‘That time you almost made my heart stop beating,’ Cecilia whispered.

‘That wasn’t my intention,’ said Arn. ‘I wanted to win your heart, not stop it.’

‘By showing me what a rider you were? By standing up on a galloping horse you thought you could win my heart?’

‘Yes, I did. And by doing whatever it took. If it had helped to stand on my head, I would have done that too. But it worked, didn’t it?’

As he jested about courting her he raised himself on his arms in the saddle, slowly bent his body forward with his legs out to the side and finally placed them together as he stood on his hands in the saddle. All the while his stallion calmly continued on as if used to all manner of foolishness from his master.

‘You don’t have to show off like that,’ Cecilia giggled. ‘If I assure you that you have my heart as surely as if it were in a golden box, will you then sit down and ride properly?’

‘Yes, in that case,’ said Arn, instantly spinning to sit in the saddle with both feet in the stirrups. ‘I feel I may be getting a bit too old for such tricks, so it’s a good thing we’re already man and wife.’

‘You must not belittle the goodness and divine will that have made us man and wife!’ said Cecilia sternly, almost too sternly, she could hear. But she couldn’t help thinking that such jesting went too far.

‘I don’t think that Our Lady will take it amiss that in our happiness we speak humorously about the time when our love first bloomed,’ Arn replied cautiously.

Cecilia scolded herself for unnecessarily bringing the fear of God into their conversation, when for once it had turned so carefree and playful. As she feared they now rode in silence, and neither of them could find a way out of it.

They came to a clearing by a stream where the moss shone magically green, welcoming the last light of day shining between the trees. Next to a thick and half-rotted oak the moss formed a big, inviting bed scattered with tiny pink woodland flowers.

It was as though Umm Anaza let herself be guided by Cecilia’s thoughts, as if the mare had understood everything flowing through Cecilia’s memory when she saw this spot, for she veered off without a word from Cecilia. In silence Cecilia dismounted and spread out her mantle over the green moss.

Arn followed, dismounted, and swung the reins around the forelegs of their horses before he came over to her and spread out his mantle next to hers.

They didn’t need to say a word; everything was so clear between them, written on their faces.

When they kissed it was without fear, as if the difficult time after the wedding night had never happened. And when they both discovered their joy that the fear was gone, desire came back to them with the same power as when they were seventeen.

EIGHT

A woman of the Folkung clan had been lamentably killed by her own husband and master. This heinous act occurred late one afternoon, and that evening the murderer saw the sun go down for the first time after committing his evil deed.

The name of this wicked man was Svante Sniving of the Ymse clan, and the name of his Folkung wife whom he had killed was Elin Germundsdotter from Älgarås. They had only one son, Bengt, who was thirteen years old.

After seeing his mother struck down by his father, young Bengt fled to the estate of his maternal grandfather, Germund Birgersson, at Älgarås. That same night, a summons was sent out from there in all directions to the Folkung estates within a day’s ride.

It was daylight when the riders, who were young kinsmen clad in worn blue mantles, reached Forsvik. The unexpected guests were first offered bread, salt, and ale by Cecilia. They quickly quenched their thirst before explaining their errand, saying that they were carrying a Folkung summons for Sir Arn.

Cecilia said that she would quickly go in search of her husband, and she invited her guests to partake of ham and more ale while she was gone. Her heart pounding with alarm, she dashed toward the riding field where she could hear galloping horses. And there she found Arn along with the boys Sune and Sigfrid and the two Saracen horsemen. She waved urgently to Arn, who noticed her presence at once; he broke away from the other riders and raced across the field like the wind. He was riding Abu Anaza.

From a distance he’d already seen her agitation. When he reined in his horse and came to a stop, he dismounted at once and was at her side in one swift motion.

‘A summons has arrived from the Folkungs,’ she replied to his wordless question.

‘A summons from the Folkungs? What does that mean?’ asked Arn, looking puzzled.

‘Two young riders with solemn faces have arrived, saying only that they come bringing a summons,’ she replied. ‘I know no more than you do. Perhaps you should ask those boys over there.’

Since Arn had no better suggestion, he did as Cecilia said and called over all four riders by whistling and uttering two loud shouts. They came at once, at full gallop, reining in their horses a few paces away.

‘A summons has come from the Folkungs. Can either of you tell me what that might mean?’ he asked Sune and Sigfrid.

‘It means that all of us Folkung men at Forsvik must drop whatever we’re doing at once, arm ourselves well, and go with whoever has brought the message,’ replied Sigfrid.

‘No one in our clan can refuse a summons; that would mean eternal disgrace,’ added Sune.

‘But you’re only boys, and taking up arms doesn’t sound like something that should be required of you,’ muttered Arn crossly.

‘We are Folkungs all the same, young though we may be, and the only two of our clan that you have with you here at Forsvik, Sir Arn,’ replied Sune jauntily.

Arn sighed and thought for a moment as he stared at the ground. Then he spoke, apparently delivering orders to the two Saracen horsemen, and pointed at the blue surcoats worn by the boys. The two warriors from the Holy Land immediately bowed their heads as a sign of obedience and galloped off toward the estate.

‘Together let us seek out our kinsmen who have come with this message and find out what they want,’ said Arn. He walked over to Cecilia, pulled her up to sit in the saddle in front of him, and abruptly took off at a thundering speed for the old longhouse. Cecilia alternated between shrieking and laughing during the short ride.

Inside the longhouse the two unknown kinsmen greeted Arn with a courteous bow as he came in. After a brief pause, one of them came over and fell to his knees; with arms outstretched, he held out the summons, which was in the form of a piece of wood with the Folkung lion burned into the surface.

‘We hereby hand you, Sir Arn, your kinsmen’s summons and ask you to follow us with all men that you are able to arm,’ said the young man.

Arn accepted the summons but didn’t know what he was expected to do next. At that moment Sune and Sigfrid arrived, bowed solemnly to the two messengers, and then looked at Arn.

‘I have been away in the Holy Land for many years, and hence I have no idea what you two are requesting of me,’ he said with some embarrassment to the messengers. ‘But if you tell me what this matter concerns, I will do what honour demands.’

‘It has to do with Svante Sniving. He’s a man known for acting all too quickly, especially after drinking a great deal of ale. He beats the thralls and house servants, and even his own son,’ explained the other messenger, who thus far had not spoken.

‘That does not speak well of Svante Sniving,’ replied Arn hesitantly. ‘But tell me what this matter has to do with me.’

‘Yesterday he killed his wife, Elin Germundsdotter, who was of our clan, and he has already seen the sun set once,’ explained the first messenger.

‘A summons was sent out last night to all Folkungs who can reach Ymseborg before sundown tomorrow,’ clarified the other young kinsman.