diary.
The bad news concerned Erik Jedvardsson’s wife Kristina. She had been staying at one of her slaughtering farms in the vicinity with a mighty retainer provided to her by her husband, the Swedish king. Yes, it was true after all, Erik Jedvardsson was the king of Svealand.
Kristina had instigated one devilish trick after another and incited her peasants against the brothers. She had even persuaded the occasional priest to take her side. She claimed that the cloister was built on unlawfully captured land, that a large portion of the land rightfully belonged to her, and if they didn’t want to yield willingly according to her wishes, things would not be pleasant when King Erik arrived in Western Gotaland.
On one occasion in the middle of a mass, a crowd of women had forced their way into the cloister clad only in their shifts and danced and sang indecent songs in this immodest garb. Then they had sat down in the midst of the cloister, thus defiling it. It had been a hard task for the brothers to clean and bless the cloister anew.
Sigrid now understood God’s reminder. And she took her husband and Erlend aside in the hall, told all the house thralls to leave, and revealed her deformed face to Erlend, who turned pale, frightened by what he saw. Then she said what had to be said.
“Magnus, my dear lord and husband. Surely you recall just as well as I what we promised Saint Bernard and the Lord God just before the Lord recalled Arn to life. We promised to dedicate him to God’s holy work on earth if he was allowed to live. But then we never spoke of the matter again. Now God is telling us what He thinks of our neglect. We must repent and do penance, don’t you understand that?”
Magnus wrung his hands and admitted that he actually did remember the promise very well, but it was a promise made at a very difficult moment, and surely God would understand that, wouldn’t He?
Sigrid now turned to Erlend, who was much more familiar with all things holy than were she and Magnus. Erlend could do nothing but agree. It looked like leprosy, he had to say straight out. And that plague did not exist at Arnas or anywhere else in Western Gotaland, so it couldn’t have come from anywhere but from the Lord Himself. And the fact that Sigrid’s most pleasing deed before God, her donation of the land to the Varnhem cloister, was now in jeopardy, must also be viewed as a clear warning.
God demanded they make good on their promise. And He was punishing Sigrid for her ambivalence in that matter. What had happened could not be interpreted any other way.
The next day, sorrow hung heavy over Arnas. In the farmyards and the castle courtyard, no laughter or squabbling was heard from playing children. The house thralls moved like silent forest beasts in the hall, and several of them had a hard time hiding their tears.
Magnus was at a loss as to how he would present the weighty news to his youngest son. But while Sigrid was busy packing for the journey, he took Arn up to the tower where they could be alone. Arn, who still did not understand what was going to happen to him, looked more pensively curious than afraid.
Magnus lifted him up onto one of the arrow slits so he could look at his son face to face. Then it occurred to him that Arn might be afraid of this high ledge from which he had plummeted all the way into the realm of the dead.
But Arn showed no fear. Instead he leaned out over the parapet so he could look straight down at where he had fallen, since his father seemed to be lost in his own thoughts.
Magnus carefully pulled Arn back and embraced him, and then began his difficult explanation. He pointed out over the district, where as far as the eye could see work was being done on the spring planting. Then he said that all this would be Eskil’s realm one day when he was no longer alive, but that Arn’s inheritance would be an even greater kingdom—the kingdom of God here on earth.
Arn didn’t seem to
The bad news concerned Erik Jedvardsson’s wife Kristina. She had been staying at one of her slaughtering farms in the vicinity with a mighty retainer provided to her by her husband, the Swedish king. Yes, it was true after all, Erik Jedvardsson was the king of Svealand.
Kristina had instigated one devilish trick after another and incited her peasants against the brothers. She had even persuaded the occasional priest to take her side. She claimed that the cloister was built on unlawfully captured land, that a large portion of the land rightfully belonged to her, and if they didn’t want to yield willingly according to her wishes, things would not be pleasant when King Erik arrived in Western Gotaland.
On one occasion in the middle of a mass, a crowd of women had forced their way into the cloister clad only in their shifts and danced and sang indecent songs in this immodest garb. Then they had sat down in the midst of the cloister, thus defiling it. It had been a hard task for the brothers to clean and bless the cloister anew.
Sigrid now understood God’s reminder. And she took her husband and Erlend aside in the hall, told all the house thralls to leave, and revealed her deformed face to Erlend, who turned pale, frightened by what he saw. Then she said what had to be said.
“Magnus, my dear lord and husband. Surely you recall just as well as I what we promised Saint Bernard and the Lord God just before the Lord recalled Arn to life. We promised to dedicate him to God’s holy work on earth if he was allowed to live. But then we never spoke of the matter again. Now God is telling us what He thinks of our neglect. We must repent and do penance, don’t you understand that?”
Magnus wrung his hands and admitted that he actually did remember the promise very well, but it was a promise made at a very difficult moment, and surely God would understand that, wouldn’t He?
Sigrid now turned to Erlend, who was much more familiar with all things holy than were she and Magnus. Erlend could do nothing but agree. It looked like leprosy, he had to say straight out. And that plague did not exist at Arnas or anywhere else in Western Gotaland, so it couldn’t have come from anywhere but from the Lord Himself. And the fact that Sigrid’s most pleasing deed before God, her donation of the land to the Varnhem cloister, was now in jeopardy, must also be viewed as a clear warning.
God demanded they make good on their promise. And He was punishing Sigrid for her ambivalence in that matter. What had happened could not be interpreted any other way.
The next day, sorrow hung heavy over Arnas. In the farmyards and the castle courtyard, no laughter or squabbling was heard from playing children. The house thralls moved like silent forest beasts in the hall, and several of them had a hard time hiding their tears.
Magnus was at a loss as to how he would present the weighty news to his youngest son. But while Sigrid was busy packing for the journey, he took Arn up to the tower where they could be alone. Arn, who still did not understand what was going to happen to him, looked more pensively curious than afraid.
Magnus lifted him up onto one of the arrow slits so he could look at his son face to face. Then it occurred to him that Arn might be afraid of this high ledge from which he had plummeted all the way into the realm of the dead.
But Arn showed no fear. Instead he leaned out over the parapet so he could look straight down at where he had fallen, since his father seemed to be lost in his own thoughts.
Magnus carefully pulled Arn back and embraced him, and then began his difficult explanation. He pointed out over the district, where as far as the eye could see work was being done on the spring planting. Then he said that all this would be Eskil’s realm one day when he was no longer alive, but that Arn’s inheritance would be an even greater kingdom—the kingdom of God here on earth.
Arn didn’t seem to
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