Apparently Arn Magnusson had thought about this. It looked as if he rode the first races by holding back, although he was always just slightly ahead of his competitor. Perhaps it would have been wiser to start with the monk, who was riding one of his own foreign steeds. Instead, Arn saved the monk for last.

Then both men rode at full gallop, as they had when they competed against each other in the games with the leather sacks and the turnip-chopping. But the rested mare easily defeated Arn Magnusson’s stallion.

After that only the noblest of the games remained: archery. And no one had ever heard of monks who could shoot arrows. Yet no one had ever imagined that monks could ride like this Cistercian, let alone handle the quarter-staff and sword as he had done.

Perhaps the monk and Arn had decided between them how they would finish the games, because now things got very exciting. As soon as the monk tested the string on the bow that his friend Arn handed to him, it was easy to see that this was not the first time he’d held such a weapon in his hands.

The archery contest proceeded with two archers alternating shooting arrows at bales of hay adorned with the head of a griffin and set at a distance of fifty paces. When the targets were brought out, the spectators began snickering and murmuring at the audacity of choosing the coat of arms of the Sverkers as the target. It was not particularly honourable to jest in this way with the vanquished enemy.

Evidently without even exerting himself, the monk defeated first Sture Jönsson, then Torgils and Folke Jonsson. He had to make more of an effort to beat Erik jarl, and when it was Magnus Månesköld’s turn, it looked as if the monk had to do his utmost with every shot, since they both seemed almost equally skilled.

Both archers were evenly matched, striking the black griffin head each time, until the ninth arrow. Then Magnus Månesköld’s arrow landed outside, at the edge of the griffin, while the monk landed his arrow in the centre of the target. With the tenth arrow, Magnus once again struck the centre. Then it all came down to the monk’s last arrow.

Brother Guilbert turned and said something to Arn Magnusson, who replied curtly, shaking his head, whereupon Brother Guilbert shot his arrow so that it struck the centre of the target. And with that, the single arrow from Brother Guilbert defeated the best archer in all of Eastern Götaland.

With the archery contest, the situation was the reverse of the horseback race. It was a disadvantage to sit idle until the very end and an advantage to shoot against the lesser opponents before the decisive competition. And Brother Guilbert needed only to cast a glance at the youths to know in some strange way who was strong and who was weak, so he was able to take them in the proper sequence.

‘Now, my young apprentice, you won’t be able to rely on the power of your lungs or the strength of your legs to defeat your teacher,’ Brother Guilbert said, beaming and pulling the string of his bow taut several times as Arn stepped forward.

‘No, that’s true,’ said Arn. ‘I would much prefer that we conducted this contest just between the two of us if we truly wanted to know whether the teacher is still stronger than his apprentice. For which of us will now win?’

‘Your son Magnus was very disappointed when he lost; I could see that, even though he chivalrously hid his feelings,’ said Brother Guilbert. ‘But what would be best? If he sees his father defeated by the same monk? Or if he sees his father become the victor, even though he has practiced his whole life to defeat you, or rather the shadow of you? He is truly very skilled.’

‘Yes, I could see that,’ said Arn reluctantly. ‘Truly very skilled. Imagine what he could have become with you as his teacher. In the meantime, I can’t say who ought to win, you or me, or which victor Magnus would find it most difficult to stomach.’

‘Nor can I,’ said Brother Guilbert. Then he crossed himself as a sign that he was leaving this difficult decision to higher powers.

Arn nodded in agreement, crossed himself as well, and nocked the first arrow to the string of his bow. It struck the lower part of the griffin’s head, which wasn’t so odd, since this was his first shot, and it would either strike high or low before he had tested his bow.

For this reason Brother Guilbert took the lead until the seventh arrow, since they both hit the center of the target each time, until it was bristling with arrows. Brother Guilbert shot the seventh arrow too high, but not as high as Arn’s first arrow had been too low.

There was utter silence up on the walls, and the other competing youths had unconsciously moved closer and closer to get a better view. They now stood in a semicircle right behind the two archers.

With the eighth arrow, both struck the centre of the target. The ninth arrow, for each of them, again landed in the middle.

Arn shot his tenth arrow, which sliced off the fletchings of two other arrows, but still plunged into the centre. Now everything depended on Brother Guilbert’s last arrow.

He spent a long time taking aim; the only sound at Arnäs was the rush of wings from a flock of swifts flying past.

But then he changed his mind and lowered his bow, taking several deep breaths before he raised the bow once more and drew the string along his cheek. Again he spent a long time taking aim.

His arrow struck too high because he had taken too much time. And with that Arn was the victor of this youths’ game that no one who was present would ever forget. Nor would it be forgotten by those who were not present, because they would hear so many accounts of it over the years that they came to believe they’d actually seen it with their own eyes.

Eskil immediately came over to the youths with the mistress of Arnäs, Erika Joarsdotter, at his side. She carried two glittering crowns, one of gold and the other of silver. They stopped and all the youths lined up in front of the couple, very close to the moat so that the guests would be able to see and hear everything that was about to take place.

‘This bachelors’ evening has begun well,’ said Eskil in a loud voice. ‘You have brought great honour to my house, because such a game of youths as we have seen today has never occurred before and never shall again. The victor’s crown is gold, for a finer victory than this could not be won. To be miserly is not one of my qualities, and yet I am careful with my money. I am pleased, of course, that my brother has won since any other outcome no doubt would have taken a toll on his honour and reputation. I am also pleased that the gold will remain in this house, after a fashion. Step forward, Sir Arn!’

Arn was reluctantly shoved forward by Magnus Månesköld and young Torgils. He bowed before Eskil, and Erika Joarsdotter placed the gold crown on his head. After that Arn didn’t know what he was supposed to do, so Magnus leaned forward and tugged at his shift, which aroused great merriment among the spectators up on the wall.

Erika Joarsdotter now raised the silver crown toward Brother Guilbert, because they didn’t have to count turnips to know who had finished in second place.

Brother Guilbert protested and refused to come forward, which at first seemed like the feigned modesty of a religious man, but then he explained that in accordance with his monk’s vows, he was not allowed to own personal possessions. To give him silver would be the same as giving it to Varnhem cloister.

Eskil frowned, agreeing that it might be unnecessary to present a youth’s prize to a cloister to which he had already given more than enough in donations. A moment of indecision followed as Erika lowered the silver crown and looked at Eskil, who shrugged his shoulders.

But it was Brother Guilbert who came up with an unexpected solution. Cautiously he took the silver crown from Erika’s hands and went over to the baskets belonging to Erik jarl and Magnus Månesköld to count the turnips. He soon returned and went over to Magnus.