you my sister, my bride,

you have taken my heart

with a single glance

with a single link of the chain around your neck.

How beautiful is your love, you my sister, my bride!

Yes, sweeter than wine, and the scent

of your salves surpasses all spices.

Your lips drip with sweetness

my bride

your tongue hides honey and milk

and the scent of your clothing

is like the scent of Lebanon.

   When Cecilia heard the words of the Lord, which were also Arn's words to her, she reined in her horse and gave him a long look, speaking to him with her eyes, just as they had been forced to say everything until now. She sat quite still in the saddle but was breathing hard.

   "You can never understand, Arn Magnusson, how much I have longed for these words from you," she said at last without lowering her gaze. "Ever since our eyes met as our voices merged in our first song. I want to be yours more than I want anything else on this earth."

   "I am also yours, Cecilia Pålsdotter, more than anything else on earth and for all time," replied Arn, filled with a solemnity that made the words sound like a prayer. "It's true that you took my heart with a single glance, as the word of God says. From you I never want to part."

   They rode a bit in silence until they came to an ancient and half-dead oak leaning over a small stream. There they got down from their horses and sat on the ground, leaning against the oak tree. The retainers from Husaby hesitantly stopped a short dis tance away and seemed to disagree whether they should come closer. The sound from the stream meant that they couldn't hear anything unless they came very close. They chose to sit where they were so that they could see but not hear.

   Cecilia and Arn took each other's hands and looked at each other without saying a thing for a long time, since they both felt the miracle within them.

   Finally Arn said that now he had to ride back to Arnäs, no matter how hard it was to part, and explain to his father Magnus how things now stood. Perhaps, he said, they could hold the betrothal ale this summer.

   At first his words made her so happy that she clutched at her heart almost in pain, but then a cloud seemed to come over her face.

   "Perhaps we may need as much support from the Holy Virgin Mary as Gunvor and Gunnar did in that beautiful story you told," she said gravely. "For our love has difficult tests and great obstacles ahead, as you probably know, don't you?"

   "No, I know no such things," said Arn. "There are no great obstacles, not a mountain that is too high, not a forest that is too deep, or a sea that is too wide to sail across. With God's help nothing shall stand in our way."

   "We will have to pray mightily for God's help," she replied, with her eyes lowered. "For my father is Karl Sverkersson's man, and your father is Knut Eriksson's man; everyone knows that. My father fears for his life because of this, and as long as Karl is alive my father will probably not dare bind himself to the Folkungs. That's how it is, my dear beloved Arn. Oh, what a joy to say those words! Nevertheless, our love has more than a great sea to cross as long as Karl Sverkersson is king and my father is the king's man."

   But Arn refused to be cast down by this. Not only was his confidence great, but he believed that the Virgin Mary was on their side. And no matter how much he knew about Aristotle and Holy Saint Bernard de Clairvaux, about Plato's high and base worlds, and about the Cistercian rules for living—matters that people in Western Götaland knew nothing about—he still knew very little about the rules that applied in the struggle for power. And that is what people in Western Götaland knew everything about.

   He relied entirely on his belief that the greatest of all things was love.

Chapter 11

Magnus and Eskil were sitting by themselves in the accounting room in the tower, and the topic they were discussing was not an easy one. It suited them that Arn was busy these days. He spent most of his time a short distance out on Lake Vänern, where he sawed blocks of ice shaped the same as building stones for walls. The ice blocks were pulled on a sledge back to Arnäs and stored in his ice cellar between layers of shavings from the carpentry shops. He had firmly announced that it had to be done now before the ice was too thin. It was just as well that he had this urgent task to do; it would have been hard to have this conversation if he were with them.

   Both Magnus and Eskil knew from their own experience that young men, and apparently also young women according to what they'd heard, were struck by temptations that could be rather difficult. This was part of life, and there was not much to be done about it other than wait for it to pass, like a head cold in the spring. Magnus recalled such things from his early youth, and as he thought back he also turned sentimental and confessed to Eskil that the woman who had been the first mistress of Arnäs, and mother to Eskil and Arn, at first had meant no more to him than a pair of beautiful chestnut horses or other fine acquisitions for the estate. But over time Sigrid had become more dear to him than anyone else. What Arn called love could grow with prudence if a couple lived well and sensibly together. When Magnus thought about it more closely, he'd noticed that Erika Joarsdotter had recently become fairer and easier to deal with too, and sometimes downright pleasant. At least it had never been as easy to have her in the house as now. That's how things went with what Arn called love.

   But this was the wisdom of an elder, which could not be transmitted in words to the younger man. It was meaningless to try and talk sense in such situations, because sense was beside the point. It was the same as telling someone who had just lost a kinsman and laid him in the ground that time heals all wounds. It was true but meaningless at a time when grief was at its worst.

   So what should they do with Arn and his talk about wanting to rush off to Husaby tomorrow and celebrate his betrothal ale?

   Eskil thought that cooler heads ought to prevail, which would be much easier when Arn was not present, since he was like a red-hot iron. There were certain things that spoke for the betrothal and other things that spoke against it. These things and nothing else had to be weighed like silver to ascertain in the end which weighed the most.