Cecilia Rosa quietly replied, saying that happiness must seem all the greater now that it was here. For it would have been so hard to go on counting the days for over a month in constant worry that something might have changed.
They had no chance to say more because the men’s dreams of all the gold and silver to be made from trading with Lübeck began dominating the room, and Bishop Bengt was careful to turn the conversation to himself. He told them what fear he had felt for his life, but how he had prayed that God might make him brave, and then he resolutely dared to intervene and rescue the two Cecilias from being abducted, and from a convent at that—the worst sort of abduction. His story droned on, nor did he omit a single insignificant detail.
Since the Cecilias couldn’t very well interrupt when a bishop was speaking, especially when he was talking about them—although mostly about himself—they chastely bowed their heads and continued to communicate in sign language under the table.
True that he chased away the boors, but where was the courage in that?Cecilia Rosa signed.
His courage would have been greater if the Sverkers had won on the fields of blood,Cecilia Blanca replied. Neither of them could hold back a giggle.
But King Knut, who was a sharp-eyed man and not yet very drunk, saw this female merriment from the corner of his eye. He turned suddenly to the Cecilias and asked in a loud voice whether this incident did not occur exactly the way Bishop Bengt had related it.
“Yes, absolutely true, it happened just as the bishop tells it,” replied Cecilia Blanca without the slightest hesitation. “Foreign warriors came and demanded with words so coarse that I can’t repeat them here that Cecilia Algotsdotter and I be delivered from the walls of Gudhem at once. Then Bishop Bengt stepped up and admonished them in stern terms and they retreated without doing harm.”
During a brief silence the king and the other men pondered these angelic words from the king’s own betrothed, and the king then promised that this matter would not go unrewarded. Bishop Bengt was quick to point out that he sought no reward for acting in accordance with his conscience and as his duty to the Lord commanded, but if something good might fall to the church then joy would arise among God’s servants, just as in Heaven. Soon the conversation took another turn.
Cecilia Rosa now asked in sign language why the lying bishop was let off the hook so easily. Cecilia Blanca answered that it would have been unwise for a future queen to disgrace one of the kingdom’s bishops before other men. But that did not mean that anything was forgotten, and the king would soon be told the truth, although at a more suitable time. By now they were signing even more excitedly above the table, and they suddenly realized that Mother Rikissa was staring at them with an expression that was anything but loving.
Birger Brosa had also seen something, although he was not one to talk much at a feast; he preferred to watch and listen. He was sitting in his usual way, leaning back slightly with that amused smile that had given him the nickname Brosa—meaning Cheerful—and with his ale tankard lazily propped on one knee. Now he quickly leaned forward and slammed down the tankard with a bang, so that the conversation stopped and all eyes turned to him. They knew that when the jarl did this he had something to say, and when the jarl had something to say everyone listened, even the king.
“It seems fitting to me,” he began with a thoughtful look on his face, “that we might talk a bit about what we could do for Gudhem, now that we are finally gathered here and have heard about Bishop Bengt’s heroic action. Does Rikissa have any suggestion, perhaps?”
All eyes turned to Mother Rikissa, for the jarl was not one to ask a rhetorical question. Mother Rikissa thought carefully before replying.
“Land is always being donated to cloisters,” she said. “Gudhem too has acquired more property as the years go by. But right now what we need at Gudhem are squirrel furs and good wintertime white fox and marten pelts.”
She looked a bit sly when she fell silent, as if she understood quite well what astonishment her answer would arouse.
“Squirrel and marten pelts? It sounds as though you and your sisters have been struck by worldly temptations, but surely things can’t possibly be as bad as that, can they, Rikissa?” asked Birger Brosa in a kindly tone and with a bigger smile than usual.
“Not at all,” Mother Rikissa snorted. “But just as you gentlemen deal in trade, a subject which you have all been boasting of so freely, the servants of the Lord must do so as well. Look at all these soiled and torn mantles that your men are wearing. Here at Gudhem we have begun to make new mantles, better and more beautiful than the ones you had before. And for these mantles we are counting on receiving an honest price. Since we are women, you can’t demand that we cut millstones like the monks at Varnhem.”
Her reply provoked both surprise and amusement. So involved in business matters as all the men had just been feeling, and as men always felt, they could do no less than nod in agreement and attempt to look wise.
“And what sort of colors are possible for these mantles that you and your sisters are sewing?” asked Birger Brosa in a kindly tone that scarcely concealed the cunning of his thoughts.
“My good jarl!” replied Mother Rikissa, feigning equal surprise at the question that Birger Brosa had just posed so innocently. “The mantles that we sew are of course red with a black griffin head…as well as blue with three crowns, or blue with the lion that you yourself, although not at this moment, usually wear on your back…”
After a brief hesitation Birger Brosa began to laugh, and Knut Eriksson joined in, so that in no time all the men around the table were laughing.
“Mother Rikissa! You have a sharp tongue, but we also find you have an amusing way with words,” said Knut Eriksson, taking a swig of ale and wiping his mouth before he went on. “The pelts you asked for shall soon be at Gudhem, we give you our word on that. Was there anything else, while we’re still in a good mood and willing to make new business deals?”
“Yes, perhaps so, my king,” replied Mother Rikissa hesitantly. “If those Lübeckers have gold and silver thread, we could make the coats of arms much lovelier. Surely both Cecilia Ulvsdotter and Cecilia Algotsdotter can attest to that, since they have both been very industrious in this new venture at Gudhem.”
All eyes now turned to the two Cecilias, who modestly had to agree with what Mother Rikissa had said. With such fine foreign thread they could embroider beautiful coats of arms on the back of the mantles.
So the king immediately promised to see to it that not only the desired furs but also Lübeck thread would arrive at Gudhem as soon as possible. He added that it was not only a better deal than bestowing land, it could also mean a more beautiful assembly at the coronation ceremony if the guests were well appointed by the women of Gudhem.
Mother Rikissa got up at once and excused herself, saying that duty called, and she thanked the king most gratefully for both the meal and the promises. The king and the jarl both nodded good night, and she was free to go. But she remained standing there, giving Cecilia Rosa a stern look, as if she were waiting for her.
When Knut Eriksson noticed Mother Rikissa’s silent demand, he looked at his betrothed and she shook her head. He made up his mind.
“We wish you good night, Rikissa,” he said. “And as far as Cecilia Algotsdotter is concerned, we would like her to spend the night with our betrothed so that no one can say that Knut spent the night under the same roof and in the same bed as his intended.”
Mother Rikissa stood utterly still, as if she could not believe her ears. She had a hard time deciding whether she should agree and simply leave, or whether she should argue the point.