No matter how Arn twisted and turned this question, everything finally came down to what Father Henri would decide. For it was clear that Arn would not be judged by any ting; he snorted at the thought of how easily he would be able to defend himself either with a sword or a countless number of Folkung oath-swearers.
He would be judged by God's holy church, and that meant there was at least a reasonable chance of weighing good against evil. So he hovered between hope and despair.
His hope grew even greater when a brother came to fetch him to a meeting with Archbishop Stéphan. Arn had no idea that the archbishop was at Varnhem, and at first he thought that it might have something to do with his own case, since the archbishop had once told Arn that he would always have a friend out there in the other world, a friend who would stand by him, and who was none other than the archbishop himself.
Arn hurried to the arcade where he found Father Henri in his usual place, and to his joy also Archbishop Stéphan. He fell to his knees at once to kiss the archbishop's hand and did not take a seat until he was told to do so.
Yet it was not kindness that Arn saw in the archbishop's eyes as the prelate studied him for a while in silence. And with that, Arn felt the warmth of his hope swiftly cool.
"These are no small lapses that you have managed during your brief time out there in the base world," the archbishop began at last. He sounded very stern, and Father Henri sitting next to him did not look at Arn but seemed to be examining his own sandals.
"You know very well," continued the archbishop in the same stern tone, "that the power of the church must not be intermingled with earthly power. And yet that is just what you have done, and you have now placed me in quite a quandary. With open eyes you did this, and even with some cunning."
The archbishop paused as if to hear what excuses or explanations the young man might offer. But Arn, who had been completely prepared to take part in a discussion of his carnal sins, now felt utterly bewildered. He didn't understand what the archbishop was talking about, and he said so, apologizing for his stupidity. The archbishop then heaved a great sigh, but Arn caught the trace of a smile on the face of the venerable man, as if he did indeed believe Arn's plea of ignorance.
"You can't have such a short memory that you've forgotten that we saw each other not so long ago up in Östra Aros, can you?" asked the archbishop in a voice that was both agreeable and harsh.
"No, Your Excellency, but I don't understand how I then should have sinned," replied Arn uncertainly.
"That's remarkable!" snorted the archbishop. "You show up with a man in tow who was one of those contenders for the crown who are unfortunately so numerous in this part of the world. You join in his request that I in some way should make haste and practically crown him on the spot. When I then refuse this request, for reasons which you surely knew in advance, what do you do then? You fairly fool the robe off me and leave me standing with my bare rump showing, that's what you do. And since you are one of us, and will remain so forever, both Father Henri and I have conducted lengthy and sincere deliberations, trying to decide what you were thinking when you acted as you did."
"I wasn't thinking about much at all," Arn replied, since it now began to dawn on him what they were talking about. "As Your Excellency so truly says, I did know that there could be no talk of the church immediately announcing its support of Knut Eriksson. But I found no fault in the fact that Your Excellency himself should present this view of the matter to my friend. And that was what happened."
"Well, but then, what were you thinking later when you staged the spectacle that caused the stupid crowd outside to believe that I had anointed and crowned the cunning devil?"
"I didn't understand much of what went on out there," Arn replied in shame. "We hadn't talked about what would happen if Your Excellency should refuse to approve Knut Eriksson's wishes. He thought he was presenting a simple request, and I couldn't persuade him otherwise, since he felt that he was already king. So I thought that Your Excellency would have to explain the whole matter, just as you did."
"Yes, yes, yes!" snapped the archbishop, waving his hand impatiently. "You already said that. But now I'm wondering about what happened after I put the scamp in his place!"
"Then he wanted me to ask Your Excellency whether the two of us might have the honor of receiving Holy Communion from Your Excellency in person at the next day's mass. I found nothing un-Christian in such a request. But I didn't know that—"
"So the two of you hadn't talked about that beforehand? You didn't know a thing about what trickery would follow?" the archbishop interrupted him sternly.
"No, Your Excellency, I didn't know," replied Arn, shamefaced. "My friend had not expected that his first request would be refused at once. But the request to receive Holy Communion was not something we had spoken about at all."
The two older men now looked intently at Arn, who did not avert his eyes or show the least hesitation, since what he'd said was entirely true, as surely as if he were under the oath of confession.
Father Henri cleared his throat lightly and looked up at the archbishop, who met his gaze and nodded in agreement. They had drawn definite conclusions about something they had discussed in advance, that much Arn could see.
"Well, well, my young friend, sometimes you are more than a little childish, I must say," said the archbishop in a different and much friendlier tone of voice. "You took your sword with you and handed it to me, and you knew that I could do nothing but bless it, and you were both dressed for battle. What was your intention?"
"My sword is sanctified, and I have never broken its oath. I felt pride when I could bear such a sacred sword to Your Excellency. I also thought that you, Your Excellency, would feel the same way, since the sanctification of the sword occurred right here with the Cistercians," replied Arn.
"And you had no idea how your friend, Knut Eriksson, was going to exploit the occasion?" asked the archbishop with a weary smile, shaking his head at the same time.
"No, Your Excellency, but afterward I did understand—"
"Afterward there was a great commotion all over Svealand!" snapped the archbishop. "The rumors made it look as though I, from my see, had blessed the sword that was supposed to have murdered King Karl Sverkersson, as if I furthermore had blessed Knut Eriksson and practically anointed and crowned him. Since then I haven't had a peaceful moment, for now all the petty kings and half kings and king pretenders are after me! I'm going to be leaving the country for a while; that's why I'm here and not for your sake, as you may have thought. However, I believe what you've said about everything that happened up in Östra Aros, and you have my forgiveness."