On their return through the city Arn chose another and more worldly route which went from the Jaffa Gate straight through the bazaars to the Knights Templar quarter. Strong foreign odors from spices, raw meat, poultry of various kinds, burnt leather, fabrics, and metal prickled the noses of the visitors. Father Louis thought at first that all these foreign people speaking incomprehensible languages were unbelievers, but Arn explained that they were almost all Christians, although from societies that had been in Outremer long before the Crusaders had arrived. They were Syrians, Copts, Armenians, Maronites, and many others that Father Louis had hardly heard of. Arn told him that there was a cruel history associated with all these Christians. For when the first Crusaders came they had not understood, like Father Louis and Brother Pietro, that these people were kinsmen of the faith. Since their appearance did not distinguish them from Turks and Saracens, they had been killed by Christian zealots in almost the same numbers as the unbelievers. But that evil time was long past.

When they finally visited the empty Temple of the Lord inside the Templars’ quarter, they prayed at the rock where Abraham was said to have offered to sacrifice Isaac, and where Jesus Christ as a child had been consecrated to God.

After they prayed, Arn took his guests around the very beautiful sanctuary, and Father Louis had to admit that it was beautiful, despite all the foreign decoration. Arn read without difficulty the texts of the unbelievers which were inlaid in silver and gold along the walls. To Father Louis’s question of why these ungodly texts had not been destroyed, Arn replied apparently unconcerned that most people did not consider them texts, since Christians usually could not read the language of the Koran and hence viewed them as meaningless decorations. And to those who could read them, he added, the content of most of the texts was such that it agreed very well with the true religion, since the unbelievers praised God in many respects in the same way as Christians did.

Father Louis was upset at first when he heard Arn so wantonly speaking heresy, but he held his tongue, thinking that there was probably a great difference between Christians who had lived a long time in the Holy Land and those who like himself were making their first visit.

It was already time to sing ters, and they had to hurry a little so as not to arrive late to the Temple of Solomon. Afterward they went back up to the rooms which were delegated to Jerusalem’s Master. A big crowd of visitors was already waiting; judging by the diverse clothing they wore, they could be anything from knights in the Holy Land to unbeliever craftsmen and merchants. Arn de Gothia excused himself, saying that he had a good deal of work to do that could not wait any longer, but that he would see his Cistercian guests again after they had sung sext.

So they met again a few hours later, and Arn then took his visitors out into the pillared arcade which resembled that in a Cistercian cloister. There he had them served with cold drinks made from something called lemons. Arn still drank only water.

Now Father Louis had a reason to ask Arn whether he was doing penance, and he received a cautiously affirmative reply. But realizing that he might be expected to explain the matter in more detail, Arn told him that it involved something that he would prefer to confess only to his dearest father confessor in life. His name was Henri and he was the abbé in the faraway West Gothic cloister of Varnhem. Then Father Louis lit up and told him that he knew this abbé quite well, since they had met several times in Cîteaux at chapter meetings. Father Henri had told him many interesting things about Christianizing the wild Gothic people. Imagine that the world could be so small! So they had a mutual friend, which was completely unexpected.

For Arn it was like hearing a greeting from home, and for a moment he turned thoughtful as he sank into reminiscences from both Varnhem and Vitae Scholain Denmark and the sins for which he’d had to do penance; the worst of them, no matter how hard it was to believe, was that he had loved Cecilia, his betrothed.

Father Louis had no difficulty in persuading Arn to recount what had happened to him in life from the time he met his father confessor Henri until now, so many years later, he was here in Jerusalem as a Templar knight. Nor did Father Louis, who was a practiced tender of souls, have any trouble hearing the underlying tone of sorrow in Arn’s account. He then offered to take his old confessor’s place, since he was the closest person to Father Henri that Arn could expect to find in the Holy Land. Arn agreed after a brief hesitation, and Brother Pietro went to fetch his abbé’s confession stole and then left them alone in the vaulted arcade.

“Well, my son?” asked Father Louis after he had blessed Arn before confession.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” Arn began with a deep sigh as if to take a running start at his affliction. “I have sinned gravely against our Rule; that is the same thing as if you, Father, had sinned against the cloister rules. I have also kept my sin secret and thereby aggravated it, and the worst thing is that I have found a way to defend my actions.”

“Then you will have to tell me more concretely what it involves if I am to understand and be able to advise you or absolve you,” replied Father Louis.

“I killed a Christian, and it was done in malice; that is one sin,” Arn began hesitantly. “The second is that I then rightly should have been stripped of my mantle, and in the best case be set to tend to the latrines for two years; in the worst case to leave our order. But because I kept my sin secret, I rose in the ranks within our order and now hold one of our highest positions, for which I am unfit.”

“Is it a striving for power that drove you to commit this sin?” asked Father Louis with concern. He saw a very troublesome case before him in terms of deciding on a penance.

“No, Father, I can honestly say that it is not,” Arn replied without hesitation. “As you have understood, men like me, to some degree, and especially men like Arnoldo de Torroja, hold great power in our order. That’s why it’s important which men assume these positions, because the presence of all Christendom in the Holy Land may depend on it. Arnoldo de Torroja is a better Grand Master and I’m a better Jerusalem’s Master than many other men. But not because we are purer in our faith than others, not because we are greater spiritual leaders or better at leading many knights in battle than others might be. We are better in these positions because we belong to those Templar knights who seek peace rather than war. Yet those who seek war are leading us to our downfall.”

“So you’re defending your sin by saying that it protects the Holy Land?” asked Father Louis with scarcely noticeable sarcasm which in any case went right over Arn’s head.

“Yes, Father, that is what I see if I try to look deep into my conscience,” he said.

“Tell me, my son,” Father Louis went on after a moment, “how many men have you killed during your time as a knight?”

“That’s impossible to say, Father. No fewer than five hundred, no more than fifteen hundred, I should think. I never know what happens when a lance or an arrow hits its mark; I have been struck eight times by arrows so badly that eight Saracens may think they have killed me.”

“Among these men you killed, were more than one Christian?”

“Yes, undoubtedly. Just as there are Saracens who fight on our side, there are Christians on the other side. But that is not the same thing. The Rule does not forbid us to shoot at our enemies with arrows or strike them with swords or ride against them with lances, and we can’t stop and ask about our enemy’s faith every time we raise a weapon.”