For a time the mood between them was neither light nor dark, and each minded his own business. Neither Magnus nor Eskil bothered to find out what Arn was working on with the thralls and cookhouse at the far southern end of Arnäs, since they seldom went there themselves.
But some things were impossible to avoid noticing. For new sorts of meat were put on the table, and Eskil found most delicious a smoked ham that was not hard and dry and salty like the winter rations. This ham was so deliciously juicy that his mouth watered just thinking about it. And the other thing that was impossible not to notice was how Mistress Erika had changed, how she began speaking loudly and without embarrassment despite her ugly voice, and how she laughed and giggled at the table when she answered questions about the new things she could now present for both dinner and supper.
Eskil was a man in favor of changes, just as he came to un derstand that his mother Sigrid had been as well, more so than his father. Changes that were good created wealth; if they were not good, then a different change was made. That's how it was and would remain at Arnäs; that's why their farm was better and bigger and richer than other people's farms where nothing was ever changed.
For this reason Eskil could soon no longer tolerate remaining uninformed. He told Arn he would like to see what was happening, and Arn immediately expressed how pleased he was, almost elated, and he wanted to jump up in the middle of the meal to show everything to his older brother.
What Eskil saw when they made their rounds caused him to change his fundamental opinion. Arn was in truth not slow at all; he knew exactly what he was doing. Eskil quickly admitted to himself that he had been unwise to judge him so hastily.
When they went down to the thralls' quarters everything looked different because all the garbage had been mucked out, the way the cows' stalls were mucked out in the winter. They could walk around without worrying where they set their feet.
At first Eskil said something in jest that he soon had cause to regret. He remarked that of course things looked better, but perhaps it wasn't much use letting thralls live more like real people.
Then Arn explained quite seriously that the thralls were healthier now that all the uncleanliness was gone, that more of their children would survive, that healthy thralls were naturally much better than sick ones, just as living thralls were better than dead ones. He said that the contagion from sick thralls could also be spread to people, and thus cleanliness was of benefit to all. Then he explained his plans for the two waterways, how one would be kept clean, and how the latrine pits would replace using anywhere for a toilet, and how the shit could then be used as fertilizer and thereby do good instead of spreading disease.
The seriousness with which Arn could speak of such base things as the thralls' shit made a twofold impression on Eskil. On one hand his words seemed funny as if they were a joke; on the other Arn seemed so boldly convincing that it made his head spin. Imagine that such simple measures, which even the thralls themselves could maintain, might really result in great improvements. Much would be gained with little work, and without the expenditure of a single silver mark.
By the time Arn had finished leading him through the cookhouses and the new smokehouse, and explained the concept of the icehouse, Eskil was so taken by these inventions that he had tears in his eyes. For he no longer had any doubt. He was absolutely convinced that his brother, although not a man that dull retainers might respect, had brought a great and blessed knowledge with him from the cloister. And this knowledge would truly allow Arnäs to take great new steps forward. For it was indisputable that everything had actually stood still for many years. Things at Arnäs were better than at other farms, yet there had still been little progress.
Eskil threw his arms around Arn, asking at once for forgiveness for failing to understand that his own brother really was his brother and his equal. Arn then had to console both Eskil and himself, because they showed great emotion. The house thralls who stood nearby stared at them in astonishment.
When Eskil noticed this he straightened up and gave the house thralls a stern look; they immediately slunk off and then Eskil suggested that Arn accompany him to the accounting chamber in the tower and share a tankard or two of ale.
Arn was about to say something about having too much work awaiting him, and that only at the end of the workday should a man enjoy the fruits of what he had accomplished by the sweat of his brow. But he quickly changed his mind when he realized that he shouldn't impose rules from his former life on the time he spent together with his own brother. After all, it was this very acknowledgment that he had been waiting for, including it in so many of his prayers. He had sensed the coolness and apprehension from both his father and his brother, and he had grieved over it. But he had also hoped that they would soon understand what he was doing, and that what he did was good. So it wouldn't be a sin to drink ale with his own brother, even if it was the middle of the afternoon.
Herr Magnus sought an excuse not to take Arn along when he had to travel north to negotiate an inheritance in the clan in Norway. Occasionally it could be difficult enough to take Eskil to visit the Norwegian kinfolk, since Norwegian feasts often devolved into all sorts of swordplay when their strong ale took effect. Anyone who was not quick or dexterous or old enough to say no to young men's games would risk coming to serious injury among the Norsemen.
Despite this danger he wanted to have Eskil with him, because the business deals they had to do were difficult and unusual. Even after a great deal of ale Eskil was quite able to calculate in his head the value of all sorts of goods and say what it corresponded to in silver. The two of them had discussed the matter at length, deciding that it would be wisest to sell the Norwegian inheritance.
While it was a man's honor to retain his inheritance and not let it pass to some other clan, the advantages of owning a farm next to the great fjord were small unless one intended to live there. If they sold the property they would acquire more silver, which could be spent on something better. As things now stood, since Arn had come home, they had to look toward the future when perhaps even he must have something to inherit. So it would be better to buy new property within a safe distance from Arnäs or in a province neighboring to the Erik clan south of Skara. Or why not buy from the Pål clan near Husaby? Each of these possibilities would be safer, at least for Arn's sake, than sending him to the Norsemen who were so quick to the sword.
In the meantime a simple solution had been found to the dilemma of how to tell Arn that he must cancel his journey to Norway without hurting his feelings. It was the time of autumn when Svarte and his thrall-son Kol went out to hunt deer and wild boars. They had already brought home a good amount of game. Arn and Erika had plenty to do in the new smokehouse, since Arn had said that he was sure the wild game would be better smoked than salted and dried. But just before the journey to Norway, and the difficult, imminent conversation between Magnus and Arn about how unwise it would be for an inexperienced son to visit the Norwegians, Arn himself made a request. He wanted to accompany Svarte and Kol on their hunting trips and learn something about hunting.