The Road To Jerusalem (21 page)

The two mares, Khadiya and Aisha, had now given birth to three foals, and Khamsiin had grown into a stallion as powerful as Nasir. It was Arn’s job to take care of all the horses from Outremer, to break the new foals, and make sure that Nasir and Khamsiin were each kept isolated in a fenced pasture so that they wouldn’t mate with Nordic mares in an order other than what Brother Guilbert had determined after precise studies.

Yet Brother Guilbert’s great hope that these horses from Outremer would bring in much silver was fulfilled only slowly. The Danish magnates who came to visit primarily to buy new swords for themselves and herbs for their women regarded the foreign horses with suspicion. They thought that these animals were too spindly and didn’t look like they could do very much. At first Brother Guilbert had a hard time taking such objections seriously and actually suspected that the Danes were joking with him. Then he realized that the barbarians were quite seri ous, sometimes even leading in their own animals to show him proudly how a real horse should look. Brother Guilbert grew dejected.

Finally circumstances led him to devise a trick that did indeed work well, but which made him feel guilty and contrite. One of these Danes led in his chubby, unruly Nordic horse to compare its advantages to those of the “skinny” ones. The man extolled both his steed’s strength and his speed, which far surpassed anything foreign. Brother Guilbert at once had a bright idea. He suggested that the honorable Danish knight should race down to the shore and back to the cloister, and that only a little cloister boy would ride one of the new horses. And if the honorable Danish gentleman won the race, he wouldn’t have to pay anything for the sword he had just purchased.

To his wide-eyed surprise Arn was told that he was to ride Khamsiin, and race a fat old man on a horse that looked very similar to the man. Arn had a hard time believing his ears, but he had to obey. When the two riders were ready outside the cloister walls, Arn asked Brother Guilbert, speaking in Latin out of sheer nervousness although the two of them always spoke French together, whether he was supposed to ride full tilt or take it easy so that the sausage-looking horse could keep up. Oddly enough, Brother Guilbert gave him strict orders to ride at full speed. He obeyed, as always.

Arn was already back at the cloister when the Danish knight had made it only halfway and was down by the shore turning around.

Then some rich men from Ringsted, who enjoyed racing horses and betting money on them, now found that the skinny horses from Vitskol were at least good for one thing. The rumor then spread to Roskilde, and soon horses from Vitae Schola were commanding large sums of money. But that was not what Brother Guilbert had had in mind.

The exercises Brother Guilbert was now asking Arn to try on horseback were no longer simply about balance and speed, but had to do with matters of considerably greater finesse. They spent about an hour each day in one of the stallion’s pastures, riding around each other in specific patterns, backing, rearing and turning in the air, moving sideways or sideways and forward or back at the same time, teaching the horses which signals meant strike with the forehooves and jump forward at the same time, or backward kick with both legs followed by a jump to the side. It was an art that Arn liked when everything went as planned, but he could find it somewhat monotonous. At least during the obligatory practices. It was more exciting with the completely free exercises when they practiced with wooden swords or lances against each other.

The practice on foot had become much more difficult, and was mainly about striking and parrying with swords; for a long time now, Arn had been using a real steel sword. He was still humbly convinced that he was a wretched swordsman. Yet he didn’t give up; he persevered with this work in this Lord’s vineyard as well. Lack of faith would have been a great sin.

His work with Brother Guy down at the beach was quite another story. Brother Guy had finally given up the apparently impossible task of enticing the Danes around Limfjord to eat mussels. The mussel beds had been reduced to a fraction of their original ambitious size and now yielded only enough to meet the demand of the Provencal cooks at Vitae Schola.

Brother Guy’s task was not to bring in income to Vitae Schola but to spread the blessings of civilization, and he was going to do that by setting a good example. The intentions behind his work were much the same as those for the brothers who worked in farming: not to focus on selling the produce, primarily, but to inform. In that respect he had begun by failing miserably in introducing the populace to the blessings of mussels.

But things went better with fishing gear and boat-building. When he saw the Limfjordings’ fish-spears with straight tips, he went to Brother Guilbert and asked him to make some fishspears with barbed tips, which he later distributed to the fishermen. When he discovered that the Limfjordings fished only with stationary equipment inside the fjord, he began to make movable nets and bottom seines. The difference between his nets and the nets of the Limfjordings was primarily the suppleness that came from the larger mesh and thinner material that he used.

It took Arn about a year to learn the art of tying nets well enough that Brother Guy pronounced his nets to be as good as those made by a boy from home. For Arn the work was not hard, but tedious.

Soon enough everything began functioning the way Brother Guy had intended. The Limfjordings started coming from the villages around Vitae Schola to study with curiosity, and at first with some suspicion, how to use movable nets. Brother Guy, with Arn as his interpreter, naturally offered to share his knowledge in a Christian spirit.

This meant that now and then Brother Guy would leave Arn alone at the boathouse on the shore while he took Danish fishermen out in the boats to show them how to place nets from a moving boat. But those who came to learn how to tie the new nets were all women, young and old, since net-tying was women’s work around the Limfjord.

And that was how Arn, whose only experience of women was what resembled a mirage in his evening prayers when he prayed for his mother’s soul, now suddenly found himself almost daily surrounded by women. At first all the women, young and old, made merry at the expense of the gangly young man with the strong arms who, blushing and stammering, kept his eyes fixed on the ground so that he always showed his shaved pate instead of his blue eyes.

Arn knew in theory how a teacher should behave, since he had had so many. But what he thought he knew about the art of teaching did not match what he now experienced, since his pupils did not behave with the obedience and dignity that befitted pupils. They joked and giggled, and the older women sometimes even unchastely stroked his head.

But Arn gritted his teeth, because he had a task to carry out responsibly. After a while he dared raised his eyes somewhat. And then he raised his eyes unavoidably to their breasts under thin summer shifts and their happy, coquettish smiles and their curious eyes.

Her name was Birgite and she had thick copper-red hair gathered in a single braid down her back; she was the same age as he was, and she often wanted him to show her something over again even though he was sure she had already learned it. When he sat down next to her he could feel the warmth of her thigh, and when she pretended to fumble he took her hands to show her one more time how to knot and crochet the net.

He didn’t know that now he was a sinner, so it took a while before Father Henri realized what was happening. But by then it was too late.

She was the most beautiful creature Arn had ever seen in his life, with the possible exception of Khamsiin. And he began dreaming of her at night, so that he awoke self-defiled without having consciously done it. He began dreaming of her in the daytime too, when he was supposed to be busy with other things. When Brother Guilbert once gave him a box on the ear because he wasn’t paying attention during practice, he hardly knew what had happened.

When Birgite shyly asked him to bring some of the herbs that they had in the cloister, the ones that smelled like a dream, he assumed that she must mean lemon balm or lavender. A brief furtive question to Brother Lucien quickly decided the choice; all women were crazy about lavender, muttered Brother Lucien absentmindedly, having no idea what a fire he had just ignited.

At first Arn smuggled out a twig or two now and then. But when she kissed him on the forehead, quickly so that no one would see, he lost his wits completely. The next time he brought her a whole armful, which Birgite, chirping with glee, at once carried off home. He watched her nimble bare feet moving so swiftly that the sand sprayed around them.

It was in that state, pining with an absent look and gaping mouth, that Brother Guy found his young apprentice. And with that there was a brusque stop to the infatuation, because at the same time Brother Lucien, to his perplexity, had found big, mysterious holes in his supply of lavender.

Arn was punished with two weeks on bread and water and isolation for meditation and prayer during the first week. Since he didn’t have his own cell but shared one with several lay brothers, he now had to do his penance in a free cell inside the closed section of the monastery. With him he took the Holy Scriptures, the oldest and most worn-out copy, and nothing else.

Of his two great sins he could understand one of them, but the other one he could not. No matter how much he honestly tried, no matter how much he prayed for the Holy Virgin’s forgiveness.

He had stolen lavender; that was something concrete and understandable. Lavender was a desirable product outside the cloister, and Brother Lucien sold it with much success. Arn had simply mistaken something that was
gratia
, such as teaching the method for knotting nets, with something that existed for income, such as Brother Guilbert’s sword-forging or Brother Lucien’s plants—although not all the plants, by any means. Some of them, like chamomile, were
gratia
as well.

Father Henri had also noticed this. Even though theft was theft, and thus an abominable breach of the cloister’s rules, this was something that, to say the least, had occurred out of youthful ignorance. Father Henri had carefully listened to Brother Guy’s view of what had happened. Yet this led to Brother Guy also receiving a reprimand since he had not taken Arn’s errors very seriously, and had even slipped in an explanation that if Father Henri had seen the girl himself then the whole matter would not have seemed so mysterious.

Arn’s second and worse sin was that he had felt lust. Had he been a brother admitted to the order, he would have been punished with half a year of bread and water, and he would have been allowed to work only with the kitchen garbage and the latrines.

In his isolation Arn now had to repent for his sin of stealing the lavender, a sin that he easily could regret sincerely. But it was impossible for him to understand why it was worse than theft to long for and dream about Birgite. He couldn’t stop himself. His hair shirt didn’t help, the cold of night in his cell didn’t help, nor did the hard wooden bed without a lambskin or blanket. When he lay awake he saw her before him. If he managed to fall asleep he dreamed about her freckled face and brown eyes or her naked feet running quick as little kid-goats through the sand. And his body behaved shamefully as soon as he fell asleep. In the morning one of the brothers, without saying a word, would put a bucket of ice-cold water in Arn’s cell. The first thing he did was to shove his shameful member into the water to cool off the all-too-obvious sin.

And when he had to compose himself so he could devote himself to the Holy Scriptures, it was as if the Devil himself were leading him to the very passages that he shouldn’t read. He could find his way around in the Holy Scriptures so well that he tried looking up verses at random with his eyes closed. And yet he found verses such as:

Love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the
coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame.

Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods
drown it: if a man would give all the substance of his
house for love, it would utterly be contemned.

No matter how Arn tried to use his knowledge of how God’s word should be read and interpreted, he could not view love as a sin. This power, which God the Father called a blessing to humanity, which was so strong that an ocean could not drown it, and no man, no matter how rich, could buy it for himself for coins of silver, this power that was as impossible to subdue as death itself, how could that be a sin?

During Arn’s second week of penance on bread and water, when he was allowed to speak, Father Henri sternly brought up the subject, since they had soon agreed about the theft of the lavender. He wanted to try to get the overheated young man to understand what love was. Hadn’t Saint Bernard himself described it all as clearly as water?

A human being begins by loving himself for his own sake. The next stage in development is that humans learn to love God, but still for their own sake and not for God’s sake. Then humanity does learn to love God, and no longer for their own sake but for God’s sake. Finally, humanity learns to love humanity, but only for God’s sake.

What happened in that process of development was that
cupiditas
, or desire, which lies at the heart of all human appetite, ended up in control and was converted into
caritas,
so that all base desire was cleansed away and love became pure. All this was elementary, wasn’t it?

Arn reluctantly agreed that it was indeed elementary; like almost everyone else at Vitae Schola he was quite familiar with all the texts of Bernard de Clairvaux. But as Arn understood it, there must be two types of love. It was true that he loved Father Henri, Brother Guilbert, Brother Lucien, Brother Guy, Brother Ludwig, and all the other monks. Without hesitation he could fix his blue eyes on Father Henri’s brown eyes and confirm this, and he knew that Father Henri could see straight into his soul.

But that couldn’t be the whole truth . . . and so he suddenly, without being able to stop, began citing long passages from the Song of Songs.