The Templar Knight

Over time the two friends grew quite skilled at their art of creating annoyance during the seven or eight song sessions each day.

Cecilia Rosa played the part of the weak and submissive one, and always replied in a low voice with her head bowed when spoken to by Mother Rikissa or the prioress. Cecilia Blanca did the opposite, answering in a loud voice with head held high, even though her speech was such that the words themselves were unimpeachable.

Each day, prandium was eaten at exactly twelve minutes past four in the afternoon, a repast of bread and soup. They all had to eat in silence, while the lector read texts aloud that were considered especially appropriate for young women. Cecilia Blanca would often make a point of loudly slurping up a piece of bread dipped in the soup just as the reading reached a crucial point. This would cause some of the Sverker maidens to giggle aloud, sometimes to draw Mother Rikissa’s attention to the naughtiness of Cecilia Blanca’s behaviour. But Mother Rikissa would be more strict in her reproaches to those who giggled than to the one who slurped.

After prandium all the women had to walk in a procession from the refectorium to the church for prayers of thanksgiving, singing along the way. The intent was that they were to walk with great dignity. But Cecilia Blanca often had occasion to clear her throat loudly, to clump along and act like a lout, or pretend to stumble and disturb the order of the procession. Next to her walked Cecilia Rosa, because the two of them always had to bring up the rear. She was singing with her gaze fixed on the distance and a dreamy expression that seemed almost heavenly.

It was like a game the two played, constantly talking about their little tricks and trying to think up new ones. But since they talked to each other even when it was forbidden, Mother Rikissa would often punish them, but not as hard as one might expect. And she no longer allowed any of the worldly maidens to wield the scourge. She did the whipping herself, first Cecilia Blanca, then Cecilia Rosa. The strange thing was that the longer their rebellion went on, the less Mother Rikissa countered it with sternness, which at first they couldn’t understand.

To both of them Mother Rikissa was an evil person who had no belief in the fear of God which she was always trying to drum into others. She was as ugly as a witch, with big protruding teeth and rough hands, and they were sure she would have had to hold a very powerful position in the Sverker clan to be married off with those looks. She could hardly have gained power through the marriage bed; it was much easier to do so by becoming an abbess.

And since both Cecilias were women at their loveliest age, with slender waists and eyes full of life, they believed that this was precisely what put Mother Rikissa’s back up.

When the summer came and the masses of Ascension Day were past, Mother Rikissa changed again. Now she found constant reason to punish the two hated Cecilias. Since bread and water didn’t seem to have much effect on what she called their roguishness, she employed the scourge almost daily. And now she forced the Sverker maidens, but never again Helena Sverkersdotter, to carry out the whipping. Of course none of the girls struck as hard as Helena had done when Cecilia Blanca issued her curse, but the repeated punishment still resulted in more pain in their backs.

It was Cecilia Blanca who at last figured out how they could escape this misery. She figured that Mother Rikissa would not be honest enough to follow the rule of inviolable secrecy in the confessional, and that she would worm information out of any father confessor who came to Gudhem.

The confessor who came most often was a young vicarius from the cathedral in Skara. Even the worldly maidens had to make confession to him. But they were never allowed to see him, because he sat inside the church, and the one who was confessing sat out in the arcade next to a window with a wooden grating and a cloth between them.

One mild morning in early summer Cecilia Blanca found herself at confession, overcome by a feeling of nervousness, for she knew quite well that what she intended to do was a serious sin; it was a mockery of the holy confession. On the other hand, she consoled herself, if this stratagem succeeded then it would show that it was actually Mother Rikissa and the vicarius who were mocking the confessional.

‘Father, forgive me, for I have sinned,’ she whispered so rapidly that the words stumbled over each other. Then she drew a deep breath in anticipation of what she had to do.

‘My child, my dear daughter,’ replied the vicarius with a sigh on the other side of the grating, ‘Gudhem is not a place that induces one to grave sins, but let us hear your confession.’

‘I’ve been thinking evil thoughts about my fellow sisters,’ Cecilia Blanca continued with a will, now that she had taken the leap into sin. ‘I have vindictive thoughts and I can’t forgive them.’

‘What and whom can’t you forgive?’ the vicarius asked cautiously.

‘The Sverker girls and their lot. They run around telling tales, and they wield the scourge when my friend and I are repeatedly punished because of their gossip. And forgive me, father, but I must speak the truth. I think that if I become queen, then I will never be able to forgive either them or Mother Rikissa. I think that I will have to take a lengthy and harsh revenge; I think that their kinsmen’s farms will burn and that Gudhem will be emptied of all folk, and not one stone will be left standing at this place.’

‘Who is your friend?’ asked the vicarius with a slight quaver in his voice.

‘Cecilia Algotsdotter, father.’

‘The one who was betrothed in the Folkung clan to a man named Arn Magnusson?’

‘Yes, exactly, father, the one Birger Brosa holds so dear. She is my friend, and she is tormented by everyone here the same as I am, and this is why I’m filled with these unworthy and sinful thoughts of revenge.’

‘As long as you are at Gudhem, my daughter, you must follow the holy rules that apply here,’ replied the vicarius, trying to sound stern. But there was a clear note of uncertainty and fear in his voice that did not escape Cecilia Blanca’s attention.

‘I know, father, I know that this is my sin, and I seek God’s forgiveness,’ said Cecilia Blanca in a low, demure voice, but with a broad smile on her face; the vicarius could no more see her than she could see him.

It took a moment before the vicarius answered, and Cecilia Blanca considered it a good sign that her ploy was having an effect.

‘You have to seek peace in your soul, my daughter,’ he said at last in a strained voice. ‘You have to reconcile yourself with your lot in life, like all the rest here at Gudhem. I tell you now that you must meditate on your sinful thoughts, you must say twenty Pater Nosters and forty Ave Marias and you must refrain from speaking a word to anyone for twenty-four hours while you repent your sin. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, father, I understand,’ whispered Cecilia Blanca, biting her lip to keep from breaking into laughter.

‘I forgive you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Virgin Mary,’ whispered the vicarius, obviously shaken.

Cecilia Blanca hurried off along the arcade in jubilation, but with her head demurely bowed. At the other side of the cloister she found her friend Cecilia Rosa hiding by the fountain in the lavatorium. Cecilia Blanca was red in the face with excitement.

‘That ploy did some good, by God I think it helped,’ she whispered as she came in, looked around, and then embraced her friend as if they were free women in the other world, an embrace that would have cost them dearly if anyone had seen.

‘How so, how can you know that?’ asked Cecilia Rosa as she anxiously pushed her friend away and looked around.

‘Twenty Our Fathers and forty Hail Marys for confessing such hatred - that’s nothing at all! And only one day of silence. Don’t you see? He was scared, and now he’ll run and spill it all to that witch Rikissa. Now you have to do the same thing!’

‘I don’t know, I don’t know if I dare…’ said Cecilia Rosa. ‘I have nothing to use as a threat. You can threaten them with the prospect of becoming a vengeful queen, but I…with my twenty-year sentence, what can I threaten them with?’

‘With the Folkungs and with Birger Brosa!’ whispered Cecilia Blanca excitedly. ‘I think something has happened outside or is about to happen. Threaten them with the Folkungs!’

Cecilia Rosa envied her friend’s courage. It was a bold venture they had undertaken, and Cecilia Rosa could never have done it by herself. But now the first move had been made. Cecilia Blanca had taken the risks for them both, and now Cecilia Rosa had to do the same.

‘Trust me, I will do it too,’ she whispered, crossing herself and pulling her hood over her head. She walked off rubbing her hands together as if she had just washed them in the fountain. She walked along the arcade to the confessional without hesitation, and she did as friendship now demanded she do; she overcame her fear of committing the unprecedented act of mocking the confessional.

She was not quite sure what part of their plan had actually worked, but the fact that it did work was certain.

Silence still surrounded the two Cecilias at Gudhem; no one spoke to them, but neither did anyone look at them with the same hatred as before. It was as though everyone’s eyes had become frightened and furtive. And none of the other maidens gossiped about them any longer or reported that they had spoken during the periods of enforced silence, which they now began to do quite openly. Without shame they could walk and converse like free people outside, although they were walking in the arcade inside Gudhem.

It was a brief period of unexpected happiness that also brought a tantalizing feeling of uncertainty. The others obviously knew so much more and did what they could to keep their two enemies in ignorance. But something big was happening outside the walls; otherwise the scourge would have been taken out long ago.

The two Cecilias now found greater joy in their shared tasks, for no one prevented them from working together at the looms, although it was now obvious that Cecilia Blanca was certainly no beginner who needed help. They had started working with linen thread now that winter was long past. They received help from Sister Leonore, who came from southern climes and was the one responsible for the convent’s vegetable garden outside the walls as well as for the garden inside the walls and all the rosebushes that grew along the arcade. Sister Leonore taught them how to mix various colours and dye the linen, and they began to experiment with different weaving patterns. What they made could not be used inside Gudhem, of course, but it could be sold on the outside.

They turned to Sister Leonore all the more, because she had no friends in the lands of the Goths and thus had nothing to do with the feuds that were going on outside the walls. From her they learned how to take care of a garden in the summertime, how each plant had to be nurtured like a child, and how too much water was sometimes just as harmful as too little.

Mother Rikissa left them alone with Sister Leonore, and in this way a sort of equilibrium was restored at Gudhem; the enemies had been separated although they all lived under the same roof, recited the same prayers, and sang the same hymns.

But the two Cecilias were not allowed to go outside except to the garden just beyond the south wall. Mother Rikissa was hard as stone on that point. And when two sisters and all the novices were going to the midsummer market in Skara, Cecilia Rosa and Cecilia Blanca were forced to stay behind at Gudhem.

They clenched their teeth when told and once again felt a fierce hatred for Mother Rikissa. At the same time they knew that there was something going on that they didn’t understand, something the others seemed to know about but refused to discuss.

Later that summer something happened that was as frightening as it was surprising. Bishop Bengt in Skara had come rushing over to Gudhem and locked himself in with Mother Rikissa in the abbess’s own rooms. Whether it was merely a lucky coincidence or whether one thing had to do with the other, the Cecilias never found out.

But some hours after Bishop Bengt arrived at Gudhem, a group of armed riders approached. The alarm was sounded on the bell, and the gates were closed. Since the riders came from the east, the two Cecilias hurried up to the dormitorium to look out the windows up there. They were filled with hope, almost jubilant. But when they spied the colours of the riders’ mantles and shields, they felt as if death itself had seized hold of their hearts. Some of the riders were bloody, others gravely wounded and leaning forward over their saddles, and some were physically unhurt but with wildly staring eyes. All of them belonged to the enemy.

Up by the barred cloister gate the riders came to a halt, but their leader began to yell something about turning over the Folkung whores. Cecilia Rosa and Cecilia Blanca, who were now hanging halfway out the dormitorium windows so they could hear everything, didn’t know whether to start praying or stay there to hear more. Cecilia Rosa wanted to pray for her life. Cecilia Blanca absolutely wanted to hear everything that was said. She thought they had to learn why wounded enemies would attempt an act as serious as abducting women from a convent. So they both stayed in the window and pricked up their ears.

After a while Bishop Bengt came out and the gate was locked behind him. He spoke in a low voice and with dignity to the enemy riders. The two Cecilias in the window could hear very little of what was said, but the gist of the exchange was that it was an unforgivable sin to direct violence against the peace of the cloister. And that he, the bishop, would rather be struck down by the sword than allow any such thing. Then the men spoke so low that nothing could be heard from the window. It ended with the entire group slowly and reluctantly turning their horses and riding off to the south.

The two Cecilias held each other tight as they sank to the floor beneath the window. They didn’t know whether to pray to the Holy Virgin Mary and give thanks for their rescue or to laugh out loud with joy. Cecilia Rosa began to pray; Cecilia Blanca let her do so while she herself used the time to think hard about what they had witnessed. Finally she leaned over, embraced Cecilia Rosa once again, even tighter, and kissed her on both cheeks, as if she had already left this stern world.

‘Cecilia, my beloved friend,’ she whispered excitedly, ‘my only friend in this evil place they so unfairly call Gudhem, the home of God. I think we just saw our salvation arrive.’

‘But those were the enemy’s retainers,’ Cecilia Rosa whispered uncertainly. ‘They came to abduct us, and we were fortunate that the bishop was here. What was so good about that? Imagine if they come back when the bishop isn’t here.’

‘They won’t come back. Didn’t you see that they were defeated?’

‘Yes, many of them were wounded…’

‘That’s right. And what does that mean? Who do you think defeated them?’

‘Our men?’

Just as she uttered the simple answer to that simple question, Cecilia Rosa felt a pain and sorrow that she couldn’t understand, since she should have been happy. If the Folkungs and the Eriks had now won, she ought to be happy, but that also meant that she would be separated from Cecilia Blanca. And she herself had many years left to serve.

That day a dark mood of fear descended over Gudhem. Not a single woman dared look them in the eye except for Sister Leonore, who was probably the one who knew least, along with the two Cecilias.

Mother Rikissa had retreated to her own rooms and did not emerge until the following day. Bishop Bengt had left in a great hurry, and then they all carelessly tended to the work, the songs, and to holding mass. At evensong the two Cecilias sang together as they had never done before, and now there were absolutely no false notes from the one called Blanca. And the one called Rosa sang louder, more boldly, almost with a worldly boldness, sometimes putting entirely new variations into her voice. No one corrected her, and there was no Mother Rikissa to frown at this song of joy.

The next morning riders came galloping from Skara to Gudhem to bring a message to Mother Rikissa. She received the messengers out in the hospitium and then shut herself in the abbess’s quarters without meeting anyone until prime, which would be followed by the first mass of the day.

The Host had been blessed out in the sacristy by an unknown vicarius or someone else from the cathedral in Skara, and it was distributed in the usual order, first the sisters, then the lay sisters, and the worldly maidens last.

The sacred wine was brought in, the bell rang to proclaim the miracle, and the chalice was passed from one to the next by the prioress, with her other hand giving each her own fistula, a straw to use for the wine.

When it was Cecilia Rosa’s turn to drink of God’s blood, she did it demurely and with a genuine feeling of thanksgiving inside, for what was now happening confirmed her greatest hopes. But when it was Cecilia Blanca’s turn to drink there was a loud slurping, perhaps because she was the last to drink and there was little wine left. Or perhaps because she again wanted to show her contempt, not for God but for Gudhem. The two Cecilias never talked about it, or discussed which was the truth.

After that everyone was so tense when they headed out to the chapter hall that they moved as stiffly as puppets. Out there Mother Rikissa was waiting, looking exhausted with dark circles under her eyes and almost a bit shrunken in her chair, where she usually sat like an evil queen.

The prayer session was short. As was the reading of the Scripture, which this time dealt with grace and mercy, which made Cecilia Blanca give her friend an encouraging wink to signify that everything seemed to be going as they might hope. Mercy and grace were certainly not Mother Rikissa’s favourite topics during the Scripture reading.

Then there was silence and the mood was tense. Mother Rikissa began in a quiet voice, not at all like her normal one, to read aloud the names of brothers and sisters who were now wandering the fields of Paradise. Cecilia Rosa briefly listened for any name of Templar knights to be added to the list, but there was none.

Then there was silence again. Mother Rikissa wrung her hands and looked almost on the verge of tears, something that neither of the Cecilias would have believed possible from the evil witch. After sitting a while in silence and trying to collect herself, Mother Rikissa plucked up her courage and unrolled a parchment. Her hands trembled a bit as she recited in a monotone, ‘In the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Virgin, we must pray for all those, friends or not, who have fallen on the fields of blood, as these sites are always called, outside of Bjälbo.’

Here she paused to collect herself once more, and when the two Cecilias heard the word Bjälbo, their hearts contracted in fear. Bjälbo was the mightiest fortress of the Folkungs; it was Birger Brosa’s estate and home. So the war had reached that far.

‘Among those who fell, and they were many…’ Mother Rikissa went on, but she had to force herself to continue. ‘Among the many who fell were the jarls of God’s grace Boleslav and Kol, and so many of their kinsmen that I cannot count them all. We will now pray for the souls of the dead. We will be in mourning for a week and take nothing but bread and water; we will now…suffer a great sadness.’

There Mother Rikissa fell silent and sat with the text held loosely in her hand, as if she no longer felt like reading. Sniffling was already heard in the hall.

Then Cecilia Blanca stood up and took her friend boldly by the hand; they were sitting together at the back of the hall closest to the door. And without hesitation in her voice, but also without showing contempt or malice, she now broke her vow of silence.

‘Mother Rikissa, I beg your forgiveness,’ she said. ‘But Cecilia Algotsdotter and I will be leaving you now to the sorrow in which the two of us cannot participate. We’re going out to the arcade to reflect in our own way on what has happened.’

It was an unheard-of way of speaking, but Mother Rikissa merely waved her hand weakly in acknowledgment. Cecilia Blanca then took a step closer to her friend and bowed with courtly dignity, as if she were the queen herself, before she left the hall, still holding her friend’s hand.

When they reached the arcade they quickly ran as far away as they could so as not to be heard by the mourners. Then they stopped, embraced, kissed each other in the most immodest way, and spun round and round with their arms around each other’s waists, moving along the arcade as if they were dancing. Nothing needed to be said; now they knew all that they needed to know.

If Boleslav and Kol were dead, then the battle was over. If the Sverkers had attacked Bjälbo itself, then the Folkungs, even though they had hesitated before, must have emerged with all their forces, either to conquer or die. There would have been no other choice if the battle was at Bjälbo.

And if both the pretenders to the throne on the other side had fallen, it meant that not many of their men had escaped the battle alive, since the noble lords were the last to fall in war. Birger Brosa and Knut Eriksson must have won a great and decisive victory. So that’s why the fleeing Sverkers had come to Gudhem in the belief that they would be able to purchase safe conduct for themselves by kidnapping Knut Eriksson’s betrothed.

The war was over, and their side had won. In the first moment of joy when they danced down the arcade with their arms around each other, this was the thought that filled their minds.

Only later did they realize that what had happened on the bloody fields outside Bjälbo also meant that now they would be separated from each other. Cecilia Blanca’s hour of release would soon arrive.

THREE

Armand de Gascogne, sergeant of the Order of the Knights Templar, was a man who knew neither fear nor dread. Not only was it against the Rule - a Templar knight was forbidden to feel fear - it was also against his image of himself and against his most fervent wish in life, to be taken into the Order as a full-fledged brother in arms.

But when he spied the walls of Jerusalem in the setting sun, the centre of the world, looming up before them, it seemed that he did feel dread, and as if a chill went through him and the hairs on his forearms stood on end. But instantly the heat was back in his face.

Their ride had been very hard; his master Arn had allowed them only a brief rest at midday, and they had ridden in silence without any stops except to dismount now and then for a moment and rearrange the cumbersome loads on the horses. The six corpses had grown rigid in awkward positions, and as the sun climbed in the sky and the heat increased, they had gathered greater and greater clouds of flies around them. But the corpses were not the most difficult things to handle; they could be bent to fit better among the packs. On the other hand, the robbers’ loot in the little grotto had been sizable and hard to load. There was everything from Turkish weapons to Christian communion goblets of silver, silks and brocades, jewellery and Frankish arms ornaments, spurs of silver and gold, blue stones of the Egyptian sort, and gemstones that Armand had never seen before coloured violet and blue-green, small golden crucifixes affixed to leather cords or chains of hammered gold. These items alone told them that more than a score of the faithful souls, peace be upon them, must now be in Paradise after meeting a martyr’s death on their way to or from the place where John the Baptist had immersed the Lord Jesus Christ in the waters of the Jordan.