was drunk didn't really fully understand his responsibilities.

   But Arn could not comprehend why Brother Guilbert had acted the way he did. The men who attacked them were fishermen, after all, who knew nothing about the weapons they were holding in their hands; at least that's what Arn believed. Brother Guilbert could have taken their weapons from them and sent them fleeing. Then the theft would never have taken place, and the royal soldiers wouldn't have had to track the men down and hang them. Didn't love for one's fellow man mean trying to ameliorate his stupidity if one could?

   Arn had hesitated to discuss the matter with Brother Guilbert. Since the monk had acted as he did and had not saved the lost men from their own stupidity, he must be convinced that he had done the right thing.

   But Arn did take up the problem with Father Henri, admitting that he was still praying for the souls of the hanged robbers.

   Father Henri had no objection to Arn praying for the souls of those wretches. He viewed such a response as a demonstration of the boy's strong empathy with the example set by Jesus Christ for the way life should be lived on earth. He saw only good in it.