When they lay down, sated and full, by the fire and wrapped their cloaks tighter around them for the night, Svarte ventured to ask whether it was in the cloister of the White Christ that Arn had learned to shoot with bow and arrow in that way. Arn, who had by now realized that he had shot well, explained that it was not at all normal for monks to shoot with a bow and arrow, but that he had been especially fortunate to have a very skilled teacher. Svarte and Kol laughed loudly at this, and Kol said that they would very much like to meet this teacher. But when Arn replied in a jesting tone that such might indeed be arranged as long as Kol and Svarte agreed to be baptized, their faces clouded over and they stared silently into the fire.
As if to gloss over his offensive joke, Arn said that whatever they thought about the cloister of the White Christ, it was still a world where there were no thralls, a world where each man had the same value as every other man. But he received only silence in reply. Yet he didn't want to drop the subject, so he asked in words as clear and simple as he could muster why Svarte and Kol were still thralls as they had been ever since Arn was a little boy. Many others had been given their freedom, so why not Svarte and his family?
Svarte, who now had to reply no matter how unwilling he felt, reluctantly explained that whether a thrall could be set free or not depended on what each person had accomplished. The thralls who worked the land were more often set free than those who worked in masonry or as hunters. Those who tilled the earth were put to work breaking new ground for Arnäs and were given their freedom in lieu of a leasehold. But hunting for pelts in the winter and for meat in the autumn provided game directly to the households of Arnäs. A thrall engaged in such activities could not become a free man, since he did not work for the main estate itself. And the same applied to all masonry work, and smithing too for that matter. Feeling that he may have gone too far and spoken too boldly, Svarte now added that he wasn't complaining; many of the carpenters were in the same situation.
Arn pondered a moment as the others waited quietly, and then he said that he found this system unfair since, if he understood it right, ermine and marten pelts brought in much silver, probably as much as barley, turnips, and wheat. Kol laughed almost scornfully at this, and when Arn asked him why, Kol said with mirth in his voice that it was probably hard to find a way to make thralldom fair. Svarte kicked him in the leg under the skin rug to make him shut his trap.
But Arn was not the least bit angry at Kol's boldness. On the contrary, he nodded to himself and then offered an apology for having such ill-conceived thoughts; Kol was absolutely right. But he himself would never, could never, own another man as a thrall.
Since Svarte and Kol had not a single word to say about this matter, their conversation died out. Arn said evening prayers for all of them, wrapped himself in his cloak and skins in a way that showed he had slept outside before, and lay down to sleep. He then pretended not to listen as the other two lay whispering to each other.
But Kol and Svarte had a hard time falling asleep. They lay close together for the sake of warmth as they were used to doing, but for a long time they wondered about this master's son and his peculiar gods.
They got up early because of the night frost, well before dawn, and made a breakfast of the soup that Kol had begun to prepare the previous evening. It had been sitting on the fire all night. Svarte and Kol had taken turns putting on more wood and adding water to the pot. Along with the soup made from onions and the yearling's flanks, they ate coarse brown bread, and soon the warmth returned to their bodies.
It was a beautiful morning, and when they rode with their heavy loads down the slopes of Kinnekulle through the sparse oak forest, all the lands of Arnäs lay spread out at their feet. They rode into the rising sun that colored Lake Vänern first in silver and then in gold, and Arn took deep happy breaths of the bracing air. In the distance he saw a reflection from the steeple of Forshem church, and then he could search in the right direction for Arnäs, though he couldn't see it yet.
The slopes of the mountain were mostly covered with dense oak forest and beech woods, but below the mountain great plowed fields spread out, now lying black and silvered with frost. Arn had never thought the world could be this beautiful; God must have created these particular oak slopes and fields in a very propitious moment. He began to sing with joy but saw out of the corner of his eye that his singing seemed to scare Svarte and Kol, so he soon stopped. He pondered whether to ask them what they didn't like about his song, whether it was the White Christ's magic that frightened them or something else. But he changed his mind because he decided that he had to proceed very slowly in his talk with these two who were so much thralls in their minds that freedom seemed to alarm them more than it tempted them.
During their journey the sun climbing in the sky soon melted the frost on the ground and took away the hard sound of the horses' iron shoes. The vast inland sea of Lake Vänern had shifted to a blue color, but they had now come so far down the mountain that they soon would see no more of the sea until they reached home.
They arrived at Arnäs around noon and were greeted with glad shouts that after such a brief hunting trip they could ride in with three deer. The house thralls were happy that Arn was the one who had shot the deer, and they raised their tools or whatever they had in hand and beat them together over their heads, emitting trilling sounds with their tongues. That was the sound the thralls made in welcome and jubilation. Arn couldn't help feeling some pride at this reception, but he instantly said a prayer to Saint Bernard to keep watch over him and warn him of the terrible sin of pride.
They flayed and carved up the deer and carried the skins to the tannery. But now they were no longer out on the hunt, where Arn was a novice. Just as Svarte and Kol could teach him about blood traces and crackling footsteps in the frost, he could teach them how meat should be smoked or hung, and so he now found it natural to make all the decisions.
Algot Pålsson at Husaby owned many farms and woods, but in his own estimation only two treasures. They were his two daughters Katarina and Cecilia, who had now left their childhood behind and were blossoming like two delightful flowers. They were both the light of his eyes, he often said aloud. But since they also displayed clear signs of untamed mind and flirtatious behavior, especially Katarina, who was the older of the two, they were also his greatest worry. But he said nothing of this out loud.
When Katarina was twelve years old he had almost married her off to Magnus Folkesson at Arnäs, and that would have been a great happiness, just as good as a royal marriage. Or even better than royalty, considering how his fields and farms were surrounded by property belonging to either the Folkung or the Erik clan. To be sure, he was King Karl Sverkersson's steward at Husaby itself, which was a royal farm. It was honorable to tend such a place, but being associated so closely with King Karl Sverkersson was not without risks in Western Götaland, for as strong as the Sverker clan was in Eastern Götaland, it was equally weak in Western Götaland. On the day that King Karl was killed by one of the others, as kings usually ended their days, it would not be easy to be living at Husaby as his man.