At the royal table, King Sverker always sat in the high seat along with his new Folkung queen Ingegerd Birgersdotter and Helena. Next to the high seat sat the king’s Danish marshal Ebbe Sunesson, and sometimes the queen brought her little son Johan jarl with her; she always dressed him with a little crown on his head.

She seemed to be well aware that this was a clear insult to the four Erik sons, who all sat in an inferior place at the table. She always spoke loudly of her son Johan as the jarl, while she addressed Erik jarl as Erik Knutsson. It was not hard to see what queen Ingegerd thought about who should be the next king.

Erik jarl and his brothers Jon, Joar, and Knut never showed any joy at the table, since every meal was yet another affront to them. When the king happened to mention them as his dear guests, toasting them and feigning happiness at having them so close, many of the Danes in the hall laughed in a vulgar manner. The Erik sons were captives at Näs and nothing more.

To Sune they showed only hostility and contempt and were unwilling to be served by him; they said they had sensitive noses and the smell of a traitor did not go well with ale and roast meat. They often drank themselves senseless, and sometimes they had to be dragged from the table. King Sverker was more than willing to let this go on, and he was often the one who ordered more ale just as they looked to be finished drinking for the evening.

During the first autumn, winter, and spring it was almost impossible for Sune to get a single good night’s sleep. He lay in a damp, cold stone room with ten other snoring and foul-smelling guards, and tossed and turned in his bunk. The shame of treachery burned inside him, as did the sorrow of seeing the Erik sons drinking their honour under the table and constantly showing him their contempt. But the flame that Helena Sverkersdotter had ignited in him was even more consuming, so that he felt trapped between fire and ice. If he dreamed anything when he finally fell asleep, it was of her face, her long hair, and her lovely eyes. Sleep came as a liberator when he finally was able to succumb to it.

Just before Midsummer Helena celebrated her eighteenth birthday, and there was to be a great banquet at Näs. In her honour there would be Danish and Frankish games, contests with quarter-staff and sword – things that simple Swedes and Goths could not even imagine.

Sune was well aware that he ought to stay away from these festivities, just as Sir Arn had warned him. But then it was announced that the victor of the games would have the honour of being prince for two days and even wear a crown as he sat by young Helena’s side for the rest of the feast. Then Sune could no longer keep his reason stronger than the longing of his heart.

The contest would be held as a Frankish game in which anyone who felt himself called could participate, although at his own risk. The inner courtyard at Näs was cleaned and high wooden bleachers were erected along one wall, where the king and his guests would have a good view of the games.

Sune suffered great anguish when he heard the other guards talking about the games, which most of them intended to enter with horse and battle-club. No guard could win such a contest; that honour would fall to one of the Danish noblemen. But it was a great honour for anyone who made it to the final stages of the competition.

The more the others talked about the contest and how it would proceed, the more impossible it became for Sune to resist the temptation. Finally he dressed himself like the others, grabbed a red shield, a battle-club, and the horse he was most accustomed to riding.

Horns blared and drums thundered as the forty horsemen with shields and clubs rode in a circle before the king and his guests. When an hour or so had passed, only one of them would still be on his horse. As if to egg them all on, the king got to his feet and held up the victor’s crown; all fell silent and the contestants prayed a Pater Nosterfor themselves. Then a loud horn blast transformed the castle courtyard to a shouting and thundering melee of horses and warriors ferociously hacking at each other. A full dozen men fell to the ground at once.

Sune had cautiously moved toward the outermost circle of horsemen and at first was more concerned about keeping himself away from the swinging clubs than trying to knock someone else out of the saddle. With a horse from Forsvik, he thought, he wouldn’t have had to raise a hand to any of them, but simply ride off until he was the last one left. But his Danish horse was too sluggish for such a simple fight and had to be continually urged forward with a jab from his spurs.

As the guards fell they were dragged off by stable thralls who also tried to catch the loose horses. When half of all the guards had fallen, the Danish nobles concentrated more on one another. They all reckoned that the victor could only be one of them and that any remaining guards would be easier to handle when they had more space and there was less risk of a surprise blow delivered from behind.

So Sune had a very easy time of it for the first half hour. He kept out of the fray and stayed alert, always in motion so he would never be a ready target.

When only ten riders were left, Sune knocked his first man out of the saddle with a blow to his helmet from behind. This brought laughter and a surprised gasp from the onlookers, because it was one of the Danish nobles who fell. But now the others also seemed to have discovered Sune and began to take him seriously, because he was one of the last three guards still in the saddle. Suddenly he was everybody’s prey; they chased him around the courtyard, which was not without risk for his pursuers, since several of them were struck by men lying in wait and riding in the opposite direction.

When only four nobles and Sune remained, it would have been wisest to let himself be vanquished. Yet it seemed that the intention was for the king’s marshal Ebbe Sunesson to win, because no one dared attack him even if the situation was favourable. But Sune’s burning will to sit next to Helena was much stronger than his reason. He had reserved his energy and so far displayed only half the skill of which he was capable. Now the decisive moment was approaching and if he didn’t want to lose he would have to assert himself.

When two of the nobles charged him side by side while Herr Ebbe and the fourth remaining Dane just sat still and watched, Sune knew that he could actually win the game. He rode around once with the two pursuing him. Then he cut across obliquely and stopped his horse abruptly in the middle of the courtyard. The steed reared up and turned in the air so that one of the nobles was knocked off by the horse’s front hooves and the other was struck in the face by Sune’s battle club.

Ebbe Sunesson then surprisingly knocked off the man sitting next to him. The man had both hands on the pommel and was obviously taken completely by surprise. It was as if Herr Ebbe wanted to show that he truly needed no help now that he was going into battle in earnest. Twice he rode back and forth before the king and his guests at a canter, waving his hand and receiving great applause before he turned toward Sune waiting in the middle of the courtyard.

Slowly and sure of victory, Herr Ebbe began to walk his horse toward Sune to decrease the distance before he attacked. Sune decided to try a simple and devastating trick that everyone at Forsvik knew. If his opponent was not prepared for it or underestimated the danger, Sune would win. If he knew the trick or managed to see through it, Sune would be lost.

As if he were afraid of the Danish marshal, Sune let himself be chased twice around the courtyard at high speed until Herr Ebbe, tasting victory, closed from behind and the onlookers roared with excitement. Then Sune stopped short, lowered his head to the horse’s back so that his opponent’s club whistled through the air. At the same time he turned and landed a blow right on the chest of his pursuer. Herr Ebbe flew back a lance length before he slammed into the ground on his back and buttocks.