point of a lance, but in this you have made a fundamental mistake. That’s why you run across the courtyard like a flock of geese, first in one direction, then the other; first one maiden is your enemy, then someone else. No man in his right wits - and may the Virgin Mary hold her protective hand over you so that you all may wed such men - can refrain from listening to his wife, the mother of his children and the mistress of his home. Girls of your young age might simply believe that this applies only to trivial matters, but it is true in large matters as well as small. You must not go out into the world as silly little geese; you must go out in possession of your own free, strong will, precisely as the Scriptures prescribe, and do something good instead of something evil with that free will. Just as men do, you decide over life and death, peace and war, and it would be a great sin if you shirked that responsibility out there in life.’
Fru Helena signalled that she was tired, and because she looked very ill with her constantly running eyes, two sisters stepped forward to lead her back to her house outside the walls. But a flock of maidens with their thoughts aflame stayed behind, not saying a word and without looking at each other.
A mood of conciliation descended over Gudhem, not least thanks to Fru Helena’s many wise words to the young girls, and as the calm follows the abating storm, Mother Rikissa acted promptly and wisely.
Four maidens from Linköping had come to Gudhem, and only one of them had any previous experience of convent life. They were all mourning fallen kinsmen, and they were all terrified, crying themselves to sleep every night.
But one could make something good come from their pain, as one can make a virtue out of necessity, Mother Rikissa thought. And so she decided two things. First, that for an unspecified period the vow of silence at Gudhem would be lifted, since none of the new girls knew sign language. Second, since the sisters themselves had other more important things to do, Cecilia Blanca and Cecilia Rosa would be given special responsibility for the new girls. They would teach them to speak with signs, to obey the rules, to sing and to weave.
Cecilia Blanca and Cecilia Rosa were astonished when they were summoned to Mother Rikissa in the chapter hall and given these instructions. And they were filled with ambivalence. For one thing, it permitted them a freedom they could never have imagined inside Gudhem, to determine their own workday and also be able to talk freely without risk. And yet they would be forced to be together with four daughters of the Sverker clan. Cecilia Blanca wanted as little to do with such girls as possible; even though she suspected that her hatred had more to do with their fathers and mothers, it still didn’t feel right, she claimed. Cecilia Rosa begged her to consider how she would have felt if the battle on the field of blood outside Bjälbo had turned out differently. They had to obey; they had no choice.
All six were embarrassed when they met the first time out in the arcade after the midday rest. Singing would be the easiest, since they had no idea what to say, Cecilia Rosa thought. And because she knew exactly where they were in the continual progression through the Psalter, she knew which songs were coming up in three hours, when it was time for None, the mid-afternoon prayers. And so the lessons began, with Cecilia Rosa singing lead. They repeated each song so many times that their pupils seemed to have them memorized, at least temporarily. And when None was then to be sung inside the church, it was evident that the new girls really could join in with the singing.
When they came out to the arcade after the songs, the weather was blustery with the chill of autumn. Cecilia Blanca then went to the abbess’s residence, returning at once, clearly pleased, and told them that they’d been given permission to use the chapter hall.
They sat there for an hour or so, practicing the simplest signs in Gudhem’s silent language, and the inexperienced teachers soon noticed that this was an art that they had to teach in small portions, and that it was no use continuing for too long at a time. After half the work shift before Sext, the midday prayers, they went straight across the arcade to the weaving rooms, where surly lay-sisters reluctantly moved aside. There both Cecilias began chattering away as they explained about the weaving and began to giggle. Then they joked that they were both trying to talk at once so that all six of them for the first time had something to giggle about together.
It turned out that one of the new girls, the youngest and smallest, a maiden with coal-black hair named Ulvhilde Emundsdotter, was already very adept at the art of weaving. She had said nothing to anyone before, or perhaps no one had bothered to listen to her since she had arrived at Gudhem. Now she began with growing fervour to tell them that there was a way to blend linen and wool that would produce a cloth that was both warm and supple. This fabric was ideal for mantles for both men and women. And they all belonged to families in which there was great need of mantles for both religious and worldly occasions.
Then the conversation abruptly stopped short because they still felt embarrassed in one another’s company: two from the clans of the blue mantles and four from the clans of the red and black mantles. But a seed had been sown.
A short time later Cecilia Rosa discovered that little Ulvhilde seemed to be tagging after her, not in a hostile way as if she wanted to spy on her, but shyly, as if she had something she wanted to say. The Cecilias had now divided up their time as teachers, with Rosa taking care of the singing and Blanca the weaving, and then they were all together during the lessons in sign language. Cecilia Rosa soon found an occasion to conclude the singing a bit earlier than usual. She frankly asked Ulvhilde to sit down for a moment and tell her what it was that she so obviously wanted to discuss. The other girls stole out cautiously and closed the door to the chapter hall so quietly behind them that Cecilia Rosa had the feeling they already knew what was on Ulvhilde’s mind.
‘So, now that we’re alone,’ she began, sounding almost as authoritative as an abbess, but was instantly embarrassed and caught herself. ‘I mean…I’ve sensed that there’s something you want to talk about in private. Am I right about this?’
‘Yes, dear Cecilia Rosa, you are completely right,’ replied Ulvhilde, looking all at once as if she were making a brave attempt to hold back the tears.
‘My dear little friend, what is it?’ Cecilia Rosa asked uncertainly.
But the answer was not forthcoming. They sat together for a while, neither of them daring to be first to break the silence, although by now Cecilia Rosa had begun to have her suspicions.
‘The thing is, Emund Ulvbane was my father, blessed be his soul,’ whispered Ulvhilde at last, her gaze fixed on the limestone floor.
‘I don’t know any Emund Ulvbane,’ said Cecilia Rosa timidly, at once regretting it.
‘Yes, you do, Cecilia Rosa; your betrothed Arn Magnusson knew him, and everyone in both Western and Eastern Götaland knows the story. My father lost his hand in that duel.’
‘Yes, of course I know about the duel at Axevalla ting,’ Cecilia Rosa admitted in shame. ‘Everyone does, just as you say. But I wasn’t there and had nothing to do with that affair. Arn was not yet betrothed to me. And you weren’t there either. So what do you mean by this? Do you intend for this matter to stand like a fortress wall between us?’
‘It’s much worse than that,’ Ulvhilde went on, no longer able to hold back the tears. ‘Knut Eriksson killed my father at Forsvik, even though he had promised that father would be allowed to come for me, my mother, and my brothers. And on the fields of blood…’
Then Ulvhilde could go no farther, but bent forward sobbing as if the pain had cloven her across her tender waist. Cecilia Rosa at first felt altogether at a loss, but she put her arms around little Ulvhilde, knelt down next to her, and awkwardly stroked her cheeks.
‘There, there,’ she consoled her. ‘What you started to tell me must come out, and you may as well do it now. So tell me what happened on the fields of blood, because I know nothing about it.’
Ulvhilde struggled for a moment, trying to catch her breath between sobs before she was able to utter the words that had to come out.
‘On the fields of blood…both my brothers died…killed by the Folkungs…and then they came to our farm where mother…where mother was still in hiding. And they burned her alive