When no one could possibly eat any more, though the ale still flowed, the talk turned to what all knew would come under discussion sooner or later, namely the battle at Axevalla landsting.

   Arn was embarrassed and laconic on this topic of conversation, saying that he had merely defeated a lout with a useless sword and worse training, and thus there was little to recount. But Knut then asked to see the sword, at least, and whatever the son of a king and the guest of honor requested was done immediately. House thralls quickly returned with the sword, holding it outstretched.

   In astonishment Knut drew the blade from its scabbard, at first weighing it in his hand. Then he went out on the floor and gave it a few tentative swings through the air, and it was plain to see that he had held a sword in his hand before. But he found the sword too light and too fragile, just as he had heard from the rumors, and he asked Arn to explain.

   Arn objected that swords had little place at a banquet table with tankards of ale. But then he noticed Erika Joarsdotter's rosy, flushed face as she insisted that he show them all and explain, and so he obeyed at once.

   He went over to Knut standing in the middle of the floor and asked permission to draw his friend's sword from the scabbard. He then weighed it in his hand.

   "You have a heavy and beautifully decorated Norwegian sword, my dearest childhood friend," he said, swinging the sword thoughtfully through the air. "If you strike well then someone's helmet might not withstand it, but look here!"

   He raised the sword as if to slam the flat of the blade in the middle of the fireplace, which would have snapped the sword in two. Knut shouted in horror. Arn checked his swing as if surprised, but then he laughed and respectfully handed over Knut's sword with care, saying that he naturally would never have damaged the sword with which a kingdom might be conquered.

   But then he took his own sword from Knut, raised it, and slammed the flat of the blade with full force down onto the stone, and nothing happened except everyone heard the resounding ring of steel in the room.

   "There you see the difference, my friend Knut," he taunted as he bent his sword at the tip several times. "Our Nordic swords are made of hard iron and can break; they are also heavy to wield. The sword I have is pliable at the top third near the tip; it will not break, and it is easy to swing."

   What he said aroused wonder but not suspicion. Knut asked to exchange a few blows with Arn and drew his sword. Arn obediently raised his. As if to make a proper show of it, Arn parried Knut's blows a few times in the air, diminishing the power of the heavy sword with the light sword's flexibility. This enabled Arn to stand still and apparently not exert himself in the least while Knut had to use a great deal of strength for each blow without any effect. Finally Arn abruptly turned his wrist as he parried so that Knut's blow slipped down to the floor and he tumbled after. The Norwegian kinsmen in particular found this highly amusing.

   But Knut got up more amazed than angry and went over to Arn to embrace his friend. He said that all the saints must see to it that their swords were always on the same side, for he would never want Arn as his adversary.

   To this eloquence, these good words, and the ability to hold one's ale they now all drank together and with great emotion. They all felt that they were kinsmen in more than blood.

   A moment later Erika Joarsdotter got up to bid everyone goodnight. Eskil came over to her and offered his praise and thanks as he wished that she might sleep well. He had never done that before, and she felt as if long-frozen ice had finally melted as it does in late spring.

   When Arn came to bid her good night she giggled happily and said she doubted whether anyone had ever received so much praise for someone else's cooking. Arn brushed off her remark and said that it was the cooking of the house that the guests had enjoyed, and that both of them had worked hard together to accomplish this. He added with a wink that it ought to remain their secret, for otherwise the rams from the North might once again find him unmanly. With that they parted with great love between stepmother and son.

   Eskil now found occasion to make changes in the feast arrangements. Those who still had room for ale and mead could come up to one of his tower rooms over the courtyard; it was cold but soon the house thralls would bring in braziers. Then those who wished to sleep without noise in their ears could do so, and those who wanted to make noise could do that without bothering the mistress.

   All the young men chose the tower room. Magnus found it wise to bid them good night.

   Up in the tower room it was cold at first before the braziers were brought in, but the cold outside in the courtyard may have contributed as well, for by the time the young men were ready to resume their carousing the mood had changed.

   In his cups Knut began to talk disingenuously about how it was actually ill advised that Arn had spared the life of Emund the king-killer. Although in another way it was also good that Arn had acted as he did, Knut hastened to assure them, for Emund was now the butt of eternal ridicule and was called Emund OneHand instead of Ulvbane. But a king-killer did not deserve to live, and as his father's son Knut would have to finish off what Arn had not completed.

   Arn blanched at these words and had nothing to say. Nor did he need to, since Eskil jumped into the conversation, but in a way that no one expected.

   First Eskil affirmed that he understood full well Knut's intent, and he personally had nothing against it. Yet there was a minor vexation with this plan that as good kinsmen they perhaps could resolve.

   He went and fetched a parchment map, rolling it out on one of the tables. Then he brought candles over and asked everyone to come and look. They gathered round him in curiosity.

   Eskil first put his finger on Arnäs and followed the river Tidan over to the tingsite Askeberga to the east, and then he stopped at Forsvik on the bank of Lake Vättern, which was the main estate of Emund Ulvbane, or One-Hand, he corrected himself.

   "Look now and consider this," he said, circling Emund's lands with his finger. "Here Emund now sits at Forsvik, alone in an enemy land and with one hand cut off. That can't give him much joy or feeling of security. From the puppy Boleslav he can expect no help, and it will probably be a long time before Karl Sverkersson shows his snout here in Western Götaland. Look now! If we at Arnäs can buy Emund's lands, then we will own all the land between the lakes of Vänern and Vättern. We will have all roads and all trade in our hands. It would be a great step forward."

   Eskil looked as if he thought everyone had understood what he was talking about, but that was not true. Knut replied gloomily that the one matter really had nothing to do with the other.