He had come far in his work by the sixth day, when a lay brother came to interrupt him. He had been sent by Father Henri, who had now summoned him to an urgent meeting, smithy or no smithy.

   Brother Guilbert stopped his work at once and went to the lavatorium to make his appearance worthy of his prior.

   Father Henri was waiting for him in the scriptorium, his second favorite place. It was still the beginning of autumn but the evenings had begun to grow chilly, and Father Henri had never learned to tolerate the Nordic cold. So he chose the scriptorium rather than the stone benches in the arcade by the herb garden.

   "Good evening, my dear Vulcanus," Father Henri greeted the smith jocularly when the washed but still sweating Brother Guilbert bowed his head to enter the doorway intended for much smaller men.

   "Good evening, my dear Father Jupiter, in that case," replied Brother Guilbert in the same tone of voice, sitting down unbidden before the writing desk where Father Henri stood sketching.

   There was a moment of silence while Father Henri finished off a curlicue and then wiped the quill pen and put it aside. Then he cleared his throat in the way that Brother Guilbert and many others at Varnhem or Vitae Schola recognized as a signal that now a rather lengthy explication was to ensue.

   "I'll be hearing our son Arn's confession in a while," Father Henri began with a deep sigh. "And I will give him absolution. At once. He won't be expecting it and he won't like it, because he is very remorseful and filled with thoughts of his sin and, well, everything you can imagine. But you must know, my much beloved brother, that I have truly ransacked my heart over this, and what I've arrived at is not exactly pleasant for you or me. What happened is not Arn's fault, but rather yours and mine. Naturally we have a conflict here. On the one hand there is the secular law, no matter how barbaric it may appear to us when it comes to this part of the world. And on the other hand is God's law. The secular law will not affect Arn, nor will the divine law. For your part and mine it is a more delicate matter, and by this time you must know what I'm getting at. Now be so good as not to say, I told you so!"

   "I did tell you so, father, in all humility," Brother Guilbert was quick to reply. "We should have told him who he was. If he had known who he was when he met those drunken peasants . . ."

   "I know. Then no one would have needed to be hurt!" Father Henri interrupted him with more despair than annoyance in his voice. "Regardless, we did what we did, and now we have to think about what comes next. For my part I have to start with the task of persuading Arn to understand that he is forgiven before God's law, and I don't think it will be easy. So help me God, I truly love that boy! When he rode away from us to set out for his father's estate he was that rare individual: a human being without sin . . ."

   "A Parsifal," muttered Brother Guilbert pensively. "In truth a young Parsifal."

   "A what? Oh yes, that. All right, let it go," muttered Father Henri in reply, his train of thought disturbed. He paused for a moment before he went on.

   "Now, Brother Guilbert, I command you as prior to do this: When Arn comes to see you after I talk to him, you must tell him who he is in all the aspects that I could not explain. Do you know what I mean?"

   "Certainly I know what you mean, father, and I shall obey your command to the letter," replied Brother Guilbert with great earnestness.

   Father Henri nodded, silently thinking. Then he got up and left with a wave of goodbye. Brother Guilbert sat there for a long time, praying sincerely for the strength to shape his words well when he carried out the order he had just been given.

Arn had spent ten days in one of the guest cells at Varnhem. But he had set aside all the things that were given only to guests: the well-packed straw mattress, the red quilts, and the sheepskin. He had taken a vow of silence and lived on bread and water.

   Father Henri found him pale with dark rings under his eyes, and a look that was frozen with grief. It was impossible to tell how the young man was going to speak or behave, whether he was even in his right mind, and whether he would understand what would soon happen to him. Father Henri decided to act solely in accordance with his calling at first, and offer neither consolation nor reprimand.

   "I am now prepared to hear your confession, my son," said Father Henri, sitting down on the hard wooden bed and motioning to Arn to sit beside him.

   "Father, forgive me, for I have sinned," Arn began, but he had to break off to timidly clear his throat, since his ten days of silence had made his voice uncertain. "I have committed the most heinous of sins and have nothing to offer as excuse. I killed two men although I could have merely wounded them instead. I killed two men although I knew that it would be better for my soul if I myself died and met the Lord Jesus without this sin on my back. I am therefore prepared to submit to whatever penance and punishment you impose on me, father. And nothing would seem to me too harsh."

   "Is that all? Nothing else, as long as we're at it?" asked Father Henri in a light tone, regretting at once that he no doubt sounded as if he were mocking the young man's anguish.

   "No . . . that's all . . . I mean, I've had bad thoughts, ill-conceived thoughts, when I tried to place the blame on someone else, but all that is contained in what I have already confessed," said Arn, palpably embarrassed.

   Father Henri felt relieved that Arn was still so lucid that he had control over his speech when responding to such a bewildering question. But now came the momentous part, the grace of God which so often passes human understanding. Father Henri took a deep breath and consulted God one last time before he spoke the two crucial words. Then he waited a moment until he felt that God within him was giving the support that was necessary.

   " Te absolvo, I forgive you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, my son," he said, making the sign of the cross first over Arn and then over himself.

   Arn stared at him as if under a spell, unable to understand what he had heard. Father Henri waited until the meaning of the words had sunk in deep. Then he cleared his throat at great length, this time quite conscious that it was a sign that he would now present his explication.

   "The grace of the Lord is in truth great, but you are now truly free of sin, my son. I have forgiven you as your father confessor and as God's humble servant and with His consent. Let us rejoice over the great thing that has happened, but let us not take it lightly. You shall know that all this time you have spent in solitude consulting with God, I have done the same. And if God may have said something to you that He has not said to me, there may possibly be an intention behind that as well. For we have indeed had to deal with a very difficult matter, the most difficult I have ever encountered as a father confessor. The anguish you have suffered during these days as you offered genuine repentance has been a part of the testing of your soul."