But Emund Ulvbane valued his honor higher than yielding to some puppy, and he had been in battle so many times that he was well aware that even hopeless defeats could suddenly turn without any miracle involved. But as he continued to fight he grew more cautious and began to move so as to save his strength.

   At first Arn was somewhat confused by this and realized that now he could not win by causing Emund to surrender. That would have been the sensible thing to do when Emund noticed that his blows never hit home, and he should have begun to realize that Arn could strike him whenever he pleased. Arn felt that he had to think very clearly and not be affected by pride, no matter how defenseless Emund seemed. With great resolve he laid his shield on the ground to tempt Emund into new wild attacks that would sap him of all his strength.

   A murmur of dismay spread across the battlefield when everyone saw that Arn had laid down his shield and shifted his sword to the wrong hand, for now Emund's chance to strike with one of his mortal blows was twice as great as before. And Emund took the bait. Reinvigorated, he attacked in both desperation and rage. Arn, who was now circling constantly in the wrong direction to Emund, had more opportunities to strike at his adversary's head or neck. Many saw this, though no one understood why he held back.

   But Arn had a special plan. He had his eyes fixed not on Emund's head or neck but on his right wrist, where the Nordic chain mail offered no protection. The longer he circled around Emund, the more often that weak spot appeared, but he waited until he saw it openly displayed. Then he struck for the first time with all his might.

   A gasp of horror passed through the thousand men gathered there when they saw Emund's great sword fly through the air with his right hand still gripping the hilt.

   Emund dropped silently to his knees, tossed away his shield, and grabbed his severed wrist with his left hand to stanch the spurting blood.

   Arn went up to him and pointed his sword at his throat, and everyone waited in abrupt silence for the mortal blow that was Arn's legal right.

   Instead Arn picked up Emund's red shield with the black griffin head, turned his back to Emund, and picked up his own shield. Then he walked over to his father and handed him Emund's shield.

   Some of the men who served Boleslav, the king's brother, hurried to Emund and carried him quickly out of sight.

   With tears of pride and relief Magnus Folkesson triumphantly raised the conquered red shield to the sky, and the Folkungs drew their swords and beat on their shields so that a great battle noise erupted.

   No man who was there would ever forget that day. And those who were not there would hear so many tell about it that they might as well have been present too.

Chapter 10

Like a stormy wind in the fall, Knut Eriksson, the aspirant to be king, came back from Norway to Western Götaland. First he rode to see his father's brother, Joar Jedvardsson, and celebrated Advent in the church at Eriksberg, offering prayers of thanksgiving for his return. But after that he had many kinsmen to visit and could say if nothing else that he came for the hunt. It had turned into a bitterly cold wolf winter in Western Götaland, when the snow was not too high for horses or plodding thralls but hindered the fleeing wolves. In such a winter the custom was for daring young hunters to ride from one estate to another to hunt for wolves. But besides the hunt there was a good deal to talk about concerning the victory of the Folkungs and the Erik clan at the landstingin Axevalla. And Knut had much to say about this and many ideas that he now wanted to sow to make it easier to reap when the time was ripe.

   Knut's first and most important destination on this wolf expedition around the country was Arnäs. By the time he and his men arrived they were expected, since he had sent outriders the day before. Magnus had already sent Svarte and Kol with all the thralls available up to the forests north of Arnäs to encircle wolves where there were good hunting grounds.

   They were rollicking, strong young men, and half were Norwegians who now with thundering hooves rode into the castle courtyard to be met immediately by house thralls running out to take their horses. With an agile leap Knut Eriksson was first out of the saddle, and he walked toward his host Magnus with his arms outspread. But the second person he embraced was Arn. He took the young man by the shoulders and shook him like a faithful friend, saying that this was in truth an especially dear meeting, for it was with Arn, and Arn above all, that he shared one of his strongest memories from his childhood. Arn at first didn't understand what that might be, but then Knut with great merriment reminded him of the time when the two of them sneaked into the very longhouse where they now stood to hear the Norse bard that Knut's father, Holy Saint Erik, had brought along. Then both of them had been pissed on by no less than a king and a saint.

   Now Arn remembered and said that this was indeed a vivid memory, but it was also an event that was considerably better to remember than it was at the time. They both laughed loudly at this, and it was as if two friends had found each other after many years. With his arm around Arn's shoulder, Knut went into the longhouse as the foremost guest. The two young men had begun talking loudly and both at once, which prompted great amusement since one sounded like a Norseman and the other like a Dane.

   It then felt as though God's blessing shone down upon this visit, for things had never been better at Arnäs. Nor had there ever been as much joy in the same place at the same time.

   Magnus was now the esteemed father to a son who had vanquished Emund Ulvbane himself in single combat and brought immeasurable honor to his father's house and clan. Eskil felt equally pleased that his once defamed brother had now become the most talked-about man, and that all shadows between father and sons had been thereby chased away. Arn felt as though he, the prodigal son, was only now returning. Erika Joarsdotter was met with deep respect and lovely words from every direction. The oven-roasted venison ribs with Welsh spices and the small wild pigs with honey that she now was able to set forth with the house's best ale and mead aroused such loud cries of admiration and amazement from all the guests that they said " skål" to Magnus time after time to praise his good fortune at having found such a wife. None of the guests gave the least sign that they thought Erika's speech was muddled.

   Knut Eriksson could not have received a warmer welcome at this estate, which for the sake of his plans he regarded as the most important in all of Western Götaland at the moment. He too felt great joy and relief at this visit.