Sune gathered up his reins and removed his helmet before he rode before King Sverker, his face solemn, and bowed with his right hand pressed to his heart as a sign of loyalty. For a few moments he gazed into Helena’s eyes before he straightened up. If his wits were already clouded, the look he received from Helena did not improve matters.

In a rage Herr Ebbe came hobbling over, yelling that this rogue of a guard had won by luck that was not worthy of a victor. As the second-place contestant he now demanded his right to settle the matter by the sword.

The king at first looked around in confusion because he had never heard of this special rule. But some of the Danes around him nodded gravely, confirming that in cases when the victory was unclear, one could proceed to an unequivocal decision by the sword. King Sverker could do nothing but ask Sune whether he agreed to continue fighting or wished to cede the victory to Herr Ebbe, since it could be dangerous to meet such a swordsman.

As close as Sune was to spending two evenings at Helena’s side, no reason in the world could make him decline the challenge. The king sighed and decreed that the combatants would meet man to man, with sword and shield and helmet within one hour.

Sune had to lead his horse to the stable himself, while guards took care of Ebbe’s mount. When he reached the armoury behind the stables, it was full of guards all talking at once, eager to give him good advice. Most of it seemed to be about watching out for his left foot, because sooner or later Herr Ebbe always swept his sword low toward that vulnerable spot. Others thought it was especially important to watch out for Herr Ebbe when he pretended to lose his balance and halfway turned his back, because then he would strike either at his opponent’s left foot or head when he finished his twisting movement.

In the armoury were several Folkung shields, though they had not been repainted in a long time and the damaged sections had not been repaired. But the temptation was too great when Sune discovered that one of these shields fit him almost as well as his own back at Forsvik. Among the swords he didn’t have to search very long before he found one that suited him, because the Danes did not use Nordic swords as in the lands of the Goths but Frankish or Saxon ones, which were like those at Forsvik.

Sune was the same height as Herr Ebbe, but the onlookers were deceived by the fact that the latter had attended at least a thousand more banquets, so he looked all the more powerful in his armour when they stepped forward and bowed to the king and queen. Sune looked into Helena’s eyes when he raised his gaze.

In the first moments of the contest Sune felt himself turn cold and almost paralysed with fear. There was a mighty weight and strength in Herr Ebbe’s blows, and he attacked with hatred in his eyes as if they were enemies on a battlefield. And their swords were not for practice, but honed sharp. When he realized that it really was death he was facing, he cursed his own pride. For a good while he did not connect with a blow of his own, but had to concentrate on parrying and staying away from Herr Ebbe.

Everything that the guards had told him seemed to be true, for in quick succession he had twice seen his opponent strike at the left foot, and twice how Herr Ebbe seemed to wobble to the side only to spin around and in rage aim for Sune’s head.

The king and his guests did not like what they were seeing, for a feast day should not conclude with blood and death. But honour forbade even the king from interfering in a duel man to man once it had begun.

After the fight had gone on a while, Sune noticed that he was beginning to think more clearly because the attacks were coming more slowly. With his heart in his throat he had done everything he’d practiced since he was a boy without even thinking, merely counting one, two, three to himself and then moving just as he said three to watch the edge of the sword swish above his head or past his left foot. He grew more self-confident, knowing that he was a Forsviker and that what he could do at home in Forsvik he could also do here.

He stopped merely defending himself and went on the attack. Soon he was driving Herr Ebbe back and giving him no quarter to strike either at his foot or his head. Now Sune also had to start thinking about the end. How one could lose a duel of this type was not hard to imagine. But how to win? Should he, who had been entrusted to gather information and who had been warned by Sir Arn not to draw too much attention, actually kill the marshal of the kingdom?

The longer they went at it, the wearier Herr Ebbe grew and the more he gasped. The opportunity to inflict on him a serious wound became ever more frequent. Sune decided not to kill his opponent but to let the fight continue until the other man could fight no more, because it was evident that Herr Ebbe was twice as old and twice as tired.

Some of the Danish nobles had already approached the king and whispered that the fight against all custom had to be stopped before it came to a disastrous end. Ebbe would certainly not grow less exhausted by continuing, and the young Folkung could have killed him already if he had so wished.

But the king didn’t need to intervene. Suddenly Herr Ebbe held up his hand and went over to the king to say that he pardoned the young warrior. Because it would certainly be ill-advised, he said out of breath, if he were forced to kill such a hearty young man who should be serving his king rather than going to an early grave.

Without even the hint of a smile the king nodded pensively at these apparently noble and wise words and waved Sune over. He then asked him whether he could accept victory on these conditions. A bunch of foolish replies flew like swallows through Sune’s head, but he managed to bite his tongue and replied with a bow that it was a great honour to receive this mark of favour from the mightiest swordsman he had ever met or seen.

This was certainly the biggest lie that Sune had uttered since he arrived at Näs. But with only a sliver of wit remaining he tried to make up for his foolhardy behaviour.

And yet it may have been Sune’s foolishness that actually saved the future kingdom. For as events now unfolded one after the other, many lives were saved, although many more were wasted.

For two long evenings Sune was allowed to sit with his crown of victory next to Helena. That time was more than enough for the fire that had merely smoldered within them to flare up into a full blaze.

During these two evenings, when they sat together in full view of everyone and had to behave accordingly, they not only confessed their burning feelings for each other but also made more practical plans. They agreed to meet in private, or as close to private as they dared.

Helena was the daughter of a king, and it was still far from decided what the best marriage would be for her. King Sverker no doubt had his hopes that he could marry her off to the Danish king Valdemar the Victor. But there was not much hope of that, since such a mighty king would probably find a wife in the Frankish or German kingdoms. But as long as Valdemar the Victor remained unmarried, hope was not lost.

In the worst case Helena could marry in her own land for the sake of peace, to some Folkung or even an Erik. As long as no decision had been reached, she was allowed to remain unattended, becoming ever more beautiful. Actually King Sverker should have consigned her to one of his own clan’s cloisters, to Vreta or Gudhem, to better prepare her for the bridal ale with the man he eventually selected. But she was too dear to him. She reminded him of a time when he was happier than now in his position as king. Her mother Benedikta had been a lovely and fair woman, while his new queen Ingegerd was hard and coarse of mouth and as hungry for power as a man. As soon as she bore him a son she had played all sorts of tricks so that she no longer had to take him to her bed. And she constantly nagged him both about petty matters and about intrigues that were dangerous enough to cost them all their lives. Helena was like a beautiful memory and a constant reminder of happier times. That was why he didn’t want to send her to a convent.