Magnus was doubly glad at this request, for now he could avoid the whole embarrassing explanation about the Norwegian kinsmen and their swords and halberds after the ale. Besides, this was the first time that Arn had shown any interest in learning something that was part of the chivalrous life. A good hunter enjoyed great respect, even if he was a thrall.

   But Magnus had little hope that Arn, who for better or worse was still a half monk, would be able to learn anything about the challenging but manly art of the hunt.

   Svarte shared this view, but he was obliged to obey. When he heard that he would have to take along the other half-man of a son, he knew at once how things would go. Once, two years before, he had been forced to do the same with the lord's eldest son, Eskil, who at least had not yet grown as round as a cask of ale. Yet he was intolerable trouble, and because of him the hunt brought in almost nothing. It was not easy to take along the master's son, who had to decide about everything but understood nothing.

   But Svarte was less sure of this second son Arn than he was of Herr Eskil, who was at least very like his father. The other thralls had talked a lot about Arn, describing him in several ways as a competent man who could do all the things that the rest of the master's family could not do, and he had a kind nature besides. He had never raised his hand to anyone, had never ordered anyone whipped, and had not even spoken in harsh words.

   Svarte sensed that this peculiarity had more to do with the odd religion of the master's family than with what the retainers and others gossiped about. For the family's belief in the gods was incomprehensible in many respects. Their gods were so numerous that no one could keep them straight, and they were always chastising people even when they hadn't done anything special; as though the punishments were mostly for what people thought. As if the gods could hear what a person was thinking!

   As far as this Arn was concerned, Svarte remembered quite well the day the boy went up in the high tower after a jackdaw and fell. The boy lost his breath for a while before he revived, but by then the master's family had prayed and pleaded to their gods and promised everything possible or impossible. The whole episode ended with their sending away the boy as punishment for themselves, or was it punishment for the boy? It was hard to know which it was, since one solution was just as difficult to understand as the other.

   But now the punishment was apparently over, and he had come home; although he was no longer like any of the others. Svarte, who was reckoned the best smith at Arnäs, had watched Arn in the smithy and he reluctantly had to admit that there wasn't much he could teach the boy about hammer and anvil. If he were to be quite truthful, the opposite was more likely, which was embarrassing enough and not easy to swallow.

   When they were about to set off, several things happened that set Svarte to thinking. Since they had a master's son with them they were allowed to go to the tower chamber and select freely from the cache of weapons. When Svarte saw how Arn picked up the bows and tested drawing them, handling even the strongest of them with no visible sign of effort, he knew that this master's boy had surely held more than one bow. Arn also unerringly chose correctly from the arrows once he decided which bow he wanted to take with him. Svarte had very dubious notions about what white Christian people did in their cloisters. The fact that they obviously practiced archery did not jibe at all with the scornful jests that he and the other thralls made about the matter.

   After they had loaded their packhorses and brought out their mounts for saddling, Kol cautiously tried to tell Arn that as the son of Arnäs he could take whatever horse he liked, and there were many better ones to choose from than that monk horse, which didn't look like much. Then Arn laughed, though not maliciously, and said that as soon as they had ridden a bit on the open field he would show them that this was no ordinary horse.

   Svarte was no more of a horseman than anyone else, nor was he any worse. He shoed all the horses at Arnäs, nowadays with the new horseshoes that were indeed better than the ones they had used before. He rode like all the others who had anything to do with horses, free men or thralls, peasants or retainers. But he couldn't ride like Arn, he had to admit that at once. When they were some distance from Arnäs, Arn did things that no other rider could do on horseback; Svarte and his son Kol agreed on that. The horse may not have looked like much when it was standing still, but when it ran so hard and so fast with Arn at the reins it was just as they had imagined Odin's steed would look.

   They didn't have an easy time making themselves understood and often had to ask questions that made them feel embarrassed, so little was said for the first few hours.

   As soon as they got up into the oak forests on Kinnekulle above Husaby, Arn showed himself to be just as wretched a hunter as his brother. But what clearly differentiated him from Herr Eskil was that he realized when he had made a mistake, apologized, and then asked many questions about the correct way to proceed.

   This happened when for the first time they got very close to some deer taking their rest in a clearing. There was a strong wind, so they approached from downwind. Since there had been little rain, the fall leaves rattled in the wind, disturbing the stags' hearing so that the men could probably get within range even though it was broad daylight. Svarte and Kol had seen the animals well before Arn suddenly noticed them, announcing eagerly that he saw several deer up ahead. Since the deer surely heard what Arn had to say as well as Svarte and Kol did, and immediately understood what was going on, they jumped up and bounded off.

   Around the campfire that evening Arn asked many childish questions, which Svarte and Kol answered patiently without revealing what they thought of such questions. Yes, he always had to approach from downwind, otherwise deer and boars, and all other animals for that matter, would know that he was coming. Yes, game could hear a person at a distance of an arrow-shot if it was quiet with little wind, otherwise from half an arrowshot. No, he shouldn't shoot the ones with horns, they tasted the worst and especially this time of year when they'd just been in rut. Yes, rut was the time when the stags mounted the does and then the stags' meat smelled strongly of their piss. It was the same thing with boars; you shouldn't shoot the big ones but rather those of medium size. It would be good if he could shoot a sow with many small piglets following her, because when she lay down to die all the little ones would gather around her. And if he had luck and the gods' support he could shoot all the piglets one by one, and they tasted the best.

   As the thralls sat there by the campfire, politely answering the ignorant questions of their master's son, a loud bellow was heard from the oak forest nearby. Arn jumped up in terror and grabbed his bow and quiver. He peered quizzically at Svarte and Kol, who sat quite still by the fire, smiling. When Arn saw that the others were not afraid, he sat back down but looked quite bewildered.