‘Why, you speak the Church language like a man of the cloth!’ said the archbishop with eyes wide in amazement. His contempt for yet another lowly visitor had utterly vanished.

‘Yes, because I am a man of the Church, Your Eminence,’ replied Arn with a bow, handing him his letter of release, which he assumed was the reason for this summons. The archbishop surely wanted to determine whether he was a deserter or not, a man obedient to the law of the Church or of the temporal world.

The two clerics put their heads together and searched in the various texts until they found the Latin translation from Frankish and Arabic. Then slowly and a bit solemnly they spelled their way through. They touched with something approaching reverence the seal of the Grand Master which showed the two brothers riding the same horse. When the archbishop looked up at Arn, he suddenly realized that the knight was still standing before them, so he called for a stool, which an astonished chaplain brought at once.

‘It is a great joy for me to see you once again in our land, Fortress Master Arn de Gothia,’ said the archbishop kindly, almost as if speaking to an equal.

‘It is a blessing for me to be home,’ said Arn. ‘Just as it is liberating to be able to speak the language of the Church and regain the free flight of the intellect, associations which move like birds in the air rather than crawl on the ground like turtles. When I attempt to speak my own childhood language it feels as though I have a piece of wood in my mouth instead of a tongue. Naturally this makes my joy even greater at being summoned to this audience, although no matter the occasion I would value the privilege of being presented to you.’

The archbishop at once introduced Bishop Stenar from Växjö, whereupon Arn stepped forward and kissed Stenar’s ring as well before he sat down.

‘What does it signify that you are a Templar knight of the Lord and yet are dressed in a Folkung’s mantle?’ asked the archbishop with interest. It seemed that the conversation had now taken an entirely different turn than the two bishops had intended at first.

‘That is a complicated matter, at least at first glance, Your Eminence,’ said Arn. ‘As will be seen from the document I presented, I am forever a brother in our order, even though my service in a fighting unit was restricted in time to those twenty years during which I was serving my penance. But I do retain the right to take up my Templar mantle again at any time, which may also be seen in the written words of the Grand Master.’

‘As a Templar knight…does one not also take cloister vows?’ wondered the archbishop with a sudden concerned frown.

‘Naturally, all Templar knights swear poverty, obedience, and celibacy,’ Arn replied. ‘But as may be seen in lines 4 and 5 of the document, I was released from these vows at the moment my temporary service expired.’

The two bishops again leaned over the sheet of parchment, searching for the lines that Arn had indicated. They spelled their way through the passage and nodded in agreement. They also looked a bit relieved; Arn did not know why.

‘So now you are free both to own property and to wed,’ the archbishop stated with a sigh of relief, carefully rolling up the parchment document and handing it to Arn, who bowed and slipped it back into its leather holder.

‘But tell me,’ the archbishop asked, ‘if you do take up your white mantle, a right which you undeniably possess, to whom are you then subordinate? I have heard that you Templar knights are subordinate to no one. Can that really be true?’

‘No, but there is a grain of truth to your supposition, Your Eminence. As a Templar knight, and being of the rank of fortress master, I am subordinate to the Master of Jerusalem and the Grand Master of our Order, and we are all responsible to the Holy Father in Rome. But in the absence of the highest brothers and of the Holy Father, I am subordinate to no man, as Your Eminence supposed. Wearing the Folkung mantle I serve the king of the Swedes and Goths as well as my clan, as custom demands of us here in the North.’

‘So the moment you took up your white mantle again, you would not be subject to any of our commands here in the North,’ the archbishop summed up. ‘That is indeed an exceptional situation.’

‘A fascinating thought, Your Eminence. But it would be entirely foreign to me as a true Christian back in my homeland to flee your jurisdiction by throwing a white cloak of invisibility over myself, as it is told in the Greek myths.’

‘So your loyalty is first to the Kingdom of God and then to your clan?’ the archbishop asked quickly but with a cunning expression.

‘Such dualism is a purely false conception of the difference between the spiritual and the temporal; nothing can ever take precedence over the laws of Our Heavenly Father,’ Arn replied evasively, a bit surprised by the foolishness of the question.

‘You express yourself with admirable eloquence, Arn de Gothia,’ the archbishop commended him. At the same time he listened to something that Stenar of Växjö was whispering to him and nodded in confirmation.

‘This conversation has been prolonged by a pleasant tone as well as unexpected content,’ the archbishop went on. ‘But time is hastening past, and we have souls waiting outside. We need to come to the point. Your time of penance was imposed on you because you sinned in the flesh with your betrothed, Cecilia Algotsdotter. Is that true?’

‘That is true,’ said Arn. ‘And I served this time of penance with sincerity and honour until my last day in the army of the Lord in the Holy Land. I do not wish to imply, of course, that I was a man free of sin, but merely that the sin which brought about my penance has undergone purification.’

‘That is our opinion as well,’ said the archbishop, sounding a bit strained. ‘But your love for this Cecilia kept you alive and strong during all these years, just as her love for you burned with the same clear flame?’

‘She has always been in my daily prayers to the Holy Virgin, Your Eminence,’ Arn replied cautiously, surprised that his innermost secrets were known to this somewhat rustic and unpolished archbishop.

‘And every day you prayed to the Holy Virgin that She might protect you, your beloved Cecilia, and your child who was born as a result of your sinful relations?’ the archbishop went on.

‘That is true,’ said Arn. ‘As I with my simple powers of comprehension understand it, the Holy Virgin has listened to my prayers. She has delivered me unharmed from the field of battle back to my beloved just as I had sworn to attempt if it were not granted me as a Templar knight to die for my salvation.’

‘Every day for twenty years you could have died and entered into Paradise; that is the special prerogative of the Knights Templar. And yet you were led unscathed back to your homeland. Would not that be proof of the divine grace that has been granted to you and Cecilia Algotsdotter?’ the archbishop asked.

‘Earthly love between man and woman certainly has its place among human beings in their life on earth, as the Holy Scriptures tell us time and again. In no way does it conflict with the love of God,’ Arn replied evasively, now discerning the intention behind the turn the discussion had taken.

‘Indeed, that is also my view,’ said the archbishop, sounding pleased. ‘In this somewhat barbaric part of God’s realm on earth, in this Ultima Thule, humans do tend to ignore this miracle of the Lord. Here the holy sacrament of marriage, ordained by God, is entered into for entirely different reasons than love, is it not?’

‘We undoubtedly do have such a tradition,’ Arn admitted. ‘However, it is my conviction and belief that Cecilia Algotsdotter and I were granted this grace by a miracle of love. I am also certain that the Holy Virgin allowed Her countenance to shine down upon us in order to show us something.’