The Templar Knight - Jan Guillou

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came an army of knights riding four abreast, stretching as far as the eye could see.

      Arn raised his right hand and signalled to regroup in attack position, so that all sixteen knights spread out in a row facing the enemy. He was obeyed at once, but his men also gave him some questioning, nervous looks. Below were at least two thousand Egyptian knights carrying yellow banners, and their yellow uniforms shone like gold in the sun. So they were Mamelukes, an entire army of Mamelukes, the absolutely best knights and soldiers the Saracens had.

      When the Templar knights high above them regrouped to attack, the valley soon echoed with commands and the clatter of horses’ hooves as the Egyptians hastily prepared to meet the assault. Their mounted archers were sent to the front rank.

      Arn sat silently in his saddle watching the mighty foe. He had no intention of ordering an attack, since it would result in the loss of fifteen knights and a sergeant without much gain from such a sacrifice. But neither did he want to flee.

      And the Mamelukes seemed reluctant as well. All they could see from their low vantage point was an enemy force of sixteen, which they could easily defeat. But since the enemy sat there calmly watching their opponents, there had to be more than sixteen of them, and it could be seen from far off that they were the infidels’ most terrifying knights of the red cross. The Mamelukes, who also must have seen Armand holding the commander’s banner, undoubtedly surmised that this was a trap. The sixteen may have been the only ones in sight, but the commander’s banner signified a much larger formation, perhaps 500 to 600 similar knights who were now readying themselves in case the bait of the sixteen knights was taken.

      Finding themselves on low ground before an attacking Frankish army of knights was the worst imaginable situation for the Saracens, whether they were Turks or Mamelukes. Soon new orders echoed off the cliffs from the commanders down below, and the Egyptian army began to retreat. At the same time a party of lightly armed scouts fanned out onto the surrounding slopes to locate the enemy’s main force.

      Then Arn gave the order for an about face, a new tight formation, and retreat at a walk. Slowly the sixteen knights disappeared out of the field of vision of their apprehensive foes.

      As soon as the squadron was safely out of sight, Arn ordered a brisk trot in the direction of Gaza, taking the fastest route.

      When they approached the city they saw that all roads were filled with refugees seeking protection and fleeing the plundering marauders. In the distance to the east could be seen several black columns of smoke. Gaza would soon be full of refugees.

      War was finally upon them.

       FOUR

      The war had finally ended, but Cecilia Rosa and Cecilia Blanca were now about to learn that an end to fighting was not at all the same thing as good order and peace; the effects of a war did not cease overnight. Even though a war ended when the last men fell on the battlefield, that did not mean instant happiness and serenity, even for the side that had won.

      One night during the second month after the battle on the fields of blood outside Bjälbo, when the first autumn storms were lashing at the windows and shingled roof of Gudhem, a group of riders arrived. With great haste the men removed five of the maidens from the Sverker clan who were among the novices. It was whispered that they would be fleeing to relatives in Denmark. A few days later three new maidens belonging to families defeated in the war arrived to seek the serenity of the Gudhem cloister, which was beyond the reach of the victorious Folkungs and Eriks.

      With them they brought tidings about what was happening in the outside world. When the last Sverker maiden arrived, everyone at Gudhem found out that King Knut Eriksson, as he was now called, had ridden into Linköping itself with his jarl Birger Brosa to accept the surrender of the town and confirm the peace that now prevailed, in accordance with his terms.

      For the two Cecilias this was cause for great joy. Cecilia Blanca’s betrothed was now actually the king. And the uncle of Cecilia Rosa’s beloved Arn was now jarl. All power in the kingdom was now in their hands, at least all worldly power. However, there was still one big black cloud in this bright sky, because they’d had no word whether King Knut had any intention of bringing his betrothed, Cecilia Ulvsdotter, home from Gudhem.

      In the world of the men, nothing was ever certain. A betrothal could be broken because a man had lost in war, just as it could be broken if he was victorious. In the men’s struggle for power, anything was possible. The winning clans might now want to bind themselves tighter together through marriage, but it was also possible that they would have the notion of marrying into the losing side so as to seal the peace. This uncertainty consumed Cecilia Blanca, but the situation also meant that she did not assume victory in advance. She directed no harsh words to the unfortunate sisters who belonged to the losing side, and Cecilia Rosa followed her lead.

      The behaviour of the two Cecilias had a good and healing effect on the emotions prevailing inside Gudhem; Mother Rikissa, who was sometimes wiser than the two Cecilias suspected, viewed this as an opportunity to quell blood that was much too hot. She decided to relax the rules for conversing by the stone benches at the northern end of the arcade. Previously the silence rule had only been relaxed at the reading hours and when reciting the few writings at Gudhem, or during edifying discourses on sin and punishment when the worldly maidens were to be schooled there. But now Mother Rikissa invited Fru Helena Stenkilsdotter several times during the late summer to these discussions in order to learn what she knew about the struggle for power - and she knew a good deal. She knew even more about how women should react to such matters.

      Fru Helena was not merely wealthy and of royal lineage. She had lived her life under five or six kings, three husbands, and many wars. What she didn’t know about a woman’s lot was not worth knowing.

      Chiefly she impressed on them how important it was for women to learn to stick together to the very last. A woman who chose her adversaries and friends based on the shifting fortunes of men at war would end up alone in life with nothing but enemies. As delightful as it was to belong to the side that was victorious in war, it was equally miserable to be on the losing side. But if a woman lived long enough, as Fru Helena herself had done - and she hoped to God this would also be granted to the maidens now listening to her - then she would experience both sweet victory and the black feeling of defeat many times in her life.

      And if women had only had the wit to stick together more steadfastly in this world, how many unnecessary wars could then have been prevented? And if women hated one another without having any sensible reasons for doing so, how much unnecessary death would that not promote?

      ‘For let us play freely with the idea that anything at all might happen, which is often the case,’ she said. ‘We shall imagine that you, Cecilia Blanca Ulvsdotter, will become King Knut’s queen. And we shall imagine that you, Helena Sverkersdotter, in the near future will drink the bridal ale with one of blessed King Sverker’s kinsmen in Denmark. So, which of you two now wants war? Which of you wants peace? What would it mean if you had hated each other ever since the brief years of your youth at Gudhem? What would it mean if instead you were friends ever since that time? I shall tell you: it means the difference between life and death for many of your kinsfolk, and it can mean the difference between war and peace.’

      She paused, breathing heavily as she shifted position on her chair and fixed her little red eyes on her young listeners, who were sitting bolt upright, not showing any sign of comprehending. They neither agreed with nor opposed her words. Not even Cecilia Blanca revealed what she was thinking, even though she knew the least that Helena Sverkersdotter would suffer would be three times the number of blows with the scourge that she had dealt out.

      ‘You look like geese, all of you,’ Fru Helena went on after a moment. ‘You think that I’m only preaching the Gospel to you. One must act peaceably; anger and hatred are deadly sins. You must forgive your enemies, as they in turn must forgive you; you must turn the other cheek, and all the other admonitions we try to pound into your small, empty heads here at Gudhem. But it’s not that simple, my young friends and sisters. For you don’t believe

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