Sorrow lay heavy over Forsvik during the forty days of Lent before Easter. Work continued apace in the millhouse and workshops, of course, but the usual laughter and jokes were no longer heard. It was as though the master’s sorrow had spread to everyone else.

Arn spent less time than normal with the practice sessions for the young noblemen. Fortunately many of them had now become full-grown men and already had several years’ experience training their younger kinsmen. Sune, Sigfrid, and Bengt had all chosen to stay on as instructors at Forsvik rather than return to their own estates.

The fact that there were new instructors for the young men had also made the absence of Brother Guilbert among the riders and at swordplay exercises less noticeable now than at first. He spent most of his time in the little sacristy of the newly-built church, where he taught Alde and Birger Magnusson. Already all the lectioniswere held in Latin.

Yet Brother Guilbert’s instruction had not been accepted without question once Cecilia discovered that he had been in the workshops and fashioned two small bows for the children. She found him standing behind the church and urging them to try to hit a small leather ball that he’d hung by a thin cord. To Cecilia he had defended himself by saying that archery was an art that sharpened the mind, and that the children would have great use of that capacity when they eventually had to delve into Aristotle’s logic or grammar. When Cecilia suspiciously went to Arn to ask him about the topic, he agreed much too eagerly with Brother Guilbert’s words, which did nothing to lessen her suspicion.

Cecilia thought that there were great differences between Alde and Birger. Alde would eventually become the mistress of Forsvik or some other estate. No one could know for sure what awaited Birger Magnusson in the future, but as the eldest son in one of the most distinguished Folkung houses and with a mother of royal lineage, it was easy to imagine that archery, horses, and lances would assume great importance in his life. But it did not follow from this that their daughter Alde should be trained in war.

Arn tried to calm Cecilia by telling her that archery was not only for war but also for hunting, and that there were many women who were excellent hunters. No woman should be ashamed that she could singlehandedly bring home a duck or deer she had shot to the table. And as far as Birger was concerned, his schooling for life would change a great deal from the day he turned thirteen and joined the young men’s beginners’ group.

Cecilia contented herself with that explanation until she discovered that Brother Guilbert had also made small wooden swords, which Alde and Birger were using to attack each other with gusto in front of their eagerly gesticulating teacher.

Arn agreed that handling a sword might not be what he most wanted his daughter to learn. But the children’s schooling was not easy, and Brother Guilbert was a very demanding teacher; he knew that from his own experience. And surely it wasn’t wrong to shift now and then from grammar to a little play. A sound mind required a sound body, that was a basic human truth.

There had also been tears and a squabble when Birger got his first horse at the age of seven, and Cecilia forbade Alde to ride before she was at least twelve. Horses were not only for harmless play, and they knew that especially well at Forsvik, where over the years there had been many injuries and cries when young riders fell and hurt themselves, sometimes so badly that they had to spend time in bed. For young men learning to be warriors that was a danger they had to accept. But of course that didn’t apply to Alde.

Arn found himself caught in the middle between a mother and daughter who were equally determined, and both of them were used to wrapping him around their little fingers. But in the matter of when Alde should be given her first horse, only one of them could win, and it was Cecilia.

He tried to console Alde by riding with her in front of him in the saddle, slowly and calmly while they were within sight of Forsvik, and at the dizzying speed that Arabian horses were capable of when they were out of sight. Then Alde would shriek with delight and was appeased for the moment. Although Arn began to suffer from a guilty conscience because he had tempted Alde with such great speed. There was a clear danger that she might try the same thing as soon as she got her own horse, and speed was something one ought to try last, not first, when learning to ride.

At Easter the little wooden church at Forsvik was decorated with dark tapestries made by Suom, depicting Our Saviour’s suffering on Golgotha, His path up the Via Dolorosa, and the Last Supper with His disciples. Arn still had a hard time getting used to a Jerusalem that looked more like Skara, and Jesus’ disciples that looked as though they had been brought from the nearest tingsite in Western Götaland. He also had a hard time seeing pictures in God’s house, because he thought that such things disturbed the purity of thought.

Spring arrived late that year which would be remembered as the Year of Death, and the ice around Forsvik and on the river was too thin to walk across but too thick for boats. So Christians had to stay where they were and celebrate the Easter masses themselves at Forsvik. But Brother Guilbert could handle all of the priestly duties, and besides, he had excellent singers to help him; not only Arn but the two Cecilias knew all the hymns by heart. Even though Forsvik’s church didn’t look like much to the outside world, resembling as it did a Norwegian stave church, it was likely that the Easter masses held there in the Year of Death 1202 were sung more beautifully than in all other churches in Western Götaland, except for those at the cloisters.

After they had sung praises to the Lord and the resurrection on the third day, an Easter dinner of lamb was held for all the Christians in the new banquet hall. The clouds of sorrow seemed to disperse, and not only because Lent was over and Our Saviour resurrected. The Saracen method of preparing lamb won the admiration of all.

Now was the first time they could celebrate the fact that Marcus Wachtian had found himself a German wife. Her name was Helga and she was also from Lübeck. When his brother Jacob had his own child and became more unwilling to make long journeys twice a year to the German cities, Marcus had volunteered to take over for him. Naturally he had brought back things that were both pleasurable and useful to Forsvik, everything from huge anvils that they could not cast themselves to sword blanks from somewhere called Passau which were marked with a running wolf. These sword blanks were made of extremely good steel, and they could quickly and easily be forged into finished swords. When Cecilia calculated what it cost to make swords from scratch versus buying them half-finished, she found that the latter method was more economical. She was counting not only the outlay of silver but also the time they could save and use for other smithy work that also brought an income in silver. It was a new way of reckoning, but both the Wachtian brothers and Arn agreed with Cecilia’s view that it was probably better and more feasible.

Of everything that Marcus brought back from Germany, though, Helga was what he prized most highly. And not only because, as he said in jest, he hadn’t been forced to pay Danish toll on her when he brought her home.

It was a good feast, with the first laughter that had been heard in a long time at Forsvik. Arn sat in the high seat between the two Cecilias, with Alde and little Birger below them. Next to the Wachtian brothers and their German wives sat the foreman Gure, who had decided to be baptized as soon as he was freed, and Brother Guilbert. Farther away in the hall at two longtables sat almost sixty young men in Folkung colours, growing louder and louder as the ale was consumed in great quantities.