Many travelers came and went, and there was a constant clatter of horses’ hooves. In the vestiariumnot much orderly work was done by Gudhem’s maidens, since they were fantasizing about what the smells and sounds from outside might tell them regarding about was happening. But amid the eager chatter, a distance arose between Cecilia Rosa and the others. Now she was the only one inside Gudhem with a piece of blue yarn around her right arm, alone among the Sverker daughters. It was as if some of the old hostility had come creeping back, mixed with fear or caution since she, even though alone, was the dearest friend of the future queen.
After vespers Mother Rikissa was to attend the banquet outside the walls, so she refrained from following all the others to the refectoriumfor a supper of lentil soup and rye bread. But the prioress had scarcely managed to say grace over the meal in the refectoriumbefore Mother Rikissa returned and spread anxiety all around her. She was livid with barely contained anger. Pressing her lips tight, she ordered Cecilia Rosa to come with her at once. It seemed as though Cecilia Rosa might now be taken for punishment, in the worst case to the carcer.
She got up at once and followed Mother Rikissa with her head bowed, for rather than fear a bright hope had ignited inside her. And just as she hoped, she was not being led to the carcerbut to the gate and then to the hospitium. There merry voices were heard from the banquet in progress. In the tents outside the smithy and stables, many men were drinking ale.
The hospitium, however, was large enough to hold only the most highly honored guests. At the oak table inside the hall sat the king himself and his jarl Birger Brosa, the archbishop and Bishop Bengt from Skara, four other men whom Cecilia Rosa did not recognize, and far down at the short end of the table sat Cecilia Blanca wearing her blue mantle with the three crowns and ermine trim.
When they entered the room Mother Rikissa roughly shoved Cecilia Rosa before her, seizing her by the scruff of the neck to make her curtsey to the dignitaries, as if she wouldn’t have thought to do so herself. Knut Eriksson frowned and gave Mother Rikissa a stern look that she pretended not to notice. Then he raised his right hand so that all talking and whispering ceased in the room at once.
“We welcome you to our banquet here at Gudhem, Cecilia Algotsdotter,” he said with a kind glance at Cecilia Rosa. Then he continued, with a less kind look at Mother Rikissa.
“We welcome you most gladly since your presence here is the wish of our betrothed. Just as we may invite Mother Rikissa if we so choose, our betrothed may invite you.”
With that he gestured toward the place where Cecilia Blanca was sitting, where there was still some room. Mother Rikissa then led Cecilia Rosa with a firm grip to the far end of the table. When she sat down Mother Rikissa angrily tore from her arm the blue piece of yarn, turned away, and went to her place at the other end of the table.
Mother Rikissa’s contemptuous handling of the blue color did not escape the attention of anyone in the hall, so at first there was an embarrassed silence. The two Cecilias held each other’s hand under the table. Everyone could see that the king was incensed by the unwise action of the mother superior.
“If you, Mother Rikissa, feel an aversion to blue yarn, then perhaps you would not feel comfortable sitting here with us this evening,” he said, his tone suspiciously gentle as he pointed to the door leading out.
“We have rules at Gudhem that not even kings can alter, and at Gudhem no maiden may wear clan colors,” replied Mother Rikissa brusquely and without fear. But then jarl Birger Brosa slammed his fist on the table so hard that the ale tankards jumped, and there was a silence like that between a lightning strike and the thunder. Everyone cringed involuntarily when he stood up and pointed at Mother Rikissa.
“Then you should know, Rikissa,” he began in a much quieter voice than anyone in the room expected, “that we Folkungs also have our rules. Cecilia Algotsdotter is a dear friend, and she is betrothed to an even dearer friend of both myself and the king. It is true that she was sentenced to harsh punishment for a sin that many of us have escaped with no punishment at all, but you shall know that in my eyes she is one of us!”
He had raised his voice toward the end of his speech and now he strode with slow, decisive steps down the table and stood directly behind the two Cecilias, giving Mother Rikissa a hard stare as he swept off his mantle and carefully, almost tenderly, draped it around Cecilia Rosa’s shoulders. He gave the king a glance, and the king nodded his approval in return. Then Birger Brosa returned to his place, hoisted his ale tankard and drank several mighty drafts, before he held out the tankard toward the two Cecilias, and then sat down with a loud grumble.
For a long while the conversation flagged. Roast-turners brought in both venison and pork, along with ale and sweet vegetables and white bread, but the guests touched only enough food as was considered polite.
The two Cecilias had no opportunity to talk, although they were bursting with impatience to discuss events. That which was called women’s prattle would not have been appropriate at the table when the mood was so solemn. They bowed their heads demurely, picking cautiously at the food which after such a long time on a cloister diet, they otherwise would have gobbled right up.
For Archbishop Stéphan, the roast-turners had brought in special food, including lamb cooked in cabbage, and unlike all the others at the table he drank wine instead of ale. He had not allowed the dispute between Mother Rikissa and the king’s jarl to interrupt his earthly enjoyments. Now he held up his wine glass and scrutinized the color of the wine before once again putting it to his lips and rolling his eyes.
“It’s like being home in Burgundy again,” he sighed as he set down his glass. “ Mon Dieu!This wine certainly suffered no harm from its long journey. But speaking of journeys…how are the affairs in Lübeck going, Your Majesty?”
Just as Archbishop Stéphan had intended, Knut Eriksson brightened at this question and at once launched into an animated response.
At that very moment Eskil Magnusson, who was Arn’s brother and the nephew of Birger Brosa, was in Lübeck to draw up a trading contract, signed and sealed, with no less than Henrik the Lion of Saxony. As large a portion of the trade from the Gothic lands as could be imagined would now be rerouted to the Eastern Sea and pass between Eastern Götaland and Lübeck. If their own lighters were not sufficient, the Lübeckers would generously make their vessels available. The great new wares that the Lübeckers wanted included dried fish from Norway, which Eskil Magnusson had begun to buy in copious quantities, shipping it from the Norwegian Sea up into Lake Vänern and on via river and lake to Lake Vättern, then out from ports in Eastern Götaland. Iron from Svealand, pelts and salt herring, salmon and butter would soon be shipped the same way, and the goods that the Lübeckers had to offer in return were just as favorable, but best was all the silver that changed hands.
Soon all the men, worldly as well as clerical, were involved in a lively, cheerful conversation about what the new trade route with Lübeck might entail. Their hopes were high, and they were all agreed that trade belonged to new and better times. They also seemed convinced that the wealth that would come from greater trade would also lead to increased concord and peace.
The discussion grew louder, and more ale was brought in with ever-growing haste so that the feast at long last got under way.
The two Cecilias could now begin to talk to each other, since nobody could hear what they were saying at the far end of the table. Cecilia Blanca first reported how long ago Knut Eriksson had sent a message that he would be coming to Gudhem on this day, and that he would be bringing with him a queen’s mantle. So Mother Rikissa had known about it for quite a while, but malicious as she was she had decided to say nothing. That woman’s only true joy was not to love God but to torment her neighbor.