This day, the king alone dispensed and confirmed certain gifts and

privileges to churches and convents. He seemed somewhat uneasy and out

of temper, and terminated the proceedings as soon as possible. Next day

he appeared in better humour, and the matters before the parliament

went on in their usual course, quietly, and without interruption. The

precautions that had been privately taken by Sir John, David

Thorstenson, and the vigilant Drost Peter, completely assured the king,

and no notice was taken of the discontented vassals. They did not wish

it to appear that the contest between the king and Duke Waldemar was

the chief matter, although it excited expectation in the highest

degree. Judgment, in this case, was reserved to the last day of the

Dane-court, the 28th of May. The seven preceding days were employed in

settling less important disputes between feudal lords and their

tenants, and in reconciling the various differences between the

temporal and spiritual lords, who frequently accused each other of

violence and oppression, or of encroachments on one another's rights

and liberties.

The most considerable lay and ecclesiastical lords in the country were

present at this parliament. Here were now to be seen the Archbishop

John Dros of Lund, and Bishop Tygé of Aarhaus, as well as the bishops

of Viborg, Rypen, Roskild, Odense, and Börglum. These spiritual lords

had already, on Sunday, in conjunction and with the consent of the

feudal lords and knights, or, as it was called, according to the _Best

Council_, come to the determination, that they should appoint twelve

intelligent men of Denmark, to form a _Worthel_, or council of jurors,

who should say and swear to whom the lands and estates in dispute

between the king and duke of right belonged. The stern old Sir John had

been chosen one of these jurors. Before judgment was delivered, the

jurors daily assembled in the counsellor's house, where they considered

the subject in quietness, with locked doors.

Sir John kept an hospitable house, and received them all with the

greatest politeness. He possessed one of the largest mansions in

Nyborg, where his wife and daughter resided with him during the

Dane-court. Every evening, great numbers of both lay and spiritual

lords were here assembled; and one might observe that Duke Waldemar and

his adherents were here to be found as often as Drost Peter, David

Thorstenson, and others attached to the royal house. At times, the

queen, with her ladies, and the young princes, might be seen at these

evening assemblies. On such occasions, the old lord was particularly

merry and cheerful; but, if any one ventured to speak a word to him on

state affairs, he would become suddenly silent, or punish the

unmannerly busybody with a biting jest. From the time that the council

of jurors began to sit, Sir John would receive no one except at a time

when there was company with him; and he would not talk alone with any

one, not even with Drost Peter, who, at other times, had daily and

familiar access to him. He had also declared, that, until the

Dane-court was closed, he could not, and would not, converse alone,

even with the king himself.

The day before the termination of the Dane-court, Sir John sat, in the

forenoon, for the last time, in the council of jurors, with locked

doors. His house-steward was strictly forbidden to admit any one

whatever. Meanwhile, admission was authoritatively demanded by a tall,

powerful man, in a hooded cap, who either did not know, or did not

trouble himself, about this necessary precaution. In his vehemence, the

cap slipped on one side, and the house-steward suddenly became so

terrified that he lost both speech and self-possession, and,

notwithstanding the strict order to the contrary, hastily withdrew the

bar from the closed door. But, at the same instant, a bolt was secured

inside.

"All twelve are here," shouted old Sir John: "we have no room for a

thirteenth, if even he bore the crown and sceptre!"

The tall man in the hooded cap stamped wrathfully on the floor, and,

with hasty strides, left the knight's house, without saying a word.

Before evening, this occurrence was known all over Nyborg, with various

explanatory additions; and Sir John was highly commended for his

hardihood by Duke Waldemar and his adherents, who drew from it

conclusions favourable to their case.

In the evening, as usual, there was a numerous assemblage at Sir

John's. The queen and the young princes were also expected. Drost Peter

was invited, together with his guests. When Count Gerhard heard that

the queen was to be there, he sprang from the reclining chair, for

which he had now exchanged his bed, and swore, loud and deeply, that he

would go, if he should have to keep his bed for it a whole month

afterwards.

"A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush," he said. "If I have not

permission to-morrow, or the day after, to attend the court

festivities, and if I should die of tedium in the meanwhile, I shall

lie with a long nose in my grave. This surgeon is a tiresome fellow. He

makes as much ado about this scratch as if I were a maiden, and wraps

me up like a suckling. And you, fortune's favourite, whose head,

nevertheless, I almost hewed off--you strut there, bold and nimble

enough: I trow, indeed, you have had your head linked to your neck with

chains of honour."

"I have a good skin for healing," replied Drost Peter; "and, this time,

the sword did not penetrate far into it. In one sense, however, you are

right," he added: "my head has not sat looser upon me for a long time;

and this chain has certainly somewhat secured it. But leave the

junketings alone, noble count. The skin is but thin upon your wound,

and, to-night, you might easily be thrown into excitement."

"Excitement! that is just what I am intent upon," interrupted the

count. "A person must still draw breath, however thin-skinned he may

be. I cannot live in this fashion, like a mummy, much longer. I know I

am master of my body: pity it is that we should let clerks and ghostly

fathers be masters of our sinful souls! Give me my court-doublet and

new mantle, Longlegs. Somewhat clumsy I may be in these wrappings, but

I shall leave them on to please you."

Farther objections were vain. He donned his bright red lawn doublet,

placed his feathered hat on his head, and cast a stiff, gold-fringed,

purple mantle over his broad shoulders.

"So, so!" he said; "I know now that I look whole and sound enough.

Henceforth, I resign Dorothy Brushbroom to you, Longlegs: you, also,

shall know what it is to be taken care of."

"I trust you may find the distinguished ladies as interested about your

person as she has been, my gracious master," replied the jester; "but,

since you seldom go so near them that they can see you, you should take

my jingling-jacket, that they may hear you in the distance."

"There! you hear, Drost Peter, what I must digest, and give the clown

food and wages for, merely to exercise me in Christian humbleness and

patience. You are right, Longlegs. I am a little too sheepish on

certain occasions; but that is a virtue your losel should respect, and

apply himself to. To-night you shall see otherwise, and that I shall do

you honour, Longlegs," continued the count, gaily: "I have not had such

courage to talk with the ladies for a long time. Your nurse can bear

witness, sir drost, that it is a falsehood and a slander, when foul

tongues say I lose heart and speech with the ladies."

"No one shall say so of you any longer, gracious sir. I was shamefully

unjust," replied Longlegs, bowing. "If I could not hear you snore, for

some nights past, as I would have given much to have done, I had,

nevertheless, at times, the pleasure of hearing your most gracious

growlings; and, for these, I thanked the Holy Virgin. They are, at all

times, a sure sign of life. Now, therefore, if you should like to

cudgel me for your amusement, gracious master, you must stop at home."

Without listening farther to his jester, the count set out with his

knight and Drost Peter. In his impatience to reach old Sir John's

abode, he hurried on so fast, that his attentive host held him back, to

remind him that such haste was dangerous to him. But the count suddenly

slackened his pace, as soon as he perceived the magnificently

illuminated building, where, under the linden trees, at the foot of the

grand staircase, stood two rows of the royal household servants, with

lighted torches.

"I am also to see the young princes to-night," he said. "Your pupil,

the young heir to the throne, should be like his mother. You are a

happy man, Drost Peter, who can train and bring up such a noble shoot."

"I fully acknowledge it," replied Drost Peter, with ardour. "I hope he

shall become a worthy descendant of Waldemar Seier, his illustrious

ancestor, whose chivalrous manner of thinking, and regard for truth and

justice, I believe he already inherits. With God's help, he will do

honour to his race."

"But is the mother really there, too, in the house of a simple knight?"

"A simple knight!" repeated Drost Peter, somewhat offended. "Old Sir

John is a son's son of Esbern Snaré's daughter: he numbers the great

Absalom in his race. But were he even a simple knight, without

distinguished birth, he is still a man of such merit, that the king and

queen need not be ashamed of being his guests. Both his wife and

daughter are the queen's dearest friends."

"Sooth to say, my good friend," observed Count Gerhard, in a half

whisper, and drawing Drost Peter aside, "you give quality a good day;

but I am almost ashamed to show myself before the queen. I only saw her

at that devil's tourney at Helsingborg, where you took the prize from

me, and I could not say a single word to her from sheer bashfulness.

Among men, I have not the reputation of sheepishness; and, when I walk

before the eyes of kings and emperors, I feel myself to be as good as

they: but, plague on it! all my confidence vanishes when I want to

express myself gracefully before the fair ones."

"Notwithstanding your backwardness, you are not unknown to the queen,

noble count," replied Drost Peter. "Tour valour and discretion in the

lists were not unobserved; and I were a fool should I brag of the

superiority of which you were deprived by a mere casual accident."

"She has spoken of me, say you, without dwelling on my awkward homage,

when I made the attempt to salute her during the tilting?"

"If she has smiled at that, noble count, I can still assure you that

neither mockery nor contempt--"

"Mockery and contempt!" interrupted the count, proudly: "by Satan! who

thinks of that? Had the most amiable lady in Christendom contemned

Count Gerhard, she must have sent her knight into the field to make me

reparation. I am not quite so bashful as to be afraid of that. But tell

me frankly," continued he, "am I not too stout and stiff, in these

frightful swaddling bands, to show myself becomingly in such company?"

"You are not at all amiss," answered Drost Peter, smiling. "A bandage

over the breast never disfigures a knightly gentleman: in my eyes, it

even makes you somewhat majestic in your bearing."

"Very good, my brave friend. I have you to thank for the majestic

bearing. But you are right: if a knight has only his fame whole and

sound, his body may be in what condition it may; he, at least, must be

esteemed as most valiant by every noble and high-souled lady."

Count Gerhard now boldly ascended the steps of Sir John's dwelling,

attended by Drost Peter and the two knights. In the ante-room servants

received their hats and mantles, and opened the large oaken door

leading into a magnificent vaulted apartment, which was illumined by

wax-lights, on tall candelabra, borne by brazen wolves. Ladies and

knights stood, here and there, in groups, on the polished oaken floor,

engaged in lively conversation; while others sat, playing at chess, and

similar amusements. From another saloon, still larger, the door of

which stood open, came the music of flutes and violins. A

_kæmpevise_[14] was played, accompanied by the voices of a number of

maidens and an elegantly performed dance. A knight, in magnificent

attire, was seen in stately motion with a majestic lady in a scarlet

kirtle, glittering with gold and precious stones.

"The queen!" whispered Count Gerhard into the drost's ear, and remained

standing, astonished, at the first door.

"And Duke Waldemar!" added Drost Peter, who also stood surprised, but

not at the beauty and noble bearing of the queen, which he had so often

admired: the young duke's haughty, self-complacent countenance first

struck his eyes. A distressing thought flashed suddenly as a

thunderbolt through his soul, and, involuntarily, he grasped Count

Gerhard by the arm.

"What is the matter with you, my good friend?" whispered Count Gerhard:

"have you, too, become giddy at the sight? I have had enough already.

By our Lady! it is a beauty unapproachable."

Sir John, as soon as he was made aware of the entrance of the

newly-arrived guests, advanced gaily and courteously towards them.

"Welcome, my lords," said the old knight. "I am rejoiced that the noble

Count Gerhard can contradict, in person, the rumour that is current

respecting a dangerous wound."

"A false rumour, sir counsellor; which has, nevertheless, induced me to

keep my room for a few days," replied the count, in a jocular tone.

"Here are life and merriment, I see; and one may be given up for death,

if he do not find himself well here. Be pleased to present me to your

noble lady and daughter; and, when the dance is over, to her grace the

queen." The latter words he added in a subdued tone, and drew a long

breath after having uttered them, his eyes again turning towards the

dancing saloon.

"As you command," replied the lively old knight, with a sportive smile.

"It is easily to be seen what portion of the human family Count Gerhard

sets the highest value upon. My daughter, I perceive, is now standing

up for the dance; but I can present you to my wife immediately, if you

please."

Count Gerhard had not heard a single word. He stared, like one in a

dream, into the dancing-saloon, where the fair queen had, just at that

instant, curtsied with noble dignity to her princely partner, and, on

his arm, moved down the room to her seat, amidst the dazzling young

daughters of the chivalrous guests, and eclipsing them all with her

loveliness.

A new piece of music and song was commenced, and a new couple were in

motion on the floor. The lady was Sir John's daughter, Cecilia. She

could not vie with the queen in dazzling beauty and majesty, but quite

equalled her in the spirit and grace of her motions. With an

earnestness that better suited the song than her partner's smiling

mien, she regarded, with her dark, lustrous eyes, the knight who

extended his hand to her, and who, in gracefulness and courtesy, seemed

to vie with Duke Waldemar. This polite cavalier was the duke's drost,

Sir Tuko Abildgaard, a bold and ambitious gentleman, celebrated for his

influence over the duke, and as famed for his good fortune with the

fair sex as for his fickleness in love, and his haughty, soaring claims

to distinction. He appeared intent on distinguishing the Lady Cecilia

among all the ladies at court. He seemed to give but little heed to the

song to which they danced: it was a sweet and melancholy air, to the

ballad of Sir Sverkel's unfortunate love to his unknown sister. Drost

Peter listened to it with much interest; and even the otherwise merry

Count Gerhard stood silent and serious, while the young damsels sang:--

"Pray thou, hart, and pray thou, hind,

That I may forget the little Kirstine;

Pray thou, hart, and pray thou, roe,

That I may forget my true love so."

"The foul fiend!" muttered Count Gerhard to himself; and, to his own

astonishment, his eyes almost overflowed as the young damsels

continued:

"He prayed the hart, and prayed the hind,

But never was the maiden from his mind;

He prayed the hart, and prayed the roe,

But could not forget his true love so."

Count Gerhard's absent gaze into the dancing-saloon caused old Sir John

to cast an attentive look in the same direction, and the sight of his

daughter's undisguised interest in Sir Abildgaard did not seem to

please him. His cheerful countenance suddenly assumed an air of deep

seriousness, while the damsels now sang:--

"The knight he from his land was driven,

And the lady to a cloister given."

Both the old and the younger knight appeared absorbed in the same

dreamy mood which the melancholy song was calculated to produce, but

each in a different manner, according to the ideas they associated

therewith. Yet, in the midst of the general merriment and splendour of

the festivity, there were, apparently, but few who gave heed to the

tenor of the song. Its conclusion, in particular, affected Drost Peter

to melancholy. He involuntarily laid hold of the ruby rosary on his

breast, that served to remind him of his half-forgotten child-bride,

while the damsels sang:--

"A bird so small from the white strand flew,

And she sang, Where is my heart's love true?

A bird so small o'er the sea flew wide,

And he sang, O where is my own true bride?

For chastest maiden I dree."

"It is allowed that you are a lover of the dance and song, illustrious

Count Gerhard," said old Sir John, in his usual social tone, and

turning, with a cheerful countenance, to his abstracted guest. "If you

wish, now I shall conduct you to the queen and the young ladies."

Count Gerhard bowed stiffly, and followed the old knight, without

observing the breach of propriety of which he had been guilty, in

not greeting the noble and matronly Lady Ingefried, who went round

among the guests, and received their salutations, accompanied by a

waiting-maid, bearing a silver salver with filled wine-cups.

While Drost Peter, as a well-known and daily guest, saluted the worthy

house-mother, old Sir John and his distinguished attendant, before they

reached the dancing-saloon, were stopped by two handsomely attired

youths in scarlet jackets, with gold chains about their fine linen

collars. They were both flushed with anger, and had come from the

dice-table, where they had had a dispute. The one was the eleven years'

old Prince Erik, who, from his second year, had taken the name of king,

and the other, his brother, Junker Christopher, two years his junior,

and half a head shorter, but apparently his superior in strength,

though not in sprightliness and beauty.

"You shall decide between us, Sir John: you know what right is," said

the little king, warmly. "Suppose the gold dice are islands and

countries, and the counters knights and swains: have I, as eldest, the

privilege of taking first? And suppose, further, that I, with my

knights and swains, surround and conquer all Christopher's islands and

countries, are they, by right, mine? If he will merely admit that, he

shall readily have them back again. What care I for the dice!"

"'That depends upon the laws of your game, my little hasty gentlemen,"

replied the old knight. "Besides, the eldest ought not only to take

first, but also to be the first in good sense and magnanimity. The

game, moreover, is good for nothing," he added, gravely. "Has not Drost

Hessel taught you yet, my little king, that we do not play dice with

islands and countries, and do not convert knights and swains into

counters?"

Prince Erik went away, silent, and blushing with shame. Christopher

followed him, jeeringly. Drost Peter had been attracted by the dispute

of the princes, and had drawn near when he heard his name mentioned.

"See now, sir counsellor," whispered he: "our little king surrenders

the whole table to his brother, with chivalrous magnanimity."

"Yes, indeed, but with wounded pride," said the old man, softly. "Could

we only get the pride and thoughtlessness eradicated from him, the

country might, in time, expect much of him."

Drost Peter was silent, and sank into deep thought.

"Excuse me, Count Gerhard. You wish to be presented to the queen," said

old Sir John, aloud, and turning to the count. "Permit me to conduct

you." He strode nimbly forward, and Count Gerhard followed him to the

polished threshold of the dancing-saloon. There the count remained,

standing with his back to the door-post, and bowed stiffly to the queen

from that extreme distance, without troubling himself about Sir John,

who, with active steps, had entered the saloon.

"The noble Count Gerhard of Holstein desires to salute your grace,"

said the old knight, who had approached the queen, and fancied he had

still the count by his side.

"Count Gerhard!" repeated the queen, with much interest. "Where is he,

then? I do not see him."

"What! has he disappeared?" exclaimed Sir John, looking behind him with

surprise.

"By the door yonder, your grace," observed the duke, with a derisive

smile, and a proud sense of superiority. "The noble count makes great

efforts to testify his devotion to your grace at a respectful distance.

I certainly think he would beg the favour to be honoured with your hand

in the dance, but seemingly wants words to express his wishes."

"Inform him, sir counsellor, that I shall willingly tread a measure

with him," said the queen to the old knight. "Bid him approach. I have

long wished to speak with so gallant and esteemed a gentleman."

Sir John bowed, and carried to Count Gerhard the surprising message of

condescension.

"The holy St. George stand by me!" exclaimed the count, terrified. "I

never danced in all my born days, and, in this devil's swathing, I can

scarcely stir; but, if the queen commands it, I should be able to fly.

Holy Virgin!" he muttered to himself, "if I escape from this with life,

it is a miracle."

He hastily recovered himself, and, not to appear embarrassed, assumed

as brave an air as if he were on the point of taking a fortress by

storm. With long strides and a stiff carriage, he walked up to the

queen and bowed. Duke Waldemar turned to one side, and only half

concealed his laughter. But the familiar manner in which the queen

conversed with Count Gerhard soon restored his self-possession, and

brought back his even, good-tempered simplicity of character. He spoke

of his mischance at the tournament at Helsingborg, when he ventured to

contend for the queen's colours, without being able to honour them with

victory; and the humorous manner in which he complained of himself in

the affair, and jested at his own awkwardness, greatly amused the

queen.

"You may well jest at the vile mischance," she observed, with

undisguised goodwill and respect: "your knightly honour you have

established on more important and more serious occasions. You look

well, I perceive," she added, remarking his round figure, and the

difficult movements of his arm: "the world does not consume you, sir

count."

"I ought, certainly, as a young widower, to look lean and dismal,"

replied Count Gerhard, colouring; "but you must kindly excuse me, your

grace. The happiness whose loss cannot be seen in me, I have not been

so fortunate as to possess rightly. It is, certainly, one of my

greatest mishaps in life; but I have the singular fate to thrive by

mishaps. This I have just recently experienced. But appearances are

deceitful, your grace; and I hope, in about eight days, to be much

thinner, if your grace commands."

"How?" inquired the queen, laughing: "can you become thin at pleasure?

I am glad that, in such a case, you can preserve your cheerfulness."

Without, however, entering farther into the frank Count Gerhard's heart

affairs, and the inappropriate theme of his personal appearance, the

queen suddenly broke off the conversation by a few indifferent

questions, to which he replied somewhat in confusion, fearing that he

had said something improper.

Knight Abildgaard and the Lady Cecilia had already, for some time,

stepped out of the dance, and were standing in the recess of a window,

in pleasing conversation. The flutes and violins now struck up a quick,

lively air, and the young maidens sang the queen's favourite ballad,

about King Didrik and the Lion's fight with the Dragon.

"I like this ballad very well," said the queen, "Every age has its

dragons, I fancy; but, against the paction of king and lion, there is

small chance for the dragon."

"That is a true saying, noble queen," replied the count, with much

interest, in reference to the allusion. "There are still lions by the

side of the Danish throne; but, in these chivalrous times, they would

rather serve the queen than the king, I trow."

"If you please, we will tread a dance to the song," added the queen,

interrupting him.

Count Gerhard's embarrassment returned with painful force; but he took

refuge in his usual expedient, and, holding the queen by the hand, he

advanced, with martial strides, to the middle of the floor. He had not

the slightest knowledge of dancing; but he moved about as well as he

could, in the same manner as the queen, imitating her turnings, on the

contrary side, with the utmost attention. Fortunately, the dance was

itself a simple one, and he had naturally a good ear for time.

Notwithstanding his stiffness, and although he trod the floor with his

spurred heels until it thundered again, he did not behave himself

amiss; indeed, he even looked noble and majestic. Before the first

measure was over, the constraint in his deportment had disappeared. The

cheerful song, and the queen's benignant smile, enlivened him; his

good-natured countenance beamed with courage and heartfelt glee, and he

swung his arm lustily as the damsels sang:--

"It was Master King Didrik

Would prove what his sword could dow,

He hewed into the hard rock

Till the hill was all in a low."

He continued dancing, with the happiest face in the world, till the

maidens sang the thirty-third verse of the ballad:

"The lion roared, and King Didrik hewed,

Till the hill stood all in flame;

And had the lion not helped him out,

The king had died with shame."

But now he suddenly beheld the queen turn pale, and then heard her

exclaim--"My God, he bleeds!" and, for the first time, he perceived

that the wound in his breast had again opened, and that the blood ran

from it in streams.

"Pardon me, your grace," said he, hastily, and concealing the streaming

blood with his arm: "I ought certainly to have remained quiet a few

days longer, in consequence of a slight wound I received; but, in that

case, I should not have been invited to the present festival. This is

the first time in my life I have ever danced: but your grace makes

everything possible; and perhaps this is the only mode in which it may

be permitted me to pour out my blood for the fairest and noblest of

ladies."

He made an attempt to take his leave, but his legs tottered under him,

and he became deadly pale. Drost Peter, and the count's own knights,

hastened to his assistance, and led him from the saloon. He cast a

respectful look towards the queen, who was in the greatest uneasiness;

and, without further consciousness of what had happened to him, he was

carried back to Drost Peter's residence, where the sympathising jester

received him with a terrified scream, and where he was immediately

waited upon by the surgeon and his alarmed friends with the greatest

tenderness.

This mishap broke up the entertainment at Sir John's. The queen had

shortly after left the company. Betimes in the morning, she sent to

inquire after Count Gerhard's health. The surgeon pronounced him out of

danger, although he would not, for some time, be able to leave his bed,

and had not yet recovered his consciousness.

The last day of the sittings of the Dane-court had now arrived. On this

day, according to ancient custom, the proceedings were to take place in

the open air, in the large green space before the palace. Here were

admitted not only the vassals of noble extraction, the prelates and

bishops of the kingdom, but also the peasants and burghers, more

especially the wealthy merchants, who insisted upon the maintenance of

their ancient privileges, though, within the last few years, their

influence had greatly diminished. The place was surrounded with royal

landsknechts; but, within the area, no one was permitted to bear a

weapon. Around a raised seat, beneath a canopy of red velvet, fringed

with gold, stood on the right, in the form of a semicircle, a long row

of bishops and prelates, in their ecclesiastical orders, with the old

archbishop of Lund, John Dros, at their head.

Next to him stood Master Martinus de Dacia. This learned individual had

arrived from Antvorskov, of which he was prior, eight days previously.

He had had a long private conversation with the king immediately after,

and, for the second time, had been appointed chancellor of the kingdom

and keeper of the royal seal. He was a man above fifty, of a notable

appearance, although without much clerical dignity in mien and

carriage. He quite filled his ample Dominican dress, generally

concealing his hands, as if they were cold, in the sleeves of his

tunic. Sometimes he would suddenly stoop, and stare vacantly before

him, as if in deep thought; and then as suddenly look up with surprise,

and quit his place, to talk with some of the more learned of the

bishops and prelates on some particular theological or philosophical

subject, without waiting for an introduction. His tonsure, augmented by

a natural want of hair, extended to the whole of his head, which was

covered with an octagonal cap of black velvet. He wore his shoes with

white heels, in the manner of the clerks of Paris; and appeared, on the

whole, to affect elegance and punctilio in his dress, although

everything sat stiff and awkwardly upon him.

Among the ecclesiastics might also be seen Duke Waldemar's travelling

companion, the notable dean of Roskild, Master Jens Grand, who

disdainfully regarded the still vacant royal seat, with a jeering

side-glance at the learned chancellor.

On the left side of the throne stood a semicircle of princely vassals,

counts, knights, and noble governors. In the uppermost place among

these was the young Duke Waldemar, in a knight's brilliant suit of red

lawn, and a purple velvet mantle, adorned with the Sleswick lions in

gold. Over his brown curls he wore a Russian hat, decked with rubies

and ostrich feathers. He spoke softly, and with a sagacious, crafty

air, to his brother, Count Erik of Langeland, who had newly arrived at

court.

Next to these gentlemen stood the plump Count Jacob of Halland, in his

general's uniform, and haughtily enveloped in his blue mantle; whilst

the person by his side, the fastidious Sir Abildgaard, seemed to be

amusing him with satirical or mischievous jokes on some of the

ecclesiastics.

Chief, in the rank of knights, stood eight of the king's counsellors,

among whom Drost Hessel and old John Little were still missing. Among

the knights who had arrived with the duke were to be seen many proud

and daring countenances: Jacob Blaafod, and Count Jacob's brother,

Niels Hallandfar, seemed, in particular, by their appearance, to betray

considerable anxiety as to the issue of the day's transactions.

Behind these two semicircles of lay and spiritual lords stood a number

of respectable peasants, in their short blue Sunday smocks, with clear

silver buttons, and mostly with their cowl-caps in their hands; whilst

the wealthy merchant-burghers, in their long civic gaberdines, pressed

before them, among many curious spectators of all classes.

A gentle murmur was heard in the assembly, the eyes of which were

turned impatiently towards the palace-stairs. At length the large oaken

doors were opened, and a royal herald, bearing a white wand, came

forth, making way for the king and his train. In his royal purple

mantle, and wearing his crown and sceptre, the tall and stately king

slowly descended the steps, between the two princes, attended by Drost

Hessel, his marshal and under-marshal, the chief chamberlain, Ové Dyré,

Chamberlain Rané, and a number of pages, among whom the fair Aagé

Jonsen walked first. The people stood respectfully on one side, and the

knights' semicircle opened, whilst the king and his followers ascended

to the throne. He bowed, unsteadily, on all sides, and cast a transient

look over the assemblage.

As soon as he had taken his seat on the throne, with Prince Erik on his

right and Junker Christopherson on his left hand, three trumpet-blasts

announced that the Dane-court was seated. After a moment of expectant

silence, the king arose, and, taking the crown from his head, laid it

on a red velvet cushion, which was handed by the marshal to the

archbishop. In like manner, the sceptre was handed to the learned

Chancellor Martinus, who placed it, with great care and reverence, on a

velvet cushion, making an evident effort to avoid falling into other

thoughts, or losing sight of it.

"To-day I am not judge here," began the king: "I am myself a party in

the cause whereupon you have to decide, and which concerns the rights

of the crown and kingdom. Herald, let the jurors come forward!"

"In the name of the Dane-court," shouted the herald, "come forward, ye

sworn men!"

There now stepped forth, into the middle of the circle, old John Little

and nine grave and distinguished individuals. The jurors were all

well-known and esteemed men, from various provinces of the kingdom.

They bared their heads before the throne and the assembly, and their

gray hairs showed that they were among the oldest of all assembled.

Sir John stood forward as their foreman and spokesman. Having bowed to

the throne and to both sides of the court, he then said, with an

audible voice, "Proclaim the cause before the people and the

Dane-court, sir drost."

Drost Peter, having bowed in like manner, advanced, with his

high-feathered hat under his left arm, and, unfolding a sheet of

parchment, read from it, slowly and distinctly, the matter in dispute

between the king and Duke Waldemar, respecting the possession of Als

Island. Having finished, he returned to his place among the counsellors

of the kingdom.

Old Sir John again spoke. "It is known to us all," he began, in a calm

and firm voice, "that the illustrious Duke Waldemar of South Jutland,

two years since, when he was still under the guardianship of the Danish

king, Erik Christopherson, believed himself entitled to make certain

demands, which were refused by the king and council, as opposed to the

constitution of the kingdom and the privileges of the crown.

Notwithstanding, King Erik has not refused to his illustrious kinsman,

now of full age, the privilege of laying before this Dane-court the

claims he believes he is still entitled to make; and the settlement of

the question is confided, by both the illustrious parties, to the

present parliament. By the National Council of Best Men, was I,

Counsellor Sir John Little, with eleven Danish men, under oath and

duty, authorised to pronounce sentence in this matter. Two of these men

have withdrawn from the council of jurors, and have refused to witness

and decide in the cause, as not being perfectly known to them; but,

after mature consideration, have we ten other men, who stand here, on

oath and conscience pronounced sentence, as we mean to answer for it

before God and man. If any one wishes to make protestation against the

sentence, on account of the withdrawal of these two jurors, let him say

so now, before it is made known, and then the final settlement of the

matter must be deferred until a new Worthel has been chosen by the next

Dane-court; otherwise, the present parliament declares the sentence of

the ten jurors to be valid and just."

The old man paused, and regarded the assembly with an earnest,

penetrating look. A general silence ensued, and the straining

countenances of all announced the deep interest and anxious

expectations that were felt. The king made an uneasy gesture, but was

also silent. Duke Waldemar, Count Jacob, and Master Grand regarded the

king attentively; they also looked meaningly at each other, but said

nothing.

"We proceed, then, to announce the sentence," resumed Sir John; and, at

his signal, the eldest of the jurors handed him a large parchment-deed,

from which were suspended seventeen seals, with green silk ribbons. The

old counsellor unfolded the document, and read aloud and distinctly:--

"We, the undersigned sworn Danish men, Mogens Peterson, Niels Dué, Turé

Menersson of Jutland, John Bartson of Fyen, Niels, formerly governor of

Lund, John Little, Mogens Corvigson of Skaane, Anders Nielson, Oluf

Tygeson of Zealand, and Jacob Flep of Laalund, say and swear, of our

full knowledge and counsel, that dominion over the whole of Alseland,

with the fortresses, palace, and inhabitants thereof, belongs of right

to the crown and kingdom of Denmark; the peasants belong to the king on

the crown's account, the paternal estate of the king's children

excepted, which was recognised and conceded to them after the death of

King Waldemar. The said estate is known to us by means of a patent

instrument, by which it was formerly granted to Duke Erik of South

Jutland, Duke Waldemar's father. If the whole country had belonged to

them, this estate would not have been specially given. Therefore, to

the king and crown do we adjudge dominion, with full right and

jurisdiction, over the whole of Alsen. In testimony whereof, we have

sworn this upon the holy sacrament, in presence of the archbishop and

six bishops, who, in further confirmation thereof, have attached their

seals hereto, along with ours." He then recited the names of the

subscribers.

When he ceased, he calmly surveyed the various expressions on the

countenances of those around him. On the king's features, although he

blinked uneasily, might be seen a triumphant smile, as he cast a

suspicious glance towards Duke Waldemar and Count Jacob, whose cheeks

glowed with rage, while their hands were rigidly clenched in the folds

of their mantles.

Drost Peter's eyes did not forsake the duke's countenance, which

quickly changed into a smile, as he gave a shrug to denote that he

despised his loss. All were silent, however.

But now stepped forth, from the rank of ecclesiastics, the insolent

Master Grand. "The sentence is invalid," said he, with a loud voice:

"two of the jurors' names are wanting; the Worthel is not perfect. This

requires an express ecclesiastical confirmation."

"This protest is of no avail," replied Sir John, calmly. "The court was

silent on my timely summons, and thereby recognised the sentence as

valid. Please to add the ecclesiastical confirmation, worthy Archbishop

Johannes."

At this summons, the aged archbishop came forward, and, with a calm

assurance of his authority, raised his crook, and said--"In the name of

the Holy Church, I hereby declare what I shall add, in writing, to the

present document, under my own and the Church's seal, by which all

shall know that the aforesaid estate, within the dukedom of South

Jutland, with moneys of the mint, and other privileges in the said

dukedom, is legally pronounced and adjudged, by this royal court, to

the king of Denmark, for ever to possess; and we forbid, under pain of

excommunication, that any one should meddle with the jurisdiction over

Als, or with the forenamed estate in anywise, except with the consent

and knowledge of King Erik or his successors."

Notwithstanding that the old archbishop appeared inconsiderable and

indistinct by the side of Master Grand, he pronounced these words with

a quiet dignity that did not mar their effect. He then stepped back.

Master Grand bit his lips with rage, and walked silently to his place.

The stillness of death for a moment pervaded the assembly; when the

king suddenly arose, and declared the Dane-court at an end, his words

being accompanied by three loud trumpet-blasts. The archbishop and

chancellor thereupon came forward with the crown and sceptre. The king

pressed the crown firmly on his head, grasped the sceptre, and hastily

descended from the throne. The row of knights opened, the people fell

back, and the king, with the princes and his train, returned to the

palace.

The assembly broke up in the greatest order; but the knights of the

various parties regarded each other with a silence at once unusual and

painful. From Count Jacob and Master Grand alone were heard a few loud

words, the involuntary outbreak of subdued wrath. Duke Waldemar,

however, preserved a better appearance: his sagacious eye ran over the

rank of his attached knights, and then, making a rapid gesture with his

forefinger to his mouth, he departed, with his lively drost by his

side, to that part of the palace where he had his apartments.

In the evening, after these important transactions, a magnificent

entertainment was given at the palace, wherein the queen, with the

little Princess Mereté and their ladies, participated, and where the

king was also present, with both the young princes, in full court

state. Both the palace and the town were brilliantly illuminated.

Flutes and violins resounded from the knights' saloon, and the serious

business of the morning appeared to be wholly forgotten in social

enjoyments, and in the varied display of wit and gravity, chivalrous

courtesies and disguised passions, in which a thousand hidden qualities

of the heart were concerned. Love and jealousy, hope and fear, pride

and vanity, combined as powerfully to set the unstable, youthful soul

into lively motion, as did the music and dancing to bring into action

the feet of knights and ladies on the polished floor.

As at the previous evening's entertainment at Sir John's, Duke Waldemar

was here, in an extremely good humour. Not a trace of discontent was

visible in his countenance, and he attracted general attention, as much

by his cheerfulness and affability as by his princely bearing and

dazzling grandeur. His variance with the king was the reason that he

had not yet received the honour of knighthood, which he could not

accept from any meaner hand. He dressed, notwithstanding, in the style

of the most elegant knight, and, to conceal his want of the gold spurs,

wore silver ones, thickly studded with gems. He suffered no opportunity

to pass of showing himself attentive and devoted to the queen; his bold

and artful drost, Sir Abildgaard, attaching himself, in a similar way,

to Counselor John's fair daughter, Lady Cecilia.

Drost Peter, to the surprise of all, was extremely reserved and silent.

He was wont, on festive occasions at court, to be the soul of the

company, and, in particular, to entertain the queen and her ladies by

an ingenious blending of the grave and gay, with a freedom and

liveliness which could only be derived from a consciousness of the

favour in which he stood. Since the first morning of the Dane-court,

when it was reported that he was ruined and in disgrace, and yet was

seen, shortly after, leaving the king's closet as the most favoured of

favourites, it was observed by every one, that a remarkable alteration

had taken place in his demeanour. He had become grave and taciturn, as

people fancied, from pride. He appeared to avoid with care, almost with

anxiety, every approach to the queen; whilst, at the same time, he

often watched her, and closely observed Duke Waldemar's efforts to

please her. In this behaviour, the queen's sharp-sighted ladies fancied

that they perceived the jealous favourite, who kept back from wounded

vanity, and esteemed himself too highly to vie with Duke Waldemar in

knightly civilities. He himself believed that he had far more important

grounds for his altered conduct. The experience of the last few days

had taught him how hazardous it was, in a court like this, to allow his

frank and lively nature to be displayed without disguise, and, like a

courteous knight, to worship beauty without reservation, even where he

honoured it in combination with true innate greatness.

The only occasion on which he had spoken to the queen, since his

arrival at the present court, was at an unusual time, and with a degree

of agitation that might have been easily misinterpreted: it was on the

evening of his arrival, when he had in vain sought an audience of the

king, and when recourse to this step was necessary in order to save his

unfortunate foster-mother. He had, as usual, found the amiable and

virtuous queen extremely gracious, and favourably disposed towards him

and his business. By immediately granting his request, and effecting

his nurse's release from prison, she had given him a new proof of her

goodwill. The danger he had subsequently incurred, and his fortunate

escape, which she learnt on the following day, filled her with the

liveliest interest; but the grounds of his danger were only half known,

and what the attendants fancied they did know, no one thought it

becoming to inform her of. She had not spoken a single word to him

since. The evident care with which he appeared to avoid her, surprised

and displeased her; and, as he had neglected several favourable

opportunities of approaching her, she appeared no longer to notice his

presence, but confined her conversation to Duke Waldemar, Count Jacob,

and the other princely gentlemen in the company.

Late in the evening, the king quietly left the saloon, attended by

Chamberlain Rané. Drost Peter observed his sudden departure; and as it

took place on a signal from the crafty chamberlain, he concluded that

it had reference to some private understanding, and to one of those

frequent but discreditable assignations wherein Rané was at all times

the king's familiar and agent.

Drost Peter dared not follow, to warn him of Rané, who had already

vindicated himself, and regained the king's favour. The young drost

stood, alone and dejected, by one of the windows, during a wild and

merry dance. He felt, with some disquietude, his peculiar position at

court, where it was his first duty to guard from temptation the young

heir to the throne. It was nearly impossible to watch over the security

of a king who so continually exposed himself to insult and danger by

his debaucheries, and by honouring with his confidence men who only

flattered his inclinations to promote their own ends and lead him into

temptation.

"His better part I cannot save," said the drost, mentally. "I can only

think of the crown's security." He stood armed with full royal

authority to seize the duke the moment he should display the least

intention to quit the kingdom. Information had been received of

sufficient importance to justify such a step, were it needful. Should

the duke be permitted to withdraw, unmolested, into Sweden, there was

little doubt that he would return at the head of a hostile army, in

conjunction with Marsk Andersen, to lay waste the country, and overturn

the throne. The probability that this was the plan of the conspirators

now bordered upon certainty, although full and legal proof was still

wanting. The drost, in conjunction with Knight Thorstenson, had orders

to watch all the motions of the duke. Their horses stood saddled within

the palace-gates, and a light sloop lay in the harbour, ready to sail

at whatever time they chose to cross the Great Belt.

Many doubts occupied the drost's mind. At this moment he possessed I

the king's highest favour and confidence; and it was not improbable

that the fate of the monarch depended on the important and difficult

business with which he was entrusted. In his absence, however, it might

be easy for the crafty Rané, and his kinsman, the chief chamberlain,

Ové Dyré, to ruin him with the unstable king, and destroy the fruits of

his dangerous undertaking. Still, so long as Master Martinus and Sir

John were in the king's council, he believed this fear unfounded.

His eye now fell on the young Prince Erik, who danced lightly and gaily

past him. For the security of this highly important individual, he had

also reason to be apprehensive; and he was only consoled by reflecting

that, in his absence, old Sir John would fulfil the duties of drost to

the heir to the throne.

Lighthearted, and free from care, the prince danced, hand in hand, with

his sister Mereté. She was only twelve years old, and was already

looked upon as betrothed to the Swedish Prince Berger. By this

arrangement, the differences between the new royal house of Sweden and

that of Denmark had been accommodated, after the vacillating King Erik

Christopherson had in vain endeavoured to reinstate the dethroned

Swedish King Waldemar, whom he had himself assisted to overturn. Still,

it was scarcely believed that peace with the powerful King Ladislaus

could be depended upon, and haste had accordingly been made to obtain

the pope's dispensation for this union, on account of the consanguinity

of the parties.

"Another victim to our wavering policy," whispered a deep, well-known

voice into Drost Peter's ear. It was the grave Sir Thorstenson, who had

approached him unobserved, and who had been regarding the little lively

princess with a look of compassion.

"Sir Thorstenson!" said Drost Peter, recalled from his serious musings:

"are you, too, an idle observer of the world's vanities to-night?

Perhaps you may be somewhat mistaken in what you disapprove of so

absolutely." As he spoke, he drew him aside into the next apartment,

where the tables were unoccupied, and where they could converse without

observation. "You pity our princess," continued he: "for her I am the

least concerned: Sweden hopes as much for its heir-apparent as we do

for ours. This betrothing of children is now the custom of the age, in

knightly as well as in princely families. As you are aware, I was

myself betrothed in the same fashion, from my cradle, and I have not

felt myself unhappy in consequence. I am now released from the

engagement, yet do I not feel myself happier. Children have their

ministering angels before the sight of God, says Master Martin. God

only knows what is best for us, and He can dispose of events

accordingly. It may not be long, perhaps, before we hear of a similar

betrothal of our young heir-apparent to the beautiful royal maid of

Sweden, whom we saw at the tournament. The king appears to desire it

ardently, and I dare offer no objections."

"Barbarous--atrocious!" murmured the knight. "But I have something else

to tell you. Are you prepared to travel?"

"It is not yet time. As long as the handsome gentleman glitters and

dances within, he can hardly think of leaving the kingdom."

"You know, then, that he has taken leave of the king? He departs

tonight for Sleswick, it is reported; but I know that two highly

distinguished gentlemen are to pass over to Korsöer to-night. These are

certainly he and his drost. The ship they have hired is said to be

Swedish; but I believe it is Norse, and, in fact, a pirate-vessel."

"I know it," answered Drost Peter. "Our little sloop is ready to sail.

It is all in good hands, and I am fully authorised in this matter. Sir

Benedict Rimaardson, of Tornborg, follows us in Zealand. As soon as the

bird takes wing, we fly after him; but on this side the Sound he has

his freedom. If he think proper to visit Zealand, it is no one's

business."

"We understand one another," replied Thorstenson, nodding. "We, too,

are only making a pleasant excursion, to visit our good friends. With

Sir Lavé Little, at Flynderborg we can best guard the passage of the

Sound."

Drost Peter hesitated, as if half embarrassed by the proposition. "Very

good: we can determine on that tomorrow," he said, hastily. "But we

must be at our post. Remain you here till the moment this cunning

gentleman leaves the palace. I shall send my squire to the quay, to

keep an eye upon the strange skiff. Before midnight, I shall be at the

palace-gates, with our horses." He pressed Thorstenson's hand, went

hastily past the dancers in the saloon, and, as he approached the

queen, paused for a moment, to give her a respectful salutation.

"A word, Drost Hessel," said the quean, in an unusually authoritative

tone, and seating herself upon a chair, at some distance from the

dancers.

Drost Peter stopped, and approached her attentively.

"How do you find your wounded guest?" she inquired. "I regret that I

was, in some measure, the cause of his relapse."

"His life is out of danger, your grace. I am at this moment going to

visit him."

"Tell him that I am concerned for his mishap," she continued; "so much

the more, as I hear it occurred in a chivalrous onset respecting a

lady's honour."

Drost Peter blushed deeply. "How, gracious queen?" he stammered: "who

has said--"

"That this was the case?" interrupted the queen. "It has just been told

me that he had a dispute, on his journey from Middelfert, with a

certain conceited young knight, who boasted too loudly and indiscreetly

of his good fortune with a lady whose colours he wears, but one who can

never consent to be the object of any other favour from a knight than

true and discreet service."

"He who told you so, noble queen," replied Drost Peter, with a deep

feeling of wounded honour, "I must pronounce a base slanderer, did he

even wear a princely crown; and I will make good my assertion by

honourable combat for life and death. This much only is true, that our

common admiration of the exalted lady whose colours I wear was,

undoubtedly, the cause of our untoward strife. But, by my knightly

honour, the noble Count Gerhard himself can bear witness that his

antagonist was guilty of no indiscretion."

"Your word of honour, brave Drost Hessel, is ample surety to me for the

truth of what you state," said the queen, mildly; "but it is my express

wish that not a word more be said about this matter, and that you

carefully avoid every dispute with which my name may, in the slightest

degree, be associated. From henceforth, neither you nor any other

knight shall wear my colours with my consent. I shall see you only when

it is highly needful, and when I call you. This conduct, I know, you

will not misunderstand. Go, now, to your sick guest, noble knight, and

be assured of my unchanged goodwill."

With bitter feelings, Drost Peter unfastened a rose-coloured silken

rosette, which he wore upon his doublet, and, handing it to the queen

with a suppressed sigh, he bowed silently and respectfully, and

withdrew.

It was almost midnight. Count Gerhard lay impatiently in bed, unable to

sleep. He seemed to hear, from the palace, the flutes and violins, and

had conceived such a desire for dancing, since his first essay in the

art on the preceding evening, that his legs were in constant motion,

though the surgeon had enjoined him to be still, and to allow himself

to be bound, if he could not restrain this singular fancy, which he

thought must be a result of the fever produced by his wound. His

adventure with Sir John, in the early part of the evening, occurred to

him almost like a dream, and he would not ask any one how it had

happened. All society and amusement were strictly forbidden him, and

he saw no one but the surgeon and old Dorothy, who watched quietly by

his couch. Still, when he could not sleep, she told him a variety of

ghost-stories, and tales of trolds and nixes, the truth of which she

piously believed and affirmed. The count would only answer with a

growl, and a brief exclamation of "Nonsense! confounded nonsense,

carlin!" but in the best-tempered tone in the world.

Dorothy was not at all disconcerted by such objections. She saw plainly

that her stories amused the sick man, and therefore regarded his

discontented expressions merely as a peculiar mode of speaking, and a

well-meant sign that he was listening. She sat quietly by his pillow,

with her lean, wrinkled visage opposite to the lamp, and had almost

finished a long story about a nix who had his quarters in Our Lady's

steeple, and played people all sorts of pranks--sometimes in the form

of a horse, at a ford, where he took travellers upon his back, and,

laughing, threw them off in the middle of a bog--sometimes as a

beautiful princess, or fairy queen, who would dance with vain gallants

in her palace of mist, and become changed into a wisp of straw when

they attempted to embrace her.

"Nonsense! cursed nonsense!" again growled the count. "But you are

right, carlin. The fools were properly served, if there are such nixes.

Are not you, yourself, a confounded witch, who will plague and play

cantrips with me?"

The old woman crossed herself. The door was gently opened, and Drost

Peter put in his head to inquire after the sick man. The simple gray

dress of a burgher was the attire in which he had disguised himself for

his secret journey, and, in place of his feathered hat, he wore a red

cloth travelling-cap over his fair locks. When Dorothy saw him in this

dress, she started up, terrified.

"St. Gertrude and all saints save us!" she cried, "here he comes!"

"Who?" growled the count: "has Satan got you, carlin? Who is it?"

"If you are not asleep, noble count," said Drost Peter, entering, "I

shall merely wish you a speedy recovery, and bid you farewell. I must

travel tonight, and have fortified myself against the night air."

"Ah, my gracious young master, it is you!" cried Dorothy. "I thought,

by the Lord's truth, it was the gray nix with the red cap, who had

changed himself into a handsome young gentleman to make a fool of me."

"Your nurse is crazy, and is well nigh making me crazy too," said Count

Gerhard, recognising Drost Peter, and extending his hand. "You are for

travelling--and I lying here. Well, then, set out in God's name. I

require nothing, as you may see, and have entertaining company. But

were you at the palace entertainment? How gets it on? With whom does

the queen dance?"

"With dukes and princes of the blood. She inquired after you, and bade

me inform you that she is concerned for your mischance. Leave us for a

moment, Dorothy."

Dorothy left the room, casting back a look of curiosity, and allowing

the door to stand ajar. Drost Peter, who knew her failing, closed the

door, and took a chair by the count's pillow.

"Did she really inquire after me?" asked the count. "There is nothing

of the nix in your nature, my good friend; therefore you cannot see

whether I am one of your nurse's vain gallants, who have a fancy for

dancing with a bundle of straw."

Drost Peter looked at him with surprise, and thought he was delirious.

"It is nonsense--stupid nursery jargon, I know very well," continued

the count. "But as I have nothing to do but lie here and dream, it

almost crazes me. But let that pass. What said you concerning the

queen?"

"She has been inaccurately informed of the occasion of our dispute,"

replied Drost Peter. "I have not mentioned the circumstance to any one;

so that you must yourself--"

"Only in confidence, to my dear Longlegs, and then in a highly

figurative manner. But what said she to that?"

"It is the queen's wish that nothing more be said about the matter,"

continued Drost Peter. "She no longer permits any knight to wear her

colours, and, as you may perceive, my red rosette is gone."

"I have nothing to say against that," exclaimed the count, with

undisguised pleasure: "it did not well become you. You are about to

travel, then, and do not accompany the court?"

"Not at present. But, before taking my departure, a serious word, in

confidence. I know well that you cannot be greatly attached to the

royal house of Denmark, and you may greatly disapprove of what has

taken place here; but you hate all knavery, and mean well and

honourably with everybody.

"Good: on that point you may rest satisfied. But if you require me to

show you as much by deeds, say on."

"These are bewildering and deceiving times, noble Count Gerhard, and

even the best are liable to be misled. The king's friends are few, and

I dare not reckon you among them. Has enemies are numerous and

powerful; but the noble Queen Agnes is not less prized in your eyes

than in mine. Promise me, for her sake, however much you may condemn

the measures of the Danish government, that you will not enter into any

secret league against the crown and kingdom; but, like a faithful

vassal, make common cause with me, to preserve the legitimate order of

affairs in Denmark."

"I have not, as yet, had the least thought of doing mischief," replied

the count, smiling; "and, seeing the condition in which I now am, have

you not taken care that I shall not be a dangerous neighbour in a

hurry? I am, to speak frankly, no great admirer either of your policy

or your king, and should have nothing to complain of if there happened

a regular insurrection, like that which he himself supported in Sweden.

It gave people something to do, and one had not time to lie dreaming

about nixes and enchanted princesses. But you are right: for the

queen's sake alone, it were a sin and a shame to desire an

insurrection. I am well aware that the great men and vassals are

dissatisfied; but I have hitherto kept myself aloof, and I will not

belong to their councils, if they have not reference to an open and

orderly feud, which, besides, is both just and lawful in itself."

"More than this I cannot desire, noble count. Give me your knightly

hand upon it."

"There it is. I have no objection to people fighting, when they cannot

agree; but with conspiracies and mutinies I shall have nothing to do:

you have my word for it."

"That word is worth more to me than the most formal treaty," replied

Drost Peter, pressing his hand with glad confidence. "Farewell, now,

noble count, and a speedy recovery. Make my house your home as long as

you please, and bear me in friendly remembrance, in whatever way fickle

fortune may be disposed to play ball with me. However much we may

differ on many points, on one we are agreed. The illustrious fair one

who, against her wish, brought us to contend against each other, shall

hereafter, like a spirit of peace and reconciliation, unite our hands

and hearts in that gloomy warfare wherein friends and foes know not

each other. God be with you! Farewell."

So saying, he once more ardently pressed the count's hand, and hastily

left him. The count nodded, and fell into deep thought.

Old Dorothy shortly afterwards again hobbled into the apartment, and

took her master's place by the count's bed; but finding him so

completely abstracted, she did not venture again to disturb him with

more adventures.

* * *

It was two hours after midnight. The streets of Nyborg were still and

deserted. There was no moon in the heavens; but the sky was clear, and,

in the faint starlight, two tall individuals, wrapped in hooded cloaks,

issued from the outer gates of the palace. They walked silently and

hastily towards the quay.

Immediately afterwards, two horsemen, in gray cloaks, rode out of the

palace-gate, and speedily disappeared in the same direction, without

the slightest noise, as if their horses were shod with list.

At the extremity of the quay lay a skiff, with red sails, upon which a

number of silent figures were in motion. The quay was quiet and

solitary. At length, a few rapid footsteps and the clank of spurs were

heard, and, under the outer plank of the bulwark, a little, peeping,

curly head concealed itself. The two tall persons in hooded cloaks now

paused: one of them coughed, and, in a subdued voice, pronounced a name

or pass-word, which was answered from the ship by a whistle; upon which

they went on board. In a moment the red sails were set. A steady breeze

blew from the south-west, and the skiff passed rapidly by the eastern

point, out of the haven.

As soon as the vessel was in motion, the little black curly head of the

spy once more appeared from beneath the bulwark. At one bound, Claus

Skirmen stood in a boat, and, with a few hasty strokes of the oars,

came alongside a small yacht lying in the inner part of the haven, and

in which his master and Sir Thorstenson already expected him. Scarcely

had the red-sailed skiff passed Canute's Head, the extreme eastern

point of coast, before the smaller and quicker yacht ran out from

Nyborg haven. It bore away, at first with some difficulty, as near as

possible to the wood-covered west coast of the firth, to avoid drifting

too far northwards, and to be able to steer in a direct line south of

Sporgoe, towards Zealand.

Drost Peter seated himself silently by the rudder, and looked grave.

Sir Thorstenson and Skirmen also preserved a deep silence; and, during

the whole passage, the usual and necessary words of command to the

boatmen only were heard. The skiff with the red sails had just

disappeared from sight, and was steering to the north of Sporgoe. As

the morning dawned, they were close by Korsöer. Drost Peter gazed

incessantly, and somewhat uneasily, towards the north. At length he

caught a glimpse of the red sail, and saw that the strange skiff was

bearing down the Belt. He now ordered the yacht to be run in to Korsöer

harbour.

The two knights landed unrecognised. They stood in their gray cloaks,

like travelling merchants, and silently bowed before a large crucifix,

which, surrounded by a gilt circle or halo, stood on the quay-head.

Skirmen hastily brought the horses on shore; and, in an instant, the

knights had mounted them, and the squire leaped on his hardy norback,

when, without delay, the three horsemen proceeded through the

slumbering town. Over almost every door there stood a cross, in a ring,

as upon the quay. This holy symbol, at once the ancient arms of the

town and the origin of its name, was not wanting on any craftsman's

sign. Although there was not awaking soul to be seen in the place, the

knights saluted almost every second house, mindful, even in their

haste, of this customary token of reverence. They rode through the

town-gate, and along the frith to the left or northwards, where the

road wound near Tornborg. In the wood, close by Tornborg, they ceased

their hard gallop, and allowed their horses to breathe.

Now, for the first time, Drost Peter broke the long silence. "You are

perfectly sure it was them, Skirmen?" he said to his squire.

"As sure as I am that it is yourself and Sir Thorstenson who are riding

here," replied the squire. "The duke and his drost stood on the beam

right over my head, at the quay, and I could count every soul on board

the skiff."

"How many were there, then?"

"I counted nine and twenty, including soldiers and boatmen. They

looked a most atrocious pack of rievers. One could hardly see their

faces, for their black and red beards; and those who did not sit on the

rowing-benches, had large knives in their girdles, and battle-axes in

their hands. He who whistled appeared the worst of them all: he was a

huge, sturdy fellow, with a face like a bear. I could only see him

indistinctly, on account of the red sail that flapped about his ears;

but I dare stake my head that it was no one else than Niels Breakpeace

himself, the captain of the Jutland rievers, who escaped from us last

year."

"Niels Breakpeace!" repeated both knights, in astonishment. "But was

not the vessel Norwegian, then?" inquired Drost Peter.

"The boatmen were Norsemen, sir--audacious-looking fellows, with

large cleavers and shaggy caps. He who sat by the rudder was also a

Norseman--a little sturdy fellow, dressed like a knight, with a gilded

dagger-hilt in his belt. They called him Count Alf."

"The algrev--Mindre-Alf!" exclaimed both knights, regarding each other

with renewed astonishment; while Sir Thorstenson, repeating the name,

became pale with indignation, and grasped the hilt of his sword in his

powerful hand.

"Stand!" he exclaimed, stopping his horse: "could I but break the

algrev's neck, I would give half my life for it. But who has said they

are coming in this direction?"

Drost Peter held the skirt of his cloak to the wind. "Do you see?" he

said: "the wind has gone round to the north. They must have already

landed on the coast here. That they will to Sweden, we know very well;

and that they were steering down the Belt, we saw. They will certainly

land either here or at Skjelskjoer, to cross the Sound by Orekrog. If

we are rightly informed, the duke must first to Zealand; he and the

marsk have powerful friends here."

"They will certainly not land at Skjelskjoer," said Thorstenson; "the

algrev was too well known there last year."

"We shall soon see them here, then," said Drost Peter. "These Norse

vikings[15] will hardly venture far from the vessel. The duke will also

bethink him well of passing through the country openly, with a gang of

rievers at his heels. He will scarcely come with a large train; but, in

any case, we can surprise the whole band, if requisite."

"That we can, with half a score of Sir Rimaardson's coast-jagers," said

Thorstenson. "Yonder lies Tornborg. I think we should take our post by

the road here, and send your squire to the castle."

Drost Peter nodded assent, and immediately dispatched Claus Skirmen to

Tornborg with a verbal message; whilst he and Sir Thorstenson, leaving

the horses to graze in a little green spot in the wood, close to the

road, ascended an eminence, from which they had an extensive view over

the Belt. From this spot they saw the red sail of the freebooter, under

a woody shelter, near the coast, and were now satisfied that they were

upon the right track.

Tornborg lay scarcely three hundred yards from the eminence where the

knights stood. The nimble Skirmen was soon back, and brought

intelligence that Sir Rimaardson had gone out hunting for the day, and

would not return home before evening.

"We must assist ourselves, then, as we best can," said Drost Peter. "We

can stay here until the duke has passed. Although every royal castellan

will stand by us, yet the fewer we are the better: we must avoid

publicity."

"But, should the pirates impede our progress, we must cut our way

through the pack," remarked Thorstenson. "I take upon me to crack the

algrev's neck, and perhaps those of a couple of his scoundrels. Yet,

however, we are only two-men-and-a-half strong."

"You may safely reckon us as three whole men, and a little more, stern

sir knight," said Skirmen, strutting bravely: "what I want in length, I

can make up for, perhaps, in another shape. At any rate, you and my

master alone may well pass for three doughty men."

"No bragging, Skirmen," said Drost Peter, interrupting his squire. "Off

now, and get under the stone trough, by the roadside yonder, and bring

us word, as soon as you see them. They cannot do otherwise than cross

the brook."

Skirmen leapt from his norback, and left it to graze in the wood. He

then ran to the post indicated, and the two knights took their seats on

the hillock.

"Ah, could we only catch the algrev!" broke out Sir Thorstenson,

vehemently.

"That is a matter of secondary importance, my noble knight," observed

Drost Peter. "In our anxiety to secure a freebooter, let us not forget

the far more important object for which we are here."

"You are right," said Thorstenson: "in thinking of the infernal viking,

I had almost forgotten everything else. Respecting the duke, it is

rather a dangerous undertaking. If we allow him to cross the Sound, we

may chance to have him in our power; but, if it so happen, it is then

extremely doubtful whether we are not doing exactly that which the king

and the friends of the country would prevent. Think you not that such

apparent violence, towards so powerful a vassal, would give a vent for

the general dissatisfaction, and arm every traitor in the country?"

"It is a hazardous but necessary step," replied Drost Peter; "and,

after what we have now seen, is nowise unjust. Besides, if this exalted

personage is in league with the country's open enemies, and even with

outlawed criminals, like Niels Breakpeace, we should be quite justified

were we to seize him on the spot. Were that possible, we shall not

exceed our authority one single step."

"Could we but lay hold of the algrev at the same time, it would not so

much matter," began Sir Thorstenson, after a pause, his eyes flashing

with passion. "Since the cursed sea-hound is so saucy as to risk

himself on land, before our very eyes, I can scarcely refrain from

giving him chase, even before we deal with the other. It were shame and

a scandal should the notorious algrev be permitted to pass through

Zealand, instead of being hanged on a gallows by the way. There is

scarcely a sea-town in Denmark that he has not plundered: he has

committed more atrocities in the world than he has hairs on his curly

head."

"Do you know anything of him beyond report?" inquired Drost Peter.

"Craft and courage he should not lack."

"I know him better than any clerk or bishop knows the foul fiend,"

replied the enraged knight. "He passes for a hero and a great man, both

in Norway and Sweden; but here he passes, with good reason, for a vile

sea-rover, an incendiary, and a ravisher. And yet such a fellow brags

of his princely descent, and scorns an honest and irreproachable

knight! Know you not that it is he who, with Justice Algot of West

Gothland, and his powerful sons, is guardian to Prince Svantopolk's

daughter, and the cause of all my misfortunes?"

"I know you speak reluctantly about this affair, my noble knight. You

were inclined towards the prince's fair daughter, and she gave you her

troth against her kinsman's wish; but, as far as I am aware, it was not

the algrev, but Justice Algot's son, who carried off the Lady Ingrid."

"It was by the algrev's help, then; and not at all from true affection,

but from pride and a love of rapine. The whole of this haughty race are

in conspiracy against us. Chancellor Peter and Bishop Brynjalf of

Sweden wished to force her into a convent; but the algrev would give

her to Sir Algotson, that half her fief and estates might remain in his

riever claws. My only hope now is in the bold Swedish king, and in

seeing this algrev on a gibbet."

"But, my dear, brave Thorstenson, do not you make too large claims on

kings and princes, when you set your eyes so seriously on a prince's

daughter?"

"I am as doughty and wellborn a knight as Algotson," replied

Thorstenson: "but, were I even the meanest scullion, and loved an

emperor's daughter, by Him who lives above! I would show the world I

was worthy of her, and lay my life on winning her, spite of the world

and all its rulers."

"You cannot, however, entirely despise the limits that birth and

station oppose to our wishes," continued Drost Peter, with friendly

interest. "However highly you may esteem a free and independent nature,

my valiant friend, you must still admit, that there is something higher

and greater than in blindly following its instincts to happiness. You

cannot be ignorant of the great law of self-denial: that law, the

powerful ones of the earth ought most of all to obey. Those who stand

nearest to kings, part with heart and fortune, my friend; yea, the

heart must be silent, where a higher voice speaks."

"The fiend take your higher voice and law of self-denial!" replied

Thorstenson. "That law may do for reigning princes. They are bred and

born to be the victims of state policy, and of their people. For that,

they bear the crown and sceptre; for that, they rule over us, and hide

their miseries in purple; but free, noble-born knights cannot recognise

a necessity at variance with the ordinances of God and of nature. I

well know what has possessed you with this fancy, my brave friend: it

is respect for a deceased father's last foolishness. Such respect is,

no doubt, very proper; but the usurpations of fathers and kinsmen over

our childhood can never constitute a sacred obligation to sacrifice our

own freedom and happiness, and stifle the best feelings of our nature.

You may be glad that your foolish juvenile betrothment is at an end; it

now behoves you no longer to befool yourself with fancies."

"I was not thinking of myself at the moment," replied Drost Peter, with

calm animation, lying back on the green height, his clear blue eye

resting on the deep vault of the spring-heaven over his head. "I was

thinking of our young heir to the throne, and the little Princess

Ingeborg of Sweden. They are already, one may say, bride and

bridegroom, although they are yet both children. They played together

at that tourney festival where the proud Ingrid gave you her troth, and

you, with grave self-confidence, believed you could determine your

fortune. It was to me a wonderful thought, when I saw the children

playing together, that I knew what neither of them yet could dream

of--that these two innocent beings were already secretly destined for

one another, and chosen to become the bond of union between two

kingdoms and people. It did not in any manner move me: it occurred to

me, not as an audacious interference with the designs of Providence by

a cold, calculating state policy, or as an unnatural usurpation, as you

term it, by short-sighted men; it appeared to me as a mysterious

carrying out of God's will, and as if these children had been destined

for each other before any of the individuals were in being by whose

plans and counsels it should be accomplished. I will not defend these

views: I know you will call them fanatical, or even superstitious and

foolish; but in the same manner has my own dim destination hitherto

come before my eyes. This fanaticism, as you may readily term it, has,

thanks to God! preserved me from a bewilderment of heart, that might

have driven me mad, or, what were worse, have lost me my peace of mind,

here and hereafter."

"I believe I guess what you mean, my brave friend," said Sir

Thorstenson, heartily shaking his hand. "I will not enter into argument

with your pious fancies. Your heart has the least share in your

aristocratic bigotry; for, fortunately, your fancies have juggled the

heart into a slumber. But ask not that I should regard, in the same

calm manner, the dull obstacles to my happiness as a wise ordination. I

esteem you fortunate that you really do not experience that vehemence

of passion you seem to dread, and which would destroy your world of

fancy, quick as a stormblast destroys the glittering cobweb."

"All hearts are not alike," replied Drost Peter; and his manly voice

trembled, from a deep, suppressed feeling. "When it boils and tosses in

you, as in the mighty ocean, in my soul it burns deep and still. If,

then, I could not fix my eye on the great, calm, eternal depth above,

and find peace in its contemplation, I should waste in secret; whilst

you find relief and consolation in wild outbreaks."

They continued to converse together for some time, in a familiar and

friendly manner. They had long been friends, notwithstanding the great

difference in their modes of thinking, as well as in their nature and

dispositions. The zeal and fidelity with which they both served their

king were grounded upon a far from common opinion of the sacredness of

the crown and of the kingly power. A steady regard to this made Drost

Peter what he was with respect to the crown and kingdom; and his

earnest hope to be able to support a tottering throne, and to preserve

the crown untarnished for its hopeful and legally chosen heir, gave him

strength for every sacrifice.

With Sir Thorstenson, it was the idea of honour, and the inviolability

of a knight's promise, which alone bound him to a king he could neither

love nor respect. He shared, in many points, the contempt of the

discontented noblemen for a kingly power, which, circumscribed as it

was, was still so frequently perverted to unjust and arbitrary ends;

but he hated, in almost an equally high degree, the pride of birth, and

the imperious conduct of the aristocracy, as well as the efforts of the

ecclesiastics to establish a spiritual tyranny. He was, consequently,

disposed to justify the rebellious spirit of the oppressed commoners,

and was an ardent admirer of the Swedish king, Magnus Ladislaus, who

guarded the privileges of the commons, while he tamed the most powerful

of the nobility with violence, and, at times, with cruelties. On this

subject he had again entered into a warm controversy with Drost Peter,

who, since the cruel execution of the Folkungar,[16] without form of

law, had a strong aversion to the Swedish king, which he expressed

without reserve, and considered Denmark, with all her miseries,

fortunate in not having such a sanguinary tyrant and upstart monarch

for a ruler.

"Nay, my good friend," cried Thorstenson, starting up: "rather an able

tyrant, who treads every law under foot, than a vile turncoat, who

gives laws every day and keeps no law himself. Rather an active, hardy

warrior, who hacks off heads like cabbages from their stocks, than a

mean craven, who can only run after women in the dark, and cannot look

an honest man in the face in open day. Nay, nay," he continued,

striking his sword on the ground: "I consider Sweden fortunate in her

Magnus, even were he to lay one half of it waste in order that flowers

and glory might spring up in the other. Rather a despotic ruler, with a

determined will, who dares to wrest a crown from a crazy head, and

defend it, than a legitimate madman, a dullard, without head or brains,

and wrinkled like a clout under the symbol of majesty. We serve the

vilest master in the world," continued he, with subdued vehemence:

"that we cannot gainsay. You are true to him, Drost Peter; but, to

defend him with a true word--that you leave alone. I must make free to

say of him what I please, if even you are angry thereat; but he has

once had my word, and he may rely on my fealty, though he is not worthy

to have an honest dog in his service. Great honour no one earns here,

either as knight or warrior: that you must yourself admit; but what

honour I have, I shall take care to keep, notwithstanding. If, now, we

have to make war on Sweden, as I respect my knightly word, I shall not

sheathe my sword until I have washed the stain from the hand that gave

it me, with the blood of heroes who now, with reason, despise us."

Drost Peter sprang up with warmth. "With reason, no one can despise

us," he said; "and, without reason, no one shall dare to do so with

impunity. The days of Denmark's glory are over, it is true; but honour

even our worst foes shall leave us untouched. If we scorn the master we

serve, we scorn ourselves," he continued. "The faults and errors of the

king I cannot defend: it were despicable to respect them; but, as

faithful servants, we should cover them with the cloak of charity when

we can, and not place our glory in revealing his shame."

"To you, and between ourselves, I can state my mind without disguise,"

replied Thorstenson. "On this subject, you know, I am silent before

strangers; and, were a stranger to venture to say to me what I have

just been saying to you, I would break his neck on the spot, without a

moment's hesitation.----But how is this? The wood is full of people!"

He sprang hastily to his feet. "And where are our horses? They are not

where we left them grazing."

Drost Peter looked round him in astonishment. They heard many voices,

and the noise of hunters and hounds, on all sides; and now they

perceived, beside them on the height, a tall gentleman, of knightly

appearance, attired in a green doublet, and mounted on a light brown

horse.

"Who are you?" shouted the huntsman, in a stern, commanding voice.

"Rievers have landed hereabouts, and I have a right to make the demand:

I am the king's captain at Tornborg."

"We have sought you in vain, Sir Benedict Rimaardson," replied Drost

Peter, taking off his red cap, and at the same time handing him the

king's authority. "Who we are, this will inform you, if you have not

already recognised us."

"Drost Hessel! Sir Thorstenson!" exclaimed the knight, with surprise,

and springing from his horse: "who would have expected you in this

guise?" He extended a friendly hand to them, and cast a hasty glance

over the document, while Drost Peter pointed it out, and laid his

finger on his lips.

Although the huntsman had, apparently, some trouble in reading it, he

quickly understood its meaning. "So, so! teeth before the tongue!" said

he, in a tone of surprise, and handing back the parchment to Drost

Peter. "I have something better to do, then, than to hunt after these

horse-stealers. But still it was an accursed piece of impudence in

them," continued he, enraged. "Did you not see a gang of long-bearded

fellows, looking like shipwrecked seamen? A little while since they

carried off all our horses, almost to the one I luckily sit upon. They

did it in a twinkling, as my huntsmen were taking their morning's meal

down by the moss."

"Our horses, also, have disappeared," said Sir Thorstenson. "Here there

is no time to be lost. But, first, procure us three horses."

"Are you more than two, gentlemen?"

"My squire is on the outlook, down by the road," replied Drost Peter:

"see, here he comes."

Squire Skirmen bounded forward like a hart. "They are coming!" he

exclaimed: "there are four on horseback. I know the duke's red mantle,

and the little Norse gentleman's burly beard."

"The algrev!" cried Thorstenson: "death and destruction! let us after

him!"

"That illustrious individual is not to be stopped here, if I understand

the pothooks rightly," said the huntsman; "but we must be certain

whether it is him. How fall you upon the algrev? Follow me, gentlemen:

I know the wood. They shall pass close by us without seeing us."

While Skirmen held the huntsman's horse, he led the nimble Drost Peter

and Sir Thorstenson into a thicket of white thorns and young beeches,

close by the roadside. By his advice, they laid themselves on the

ground, having in sight, before them, a portion of the road from

Korsöer. They had not waited long in this position, before they heard

the trampling of horses close at hand. Drost Peter bent the boughs

aside, and Sir Thorstenson made a hasty movement.

"Still! keep still, my good sirs!" said the hunter: "game of this sort

must not be frightened. Here we have them. Bight: it is the duke and

his drost. The pompous little gentleman, with the bullock head, I do

not know; and yet--"

"The algrev! Mindre-Alf!" interrupted Thorstenson, in a low voice, as

he was on the point of starting up.

"Remember the main business, and restrain your vehemence," whispered

Drost Peter, holding him back.

"Let them only get in advance, and we are sure of them," whispered the

hunter. "But who is that heavy fellow, in the squire's mantle, who

rides behind? He does not look at all like a fine gentleman's

attendant."

"Niels Breakpeace, the Jutland rover," answered Drost Peter, softly:

"but let him pass on. In the duke's livery, he has now free convoy

through Zealand."

The four important travellers passed, and the knights arose.

"It is hard enough," said Rimaardson, "that I, as chief of Tornborg,

should see two such notorious robbers pass along, under my very nose as

it were, and dare not stop and seize them. If it was their marauding

band that took our horses, there is no more security in the country for

the present. Permit me to ride on before you to Tornborg, gentlemen.

Measures shall be taken instantly. We may still reach Slagelse before

the duke has left it. We must keep at some distance, and be not too

numerous, or he may apprehend mischief."

As he spoke he hastily mounted his horse, which Skirmen, at his sign,

had brought him, and rode off at a gallop towards the castle. The

knights and Skirmen followed him with rapid steps.

Sir Benedict or Bent Rimaardson was about forty years of age, with a

brave huntsman's countenance, embrowned by exposure to the sun and open

air. He was tall and spare, and exceedingly nimble in his movements.

All his paternal ancestors were Danes; but, on the mother's side, he

was related to the Margraves of Brandenburg and Queen Agnes. In

consequence of his fidelity to the king, he was at variance with his

younger brother, Sir Lavé Rimaardson, who had been deprived of his

estates, and outlawed as a traitor and fomenter of rebellion among the

peasants. These family cares severely depressed the otherwise bold and

lively knight; for his wild, unruly brother was still dear to him, and

it often wounded him deeply to hear the name of Rimaardson associated

with those of the most audacious transgressors of the laws of the land.

He lived, unmarried, with his brother John, as chief of Tornborg, where

he watched over the security of the coast with great strictness, and

constantly lay in wait for the Norwegian freebooters. He was a

distinguished sea-warrior, and had often been successful in capturing

pirates with his longboat. What sometimes interfered with his vigilance

was his passion for the chase--his only recreation at this lonely

castle.

That a Norwegian pirate-vessel had arrived at Korsöer, and landed

rovers, whilst he thought the seas secure, and was diverting himself

with the chase, provoked him highly; but this recent mission, with

which the king had entrusted him, gave him something else to think of.

In a few minutes he had reached the castle; and, when his guests

arrived, they found the horses already saddled in the court-yard. They

allowed themselves no time to inspect the famous castle, from which the

place derived its name, or even to refresh themselves. The chief,

having entrusted the care of the castle to his brother John, dispatched

a troop of huntsmen into the wood in search of the rievers; and then,

along with his guests, mounted his horse, without changing his green

doublet. He ordered four jagers to follow them at a short distance, and

started from Tornborg at a gallop, in the direction of Slagelse.

The road between Korsöer and Slagelse, in the western part of Zealand,

is crossed, at Vaarby, by a rivulet, running between tolerably high

banks, and was, anciently, broad and deep enough to be navigable for

small vessels. Between Vaarby Banks the road gradually became narrower,

and a wooden bridge led across the river where it was deepest. This

bridge was not wider than what would allow a wain to drive over: it

rested upon upright beams, taller than a ship's mast, and, as was

usual, was unprovided with rails at the side. The river at this spot

was very deep, though it did not rise nearly so high as it did when the

bridge was built; from which it has been inferred that, from the bridge

to the surface of the stream, there was a depth of more than six

fathoms. Several large, almost rocklike stones, rose above the water on

both sides, the remains, apparently, of a stone bridge, which had been

swept away by the violence of the current: a proof that the river had

formerly swollen into a mighty torrent. The steep banks were overgrown

with brushwood, which almost concealed them.

Here, Niels Breakpeace's twelve daring robbers, with nine well-armed

Norse freebooters from the pirate-vessel, together with the stolen

horses, were concealed in a thicket. In order to deceive the huntsmen

and coast-guards who had pursued them, a smaller number of the Norse

pirates had fled, with much noise and clamour, in an opposite

direction, and had gained their ship before their pursuers could come

up with them; when they immediately hoisted sail, and bore away to the

south, under Egholm and Aggersoe.

In the thicket near Vaarby Bridge, the shaggy-bearded fellows,

stretched on the grass, held a short council, at the same time making

good cheer from one of the huntsmen's wallets. A tall young man, with a

knight's feathered hat over his handsome brown locks, but otherwise

dressed as a seaman, in coarse pitched wadmel, alone stood up among

them, and appeared to be their leader. He had an expression of daring

in his features, which yet presented a fine noble outline, and a pair

of dark eyes flashed audaciously from under his bushy eyebrows.

"There is no time now for stretching and lounging," said he, in an

imperious, commanding tone. "Give heed, fellows! To-day, I am both

count of Tönsberg and Niels Breakpeace; and he who dares to disobey me,

I shall cut down on the spot."

The fellows seemed to understand this discourse, without being at all

intimidated. They appeared to expect such a speech; and only half

rising from their recumbent position, regarded him with silence and

attention.

"Over this bridge," he continued, "not a living soul from Korsöer

crosses to-day, were he even king of Denmark. Whoever sets foot upon

the bridge is our prisoner. If he resists, we cut him down, or pitch

him into the river, without more ado. I remain at this side, with my

Norwegian bears; you, Morten Longknife, with your own men, shall guard

the other end. If you budge a foot when it comes to the pinch, it costs

you your neck. To Korsöer may travel who will; but not a cat to

Slagelse. Do you understand?"

A tall, red-bearded fellow, with a knife an ell long in his belt, had

sprung up, with ten others, sturdy and dirty-looking enough. "That is

easy to be understood, stern knight," said he, in the dialect of a

Jutland peasant, and nodding his head. "You and the northmen break

backs to-day, and we Jutes cleave brainpans. For that I can be depended

upon: it is a token that you know us."

"You are to lie quiet in yonder thicket until I whistle, when you shall

spring up, and close the bridge in three ranks. As soon as I call out,

'Hack away!' cleave to the foot whoever comes. Now, off to your post!"

Morten Longknife nodded assent. With his ten men, he went immediately

over the bridge, and disappeared in the thicket on the opposite bank of

the river.

Drost Peter, in the meantime, rode between Sir Thorstenson and Bent

Rimaardson, at a brisk trot, along the road towards Vemmelöv and

Vaarby. They were silent, and seemed to be considering the most prudent

way of accomplishing their difficult undertaking.

Squire Skirmen followed upon a lean hunter, and sorely grieved for the

loss of his norback. But he soon got into a lively conversation with

Sir Rimaardson's four huntsmen. They related to him many of their

master's daring exploits, when he allowed freebooters to land, that he

might catch and hang them. In return, Skirmen told them of his master's

feats in the Sleswick war, and at tilts and jousts, and gave them a

description of the magnificent tournament at Helsingborg, which he had

himself seen. Thereupon, he struck up a lively tourney song, and jigged

on his saddle as he sang:--

"There shines upon the fourth shield

An eagle, and he is red;

And it is borne by Holger Danske;

Who killed the giant dead."

"My master bears an eagle on his seal," he added. "Were I in his place,

I would set the eagle in the shield, instead of the red bend. Do you

know what I shall have on my shield, when once I am a knight? It shall

be Folker Fiddler's mark. But there must be more than that: of my

shield it will be hereafter sung:--

"There stands a maiden in the shield,

And a sword, and fiddle, and bow;

And it is borne by bold Skirmen,

Who will sing, not sleep, I trow."

While the young squire thus gave expression to his pleasing

expectations, they had passed Vemmelöv, and were approaching Vaarby

Bridge. The neighing, as of a foal, was presently heard from the copse

by the river-side, and Skirmen exclaimed, with surprise--"My little

norback!" In a moment he was by his master's side, and communicated to

him his discovery.

Drost Peter stopped his horse. All was still. "If my squire has

heard aright," said the drost, "we shall, without doubt, meet our

horse-stealers here. They have probably riders with them, who will

oppose our progress. If they have ascertained who we are, and the

errand on which we ride, it was not imprudent of them to occupy this

important post."

Both knights paused, and regarded the long, narrow bridge with an air

of thoughtfulness.

"With twelve men, I could defend the bridge against a whole army," said

Sir Rimaardson. "We have two choices: either we must proceed at a

gallop, and endeavour to cut our way through; or we must ride hastily

down, and see if our horses can swim across. To ride back, and delay

ourselves by bringing aid, I will not propose to such valiant

gentlemen. Besides, at this moment, I have not a single able horseman

at home."

"Let us cut our way through at a gallop," said Sir Thorstenson. "But

there is not a soul to be seen."

"If Skirmen is right, we shall soon see more than we may care for,"

replied Drost Peter. "Swim your horses well, Sir Rimaardson?"

"The two that you and your squire ride I will answer for, if it be not

too muddy," replied the knight; "mine and Sir Thorstenson's are too

heavy: they will stick fast where there is the least mud."

"There is no choice, then," said Drost Peter: "we must onwards, and, in

God's name, may cut our way through. Follow close after us, huntsmen."

"Off!" cried Thorstenson, already spurring his horse.

"Stay a moment!" exclaimed Drost Peter: "whether we may get over the

bridge alive, is uncertain; but our warrant must be secured. My bold

squire's dexterity I can depend upon; and it will not be difficult for

him to swim over, whilst we give the robbers something more to do than

to think of stopping him. If you agree with me, good sirs, we shall

entrust him with the king's letter and warrant: if we receive any

hindrance, he takes it to the governor of Haraldsborg, or destroys the

letter if he cannot escape."

"You are cautious, noble knight," said Sir Rimaardson; "but I grant you

are right: we must be provided against every accident."

"Good!" exclaimed Thorstenson. "If we must make our wills, let it be

done speedily. My fingers itch to get at the hounds."

"There, my trusty Skirmen," said Drost Peter, giving to his squire the

carefully wrapt-up letter. "You perfectly understand us? This concerns

the security of the crown and royal house. If I demand not this letter

from you on the other side of the bridge, account to me for it beyond

the greatest bridge." He pointed gravely towards the heavens, and was

silent.

The blood mounted into the brave squire's cheeks. "I must flee, then,

like a frightened wild goose, and not fight my way, gaily, by your

side? It is a hard command, sir drost; but you will it so, and I obey.

God be with you! We shall certainly meet beyond _that_ bridge." Again

came a neighing from the thicket. "My norback!" cried Skirmen,

joyfully; and, spurring his horse, he rode hastily down a little

by-path that led into the thicket near the river.

At the same instant the three knights started, at a rapid gallop, and

with drawn swords, towards the bridge.

"One at a time, or we shall throw one another into the river," cried

Thorstenson, taking the lead.

They had almost reached the bridge, and not a soul was to be seen.

"A false alarm!" cried Thorstenson: "there is no one here."

"On, on!" shouted Drost Peter, riding past him.

"That was not my meaning," grumbled Thorstenson; angrily, endeavouring

to regain the lead.

But the first horse-shoe already clattered upon the narrow bridge, and

Sir Thorstenson was obliged to rein in his steed, lest he should plunge

his friend into the river. To their surprise, no one opposed them: the

seventh horse had already his forelegs on the bridge; and Drost Peter,

having arrived within a few paces of the opposite bank, began to think

their suspicions were groundless, when the shrill blast of a whistle

was heard in the rear. A gleam came suddenly from the thicket, and a

threefold impenetrable wall of gigantic, bearded men, with uplifted

halberds, stood at the end of the bridge, and barred the passage. At

the same instant, a similar barrier of Norwegian pirates was formed

behind them, and a powerful voice shouted--"Hold! or you are dead men!"