The Road To Jerusalem (29 page)

But as she spoke she realized that the hands she was holding were in truth not those of a little boy. His hands were rough and as hard as stone; it was like taking hold of her father’s hands, or a smith’s. But when she looked up at Arn’s bright visage it was as though his childlike and kind face did not belong with such hands. It occurred to her that Our Lady had perhaps not sent her a young monk at all, for these hands did not belong to a weak boy.

Arn stood blushing and didn’t know how to deal with the situation. On the one hand, he had to respect the young woman’s genuine gratitude. On the other hand, he probably thought that she was directing her thanks in the wrong direction. He carefully pulled his hands free of hers as soon as he dared and asked her to get up. He blessed her words of thanks and reminded her that they should be directed instead higher up. Gunvor agreed at once, assuring him that this she would do for as long as she lived.

Then Arn took the others by the hand, and they all felt and understood the same thing as Gunvor had when they clasped his calloused hands. They all sat for a while in embarrassed silence.

Then Gunnar felt that he had to say something before it was too late, for if he did not say something now he would regret it for the rest of his life. It was also a man’s way of showing courage and honor to speak bluntly of what he was thinking.

And Gunnar began to explain, at first in a somewhat abrupt and stumbling fashion, that he and Gunvor for many years had loved each other in secret. They had constantly prayed to God for a miracle that might bring them together, despite the fact that there was no indication of such a possibility and even though both their fathers brushed aside their dreams as childish whims. But Gunnar had felt that he couldn’t live without his Gunvor. And she had felt the same. On the day she was led away to the wedding ale, he had not wanted to go on living. And she had not wanted to live either. It may have been Our Lady who finally took pity on them, but it was Arn who had acted in her service and carried out her will.

Hearing the words of this simple man who was sincerely trying to express the meaning of Grace in his coarse language, Arn felt both respect and gratitude. It was as though what he had already become reconciled with—his conviction that Father Henri’s absolution was correct—had served as the scaffolding and the framework of a house but not a finished house. Yet with the gift of love that these simple peasants had received and for which they had now so fervently thanked him, God’s humblest instrument, it felt as if the house suddenly stood there finished with the walls and the half-timbering and all the windows in place.

“Gunnar, my friend,” he said, rejoicing inside, “what you have said to me will stay with me forever, of that you can be sure. But all I can give the two of you in thanks are words from the Holy Scriptures, and do not think ill of that before you have heard what words they are. For it was your love that conquered all, and the Mother of God saw your love and then showed you mercy. So hear now the following words of the Lord and let these words forever live in your home and in your hearts:

Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm:
for love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave:
the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most
vehement flame.

Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods
drown it: if a man would give all the substance of his
house for love, it would utterly be contemned.

He had read the text in their own language so that they would understand. He had to repeat it several times to impress it upon their memory, and he told them where in the Holy Scriptures these words of God were found: The Song of Songs 8:6-7.

When they parted, Gunvor took his hand again and then asked his name. Arn tried for the first time to use his name, the name that belonged to the other world, Arn Magnusson of Arnas. But he could not do it; he felt arrogant. He told them merely that his name was Arn.

Gunnar rode off with his betrothed sitting in the saddle in front of him and with his arms around her waist, for as things now stood they still had the strong stallion and there was no reason to walk. He breathed in great gulps of autumn air and he thought it had never smelled freer or more lovely. He rode with his wife-to-be in his arms, feeling the warmth of her body and her pounding heart against his forearm. Together they repeated over and over God’s own words about their victorious love.

Darkness fell rapidly that day, and the weather changed to storm. It was impossible to have a conversation outdoors, and they had been told that they could have the parlatorium next to the chapter hall to themselves. As Arn, his cloak flapping in the wind, hurried along the arcade to the meeting, he prayed that Gunvor and Gunnar might be well protected on their way home in the first storm of autumn, protected by more than the love that warmed them. Although he also thought that their love was probably strong enough to protect them against all winds, the winds of life as well as the storm that was on its way.

Brother Guilbert was already waiting in the parlatorium, thoroughly scrubbed and with his hair still wet, when Arn came in. The three candles that were lit flickered a little as he quickly opened and closed the door. They first said Pater Noster together and then a silent prayer for themselves as they faced what now had to be told.

When Brother Guilbert finally looked up after his prayers, his gaze was filled with love for his disciple, but also with an unfamiliar sadness that Arn had glimpsed only a few times before.

“As a brother in this order, my name is Guilbert de Beaune, as you well know,” Brother Guilbert slowly began. “But that was also my name in another order which is closely akin to ours; one could call it our armed sister order, which also has the same spiritual father as we do, and you know who that is.”

“Holy Saint Bernard de Clairvaux,” said Arn, clasping his hands in front of him on the heavy oak table and bowing his head to show that now he would listen without saying anything himself.

“True, he and none other,” Brother Guilbert went on, taking a deep breath. “He was also the one who created the Holy Army of God, the Order of the Knights Templar, in which I fought for God’s cause for twelve long years. I was a soldier in Outremer for twelve years, and I have faced more than a thousand men in battle—good men and bad, courageous and cowardly, skilled and untrained—and none has ever defeated me. As you quite well realize, there is a theological side to this matter too; it is not merely a matter of knowing how to use your hands and feet. But I’ll skip over that aspect for now. The fact is that I never met my match with sword or lance, not even on horseback, and I say this not to boast, because you know that none of us in the cloister would do that. I say it because it’s true, and so that you will understand from whom you have learned the art of using the sword, lance, shield, bow, and perhaps most important of all, the horse. Before I go on I have to ask you a question out of sheer curiosity. Did this really never occur to you?”

“No-o,” said Arn uncertainly, at the same time bewildered that for all these years and as long as he could remember he had crossed swords with a divinely blessed master. “No, at least not at first, because it was just you and I. But afterwards when I thought about the men who tried to kill me, and the childish and clumsy way they handled their swords, then I began to wonder about things. There was all the difference in the world between them and you, dear Brother Guilbert.”

“Well, let’s stop there and talk a bit about that. It’s not dangerous; in fact I think it’s good for you,” Brother Guilbert continued as if changing the subject, having said what he wanted to say. “If I understood all this correctly, a man came at you at an angle from behind and took aim at your head, is that right?”

“Yes, I think so,” said Arn, squirming a bit. He didn’t like the turn the conversation was taking.

“You ducked, of course, and changed your sword to your other hand at the same time. The man facing you dropped his guard because he wasn’t looking at your sword but at your head, which he thought would fall to the ground. You saw the opening and struck at once. But at the same time you instinctively knew that you should turn around fast and step to the side so you wouldn’t have the second man on you again. And so you did. The second man managed to raise his sword but now had to shift his weight to the other foot, and you saw the opening at his midriff between his elbow and his bent knee and struck again. That’s how it happened, all faster than you or anyone else could imagine. Am I right?”

Brother Guilbert had spoken with his eyes closed, concentrating hard, as if he were picturing it all again in his mind’s eye.

“Yes, that’s exactly right,” replied Arn, shamefaced. “But I—”

“Stop!” Brother Guilbert interrupted, holding up his hand. “Don’t apologize any more for what you did; you already have been given absolution. But now, back to what Father Henri ordered me to explain to you. It wouldn’t have made any difference if there had been three or four of those peasant louts, you could have killed them all. I honestly don’t think that your equal with a sword exists out there, at least not in this country. But imagine if you and I were really to fight to the death. What do you think would happen then?”

“Before I had a chance to blink twice you would strike me down . . . or maybe before I could blink three times,” replied Arn in bewilderment. He couldn’t imagine such an unlikely scenario.

“Not at all!” snorted Brother Guilbert. “Of course I don’t mean that we should practice, which is what we’ve always done with me giving the commands and you obeying them. But what if you could think for yourself and were forced to do it, how would you attack me?”

“I can’t think such sinful thoughts. I would never be able to raise a weapon in malice against the one I love,” said Arn in shame, as if that thought had just occurred to him.

“I’m ordering you to think of this; we’re dealing with theory, and that’s nothing to balk at. So, how would you attack me in theory?”

“I probably wouldn’t go straight for you,” Arn began hesitantly, thinking a moment before he obediently continued wrestling with the problem. “If I went straight for you, your strength and reach would quickly prove decisive. I would have to keep my distance, circle around you, wait and wait until—”

“Yes?” said Brother Guilbert with a little smile. “Until what? ”

“Until . . . an opportunity arose, until you moved so much that your weight and strength were no longer to your advantage. But I would never—”

“That’s how it is when you’re allowed to think for yourself!” Brother Guilbert interrupted him. “And moving on to more important matters; Father Henri’s idea never to tell you who you were is easy to understand, from a logical standpoint, isn’t it? We had to prevent at all costs a boy from becoming conceited, we had to protect him from all pride, especially when it concerned matters that here in the cloister are counted as base things, though that was hardly the case where I was before I came here. I trained many brothers during my life in Outremer; that’s all we did when there was no war. But I’ve seen few men who possess your God-given gifts when it comes to dexterity with weapons, and you have two secrets that make you very strong. I believe you know what one of them is, don’t you?”

“I can change from my right to my left hand,” Arn answered in a low voice, looking down at the table before him. It was as if he were ashamed without understanding why.

“Precisely,” said Brother Guilbert. “And now I’m going to tell you what your other secret is. You’re not a tall man like myself. More than half the men you may encounter with a sword out there will look bigger and stronger. But all your life you have trained to fight someone who is bigger, and that’s what you do best. So never fear the man who looks big, rather fear the one who is your own size or smaller. There is one more important thing. The danger of pride, which worried Father Henri so much, truly exists, although perhaps not in the way he had imagined. I have seen many men die simply because they were vain. In the midst of a battle with an inferior opponent, or perhaps someone who merely looked smaller, they came to admire their own prowess too much. God knows I have seen men die with a vain smile still on their lips. Remember this and remember it well! For although all your countrymen out there might be inferior to you in practice, which I do believe, almost any one of them could wound you or kill you the moment you are struck by pride. It’s as if God’s punishment somehow strikes more quickly the one who sins with weapon in hand. It is the same with anger or greed. I tell you this, and you must never forget it: the art you have been taught within these sacred walls is a blessed art. If you raise your sword in sin, you will bring down God’s punishment upon you. For the third time, never forget this. Amen.”

When Brother Guilbert had finished his explanation they sat in silence for a while. Arn fixed his gaze absently on one of the three flickering candle flames, while Brother Guilbert surreptitiously observed him. They seemed to be sitting there waiting each other out; neither wanted to speak first, afraid that the other might want to talk about something else.

“Perhaps you’re wondering which sin it was that drove me from the Knights Templar to the Cistercians?” Brother Guilbert asked him at last.

“Yes, that’s clearly what I’d like to know,” said Arn. “But I can’t imagine you as a great sinner, dear Brother Guilbert. It simply doesn’t add up.”

“No doubt that’s because you can’t imagine the world out there, for the world is full of sin and temptations; it’s a quagmire, it’s a field with many pitfalls. My sin was simony, the worst sin in the rules of the Templar knights. Do you even know what that is?”

“No,” replied Arn truthfully, though he was also astonished. He had heard a thousand sins spoken of, large and small, but never this “simony.”

“It means to take money for carrying out services on behalf of the Lord,” said Brother Guilbert with a sigh. “In our order we certainly did administer large sums of money back and forth, and sometimes it could be difficult to see what was sin and what was not. But I won’t make excuses for myself; I confessed my sin and I’m doing penance for it even today. It was not granted to me to die blessed for God’s cause with sword in hand. So it goes. But if it weren’t for my sin which led me to this peaceful order, you never would have met me. Then you would have been a completely different man than you are today. You should also think about this, since God has a plan for everything that happens.”