Since ale loosened his thoughts the same way it loosened his tongue, Magnus reeled into the abhorrent idea that Arn had become like a woman among the monks. Such stories were told by the ungodly and those of little faith about the unnamable sins of certain monks.

   With his acuity now somewhat muddied Magnus tried to judge whether the fact that Arn seemed more comfortable among women meant that he had succumbed to that particular abomi nation of the monks, or whether his proclivity for getting along better with women actually indicated the opposite.

   It must mean the abomination, he thought at first. Since such fallen men were just like women and so perhaps felt more comfortable with women.

   It must mean the opposite, he corrected himself. For if a man had fallen into an abomination of a similar type, such as fornicating with heifers, wouldn't he seek out heifers more or less in secret? There were plenty of young thrall boys at Arnäs, but considering how everyone was keeping an eye on the irresolute prodigal son, the slightest attempt to assault one of the thrall boys would have led to a storm of gossip. And that would not have escaped the attention of the lord's family.

   No, he was definitely not a catamite. That would have been the worst shame he could have brought down upon his father's house and his clan. In that case he would have to be killed quickly to restore the honor of the house.

   Magnus shouted angrily to his terrified house thralls to bring out more ale; they obeyed wordlessly and swift as the wind.

   After reflecting on his latest conclusions, when after half a tankard he remembered where he was, Magnus began to weep, overwhelmed by emotion. In truth he had thought much too ill of Arn who was his true son, and who was the apple of his dear Sigrid's eye. What did the Lord God actually mean by all this? First Arn was to be given as a little boy to God; all the signs had spoken so clearly that there could be no doubt. And if Arn had remained a man of God for the rest of his life all would have been well, for Magnus certainly was not among those who denied all the good that the monks had accomplished in Western Götaland. On the contrary, he admitted to all and sundry that much of what had made Arnäs a better farm than others was due largely to the monks' knowledge.

   But now Arn, instead of doing God's good work among the monks, had been released to what had once been his home, and he came as half a man and half a monk. What could be the meaning of that? Those who said that the ways of the Lord were often inscrutable had indeed good reason for saying so.

   But even worse perhaps was that the boy persisted in working like a thrall. Only a few days after Arn had returned to Arnäs, he began busily digging, building walls, and hammering everywhere. It hadn't helped matters when Magnus carefully explained to his son that he didn't need to toil that way, since he could use thralls to perform such tasks, and there were plenty of them idle this time of year. Then Arn had merely increased his activity as he ran from one job to the next. It was hard to know what would come of all this, but it would have been unwise for Magnus to stop it before he knew more.

   One thing, however, had won the admiration of all the men, even the most scornful retainers. Arn had examined all the estate's horses, and he had forged a new type of horseshoe with a nail that stuck up from the forward edge of the hoof and prevented the shoe from falling off. These horseshoes were certainly an improvement over the old ones. Magnus had asked both his retainers and the smithy thralls, and they all agreed.

   It was a good thing, because anything that was made better at Arnäs was considered a good thing, and that was the opinion of Magnus as well as Eskil. But what was embarrassing was that his lawful son should be working in the filth and smoke as if he were a thrall, and was not in the least ashamed of it. On the contrary, when Arn said grace at table, which he now did in normal language, he always thanked God for the day's blessed work.

   Eskil had been less of two minds about all of this than his father, saying that knowledge must never be disdained. And the manual skills, which his brother Arn had learned so well from the monks, were something that could be taught to others. If Arn taught the thralls, they would eventually be able to take over the work themselves. But first they would have to be properly trained, and the only one who could do that was Arn. It was wrong to scorn such work if it moved the estate forward. Advances were to the advantage of everyone.

   Perhaps it was so, Magnus consoled himself, that Arn had brought so many new techniques from the monks that Arnäs would be made stronger and richer. Although it was crucial to ensure that the thralls were taught quickly, so that Arn wouldn't have to go about disgracing his clan by continuing to sweat like a thrall.

   Something even better, thought Magnus, now that the ale had made him sentimental, was that Arn had become reconciled with his stepmother Erika Joarsdotter. Magnus didn't know exactly what Arn and his wife Erika did out in the cookhouses, since he never set foot inside, but Erika seemed very pleased and happy about what had evidently taken place. Besides, it was good for Erika that someone in the family treated her well. Eskil had always had a hard time enduring his stepmother, and although Magnus had got her with child several times, since such was expected of him, it was not until the third pregnancy that she had given birth to a son. That son was not going to end up with any monks, by God. He would be taught by the retainers from childhood on, Magnus had decided.

   Erika had a deformity that everyone noticed. She was lovely to look at, but as soon as she opened her mouth anyone could hear that she spoke with a cleft palate, and the sound of her words came more from her nose than her mouth. Less polite people might then burst out laughing, which had caused Erika never to speak when strange men were present. She was equally timid whenever there was a feast and she had to ensure that the guests' women enjoyed the celebration. Magnus had a hard time talking to his wife, and he often thought back to Sigrid, who was the person he had felt closest to of anyone. But he could say this only to himself or to God.

   However, it was not to be ignored that Erika was the niece of a king, that she had royal blood, and that the two daughters and one son to whom she had given birth also had royal blood, and from two separate lineages at that.

An angel had come to Arnäs. Everything he touched instantly became better or more beautiful, and he was the only man Erika Joarsdotter had ever met who spoke to her as if she had the wit of everyone else. He never let on that he found her speech muddled; instead he excused his confusion by saying that he had not yet regained his childhood language, since he had spoken mostly with Danes when he was growing up. And unlike his older brother Eskil, he never gave any sign that Erika was like a stranger who had replaced the boys' mother.