When they had said their greetings and the jarl had received his desired tankard of ale, he sat down comfortably at the table, pulling up one leg as was his wont. Then he gave Cecilia Blanca a sly look as she sat down and arranged her skirts.

“So, my dear kinswoman Cecilia,” he said with a smile, stalling a bit to pique her curiosity even more. “The queen and I have a great deal to say to you. Some news is of great import and other news may be of lesser interest. But I think you would like to hear first the latest news about Arn Magnusson. He is now one of the great victors of the Knights Templar, and recently he won a huge battle at a place called Mont Grisar, at least that’s what I thought Father Henri said. It was no ordinary battle. Fifty thousand Saracens fell, and he himself led ten thousand knights, riding in the vanguard. May God preserve such a warrior so that we have him home soon. We Folkungs hope for this as much as you do, Cecilia!”

Cecilia Rosa at once bowed her head in a prayer of thanksgiving and soon the tears were streaming down her cheeks. Birger Brosa and Cecilia Blanca let her weep but exchanged a meaningful glance.

“Shall we switch to another topic that also warrants our attention?” asked the jarl after a while, again smiling broadly. Cecilia Rosa nodded and dried her tears. But she smiled at Cecilia Blanca as if neither words nor silent cloister signs were needed to explain the joy that the news from Varnhem had brought her.

“Well, I thought I’d speak with you about Ulvhilde Emundsdotter, because that matter has not been easy to resolve,” the jarl went on when he thought Cecilia Rosa had collected herself sufficiently.

Then he calmly explained, point by point and in good order, how various difficulties had arisen and what he had tried to do about them.

First and foremost he wanted to say that it was quite true that Ulvhilde had the law of Western Götaland on her side. About that, three lagmänwere in agreement. Ulfshem had been Ulvhilde’s childhood home. As her mother and her brother had been killed, she was indeed the rightful heiress to Ulfshem.

And yet the matter had not been quite so simple. For King Knut Eriksson had been no friend of her father, Emund One-Hand. On the contrary, when the issue of the inheritance had been brought up, the king had vehemently declared that if he could kill Emund again every single day, then he would be supremely happy to do so. Emund was a king-killer and worse because in an ignominious and cowardly fashion he had slain Saint Erik, King Knut’s father. And why, King Knut had then asked, should he feel the slightest mercy toward the evil Emund’s offspring?

Because the law required it, Birger Brosa had then tried to explain. The law was above all other power; the law was the basis on which a country was built, and no king could object to that.

But the difficulties were not limited to the king’s intractable stance. Ulfshem had been burned to the ground. Then it had been given to some Folkungs who had served well in the victory on the fields of blood. Now living at Ulfshem were Sigurd Folkesson and his two unmarried sons. Their mother had died in childbed, and for some reason Folkesson had never remarried.

These Folkungs could claim that they had been given Ulfshem by royal bequest and that they had then built up everything from the ground.

Here, to his considerable surprise, the jarl was interrupted by Cecilia Rosa who almost audaciously pointed out that the land was worth much more than any buildings.

The jarl frowned at being corrected in this way, but since the only witness was the queen he chose to ignore the affront. Instead of being annoyed he praised Cecilia Rosa for her shrewd business sense.

In any case, this matter had been gone over time and time again. There was more than one way to get out of this fox-burrow.

One way was with silver. Another way was by marriage. For if Ulvhilde agreed to be betrothed to one of Sigurd’s sons, there would be no impediment to her assuming more than half ownership of Ulfshem. She had to have something as a dowry, after all.

Here Cecilia Rosa looked as if she wanted to say something, but she refrained.

The second possibility, the jarl went on as he held up his forefinger with a smile so as not to be interrupted again, was to buy out the Folkungs now living at Ulfshem.

As Cecilia Rosa surely understood, he and Cecilia Blanca had not wanted to have this discussion in Ulvhilde’s presence; that was the only reason she had not yet been invited over to the hospitium.

They wanted to know what Cecilia Rosa thought of this, and whether they could agree on a wise solution so they could then summon Ulvhilde. What was Cecilia Rosa’s opinion? She was the one who knew Ulvhilde best. Should they seek the expensive solution and buy out the Folkungs, or could they simply arrange for her to marry into the Folkung clan?

Cecilia Rosa thought that this dilemma could be settled in the twinkling of an eye. In a better world in which Ulvhilde had not had all those nearest and dearest to her killed in a war, her father would have long ago made the best match he could for her. But as things now stood, Ulvhilde had no such constraints. Cecilia Rosa was sure that she would go along with whatever her two sole friends proposed for her, in consultation with the jarl. But rushing to force Ulvhilde into a bridal bed might just as well lead to her unhappiness as to her happiness.

After thinking for a while, Cecilia Rosa suggested that it would be best if Ulvhilde were simply allowed to travel home to her family estate without any betrothal promises. While Birger Brosa arranged for new land for the Folkung Sigurd and his two sons, they could stay and help Ulvhilde settle in as mistress of the estate. For it was no easy matter to learn such responsibilities, since she had spent the greater part of her life in singing hymns, gardening, and doing needlework.

After a brief pause he nodded his agreement and asked Cecilia Rosa to go to the cloister and fetch Ulvhilde.

Before leaving she was reminded by Cecilia Blanca that this would be the last time Ulvhilde walked through the gate of Gudhem, for they would take her along on their journey north in a day or two. So, she added, if there was any suitable Sverker mantle, it would be best to bring it along at once. The jarl would surely have nothing against paying for such a gift. And if he made a fuss about this small expense, Cecilia Blanca would pay for it herself. She and Birger Brosa had a good laugh at that.

Her cheeks red and her heart pounding, Cecilia Rosa hurried into the cloister and off to the vestiarium, where at this hour she expected to find Ulvhilde. But she wasn’t there. Cecilia Rosa quickly selected a very lovely bloodred Sverker mantle with gold and silk threads adorning the embroidered black griffin on the back. She folded it up under her arm, and hurried off to find Ulvhilde. She suddenly felt a great sense of unease.

And as if guided by this foreboding she did not stop to look in places where she should have looked first, but went straight to Mother Rikissa’s own rooms. There she found them both on their knees and weeping. As if to console the young woman Mother Rikissa had placed her arm around Ulvhilde’s shoulders, which were shaking with sobs. What Cecilia Rosa had feared most was about to happen or in the worst case had already happened, despite all her warnings to Ulvhilde.

“Don’t let yourself be led astray, Ulvhilde!” she shouted, running over to them and brusquely snatching Ulvhilde from Mother Rikissa’s clawlike grip. She embraced her and stroked her trembling back as she fumbled with the red mantle.

Mother Rikissa then stood up, hissing with her red-rimmed eyes flashing. She began screaming wildly that no one had the right to interrupt confession. Then she tried to seize Ulvhilde’s arms to pull her away.