Cecilia’s wedding was going to cost them dearly, she was well aware of that. The law and custom were both simple and clear. The richer the bridegroom, the bigger the dowry. And a richer man than the son of Arnäs was difficult to find in Western Götaland. At least that was what Cecilia surmised, without having any idea how much Arn might inherit from his father Magnus.

Cecilia had good reason not to discuss the dowry with her hostile kinsmen. It would be better to save that argument for the dowry ale when Arn’s bridal representative, who would undoubtedly be Eskil, came to arrange everything that had to be finished and decided by the wedding day. Very few would dare butt heads with Eskil.

Eskil had already sent over the old thrall woman Suom from Arnäs, since she was the most skilled in the sewing arts and could make a bridal gown better than anyone. Cecilia instantly became friends with Suom. They found great pleasure in each other’s skill with needle and thread, distaff and loom.

Some of the things they could do in the convent Suom had never seen. But she knew other things that they didn’t know at the cloister, so the two got on well together. And in this way Cecilia was spared keeping company with the unfriendly Pål brothers.

Eskil arrived at the appointed time on the day as promised, bringing a dozen guards. He quickly drank his welcome ale and explained that he didn’t intend to stay overnight, so they had better take care of the business matters at once, without any more drinking.

The Pål brothers could offer no argument, but they blushed with humiliation that this Folkung did not even care to share their bread and meat.

Things did not improve when Eskil said that he would prefer to have Cecilia included in the conversation so that she could speak her piece. This diminished the role of Pål Jönsson, which could hardly have escaped Eskil’s notice.

In silence the three Pål brothers entered the feast hall of Husaby first and took their places together at the high seat. Eskil was careful to walk slowly, taking Cecilia’s arm and whispering that she must remain calm and not worry about any of the things that now might be said. He had no chance to explain further before they moved further into the dim hall, which was still decorated with ancient runes and images of gods that were not Christian.

In silence the Pål brothers sat down in the high seat with Cecilia near them and Eskil facing them across the longtable. New ale was brought in by house thralls who said not a word, seeming to sense that this was a meeting that their masters did not particularly desire.

‘Well, shall we set the date first?’ said Eskil, wiping the ale from his mouth, as if he weren’t talking about anything difficult or important.

‘It’s customary to decide on the date after everyone agrees on all the rest,’ Pål Jönsson muttered with annoyance. He was red in the face, and the veins bulged from his forehead as if he were as taut as a bowstring, anticipating what was to follow.

‘As you like. We can talk about the dowry first,’ said Eskil.

‘Half of the inheritance from my uncle Algot rightfully belongs to Cecilia. That’s what she can take with her into the estate,’ Pål Jönsson said.

‘Absolutely not!’ Eskil snapped back. ‘Cecilia’s sister Katarina was my wife, as you may recall, and she entered Gudhem cloister while their father was still alive. It was autumn, and during the subsequent Christmas feast Algot drank until he suffered a stroke and died. We all know this sad story, may he rest in peace. So Cecilia’s inheritance is Algot’s entire estate, all ten farms. She will take those with her into the estate.’

‘Doesn’t Katarina’s inheritance fall to Gudhem cloister?’ said Pål, trying to be evasive.

‘No, because when she entered the cloister she had no inheritance, since Algot was still alive,’ Eskil replied implacably. ‘And as far as Gudhem is concerned, I have paid out of my own pocket more for Katarina’s admittance into the holy sisterhood than was ever required.’

‘So you’re demanding that I and all my brothers leave our farms and property?’ asked Pål Jönsson, wringing his hands. ‘That’s an unfair demand when at the same time you expect to keep us as your kinsmen. Remember that this is my decision to make, since I speak on Cecilia’s behalf regarding the dowry. And with conditions like those you have presented, I may decide to cancel the wedding altogether!’

Now it was finally said. It was evident when the three brothers took a deep breath that this was what they’d been planning for the past week.

Eskil’s expression didn’t change, but he waited an excruciatingly long time before he said anything. And then he spoke in a mild and friendly voice.

‘If you break the agreement, no matter that it’s an old one, you are the same as a bride-robber and will not live till sundown, my dear kinsman. That would not be a good start for this marriage. But I am not a disobliging man; I would like us to settle this for the best without bloodshed so that we can remain the friends that the union between my brother and Cecilia Algotsdotter demands. Let’s say that Cecilia’s dowry will be just the five farms and bordering lands to the north and west toward Arnäs and Lake Vänern. Then you can keep the other five farms and stay on as the king’s hosts at Husaby. Would such a proposal suit you and your two brothers better?’

None of them could object to that, and all three nodded in silent consent.

‘In return for relinquishing five farms, I may have to demand a bit more gold, let’s say twelve marks in bullion in addition to the five farms,’ Eskil went on as if speaking of trifles, and giving more attention to the ale.

But this was no small matter he was proposing as compensation. Twelve marks in gold was a sum so large that not even all the farms of the Pål clan would have sufficed. And even if they had been a mightier clan, it wouldn’t have been possible to produce such a sum in pure gold. The three brothers stared incredulously at Eskil as if unsure whether he or they had lost their minds.

‘I need more ale,’ said Eskil with a friendly smile, holding up his empty tankard just as Pål Jönsson collected himself to speak, and his words did not look to be friendly.

But he had to wait until Eskil had his new tankard, and Cecilia thought that this delay may have saved Pål’s tongue from behaving as the bane of his head.

‘Well! Perhaps I should explain one more item before you say anything, kinsman,’ Eskil went on just as Pål opened his mouth. ‘You brothers would not be responsible for those twelve marks in gold; Cecilia will pay the sum out of her own pocket.’

Once again Pål Jönsson was curtailed just as he was about to speak. All the anger that could have made him raise his hand to Eskil or say things that just as surely would have meant his death, now changed to gaping astonishment.

‘If Cecilia, though I don’t know how, can pay such an enormous amount as twelve marks in gold, I don’t understand this discussion at all,’ he said, straining to keep his words polite.

‘What is it you don’t understand, dear kinsman?’ asked Eskil, resting his tankard on his knee.

‘Compared with you Folkungs, we in the Pål clan are poor,’ said Pål Jönsson. ‘And if Cecilia can pay twelve marks in gold, which is the largest dowry any of us have ever heard of, I don’t see why you need to have five of our farms.’

‘It’s a good bargain for us, because we want to have the land along Lake Vänern as part of our property,’ Eskil replied calmly. ‘It’s a good bargain for you Pål brothers as well, if you think about it. You won’t be left without any benefits. After this wedding you can bear a sword wherever you want in Western Götaland, because as Cecilia’s representative you will become part of the Folkung clan by marriage. You can exchange your green mantle for our blue one. Anyone who harms you or your brothers will have harmed the Folkungs. Anyone who raises a sword against you will not live more than three sundowns thereafter. You will be united with us both in blood and in honour. Think on that!’