Eskil had the answers to both these questions. To make arrangements so that Arn and Cecilia's child—whether it was a son or not, and he didn't understand how they all could be so certain of that—ended up with Algot Pålsson was not a good idea. Algot was already reported to have muttered that instead of a son-in-law he was going to have a bastard in his house. Such words did not testify to a good attitude. So the child would have to be cared for by the Folkung clan.
And as far as the other matter was concerned, whether unlawful children could become lawful, the answer was simple. If the excommunication could be lifted and the wedding ale that was envisioned between Arn and Cecilia celebrated, then all would be in its proper order once again.
Birger Brosa then said thoughtfully that since he too had infant children and a mother and two extra wet nurses to take care of them, it seemed best if the boy was allowed to come to Bjälbo. No one objected to that.
The last question they had to contend with was of lesser importance but still as vexing as a chafed foot. Algot Pålsson had not only grumbled about a bastard in the house, he had also complained out loud and bitterly that a son of Arnäs had so mucked up a good business deal that it was obvious it would come to naught. Algot of course was no dangerous foe, and he would think twice before drawing a sword against the Folkungs. Still, it was ill advised for him to be grumbling publicly like that.
Magnus replied with some melancholy that this was merely a matter of the priests' written report to Rome, and all the associated complications could take a great deal of time. If things moved quickly, then all would be arranged as it was intended from the start. But if the matter dragged on for several years, which such things had been known to do, then the situation would be much worse. In that case, Magnus thought, they ought to make the same bargain as originally intended, although with Katarina as bride and Eskil as bridegroom. For Katarina had just been released from the convent in Gudhem.
A sense of gloom settled over the table. Everyone knew that it was Katarina who was the actual cause of this trouble that had now befallen not only Arn and Cecilia but the whole Folkung clan. It seemed wrong, Eskil said with a sigh, to reward Katarina so highly for her malicious deed.
Birger Brosa responded coldly that it sounded like a wise thing to do, and that young Eskil ought to realize that they were speaking only of business, and not of emotions. So if Arn was not released, Eskil must be prepared to go to the bridal bed with a woman to whom he might not care to turn his back, for fear of inviting a dagger.
There the matter was left. At this table the issues were business and the struggle for power, and love by no means had the final word.
Father Henri had not made the slightest move to give Arn absolution for his sins as he listened to his confession. Nor had Arn expected that he would, because he was excommunicated, and not even a prior like Father Henri could annul an excommunication. In brief Father Henri had explained the nature of Arn's sin and then sent him to a cell for meditation on bread and water and all the other acts of penance he might expect.
During his time in the base world Arn had managed to commit three grave sins. First, he had killed two drunken peasants; second, drunk himself, he'd had carnal relations with Katarina; and third, he'd had carnal relations with Cecilia.
Of these three sins the first two had been forgiven so easily and simply that Arn himself had wondered about it. But the third sin, which arose because he had carnal relations with Cecilia as well, the woman he loved and wanted to live with as man and wife forever, had been such a grave sin that he had been excommunicated, dragging her to her own ruin. It was incomprehensible. Killing two men was nothing, and having carnal relations with a woman he didn't love was nothing. But doing the same thing with a woman he loved above all else on earth, as the Holy Scriptures described love—that was the gravest of sins.
They had sent him the text of the law from the archive at Varnhem, and in the text everything stood clear and inexorable. In the archive were kept only such law texts as the church itself had pushed through, of course; everything else, such as single combat, defamation, and monetary fines if one slew someone else's thralls or stole someone else's livestock, were of minor interest to the church.
But the law that Arn had broken was something that the church had fought for and ultimately pushed through. In the text of the marriage act for Western Götaland it said:
If a man lies with his daughter, the case shall be re ported in writing and sent to Rome. If father and son own the same woman, if two brothers own the same woman, if two brothers' sons own the same woman, if mother and daughter own the same man, if two sisters own the same man, if two sisters' daughters own the same man, it is an abomination.
So it was written. The passage was beautifully printed in Latin while the subsequent translation into the vernacular was written in cursive. Arn had no difficulty recognizing the prohibition, for he knew it had been taken from the Pentateuch of Moses in the Holy Scriptures.
But there were all sorts of senseless and peculiar prohibitions to be found in the Holy Scriptures, and everything that Arn thought he knew about how to interpret such things now fell flat on the ground. That it was abomination if someone lay with his daughter was easy to understand. But it was impossible to comprehend how lying with Katarina once when he was drunk could be considered the same as what he and Cecilia had done together out of love—while physically there might be a resemblance, there was none in spirit.
Arn brooded for a long time over God's law. He tested his theological reasoning on the regulations from the Old Testament, comparing his crime to similar prohibitions such as wearing clothing of a certain color during the month of mourning or having one's hair cut in a certain way. But it made no difference and all such ruminations were useless because the same prohibition had been written into the laws of Western Götaland. He remembered well the respect that his kinsmen had displayed when Judge Karle recited the law regarding slander. There was so little room for interpretation that his own father had been prepared to die as prescribed by law.
But according to this law, he had committed a crime that was equivalent to the abomination of lying with his own daughter.
Yet it was God's holy church that would judge. And among men of God the thoughts and intentions behind a crime were given different consideration than among the West Goths.