Pål Jönsson then brought Cecilia’s wedding gift; even folded as it was, everyone could see that it was a blue mantle. Eskil reacted quickly and removed the mantle his brother was wearing; he then unfastened from the cloth the heavy silver clasp that had held it closed under Arn’s chin. Cecilia slowly and solemnly unfolded her gift. Soon loud shouts of admiration and excitement issued from the crowds standing behind all the retainers as the people craned their necks to see. A more beautiful blue mantle had never been seen before, and the lion on the back gleamed as if made of gold, the three bars were as bright as silver, while the lion’s mouth shone bright red. Together Eskil and Cecilia placed the mantle over Arn’s shoulders.

Then he did just as Cecilia had done, spinning once around with the mantle stretched out over his arms so that everyone could see, and many more admiring shouts were heard.

The archbishop raised his staff, a bit galled that it wasn’t met with immediate silence, though this had less to do with any sort of godlessness and more to do with the fact that so many people were talking all at once and with enthusiasm about the costly wedding gifts.

‘In the name of God, the Son, and the Holy Virgin!’ intoned the archbishop, and finally everyone fell silent. ‘I now bless you, Arn Magnusson, and you, Cecilia Algotsdotter, as you enter into a marriage sanctified by God. May happiness, peace, and prosperity follow you until death do you part, and may this union, ordained by the Lord God, contribute to the peace and concord of our kingdom. Amen.’

He then took some holy water from a silver bowl, which one of the chaplains handed to him, and touched first Cecilia’s forehead, shoulders, and heart; then he did the same with Arn.

If the archbishop had had his way, Arn and Cecilia would have then embraced each other as a sign that they had now entered into marriage. Arn and Cecilia both understood the hidden meaning of this blessing, which was that they had now become husband and wife, but neither had any desire to participate in this churchly show. For their kinsmen and before the law, they would not become husband and wife until after being escorted to bed. And if they were now required to choose between the archbishop’s efforts to allow the church to rule, and the conviction of their kinsmen that old customs could not simply be dismissed, neither of them thought this was the proper moment to confront such a dilemma. It took only an exchange of glances for them to agree how they would act.

Rather vexed that the couple hadn’t seemed to understand what he was so clearly indicating with his blessing, the archbishop abruptly turned and walked into the church to conduct the mass.

The king and queen followed him, then Arn and Cecilia, their groomsmen, bridesmaids, and kinsmen, as many as would fit into the small church.

The intention was to keep the mass brief, because the archbishop knew full well that everyone’s eagerness to start the wedding celebration was greater than their thirst to commune with their God. Yet he received unexpected assistance from the bridal couple when it was time to sing the hymns, as well as from the Cistercian who was part of Arn Magnusson’s retinue. When the final hymns began, those three simply took over. With increasing zeal, and finally with tears in the eyes of both the bride and groom, the three voices joined, with Cecilia’s soprano singing the lead, and the monk’s deep voice taking the third part.

The archbishop looked out over the enraptured congregation, who seemed to have forgotten all their haste to leave God’s house and start in on the ale and entertainments. Then his glance fell upon Arn Magnusson. Unlike all the other men, he still wore his sword at his side. At first the archbishop was angry, as if this were a sign of ill intent. Yet he could see no trace of evil in this man’s eyes as he sang as well as the best of church singers and with sincere rapture. Then the archbishop quickly crossed himself, murmuring a prayer to ask forgiveness for his sinful thoughts and his foolishness as he remembered that the groom was in fact a Templar knight, no matter the blue of his mantle. And a Templar was a man of God, and the sword in that black leather scabbard with the cross of gold had been blessed by the Lord’s Mother; it was the only weapon that was allowed inside the church.

The archbishop decided to stay on good terms with Arn Magnusson. A man of God would more easily understand what needed to be changed for the better in this realm where raw fellows like King Knut and Birger Brosa reigned. It would no doubt be wise to have Arn Magnusson on his side in the struggles ahead between the ecclesiastical and the temporal powers. Surely the Knights Templar must have greater insight into such matters than any of his power-hungry kinsmen.

The thoughts that had begun for the archbishop as a mixture of malice and suspicion were now transformed into visions of a bright future as the three masterful singers voiced God’s Own hymns.

Because the crowds of spectators had thinned out after the church blessing and the mass, the bridal procession now took only an hour to reach Arnäs. There was no longer as much need to fear for the bride’s safety, since the worst was now over and no one sensed any serious threat to her life. All the warriors had now shifted position and kept the short stretch of road to Arnäs in an iron grip.

Leading the procession, after the horsemen carrying the banners of the king and the Folkungs, were Arn and Cecilia, riding side by side toward Arnäs. This was not actually the custom, but on this particular day there were many things that were not as usual. No one had ever heard of a king going to fetch the bride. Just as extraordinary was the fact that the bridal couple had sung the church hymns in such a way that outshone even the archbishop’s retinue. And certainly no guest should ride in front of the host, but if that guest happened to be the king, with the queen at his side? This wedding had in truth turned many things upside down.

Inside the walls at Arnäs there were so many bright colours that the splendour seemed almost too much for the eye to take in. At the ale tents the blood-red mantles of Sverkers mixed with the blue of the Eriks and Folkungs. But there were also many foreign garments in all manner of colours, worn by guests who had donned their finest in order to show their superior status, as happens so often in the presence of a king. Some were also Frankish men that Arn Magnusson had brought home with him; they were apparently too highborn to drink ale, and the language they spoke was utterly incomprehensible. The pounding of drums and the sound of pipers could be heard from every direction; jugglers tossed burning torches high in the air, where they spun around and were then always safely caught. Singers accompanied by stringed instruments, stood upon elevated platforms and sang Frankish ballads. The archbishop was borne on his chair into the castle courtyard, but every now and then he would stretch out his hand, good-naturedly delivering blessings right and left.

Arn and Cecilia now had to part once again, since Cecilia was to ascend to a raised bridal seat that had been adorned with leafy boughs and positioned in the courtyard. Arn also had to take his place on a similar wooden structure along with his groomsmen. Eskil had decided on this arrangement so that everybody would be able to see the bride and groom, since later on only half the guests would be able to find seats in the great hall. For all those who had to partake of the feast outside in the courtyard, it would have been disappointing to be allocated such poor seats without even having seen the bride and groom. A similar raised platform had been constructed for the archbishop, the king, and the master of Arnäs.

Brother Guilbert quickly and nimbly clambered up the wooden structure to sit down next to Arn. At the same time he called to the Frankish lute players and singers to step forward and repeat the song they had just finished. Encouraged to hear that there were some among the spectators who actually understood the words of their songs, they obeyed at once. Both Arn and Brother Guilbert nodded to each other as they listened to the first verses. It almost looked as if Brother Guilbert could have sung along, even though such songs were forbidden to him.