the current and with eight oarsmen. Arn sat alone at the bow and gazed down into the murky water, where he could catch a blurred image of his lacerated face. In the middle of the flat-bottomed riverboat, which spent its entire lifetime going up and down this river, stood their three horses. Arn had persuaded Eskil that no guards were necessary on this journey, since he and Harald bore full weaponry and had brought along their longbows and plenty of arrows. No Nordic guards would be of any consequence, but would only take up room.
Eskil woke Arn from his reverie by suddenly placing his hand on his brother’s shoulder. When Arn flinched at the touch, Eskil had a good laugh at this guard who was supposed to be on the alert in the bow. He held out a smoked ham which Arn declined.
‘It’s a delight to travel on the river on such a lovely summer day,’ said Eskil.
‘Yes,’ said Arn, gazing at the willows and alders dangling their branches in the gentle current. ‘This is something I have dreamt of for a long time, but I never thought I’d see it again.’
‘Yet now it’s time to speak a little about some evil things,’ said Eskil, sitting down heavily on the thwart next to Arn. ‘Some of it is truly sad to speak of…’
‘Better to say it now than later if it has to be told,’ said Arn, sitting up straight from where he was leaning against the boat’s planking.
‘You and I had a brother. We have two sisters who are already married off, but our brother named Knut was killed by a Dane when he was eighteen.’
‘Then let us for the first time pray together for his soul,’ said Arn at once.
Eskil sighed but acquiesced. They prayed much longer than Eskil found reasonable.
‘Who killed him and why?’ asked Arn when he looked up. In his face there was less sorrow and anger than Eskil had expected.
‘The Dane is named Ebbe Sunesson. It was at a bridegroom’s feast when one of our sisters was to go to the bridal bed, and it happened at Arnäs.’
‘So our sister was married into the Sverkers and Danes?’ Arn asked without expression.
‘Yes. Kristina is the wife of Konrad Pedersson outside Roskilde.’
‘But how did it happen? How could a bridegroom’s feast end in death?’
‘Things can get heated, as you know…There was no doubt much ale that night, as at such times, and the young Ebbe Sunesson was bragging about what a great swordsmanhe was, saying that no one had the courage to trade blows with him. Anyone using such language at the ale cask is more likely fooling himself rather than anyone else. But things were different with this Ebbe; he proved to have a skilled hand with a sword. He now rides with the Danish royal guard.’
‘And the one who let himself be fooled was our brother Knut?’
‘Yes, Knut was no swordsman. He was like me and our father; not like you.’
‘So, tell me what happened. Usually anyone who encounters someone who handles a sword better in such situations comes away with cuts and bruises. But death?’
‘First Ebbe sliced off one of Knut’s ears and got a great laugh for that feat. Maybe Knut could have backed out after first blood. But Ebbe taunted him so that the laughter grew even louder. When Knut then attacked in anger…’
‘So he was killed at once. I can understand how it happened,’ said Arn with more sorrow than wrath in his voice. ‘If it be God’s will, Ebbe Sunesson shall one day meet Knut’s brother with a sword. But I don’t intend to seek revenge of my own free will. You didn’t seek revenge on the killer either? Then you must have demanded a big penalty.’
‘No, we refrained from demanding a penalty,’ replied Eskil with shame. ‘It was no easy matter, but the alternative would have been worse. Ebbe Sunesson is from the Hvide clan, into which our sister Kristina was supposed to marry the very next day. The Hvide clan is the most powerful in Denmark, next to the king’s. Archbishop Absalon in Lund is a Hvide.’
‘That was no
Eskil woke Arn from his reverie by suddenly placing his hand on his brother’s shoulder. When Arn flinched at the touch, Eskil had a good laugh at this guard who was supposed to be on the alert in the bow. He held out a smoked ham which Arn declined.
‘It’s a delight to travel on the river on such a lovely summer day,’ said Eskil.
‘Yes,’ said Arn, gazing at the willows and alders dangling their branches in the gentle current. ‘This is something I have dreamt of for a long time, but I never thought I’d see it again.’
‘Yet now it’s time to speak a little about some evil things,’ said Eskil, sitting down heavily on the thwart next to Arn. ‘Some of it is truly sad to speak of…’
‘Better to say it now than later if it has to be told,’ said Arn, sitting up straight from where he was leaning against the boat’s planking.
‘You and I had a brother. We have two sisters who are already married off, but our brother named Knut was killed by a Dane when he was eighteen.’
‘Then let us for the first time pray together for his soul,’ said Arn at once.
Eskil sighed but acquiesced. They prayed much longer than Eskil found reasonable.
‘Who killed him and why?’ asked Arn when he looked up. In his face there was less sorrow and anger than Eskil had expected.
‘The Dane is named Ebbe Sunesson. It was at a bridegroom’s feast when one of our sisters was to go to the bridal bed, and it happened at Arnäs.’
‘So our sister was married into the Sverkers and Danes?’ Arn asked without expression.
‘Yes. Kristina is the wife of Konrad Pedersson outside Roskilde.’
‘But how did it happen? How could a bridegroom’s feast end in death?’
‘Things can get heated, as you know…There was no doubt much ale that night, as at such times, and the young Ebbe Sunesson was bragging about what a great swordsmanhe was, saying that no one had the courage to trade blows with him. Anyone using such language at the ale cask is more likely fooling himself rather than anyone else. But things were different with this Ebbe; he proved to have a skilled hand with a sword. He now rides with the Danish royal guard.’
‘And the one who let himself be fooled was our brother Knut?’
‘Yes, Knut was no swordsman. He was like me and our father; not like you.’
‘So, tell me what happened. Usually anyone who encounters someone who handles a sword better in such situations comes away with cuts and bruises. But death?’
‘First Ebbe sliced off one of Knut’s ears and got a great laugh for that feat. Maybe Knut could have backed out after first blood. But Ebbe taunted him so that the laughter grew even louder. When Knut then attacked in anger…’
‘So he was killed at once. I can understand how it happened,’ said Arn with more sorrow than wrath in his voice. ‘If it be God’s will, Ebbe Sunesson shall one day meet Knut’s brother with a sword. But I don’t intend to seek revenge of my own free will. You didn’t seek revenge on the killer either? Then you must have demanded a big penalty.’
‘No, we refrained from demanding a penalty,’ replied Eskil with shame. ‘It was no easy matter, but the alternative would have been worse. Ebbe Sunesson is from the Hvide clan, into which our sister Kristina was supposed to marry the very next day. The Hvide clan is the most powerful in Denmark, next to the king’s. Archbishop Absalon in Lund is a Hvide.’
‘That was no
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