PART II.

It was still the gray of the morning, when, in the upper hall of

Helsingborg[20] Castle, young Duke Waldemar and his drost walked

backwards and forwards on the bare paved floor. Their mantles, soaked

with sea-water, lay upon a bench.

"It was a stiff breeze, gracious sir," observed Sir Abildgaard, rubbing

his hands; "and it was fortunate we had the algrev with us: drunk as he

was, however, he has set us on dry land, like a brave fellow."

"The rude, wild sea-bear!" exclaimed the duke: "he had nearly ruined

everything. At sea, he is invaluable; but he shall never more set foot

on land by my side. It seems, however, that he was sober when we

landed, and understood my meaning."

"He offered no objections, and he owned that he rued his folly. It is

well we did not break with him: he is a fellow that may still be put to

use."

"Was the daring Niels Breakpeace with him? for, at present, it is as

well to have him also as a reserve; but we must not have the fellow

here with us."

"Not a soul landed your highness. I strictly repeated your injunction,

that they should sail immediately. I assisted the algrev to spell the

marsk's letter, as well as that of the Norwegian king, and he has sworn

to be at Stockholm within eight days, with thirty transports to convey

troops."

"Good--very good!" said the duke, thoughtfully. "Were we only well over

the Scanian border, if need there be, it shall and must succeed. When

King Magnus hears our weighty plans, he must concur with them, and

afford us his aid. This betrothment of children, and all their other

miserable arts, shall not save them. But why, do they tarry?"

The morning light began to increase; and as the large hall, on the

western side of the castle, looked out upon the sea, they saw, from the

balcony, the Count of Tönsberg's rover, in which they had arrived, run

out of the haven with a brisk side-wind.

"See, there goes the algrev," said Sir Abildgaard: "he must certainly

feel it hard to run from a Danish coast without booty. But how is this?

A sloop, with blue sails, lies at the jetty. We saw it not when we

landed; and it is not a Scanian."

"Gudsdöd!" exclaimed the duke, "it is a royal sloop, from Orekrog. But

it cannot have come in pursuit of us, unless Sir Lavé has been

frightened, and allowed that infernal drost to slip loose. Where is the

castellan? Did you instruct him not to say who we are, and that he

should straightway send us an escort as royal ambassadors?"

"Yes, sir; and there is no obstacle in the way. When the guards and

servants heard your name, they made the utmost haste. The castellan had

not risen, but he will be here instantly."

"There is no time to lose," said the duke, with uneasiness. "If we have

not the escort immediately, we must set off without it. Are the horses

ready, and at hand?"

"They stand saddled by the castle-stairs, sir. But, list! They are

coming!"

They now heard a bustle in the castle, and the sound of armed men

running to and fro. The large hall, on the eastern side, looked over

the castle-yard. There, too, they heard a noise, and went anxiously to

the window.

"They are closing the castle-gates!" exclaimed Sir Abildgaard; "and the

court-yard is full of armed men."

"Gudsdöd! What means this? Are we betrayed?" exclaimed the duke. "Come,

Tuko: there must be an outlet here. We must away."

Four large doors opened from the hall. Two of these they found barred.

They went to the third, which was not locked, and hastily opened it;

but on the outside stood six armed men, with the Danish arms upon their

helmets.

"No one can pass out here!" exclaimed a gruff voice.

Astonished, they hastened to the fourth door; but, before they reached

it, it was opened, and Drost Peter stood before them, along with Sir

Rimaardson and Sir Thorstenson, and accompanied by a middle-aged

gentleman, in the dress of a Danish knight, with a baton in his hand.

This was the governor of Helsingborg. Twelve men-at-arms followed him.

"Your arms, gentlemen, in the king's name," said Drost Peter, calmly:

"you are our prisoners."

"What! How is this?" cried the duke, stamping on the paved floor. "Who

dares to take Duke Waldemar prisoner?"

"I, Drost Peter Hessel, and these Danish knights, in the name of our

king and master."

"I know you not. You have no power over a duke of the royal blood, and

a free royal vassal."

"You know the king's hand and seal, illustrious sir," replied Drost

Peter, handing him his warrant.

The duke perused it, with anger-flashing eyes. "This is illegal," he

cried: "it is contrary to the laws and statutes of the kingdom. I have

not been accused at any Herred-Ting or Land-Ting,[21] and I formally

protest against this proceeding, as arbitrary and unjust. You are my

witness, governor, that I declare this warrant null and void, and I

shall answer to my country for destroying it." So saying, he tore the

royal warrant, and cast it on the ground. "As the king's kinsman, and

Duke of South Jutland, I now command you," he continued, in a lordly

tone of authority, "that you immediately take prisoners these audacious

persons, who dare to misuse the royal authority in this lawless

manner."

The castellan looked doubtfully, now at the duke, now at Drost Peter,

as if uncertain how to act. Thorstenson struck his sword angrily

against the pavement, and Rimaardson was on the point of speaking, when

Drost Peter anticipated him.

"Whether this proceeding be just or not," he commenced, "and whether

the king is warranted in ordering this illustrious gentleman to be made

prisoner, before he has been accused at a Land-Ting, is not now the

question: that, the king must himself answer. My authority is the royal

warrant you have seen: it cannot be destroyed; and, in virtue thereof,

I demand that the king's will may be obeyed without delay or

hesitation. If you will not deliver up your weapons willingly,

gentlemen, I shall be obliged to resort to force."

Drost Peter's calm and decided manner embarrassed the duke, and

overcame every doubt of the castellan.

"For the present, you must submit to necessity, illustrious duke," said

this grave personage, courteously, at the same time stooping, and

picking up the royal warrant. "Perhaps this is a mistake; in which case

you must be set at liberty, and will have your grounds of prosecution

against this gentleman for his abuse of the royal authority. At this

moment he is fully empowered, and must be obeyed."

The duke clenched his teeth, and, with averted eyes, handed Drost Peter

his sword. Sir Abildgaard followed his lord's example; and not another

word was uttered by the exasperated state-prisoners. To the castellan's

polite inquiry, whether they wished to take any refreshment, the duke

indignantly shook his head. A strong guard of soldiers having

surrounded the captives, Drost Peter and his companions courteously

saluted the governor, who returned to the drost the torn warrant, and

accompanied them to the jetty.

Before the sun was yet up, Drost Peter had departed for Zealand with

his important prisoners. The rebellious landsknechts from Flynderborg

were handed over to the castellan of Helsingborg, who sent them,

carefully bound, in another vessel to Orekrog.

Claus Skirmen had now enough to attend to; and, although he regarded

his master with proud satisfaction, he carefully avoided any of those

haughty airs by which the feelings of the duke and his drost might be

wounded. As for Thorstenson and Rimaardson, the moment they found

themselves alone with Drost Peter at the rudder, they shook him

heartily by the hand, and extolled his good fortune.

"Yet, after all, it is provoking to be engaged on any hazardous

adventure with you," grumbled Thorstenson; "for before I have had an

opportunity of using my good sword, you have achieved all that is

required by a few words, with your sword in its sheath."

"We may yet need your good sword quite soon enough," replied Drost

Peter, in a suppressed voice: "we have ventured upon a greater piece of

daring than any one perhaps may trow."

The discourse of the grave knights was extremely brief, and

their princely captive deigned them not a word. With suppressed

bitterness, he resigned himself to his fate; and, by the side of his

fellow-prisoner, paced the deck as proudly as if he had been master of

the ship. At length he appeared even gay and indifferent; but Drost

Peter frequently noted in his countenance an expression of vindictive

hope, which rendered him in the highest degree thoughtful and earnest.

The vigilant drost took the helm himself; and when he again saw the

dark towers of Flynderborg, he cast a melancholy glance towards the

little turret-window from which he had seen the light twinkling on the

previous evening; but the window was now closed, and seemed to be

screened inside by a dark tapestry. The entire mighty fortress, which

at the present moment he did not care to visit, lay half enveloped in

the mist of the calm spring morning, and seemed to him dark and

enigmatical as his own future, and undefined as his unhappy country's

fate.

* * *

It was soon known throughout the whole kingdom that Duke Waldemar and

his drost had been sent prisoners to Sjöborg. This bold step on the

part of the king and his active ministers struck the discontented

nobles with astonishment, and it now seemed as if even the most daring

vassals had lost courage to defy the kingly power, or to meditate

dangerous enterprises against the crown and kingdom. A great number of

the most powerful Danish nobles, as well as many foreign princes,

sought to accommodate, in an amicable manner, the dangerous differences

between the king and the duke, and to obtain the misguided nobleman's

release from prison; but one month passed by after another, without any

arrangement being effected.

The king, as usual, passed the summer in moving about the kingdom, and

spent the winter at Ribehuus. The drost, it was said, was in high

favour; but it was doubted whether the terms that he and the stern old

Sir John deemed necessary for the security of the crown, in reference

to the liberation of the duke, would be submitted to by the proud young

prince, so long as he could depend upon his powerful connections, both

within the kingdom and abroad.

It was one of the latter days of March, 1286. The captive duke and

his knightly companion, Drost Tuko Abildgaard, sat opposite each other,

at a chess-table, in a gloomy turret-chamber in Sjöborg Castle, where

they had now spent three beautiful months of summer, and more than six

of autumn and winter. They were strictly guarded, but without

harshness, and with every respect and distinction that such notable

state-prisoners could desire. They lacked none of the necessaries and

comforts that could be obtained in this retired spot, or that could be

granted them without danger of aiding them to escape, or enabling them

to hold intercourse with their friends and adherents.

Each of the prisoners had his own apartment; but, as it was not

forbidden them to be in each other's company, their apartments

communicated by a door, which they used at pleasure. The narrow

chambers were kept clean and airy, and as warm as the prisoners

themselves desired. The rooms were, further, provided with all suitable

furniture for their convenience, besides various kinds of chess-boards,

and a few old manuscript chronicles. Some volumes of homilies, and

other edifying writings, were also to be found; together with a lyre, a

David's harp, and many similar things, to lighten their captivity and

beguile the time. But lights and writing-materials were both denied

them; and they saw not a soul except the deaf turnkey, (who never spoke

a word when he waited upon them,) and the stern castellan, Poul Hvit

himself.

The latter visited them daily, at uncertain hours, and never left their

side during the time they were permitted to take exercise in the open

air, under his charge, in the court-yard of the castle. Every day,

well-cooked food was brought them, on silver dishes, and the rarest

fruits of the season at all times graced their lonely board. To the

handle of their silver wine-flagon, a fresh nosegay was very frequently

attached, even in the severest winter months; but who it was that

showed them this friendly mark of attention, they had never been able

to discover.

Further, to give their uniform life a little variety, they feigned to

be alternately each other's guests, and on this day Drost Tuko

Abildgaard was host. The dinner-table was cleared, but the wine-flagon

and two goblets still remained.

"Gaily, now, my noble guest," said the mannerly knight: "if you are

tired of mating me, leave the stupid pieces alone, and let us rather

drink a cup together. The wine is excellent. Had we only a couple of

pretty lively little damsels to bear us company, our imprisonment

would not seem to me, after all, so great a calamity. Who knows from

what fair hand these lovely flowers are constantly brought us, and

whether one of us may not have fallen on good fortune here, among the

weaving-damsels and pantry-maids."

"Thou hast a happy mind, Tuko," replied the duke; "and I do not envy

thee it. So long as thou lackest not wine and giddy girls, I believe

thou couldst be happy in purgatory itself. But yet there was a time,

Tuko, when thou sharedst my proud dreams," he continued, after a

thoughtful pause, and pushing the chess-pieces to one side: "even in

the midst of our most thoughtless follies, thou didst not forget that

thou wert the friend of an injured prince, and labouredst with him for

the attainment of the greatest object man can desire. Thou wert

initiated into the great secret of my life: with me, thou proudly

soaredst above the ignorant mass and the despicable puppets we played

with, whenever thou thoughtest what thou, too, couldst perform when

Duke Waldemar was in possession of his great ancestor's glorious

crown."

"Think not that I have now forgotten it, noble sir," replied the

knight. "But of what use is it to fret yourself pale and lean, between

these thick walls, where we cannot take a single step towards our

object?"

"We can do battle here, Tuko. In that narrow room I have, perhaps,

already made a more important progress than if I had stood free, in the

midst of a noisy and juggling court. Read, in the chronicles, of the

greatest men, and thou shalt find that they buried themselves in

deserts and lonely dens, to prove themselves and their own powers in

secret, before they entered upon the career destined to astonish after

generations, and be remembered through long centuries. When thou hast

been sleeping here, dreaming of trifles and handsome maidens, many a

night have I been awake in my den, there. The wide and mighty world of

thought has been laid open before me in my prison, and the great

spirits of departed times have been near me."

"The rood shield us, noble sir! If you have become a ghost-seer, I

wonder not that you are so pale and thin. Reveries, and night-watchings

of this kind, must lay waste your strength, and carry you even a step

farther. What have you thought of, then? and what are the fruits of

these perilous struggles? To me, you look as grave and solemn as a

clerk spent with fasting; and, indeed, I scarcely know you."

"But thou and the world shall learn to know me," said the duke. "Now,

for the first time, I know myself--now know I, that I have been a

light-brained fool. Miserable, insolent boyishness it was, when I would

deny my tyrant's right of guardianship, and quarrel with my powerful

oppressor about petty islands and paltry mint privileges, when I had

his crown in view. Stupid, immeasurably stupid, it was, when I suffered

myself to be misled by thee and other thoughtless persons, into making

a claim to the kingdom, before I was certain that I was the people's

spiritual lord."

"I understand you not, noble sir. A spiritual dominion you cannot

claim: that must be left to the pope and clergy. But you are right: to

strike the sceptre from the hand of a tyrant, guarded by strong and

blindfolded slaves, you certainly required a marshal's baton and an

army. It was, undeniably, an error, to betray your aims unseasonably,

and thus put arms into the hands of opponents before you were

sufficiently accoutred yourself."

"That was my least mistake, Tuko, and that I have sufficiently atoned

for within these walls. My greatest error was, that I fancied actual

dominion was to be obtained over a people, ere they had freely chosen

and done homage to me as their lord; and that a crown could be won,

like a castle or a piece of land, by daring heroism and foreign armies,

so long as the people I desired to rule had yet a spark of strength and

spirit; and I did not first conquer the souls whose lord and king I

should wish, in reality, to be."

"These are vagaries, noble sir, the consequences of prison air,

unseasonable night-watchings, and want of exercise. What think you the

great ignorant masses of the people care about their ruler's inner

worth and being? He who has the power and authority, is obeyed by the

crowd: the ruler who has the largest army, and can swing the longest

sword over the heads of the people, they readily acknowledge as their

king and heart-beloved father, if only he does not impose higher taxes

than his predecessors, and maintains something like law and justice in

the country."

"Nay, Tuko, nay," resumed the pale and earnest duke, with warmth; "this

imprudent contempt for the lives and spirit of a people has misled the

greatest ruling spirits in the world. The mere external dominion, which

has not its roots in the deepest heart of the people, and is not bound

up with the popular mind and true renown, is worthless and despicable,

did it even extend over the whole universe. It is a throne raised on

the breath of pride, on the mists and vapours of a miserable vanity. It

is dissipated by a blast of wind; and the first free and energetic

spirit who stands up among a people so oppressed, and misgoverned by

mere rude brute force, has might enough to overthrow such a monarch and

his soulless hosts."

"You surprise me, noble sir. Whence have you all this new wisdom? I

should almost fancy you have had revelations in your wisdom-den, and

have been used to converse with spirits; or some similar folly."

"Come, thou shalt see my spirits," said the duke, rising: "I shall show

thee that I am not the first who has thought earnestly, within these

walls, on the condition of a people and their ruler."

"Sjöborg has held many statesmen of importance," said the knight; "but

I doubt whether any of them has imparted a new thought to you. The most

notable I remember, that occupied this state-prison, was the mad Bishop

Waldemar, who struggled for the sixth Canute and Waldemar Seier's life

and crown, and finished his days, a crazy saint, in Lockum Cloister."

"It is possible that he became crazy at last," replied the duke; "but

what made others crazy, may perhaps make us wise. You have guessed

aright, Tuko. I have my sleeping-chamber in the prison-cell where that

unfortunate bishop, of royal descent and royal mind, sat chained to a

block, and gave vent to his indignation by cursing the world and

mankind. But that he also had his lucid moments, and saw clearer into

the world and its blind rulers than perhaps any one dreamt of, I shall

show you memorials that perhaps no human eye save mine has before

seen."

They had now entered the duke's narrow prison-cell, which looked upon

the castle-yard by a grated window, eighteen ells from the ground. Here

was still a block, with a rusty iron ring and a heavy chain, made fast

to the wall. By the side of the chain lay a large, torn-up paving

stone, which appeared to have been used for barricading the door from

within. The castellan would have removed these painful relics of former

occupants of the cell; but the duke had expressly desired to retain

them, when he heard of what powerful kinsman they were memorials.

On the dingy walls were many scratches, like runes and oriental

characters. To these the duke pointed; but it was beginning to grow

dark, and it was impossible to discern any of the words distinctly: the

interpretation of the inscriptions appeared also to demand a degree of

learning which neither Sir Abildgaard nor his princely master was

possessed of.

"If this is the book of wisdom you have read in of a night, noble sir,"

said the gay young knight, "you must have become profoundly learned in

a hurry, and must certainly have borrowed a pair of eyes from some of

the friendly owls or cats that now and then pay you their dutiful

respects through the grating. In this nook, even in broad daylight, I

should not be able to tell an X from a U, were I ever so clear-eyed."

"You have guessed better than you imagine, Tuko. The bird of wisdom

himself has, with his fire-eyes, been a light to my bewildered path."

So saying, the duke opened a chest, which, otherwise, served him to

keep shoes in. "Look here," he said, taking out a large tame owl, with

beautiful flaxen-coloured feathers, and a pair of uncommonly bright

eyes.

"Fie, sir!" cried the knight, springing back. "It is the dismal

screech-owl, which people call the dead man's bird. What do you with

it? It is not worth having for a guest, and the devil may have touched

it. Have you never heard that there is always sure to be a death in the

house where it perches?"

"The pest may come to Sjöborg for me, as soon as we are well out of

it," said the duke; "but, as you perceive, the dead man's bird and I

are at present good friends. One night, as I lay awake with troubled

thoughts, I saw these eyes glaring upon me from the ledge on the wall.

I started, and it seemed to me as if the fiend were standing, staring

me through the soul with glowing eyes, in the silent, mysterious night.

I sprang up, and discovered my mistake. But while I approached to seize

my unbidden night-guest, he turned his shining eyes towards the wall: a

gleam of moonshine entered at the same instant; and, whether it was the

light of the bird's eyes, or the moonshine, that illumined the wall, I

know not, but I perceived there a dim inscription, which I could not

then read. I took care to mark the spot; and, having placed my prisoner

in the box here, I went to sleep. Next morning, however, betimes I

examined the wall and the writing. When the morning sun shines in, it

can be easily read. It is in Latin, and it cost me much trouble to

understand it. You know we did not make great progress with the

complaisant clerk who was to make us book-learned."

"What made you of the characters, then, illustrious sir?" inquired

Tuko. "But do throw that hideous death-bird out of the grating. It

glares upon us, as if it would burn our eyes out, in exchange for the

wisdom it has taught you."

"Nay: this wise bird shall now be my companion in weal or woe," said

the duke, patting the bird kindly, and replacing it in the box. "If it

forebodes death, it must be the death of our enemies."

"But what did you read, sir?" inquired Sir Abildgaard, eagerly.

"I read many horrible words I shall not repeat, but which have often

made my hair stand on end. A sentence, however, stood there, which has

told me why I am come hither, and what I have to do in this miserable

world. '_Thou who dreamedst of a crown and awokest in chains_,' it

runs, '_lay hold of that sceptre which constrains spirits, and thy

crown shall be bright as the sun!_"

"This is the nimbus which already played in the brain of the crazy

bishop," observed Sir Abildgaard; "or it is the black art and magical

incantations he brooded over. Be not thus disquieted, noble sir, and

suffer not the madness of becoming a saint to infect you. I dare be

sworn that neither you nor I carry it to this extremity."

"I do not so understand it," replied the duke, whilst his eyes

glistened. "I interpret these words in a secular sense, and as

containing no folly, but, on the contrary, deep and sound policy. I do

not abandon my bold life's-plan: that I shall never relinquish, so long

as there is a drop of Waldemar Seier's blood in my heart. How? is the

only question. The means and power I no longer seek for in foreign

princes and armies, nor in an unworthy conspiracy with rebellious

subjects. They would fail as much in their loyalty to me afterwards, as

they had failed towards my predecessor. I shall not hinder or oppose an

enterprise which may probably be advantageous to me; but I have learned

to despise it. The hand that would bear a sceptre without trembling,

must be unstained with the blood of kindred. The forehead which the

crown would not burn, must not bear a secret Cain's-mark under its

splendour."

"There we have it!" interrupted Tuko. "You will be a saint, then. Good:

but there is a medium in all things, gracious sir. On the other hand,

if you are at all aware of what is to be undertaken, and what you

already know--"

"I shall know nothing that I need have the slightest occasion to blush

for before the knights and princes of Europe," continued the duke; "and

what I do know, Tuko--yes, that I shall forget, and bury in my deepest

heart as a phrenzied dream. I shall not bear the crown as my

unfortunate, bewildered grandfather bore it, to be murdered by

rebellious subjects, after a brief period of splendour. If conspirators

will play into my hands, let them. I did not invoke the storm. Our only

concern now is, to allow time, and gain confidence. I shall renounce

Alsen--yea, even my ducal crown: more they cannot well demand for my

freedom. The undermined throne may yet fall without me; but none shall

again raise it, save a Waldemar. I shall show the people that I do not

bear the name of Waldemar in vain, and that I can vanquish myself. By

submitting to injustice, I shall win hearts like castles. First, I

shall seize the invisible sceptre that constrains spirits; and then the

crown will be offered me, by a fortunate change in the Ting. Therefore,

Tuko, 'tis not an ærial crown, nor a saint's halo, but a crown that

shall sit fast on this brow, and shine through centuries, like that of

the great Waldemars'."

"Now, indeed, I begin to understand you, gracious sir," replied Sir

Abildgaard, opening his eyes. "The storm that breaks down the rotten

stem, bears with it the boughs and shoots, you think, and without you

needing to risk your neck for it. I, too, begin to get clear-eyed, and

to entertain a respect for your good friend in the box. Come, noble

sir, let us drink a rousing cup, like our old heathen ancestors, to

this noble conclusion. Hail to your wisdom-bird, my prince and master!

When you come to your kingdom, we shall take the lion from your shield,

and put the sagacious bird in its stead."

The duke followed his lively friend to the festive board, and was, once

more, the jovial-spirited youth. His pale cheeks became flushed, and

his somewhat sunken eyes sparkled with lofty and daring expectations.

In the meantime it had become dark; but, ere long, the moon shone

through the iron grating, and lighted their little drinking-table. Sir

Abildgaard sang merry songs, in which the duke joined with wild glee,

frequently emptying his goblet the meanwhile. In the midst of their

merriment, the door was opened, and a grave, stalwart man, in a pelt

doublet and shaggy cap, entered, with a light in his hand.

"Heyday, Poul Hvit! our acute friend, deep skilled in knowledge of

mankind--our cautious host. Your health!" cried Sir Abildgaard, in

frolicsome mood: "everything is in the best order, you see."

"Your health, my good friend," said the duke; and the half-intoxicated

prisoners gaily emptied their goblets to the health of the castellan.

"I thank you for the honour you show me, my illustrious young

gentlemen," said the quiet and serious Poul Hvit, bowing politely, at

the same time doffing his cap, and examining them closely, with a

self-satisfied look. "I am glad you relish the wine, and do not take

the world, with its unstable fortunes, more to heart than is worth. I

know the world and men," he added, nodding with self-assurance: "it is

always a good sign when state-prisoners are merry. I am, besides, the

bearer of a message which I think will be welcome to you," he

continued, letting the light fall on their flushed faces, and seeming

to study their appearance carefully. "To-morrow, betimes, when you are

less merry, and more disposed for serious business, a person will have

the honour of bringing you a proposal for an agreement with the king,

my master. If, as I hope, you accede to it, I may soon have the

pleasure of opening this door for you altogether. Meantime, I wish you

a good night, and quietness."

He then bowed, and departed: the heavy door was closed with a loud

noise, and the prisoners again sat alone in the moonlight. The

castellan's announcement brought the young gentlemen at once to their

senses, and they remained long in consultation as to what terms they

could accept or refuse. At length they retired to rest, in anxious

doubt whether the following morning would bring them freedom, or more

rigorous and prolonged imprisonment.

The castellan returned to the ancient knights' hall, which, in his

time, was furnished and in good condition, and the place where he

received guests of distinction. A fire was burning cheerfully in the

great chimney, and in the middle of the hall stood a richly spread

supper-table, with a brazen candlestick of three branches. A young

gentleman, apparently a knight, walked up and down the hall with rapid

strides. It was Drost Peter Hessel. Claus Skirmen stood by the

fireplace, enjoying the warmth.

"Now, my good Poul Hvit," said the drost, advancing towards the

well-pleased castellan, "what say your prisoners? Will they see me

to-night, or in the morning?"

"It is a pleasure to see the prisoners," replied the castellan: "they

do not mope and moan like hapless criminals; and you may trow, sir

drost, for all their bewilderment, that there are good honest hearts in

them. They have made so merry with the wine flagon, noble sir, that it

is out of the question to think of talking with them, to-night, on any

subject of importance. In their present state they would, perhaps,

subscribe to every proposal; but that, I know, neither you nor my

master the king would wish to be done. Man is a finite being, let me

tell you; and, when we men are not entirely sober, we cannot behave

like free and rational creatures: so said my worthy schoolmaster of

Horsens."

"We understand each other," replied the drost; "only when they have

recovered their senses, shall they hear my proposition: for this is a

grave matter, which they shall have time and opportunity to consider.

In the morning, then. Can I sleep in the castle here, to-night?"

"Of course, sir drost: I have already made arrangements for that. We

are all mortal; and, whilst the soul is active in good deeds, the body

must not lack rest and refreshment. Be seated, then; and, if you will

permit it, there is also room for your squire here. The ploughing ox

should not be muzzled, and the man--yes, a man is still a man," he

added, hastily, as no more profound observation occurred to him.

Drost Peter smiled at the castellan's awkwardly finished sentence, and

sat down to table. Skirmen stationed himself discreetly behind his

chair, and blushed when the courteous castellan directed him to take a

vacant seat by the drost's side.

"Be seated, Skirmen," said Drost Peter, kindly: "we are not at court

here."

Skirmen obeyed, and seated himself on a corner of the chair. He

maintained, as he was wont, a modest silence when his elders were

speaking, and gave close heed to his master's wants and wishes.

"So, your important prisoners, my good Poul Hvit, submit to their fate

without rage or bitterness?" said the drost. "I am glad to hear it;

for, notwithstanding their sad infatuation, there are excellent, ay,

almost great qualities, in both of them. It is from painful necessity

that we have been obliged to deprive them so long of their freedom; but

I know you have not made their imprisonment harsher than is necessary."

"I have punctually followed your orders, sir drost; and--I think I know

a little bit of the world, and of man kind. Prisoners that are well

treated, seldom even dream of making their escape. We shall see now if

loneliness has brought them to reflection: if they are stubborn, and

you wish them to be treated with greater severity, it shall be done. I

am only an humble servant, and what is commanded me, I perform, without

respect of persons. 'Man,'--said the never-to-be-forgotten schoolmaster

of Horsens--God bless his soul!--'man cannot always endure prosperous

days.'"

A stout, double-chinned cook now entered, and placed a dish upon the

table. Drost Peter observed him, and started, but was silent until he

had left the room.

"Have you had this cook any considerable time, my good Poul Hvit?" he

then inquired; "and are you sure of his fidelity?"

"He has served me since the end of May, last year," replied the

castellan; "and I should be a bad judge of mankind if I could doubt his

fidelity: he does his business, and troubles himself about nothing else

in the world. He is always chatting and singing in the kitchen, and

never says a serious word. If I had only such people about me, I could

sleep soundly, even had I kings and kaisers to take charge of. I trow,

as I have said, I know a little of the world and mankind, sir drost.

But have you any grounds for doubting my cook's fidelity, noble sir?"

"Not exactly so," answered the drost; "but have an eye upon him.

It was, perhaps, an accident; but I saw him, shortly before the

Dane-court, in Henner Friser's inn at Melfert, in a company of

travellers that did not quite consist of the best friends of the crown

and realm."

"It must have been a mere accident, noble sir," replied the castellan,

with calm self-satisfaction. "I know my men, and nobody shall so easily

palm a wax-nose upon me. Cook Morten cares little about state affairs,

I know; and he is a merry, good-natured carl, in whom I find much

amusement. He is also gardener to the castle; and I have availed myself

of him to prove the disposition of the prisoners, and to augment my

knowledge of mankind. I gave him private orders to supply the prisoners

with flowers. They are not aware from whom the civility comes, and I

have observed that it serves to amuse the young gentlemen, and put

love-whimsies into their heads. Folks who can think on such fooleries

arc not likely to be dangerous to the crown and kingdom, I fancy. The

plump Morten never sees them; but he is ready to laugh himself to death

when he hears them singing amorous ditties to the fair hand that binds

up their nosegays."

Drost Peter smiled, but shook his head, and would have dissuaded the

castellan from this mode of studying the characters of his prisoners.

In the meanwhile, cook Morten had again entered the hall; and

immediately afterwards the door-keeper announced the arrival of an

ecclesiastic, with greetings and a message from the Abbot of Esrom.

"Let him come in," said the castellan. "Have you any objection, sir

drost? It is probably one of the abbot's friends, who wishes to

transact business with me respecting some lands. But it is a singular

time o'night to come at," he added, doubtfully.

Drost Peter replied by a polite bow, and appeared to be thinking of

other matters. The door was opened, and a respectable clerical

personage entered. They rose to greet him; but he retreated a step, in

surprise, on recognising Drost Peter. The drost was equally astonished;

but the castellan did not notice their mutual surprise, and received

his new guest with polite attention, and an interest that betrayed the

importance of the business this visit concerned.

"A friend, probably, of the worthy Abbot Magnus," said he. "Be pleased

to come nearer. What we have to treat of, this true friend of the king,

Drost Peter Hessel, will bear witness to, more especially as, at this

late hour, I dare not receive any stranger into the castle. There are

people present who know the world and mankind, let me say; and

stringent regulations here are necessary. May I presume to ask my

worthy sir his name?"

"Sir Drost Peter Hessel knows me," answered the ecclesiastic, with a

haughty air, and drawing nearer. "To the learned world, the name of

Magister Janus Roskildensis is enough; to laymen, I am known by the

name of Dean Jens Grand. Are you the castellan, Poul Hvit?"

"At your service, worthy sir."

"Good. What I have to say to you every one may hear. I have come from

Esrom Cloister; and, as I was to pass this way, I have undertaken, in

the name of the abbot and convent, to bring you the deed of conveyance

for certain lands in Grimstop, and to settle the matter to your wishes;

but if you have any doubts or objections about receiving me, the

business can be deferred, and I immediately set off again on my

journey."

"God forbid! Do not so far wrong me, sir. You are heartily welcome,"

exclaimed Poul Hvit, hastily. "Think not ill of my cautiousness. We are

all men, and one must look to himself in these times. It often happens

that wolves come here in sheep's clothing, and I ought to know whom I

receive. Since the drost knows you, I may bid you welcome without the

least hesitation. I should be but a poor discerner of mankind, if I did

not see that you are a learned servant of the Lord's, and a trusty

friend of the worthy Abbot Magnus. If you have the deed with you, we

can arrange the matter to-morrow. Be my guest in the meantime, worthy

sir, and embrace the present opportunity. Be pleased to take a seat

with us." So saying, he brought a seat for this addition to the

company.

Drost Peter was reserved, and sparing of words, and the dean did not

find himself altogether in his element. Skirmen, on his entrance, had

arisen, and taken his place behind his master's chair. The castellan

alone was exceedingly good-humoured, and strove industriously to

animate the conversation. He touched upon every affair and circumstance

which, at that period, engaged the public attention. The Norse war, and

the piracies of Count Mindre-Alf of Tönsberg on the Danish coast, he

discoursed of with a zeal that proved him a man of a true and patriotic

mind. He had a family in Horsens, and related minutely what this town

had suffered from the remorseless freebooter's attacks.

"The Count of Tönsberg is certainly our foe," commenced Master Grand;

"but he is a brave and famous foe, whom no one should accuse of being a

rover and freebooter. He is certainly not one of your dainty lords, who

take the eyes of ladies at a tournament; but at the present day we have

not a doughtier knight: he is the greatest sea-hero of our times, and

may soon expect to be elevated to a jarl."

"But when, on his own account, he ravages and plunders our coasts with

barbarity, and the greatest lust of rapine," replied Drost Peter, "he

does little honour to chivalry. He is a common vulgar riever, however

bold and powerful he may be, even though he be of royal descent, and

aspires to the name of jarl. We Danish laymen, far less our teachers of

Christianity, have no reason to honour him with a nobler name."

Master Grand was silent, and endeavoured to conceal his anger; and the

castellan again resumed the conversation. He strongly censured Count

Jacob of Halland for having received the honour of knighthood from the

Norwegian king, in a time of war. Drost Peter supported him, and

thought highly of the honest castellan; but Master Grand could no

longer suppress his indignation.

"It is well," said he, jeeringly, "that the merits of the deserving men

of Denmark are recognised by a foreign prince, when they are suspected

and wronged at home. It is magnanimous of the Norwegian king thus to

distinguish an esteemed enemy; and I cannot blame the noble Count Jacob

for accepting an honour so well merited."

"Pardon me, sir dean," said Drost Peter, calmly: "a true Dane never

receives a mark of honour from the enemy of his country. It is

impossible, however, as a friend of your country, that you can

seriously defend such conduct."

"To be a reasonable and Christian friend of my country," said Master

Grand, bitterly, "I have no occasion to turn my cloak to the

court-wind, like a favoured courtier. In my station, thank God, no one

need conceal the truth, or defend baseness, to fulfil the duties of his

office. With God's holy word and the canon-law before my eyes, I am not

afraid to say plainly, before the mightiest favourite of the king and

queen, that I only love and esteem my earthly country in so far as the

divine laws of my heavenly country are esteemed and maintained in it.

If you would have proof of this, sir drost, obtain me permission to

preach a single fast-sermon before the king and queen, with all their

courtly flatterers; and you shall then hear that I am the man to hold

up the mirror of truth before the mighty of this world, in such wise

that many a cheek shall crimson if there is yet a remnant of honour or

conscience in the court of Denmark."

"Such a corrective sermon, reverend sir," answered Drost Peter, with

energy, "might certainly be preached often enough among lay persons, as

well as learned. I could wish, however, that you would, with the same

impartiality, introduce such conversation wherever, on your pious way,

you meet with princely personages and royal vassals, who, in the sins

and errors of their liege lord, seek justification for their own

crimes."

Master Grand was again silent. The castellan looked at his discordant

guests with surprise, and hastily broke off a conversation, whose

bitter issue he could see no grounds for. He then abruptly inquired

whether either of the honoured gentlemen, in the course of their

journey, had seen the newly-rebuilt church? and, as this was answered

with a brief "nay," he inquired if either of them knew where the

deposed Swedish king was residing, and whether it was true that he had

deserted his queen for a certain famous Lady Kristine?

"It is but too true," replied the dean, zealously, appearing to seize

upon the occasion to give vent to his anger: "there, again, we have a

proof of the ungodliness of our times, and of the sin-pest that is

spread abroad from our great ones. It is no wonder the Lord visits such

princes in anger, and shows the mighty rulers of the world that there

is a Judge over us all, who is not to be mocked, and who, from the

skies, laughs in derision when the lofty ones of the earth swell and

burst with pride. It is a comforting and elevating thought," he added,

with an air of pride, "that the Mighty One, who holds the universe in

his hand, can as easily cast down kings and princes, and their

favourites, as he can raise the poor and meek of spirit."

The castellan had devoutly folded his hands, as at a sermon. "Ah,

indeed!" he sighed, "we are all mortal: might and rank are indeed

transitory."

"Many of the misfortunes of our times are certainly well-merited,

reverend sir," remarked Drost Peter, with considerable warmth, and a

keen look at the dean, "when sinful men presume to call down and carry

out the chastisements of the Lord. The unfortunate king you have

mentioned I shall not defend; but if people can justly dethrone their

kings because they are not what they ought to be, then can no throne

and no kingdom exist, until pure angels are sent from heaven to govern

us."

"That is not requisite," replied the dean, swelling with the air and

authority of a pope. "So long as the Lord's vicegerent sits in St.

Peter's holy chair, and as long as he and the servants of the word are

regarded as the messengers of the truth among the people, so long no

nation need be doubtful how great a worldly burden they may bear with

patience, or how great a sinner the Lord will endure among his

anointed. Unless you are an arch-heretic, sir drost, you cannot

possibly deny this."

Drost Peter did not answer; and cook Morten, who had just set a choice

dish before the ecclesiastic, appeared, by his roguish smile, to enjoy

the manner in which the bold dean had silenced the drost.

Without betraying the slightest anger, Drost Peter turned again

to the triumphant dignitary. "As a knight, I have sworn to offer my

life for the faith, as well as for my lawful king," he said, with an

expression of deep earnestness; "and I am not afraid of being doomed,

as a heretic, to stake and brand, if even I am of opinion that a

lawfully-crowned and anointed sovereign cannot be hurled from his

throne by the mightiest anathemas of the Vatican and of Lund. That our

Danish kings, at least, have been of the same mind, your own kinsman,

Archbishop Erlandsen, among others, experienced. I would not advise any

prelate in Denmark to follow so dangerous an example. This prison,

reverend sir, might at least remind you that even an archbishop's crook

is unable to undo these doors, when they have been locked by command of

a king of Denmark."

So saying, Drost Peter arose, and begged of the astonished castellan

that he might be shown to his sleeping apartment. Master Grand, with a

haughty mien, also arose, and expressed the same wish.

They saluted each other, coldly and silently; and the castellan

himself, with a three-branched candlestick, conducted Drost Peter.

Skirmen followed his master, with his mantle and sword.

Cook Morten, on a sign from the castellan, led the ecclesiastic to a

chamber, by the side of the knights' hall. It was narrow and gloomy,

and the door, which was standing ajar, opened only outwards. A strong

gust of wind had nearly extinguished the light. A reclining chair, a

stool and table, composed the whole of the furniture, and iron bars

were fixed in the walls, across the small window.

When Master Grand entered this chamber, he started, and looked

anxiously around him. "What means this?" he inquired; "do you show me

to a prison-cell for a bed-chamber?"

"For that you must give us absolution, your reverence," replied Morten,

at the same time placing the flickering light on the stone table, and,

with a long pole, closing the shutter of the little, round, grated

window, which was placed high in the wall. "There, now it is rather

more snug," he continued. "Nobody, in general, passes the night here,

except a bewildered owl. There is only one guest-apartment in the

castle, where the inmate is master of the door; and that room the drost

occupies. For unexpected guests, we have only this little mean

apartment. It is said to have been a torture-room in former days; and

here must have hung all kinds of horrid instruments, to torture

obstinate criminals into an acknowledgment of their guilt. It is still

dismal-looking enough, you perceive. But it is a pity I cannot show you

the ingenious old machines for torturing. I know you are a great

admirer of suchlike learned trumpery."

The proud dean became pale, and an involuntary shudder crept over him.

"My good friend," said he to the cook, "methinks we should be known to

each other. Cook Morten, from Ry? Is it not so?"

"At your service, reverend sir. That you could have room in your

learned brain for the image of my poor but tolerably ample person, I

should not have expected; but so long as my head has leave to sit

between my shoulders, and my throat is not tightened so that I cannot

drink and sing a merry song with it, so long shall I not forget your

brave and learned reverence."

"Speak seriously, Morten. What mean you by this conversation?"

"We are quite snug here," continued the fat cook; "and you are just the

man of God to whom I can, without danger, confide my sins. I may tell

you, then, that when you saved my flask-case from being thrown

overboard, on crossing the Little Belt, you freed me, at the same time,

from a confounded itching about the neck, on account of certain letters

that lay concealed under the flasks. I had consented to take them, out

of pure obligingness and virtue, for a good friend, who, I am afraid,

the devil will some day get hold of. What these love-letters contained,

I know not, and it does not concern me; but this I know, that had they

been fished up, or seen by any mother's son, I had been certain of an

elevation that would have been confoundedly unsuited to my health.

Hence I have vowed to the blessed Virgin and the holy Martin, to serve

you in turn, whenever I can; and now, if you have anything to command,

I shall stand on tiptoe for you with all my heart and strength."

Master Grand started. "So, so, my son," said he boldly, and calmly

drawing breath again; "have you been employed as a letter-pigeon in

these disturbed times? Your cheerfulness bears witness that, otherwise,

you have a good conscience; and, for the sake of your honest

countenance, I give you absolution for what you sinned in at that time.

To whom brought you the letters, my son?"

"To one of your shrivelings and good friends, your reverence," replied

Morten, with a smile; "but I do not exactly feel the necessity of

confessing to you yet: therefore, if you will impose any penance on me

in consequence, say it."

"Good, my son--good. I wish not to know; but it was an illegal

transaction, and might have cost you dear. To atone for it, you can

perhaps convey a word of comfort, in mine and the Church's service, to

a bewildered soul, that needs my counsels, within these walls; or, what

I would prefer, help me to a private interview."

"My heart! readily, your reverence. But are you jesting? You do not

look upon me in the same light as do the weak children of the world?"

"That is not in my nature, Morten. I have renounced the vain follies

that thou in thy worldliness thinkest of. In my sacred station, pure

Christian love alone should guide our most secret as well as our most

open steps. The young duke, who lies imprisoned here, is inexperienced,

thou knowest; and has been misguided into foolish conduct, that may

make him in the highest degree miserable, if he does not turn and

repent. Regard for his soul's salvation has moved me to come hither, to

speak with him, if possible, or to have conveyed to him a good counsel

in writing."

"If you would converse with him, pious sir, you must change yourself

into an owl or a flitter-mouse."

"But if a conversation is impossible, can you get me merely two words

with him, before he speaks with Drost Hessel to-morrow?"

"If you mean two words, but no more, I think it can be managed,"

replied the cook, with a crafty air, after a moment's consideration;

"but I must see the two words, and even give them voice and wings. If

you cannot trust me, your reverence, then can neither I nor the holy

Martin help you. If you are afraid the walls may hear, just whisper the

words in my ear. Who knows but that they may also turn and save my

sinful soul; and thus you would be killing two birds with one stone,

pious sir."

"Hair-brained mocker that thou art!" said the dean, gravely, and

regarding him with a searching look; after which, he bent himself

leisurely, and whispered a few words in his ear.

"Good," exclaimed Morten. "Ah, by St. Martin! I can fancy that I am

made pious on the instant, and that I already begin to entertain

scruples. Had it been a paction with the Evil One that the talk had

been about, what then, your reverence? But you are a pious man of God:

I know it well; and your high-born penitent shall certainly receive

your good counsel tomorrow, on a fasting heart."

"Once more--if the young duke is not free by sunset to-morrow, I must

speak with him."

"That will be difficult, your reverence. How many nights do you intend

doing us the honour of studying antiquity's barbarities in this

torture-room?"

Master Grand once more looked uneasily around him. "Lay the stool

across the threshold, my son, and let the door stand ajar," he said:

"locked in I shall not be. I remain no longer here than is necessary;

but I must contrive to protract my stay until the day after to-morrow."

"Ah, then, in that case we may hit upon a plan," observed the cook,

moving the stool. "I know you do not lack courage. If you only mean to

preach a penitential sermon to the illustrious prisoner, one or other

of the saints must point your way. An angel in your form, on a

celestial ladder, or, for want of that, on a fire-ladder, would

certainly be highly edifying to a bewildered soul. Now, good night,

your reverence. Tomorrow, betimes, I shall bring your ale-posset. There

is no joke in that; and so you may sleep soundly. I must hasten away,

and sing in the kitchen, or the castellan will begin to doubt me."

With these words, the jolly cook was already out of the door, and sang

so lustily, that the knights' hall rang again:--

"O, it was lanky Berner Rise,

Grew so tall that none could find him:

He was mad, and never wise;

Not a man could hold or bind him.

But the wood stands all in flowers."

Next morning, when Duke Waldemar awoke, a silver cup of warm ale was

already on the table by his bedside. He arose hastily, and dressed

himself. As soon as he had done so, he raised the silver cup to his

lips, as usual, by the handle; but set it down again with surprise, on

observing in his hand a summer-fool[22] that had come off, and which

appeared to have been loosely attached to the handle.

"Who wants to make a fool of me here?" said he, angrily, throwing the

flower on the table; but, at the same instant, he perceived a little

slip of parchment, which stuck out from its beautiful chalice. He

seized the tiny flower-letter, and read the single word, "Subscribe."

He gazed for some time on the mysterious billet, and fell into deep

thought.

"What means this?" he exclaimed, at length, as if awoke from a dream.

"Who sends me this mysterious advice? Is it friend or foe? Subscribe!

That is easily said: but if it concerns my honour--if it concerns my

heart and soul, and the great aim of my life, I would rather subscribe

my own death-warrant than the terms I may expect to-day." He gazed,

once more, upon the slip, and sank into a reverie.

"Already in the council-chamber, noble sir?" exclaimed his lively

fellow-prisoner, who now entered. "If I am not mistaken, you have had a

morning visit from your wise and entertaining spirit. Methinks you were

just now talking with some one--perhaps with your good friend in the

chest?"

"Nay, Tuko," replied the duke; "but watchful spirits are near us. It is

not the dead bishop alone who speaks to me from these walls: living

beings also take an interest in my fate, and would control my will ere

I know it myself. See what I found in this flower." He handed him the

flower and the scrap of parchment.

"A summer-fool! That you must beware of, noble sir, if it comes not

from a pretty little hand, who will only joke in disguise, to make its

winter-fool happy in earnest. Subscribe! Short and good advice,

i'faith, in the tone of a dominant mistress. Had it been in German, I

know whom I should have guessed."

"So, so! think you my unseen protecting spirit is German? Say, whom

mean you?"

"Eh! whom other should I mean than the Duke of Saxony's little saintly

daughter, who was more concerned about your faith and salvation than

your ducal crown and all your proud expectations. You still wear, in

secret, her invisible chains."

"Sophia--the good, pious child?" exclaimed the duke, raising his hands

to his brow. "Do you believe she still thinks of me and my fate? Nay,

Tuko; that I cannot desire: it would unpleasantly vex me. The last half

year has erased that wonderful image from my heart: I have had more

important matter to think of than the little daughter of a duke, and

her pious, circumscribed religion. I have, happily, torn myself from

that foolishness. I cannot now suffer myself to be dazzled or impeded

by a pair of loving saintly eyes, that have their home in a convent or

on an altar-table. Speak no more of her, Tuko. You know it only serves

to grieve me; and, truth to say, since our plans drew us to the high

Dane-court, I have blushed for myself when I thought of her. But you

are right," he continued, with emotion: "these chaste and lovely

flowers, that for almost an entire year have so kindly and gently

reminded us of spring and summer, and of life's calm joys, in our

prison--they might well have reminded me of her; and this white and

innocent spring-flower, that has now found a voice, and begs of me to

accede and subscribe----Ha! subscribe an agreement that may perhaps

render me a pious slave to my own conscience, to the day of my

death--and then----There was a time when such thraldom appeared to me

real liberty." He was silent, and again relapsed into deep thought.

"That was a sad time, sir," resumed Tuko, hastily: "they had nearly

converted you into a hang-the-head. I also say, subscribe, whatever the

deuce it may be. Freedom cannot be purchased too dearly. But be not

therefore the slave of a pen's stroke. The pretty little enthusiast

will, at last, transform you into a quiet complaisant duke of South

Jutland, who, in this life, will never think of being anything more,

but, renouncing all his daring schemes, take to himself a quiet and

pious wife, say good-night to this world's fleeting dreams of

sovereignty, and sleep soundly in a Sleswick castle, like a true and

loyal Danish vassal. That must be a charming life, sir! What we have

here suffered, we shall not think of taking revenge for. Fie! that were

ignoble and unchristian: we must kiss the rod like good children, and

be gentle and amiable. And what a beautifully peaceful life! Your

highest office will be to protect the goslings from the fox, or to

strike down, with your own illustrious hand, a savoury roe for the

frugal ducal table, where the pious house-mother sits, with folded

hands, while the well-behaved amiable children say grace."

"Ha, nay, Tuko!" exclaimed the duke, vehemently, waking up as from a

dream: "I shall show thee that Waldemar Seier was mine ancestor. He,

too, sat once in prison; but he forgot not vengeance until he was old

and gray; and, in misfortune, he forgot not his crown and his royal

dignity!"

At that instant, a knocking was heard at the prison-door, and the

conversation was broken off. In obedience to their request, the polite

castellan now entered, and inquired whether it was convenient for the

illustrious duke to receive Drost Hessel?

"Drost Hessel?" repeated the duke, with bitter indignation--"well, let

him enter;" and he seated himself, proudly and calmly, by the table,

whilst Sir Abildgaard took upon himself the office of a respectful

servant, and stationed himself, with a cunning smile, behind the chair

of his princely master.

The castellan bowed respectfully, and retired; and immediately after,

Drost Peter entered. He made his salutation courteously and gravely.

The duke half rose from his seat, and sat down again. "What has Drost

Hessel to submit to the Duke of South Jutland?" said he, in a calm

voice, but with suppressed indignation.

"Illustrious sir," began Drost Peter, "my master, the king, listening

to the representations of your friends, has resolved to offer you

reconciliation and freedom, if you will subscribe and confirm the terms

which I have, in the king's name, to lay before you." So saying, he

drew forth a large parchment-deed, and, with a polite inclination,

handed it to the duke.

"Read it for me, my drost," said the duke, carelessly handing the deed

to Sir Abildgaard, and leaning back on his chair with an air of

indifference.

Sir Abildgaard stepped firmly before his lord, and read. The deed had

been prepared by the chancellor in Danish, and in the usual stiff and

pedantic style of such documents. Drost Peter remained standing at a

respectful distance, and closely observing the duke's manner. The duke

did not appear to notice him, but gazed, gloomily and thoughtfully, on

the dingy prison-wall, covered with writing.

The introduction to the agreement recited the names of the duke's

friends who had procured it, and among these he seemed particularly

interested to find the Duke of Saxony, of whose daughter he had just

been talking. The name of the good-natured Count Gerhard of Holstein

seemed also to surprise him; the more so, perhaps, as he remembered

that he had endeavoured to turn this brave gentleman into ridicule, at

the Dane-court of Nyborg. The introduction ran as follows:--

"To all who see or hear read the present letter: Herman, by the grace

of God, Bishop of Schwerin; Johannes, Duke of Saxony; Gerhard,

Johannes, and Adolph, Counts of Holstein; Helmold, Claus, Counts of

Schwerin; Geert, Count of Hoya; Johannes and Henrik, Counts of

Meeklinburg; eternal health with God. That all may be witness, that on

account of Duke Waldemar of Sleswick, it was humbly desired by us, that

we might be permitted to promise for him, that he should hold to the

articles of the under-written letter, which is a deed of agreement

between King Erik of Denmark and him."

"Who has requested these good lords to promise, on my behalf, that

which I do not yet know?" asked the duke. "But this may be merely the

usual form. To the point, then."

Sir Abildgaard now read the agreement itself, which, in the duke's

name, began as follows:--

"Waldemar, by God's grace, Duke of South Jutland, eternal health with

God. It is the glory and honour of princes, that they hear and grant

the prayers of their petitioners; and thus, by augmenting the loyalty

and affection of their subjects, they augment and strengthen the

ruler's name, honour, and title--"

"This is Drost Hessel's pretty thought, and Master Martin's pretty

style," said the duke, interrupting the reading, with an air of

mockery. "But continue, drost."

"Therefore shall it be made manifest to all," continued Sir Abildgaard,

with a suppressed smile, and in an humble tone, "that we were led, by

youthful inexperience and childish counsel, to claim that, respecting

Alsen, which belongs to the crown, contrary to the injunction of our

lord, King Erik; wherein we acknowledge to have done wrong, as it

appeared to us, and others our friends, that the laws of our country

were too stringent and severe: wherefore, the before-mentioned king,

after our humble supplication, his prelates' and other trusty men's

counsel, hath remitted us all blame and crime, which we have

imprudently committed against him."

Then followed everything relating to the dispute concerning Alsen, the

mint privileges, and the king's right to wage war for South Jutland: at

all which the duke smiled carelessly, and seemed to think it scarcely

worth his attention; although, at the same time, he gave the closest

heed to every word. But his assumed indifference was changed into

evident uneasiness, as Sir Abildgaard read--"We promise, therefore,

that we shall never plot or contrive the king's death or imprisonment,

nor counsel or demand that he should be deprived of his lands, towns,

cities, or fortresses; nor league, conspire, or practise aught against

him or the kingdom; nor instigate, or take part with, any one in

_crimen læsæ majestatis_; but shall show him all honour, subjection,

reverence, and fealty. And if we do anything against him, or if it can

be proved against us, according to the laws and usages of the country,

that we have secretly done so, then shall all our fief and estates

thereby become forfeited, so that our lord and king, of his own

authority, may seize them for the use of the crown, and do therewith,

as a lasting possession, as to his grace may seem fit; also, that he

may punish us in the body, or spare us, as his grace may pronounce."

Here Sir Abildgaard paused, and regarded his master with astonishment.

But the duke's uneasiness had disappeared, and a proud defiance

sparkled in his eyes, whilst he raised his head haughtily and boldly.

"Now know I both your word and spirit, Drost Hessel," he said. "To this

extent you gladly carry the point, when a blinded king gives you

authority."

Drost Peter gravely shook his head, and was silent.

"Continue," said the duke; and Sir Abildgaard proceeded:--

"We consent, moreover, that the prelates of Denmark may proclaim the

ban of the Church against us, without previous warning, if it so

happens, (which God forbid,) that we do anything contrary to the tenor

of the foregoing." Sir Abildgaard again paused, and observed his lord

with an inquiring look.

"Exactly so," said the duke; "do not forget the holy letters of

excommunication: they may be required. Is there anything further?"

Sir Abildgaard now read a few articles relating to the obligations of

the duke to stand by the king in his wars, and to attend the assemblies

of the estates; which he appeared to care little about. But it farther

recited--"We shall not maintain outlawed people. Item, for this our

imprisonment we shall not wage war against the king, his sons, or any

one, within or without the kingdom, or cause any evil, on account

thereof, to any person, but hold them free and blameless. We shall not

make any covenant or alliance with any person whatsoever, from whom his

majesty and the realm may suffer damage; and if we have already made

any such alliance, shall renounce the same."

Lastly, to the duke's great astonishment, it thus proceeded--"And, that

there should not be any doubt concerning what is now promised, we have,

by a solemn oath upon the holy Gospels, sworn and pledged ourselves

that we shall adhere to all that is above written, without fraud or

guile; renouncing every exception, device, force, threat, aid of

secular or spiritual jurisdiction, law, or custom, whereby the foresaid

letter may be infringed."

The duke became pale. He did not hear the conclusion, which contained

the names of the bishops and princes who had witnessed the articles,

and had attached their seals thereto; and he appeared to regain his

self-possession only as he heard the last words--"And we shall seal

this at the first opportunity."

"Yes, truly, as soon as the opportunity occurs," exclaimed he, with the

utmost bitterness, and rising from his seat. "And such is the agreement

you dare to bring me, Drost Hessel? And you fancied that I was coward

and fool enough to sign and seal it? You have a worthy pattern for this

precious document, in black Count Henry's devilish paction with the

captured King Waldemar. But I shall not tread in my great ancestor's

footsteps, and purchase my freedom so dearly. If you think to compel

me, try. If you have chains with you, out with them! Call your hangman,

and see if I shall shrink, or debase myself."

"You mistake me grievously, highborn sir," said Drost Peter, with

wounded feelings. "Think not that I am pleased to see a noble-born

gentleman, like yourself, in this prison. Believe, least of all, that I

am so base-hearted that I would see your free will constrained by

unworthy means. Not from hatred or revenge, but for the security of the

crown and kingdom, are you bereft of freedom. The moment you give up

the unwarrantable and sufficiently evident objects that have rendered

your imprisonment here necessary, you again stand free, in the exalted

station whereto you were born and bred. You will retain, without

abatement, all your legal privileges as Duke of South Jutland, and, all

will be forgotten. The moment you subscribe this covenant, the

castellan has orders to open these prison-doors, and to conduct you,

with safe escort, to my master the king; and, as soon as you have

publicly acknowledged your subscription, before the estates of the

realm, and confirmed it with your seal and oath, you can retire,

unmolested, to your dukedom; and neither my master the king, nor any

other right-minded man in Denmark, will in future doubt your fidelity

towards your king and country."

So saying, Drost Peter laid his silver style upon the table, together

with the parchment, which Sir Abildgaard had delivered back to him.

The duke, however, stood unmoved, and gazed upon the wall, without

deigning the king's messenger a word or look.

"My lord," continued Drost Peter, "take counsel, now, with the

all-knowing God and your own conscience. I leave the agreement in your

hands: you may destroy or subscribe it, as you think best. Till the sun

goes down, I may await your determination; and, in twenty-four hours,

the doors of your prison stand open on these terms. The moment you have

subscribed, pull the bell-string there, and your prison will be opened.

Meantime I leave you, with the hope that you will consider your

temporal, as you would your eternal welfare. Mistake not, in this

matter, either my master the king, or myself. The all-knowing God and

all holy men are my witnesses, that nothing is here done out of hatred

of yourself. I dare witness before God, at the last day, that I have

only dealt towards you according to my oath, and my duty to the crown

and kingdom." So saying, Drost Peter bowed, and hastily left the

turret-chamber, not without emotion, and a strong feeling of melancholy

interest in the imprisoned duke.

The prison-door was again closed and locked. On the table lay the

important parchment, and by its side the silver style, which Drost

Peter had left for the purpose of signing.

Sir Abildgaard regarded his master with a disturbed and inquiring look.

The duke was pacing the floor with agitated steps: his eyes rolled

wildly, and his cheeks were flashed with anger.

"Never, never shall I subscribe this hellish paction!" he exclaimed,

"if I must sit here till the day of my death. If I subscribe, with a

solemn oath, what stands here, I must either renounce the great object

of my life, or become a perjurer and a nidding to all the world. Nay,

nay, never shall this be so! I will show them that Duke Waldemar does

not value his miserable dukedom higher than his honour and free

unconstrained will. I will not foully and basely sell them my soul and

my will's freedom, to breathe the air in a larger prison, like a

debased, mean-spirited slave. Now, Tuko, now is the time to think

seriously of escape, and to burst these walls by craft or violence, or

any other possible mode. Let me once stand free, beyond this infernal

prison--beyond the bounds of Denmark, and I shall no longer hesitate

about what, in my sickly humour, I was well nigh on the point of

relinquishing. I shall then shake the dust from my feet, and never more

place them on Danish ground until I stand here at the head of an army

that shall overthrow the tyrant's throne, crushing beneath it him and

all his wretched advisers."

"Were only the first step taken," replied the knight, with a

shrug--"were we once our own masters, I should heartily admire your

lofty thoughts and brave conclusions; but so long as your great adviser

can only speak to you from these walls, and cannot, as a potent spirit

should, blow them away like cobwebs, so long, gracious sir, are all

your heroic schemes but castles in the air--mere beautiful dreams,

which but poorly compensate the loss of a free joyous life and

Sleswick's ducal crown."

"How, Tuko! Wouldst thou not despise me were I to subscribe this

agreement?"

"Far be such a thought from me, sir. It is a foolish bird that will not

fly when the cage is open. See: there lies the crowbar, that, without

witchcraft, can break these walls. The good drost has left you here his

silver style: a single stroke on the parchment with this enchanter's

wand, and our prison is open; the fair, wide world lies before us; we

withdraw from this unfortunate country, till we can say thanks to the

King of Denmark for this last good turn. We shall find a welcome with

the Duke of Saxony, and how will not the fair Princess Sophia be

rejoiced--"

"Hold, tempter, hold!" exclaimed the duke, advancing towards him. "Is

this thy constancy, Tuko? this thy inspiration for my lofty, distant

aim? What matters it that the bird is free, when its wings are clipped

for life? If thou art weary of sharing my lot, I can easily set thee

free. Swear thyself to the foul fiend, and go! I shall remain."

"You mistake me, my noble duke," replied Tuko, seriously. "I have

shared your captivity, and been happy, even to this hour. I shall

furthermore share it, without complaining, as long as you please. The

main point I have not lost sight of. You have yourself discovered how

you can reach it without moving a hand; and your conscience can be

easily reconciled to your freedom. Will you hear me?"

"Nay, nay--not one word will I hear. Leave me now, Tuko: to-morrow thou

shalt know my determination. This concerns myself, and my whole future

life, and I will myself cast the die that is to decide it. Neither thou

nor any other man shall guide my will in this matter."

Sir Abildgaard was silent, and retired to his own cell. The duke closed

the intermediate door, and barred it with the stone. He then threw

himself upon his chair, and indulged in gloomy thought. Thus he sat,

motionless, the whole day, and without allowing any one to enter, or

partaking of any refreshment. In the fortress, all was quiet as usual.

Before the sun went down, his cogitations were disturbed for a moment

by the sound of horses' feet in the castle-court. It was Drost Peter

and his squire leaving the castle. The duke rose, and went to the

grating. His hand was clenched convulsively, when he saw, in the rays

of the setting sun, the young drost, free and vigorous, managing his

brown steed. The princely prisoner heaved a deep sigh, closed the

shutter before the grating, and, turning into the darkest nook of his

cell, he threw himself upon his unmade bed.

The inside shutter of the iron grating, which the prisoner could open

or shut at pleasure, was provided with a thin plate of horn, through

which the daylight could scarcely penetrate. This shutter he usually

allowed to remain open, unless the night was very cold, and the wind

blew in that direction; for it had frequently happened to him, when it

was closed, that he had started at midnight from a dreamy sleep, and

fancied himself buried alive in the old chapel of his ancestors. But,

now, life and every gleam of light and cheerfulness had become hateful

to him; and, with a sort of spiteful pleasure, he had deprived himself

of the scanty glimmer of daylight that still remained.

"Come forth, my brother in misfortune, and teach me to look into the

night of my futurity with thy glowing eyes," he muttered. "Let them

call thee death's-bird, and corpse-bird, as they will: thou still seest

clearly, when we and others are blind; and if thou shouldst now screech

of death and misfortune, so much the better! that song now pleaseth me

best."

Whilst, with subdued voice, he thus gave expression to his gloomy

thoughts, he opened the box, and took out the great night-bird, which

perched itself familiarly upon his arm, and allowed itself to be

caressed. The duke leant back on his pallet, and continued absorbed in

moody reveries. The stillness of death reigned throughout the castle.

By the faint light through the pane of horn, the prisoner was aware

that the moon was shining. He at length closed his eyes, and fell into

a slumber, without having first, as usual, shut up the owl. He wist not

that he had been asleep, when the same fearful idea, that had before

awoke him at midnight, again overwhelmed him: he fancied that he lay in

his coffin, in the tomb of his fathers, and, in a kind of agony, half

rose on his couch. He was not yet fully awake, when a frightful screech

completely aroused him from his dream: he opened his eyes, and, in a

ledge of the wall, near the mysterious inscriptions, he again saw the

glowing eyes of the corpse-bird. It again screamed, and far more

hideously than it was wont, at the same time staring at the dim light

through the horn of the closed shutter. The duke looked in the same

direction, and, to his astonishment, fancied he caught a glimpse of a

face, half concealed in a hat, before the grating. A singular terror

seized him, and he remained motionless, half erect, in bed. He now

heard a gentle tap on the shutter, and sprang up.

"Who is there?" he cried. "If you are human, speak!"

The knocking at the shutter became a little louder, and a low,

mysterious voice whispered--"Open, Duke Waldemar: a good friend would

speak with you."

"Is it possible?" he exclaimed: "a man? a good friend? Ha! be thou the

Evil One himself, I fear not."

He hastily opened the shutter. A human countenance, sufficiently

palpable, met his eyes at the grating, but so thoroughly shaded, the

moon falling only on the outlines, that it was impossible for him to

perceive a single feature.

"You know me not, Duke Waldemar?" said the unexpected night-guest. "I

risk my life, perhaps, to speak with you. You must subscribe, or all is

lost."

"Grand! Master Grand!" exclaimed the duke, astonished. "Are you a

wizard, and can fly? What stand you on?"

"A storming-ladder," replied the daring ecclesiastic. "Cook

Morten steadies it, and keeps watch. The time is precious, fair

duke--subscribe!"

"From you, then, pious sir, came the good advice this morning. But I do

not thus, even were both heaven and hell to shout--subscribe! Shall I

forswear every thought of my high vocation--shall I forswear even

vengeance? For what, then, have I dared so much? For what have I

sustained so much? I will not subscribe. If you would free me, let it

be by craft or force, and I am yours: I will then place myself openly

at the head of the conspiracy, and it shall succeed or perish."

"In this way all would be lost, sir. Nothing can be undertaken until

you are legally free and secure. Your imprisonment binds up every hand;

but subscribe, and all are as free as your own. If you do not wish to

abide by your oath, the holy father can relieve you from it, as he did

your ancestor. If you wish to keep it, it is well: you can stand aloof,

and still be the head. The marsk and his friends will act alone--of

that you need know nothing--and the vacant place becomes yours. You

understand, sir? You can keep your oath, and, with a sound conscience,

come forward when the time arrives. Then, with law and justice, you can

seize the minor's sceptre; and when you have won the people's hearts,

and shown that you are worthy of the crown, it will fall of its own

accord upon your head; whilst you will have broken neither oath nor

bond."

"Ha! is it you, yourself, sagacious Master Grand? or is it the dead

bishop, who has lent you voice and form to teach me wisdom? You are

right: thus may I grasp the sceptre that constrains spirits, and win

the crown that shines pure as the sun. Now, know I what I will. You are

not the first who has taught me this. You have only told me how. Good:

I subscribe. From the hour I have subscribed, I know nothing, and will

know nothing, of your projects. Do what you will and defend it as best

you can. I go my own way; and when we meet at the goal--then--then

first I know you, and dare name you my friend. You understand me,

Grand?"

"I understand you, sir. It is certain, then, that you subscribe, and

withdraw from this place to-morrow. At the Dane-court of Nyborg, you

can confirm the agreement, and calmly await what shall come to pass."

This secret conversation was here interrupted by a sudden uproar in the

court-yard of the castle.

"I have him, master--I have him, the crafty clerk!" cried the voice of

cook Morten; "he shall not escape now. I guessed at once what he bore

on his shield, and helped him up the storming-ladder myself. Shall I

now pull it down, and let him break his neck? or will you have him

alive?"

"I am betrayed!" exclaimed Master Grand, with alarm: "the infernal cook

has betrayed me. Now for it." He descended the ladder, and was

immediately surrounded by ten house-carls bearing torches, in the midst

of whom stood the castellan, half-dressed, with a large sword in his

hand.

"Can I believe my own eyes, sir dean?" cried the honest Poul Hvit.

"Have you come hither to baffle my vigilance, and to assist an

important state-prisoner to escape?"

"Hear me, worthy Poul Hvit," replied Master Grand, with a bold,

authoritative voice, "and you shall not mistake a servant of the Lord,

who, in this secret and unusual way, has been on the service of his

Heavenly King. That it was not my intention to liberate your prisoner,

contrary to the laws of the country, you can satisfy yourself by

searching my clothes and the prison. I have neither file nor other tool

about me, with which it were possible to open the grating or assist the

prisoner to escape."

The castellan seemed perplexed and undecided.

"I demand this search for my own honour's sake," continued Master

Grand, throwing aside his cloak, and turning out his pockets. "If you

are now convinced of my innocence in this respect, you may with reason

demand to know my intentions in making this night visit. I was aware

that admission to the prisoner was denied me; but I knew, at the same

time, that a powerful word from God, spoken at the right time, might

effect much in a bewildered sinner's heart. The haughty young duke, as

you know, would not subscribe the agreement with the king, and

relinquish his rebellious projects; but I have now so spoken to him,

with the mighty power of God's word, that he has repented, and has

penitently acknowledged his great sin. He has consented to subscribe

the agreement, and will henceforth become the king's faithful subject.

This have I done, and this is my offence. If you see reason to make me

answerable for this Christian undertaking, I am then your prisoner. But

if, as I presume, you are a god-fearing man, uniting respect for my

station and sacred office with strict fidelity to your king, you will

only suffer me to remain guarded here, until you have searched the

prison, and satisfied yourself of the truth of my statement; when you

will allow me to depart, in the peace of the Lord, within an hour."

"Guard him!" said the castellan, as he went hastily to the tower with a

light. He opened the prison-door, and found all right in the first

apartment, occupied by Sir Abildgaard. At his request, the duke opened

his barred door. The castellan entered, and, without saying a word,

examined the grating narrowly. He then placed the light on the table,

and observed the duke attentively. "Tell me, highborn sir," he

inquired, "is it truth, that Dean Grand has spoken with you, and that

you have considered, and will subscribe the agreement?"

"It is the truth," replied the duke, taking up the silver style: "it

shall be done instantly. See, here stands my name." He handed the

castellan the document, and threw himself, thoughtfully, on his chair.

"Now I congratulate you on your restoration to freedom, and your

country in having a true man restored to it," said the castellan,

gladly. "I did not deceive myself, then: I know the world and mankind;

and I well saw, from your nature and manner, that you were a noble

young gentleman, who had only transgressed from the thoughtlessness of

youth. Rest now, if it so please you, on your good and pious

resolution, until it is day; and then, noble sir, I shall bring you

with honour from your prison, and conduct you myself to my king and

master."

"Good," said the duke. "But go now, and do not suffer the worthy

Master Grand to experience any inconvenience. He only preached me a

night-sermon, which, as you have seen, has converted me."

The castellan bowed, and retired. Sir Abildgaard, who had overheard

what had just taken place, hastened to his master with lively

satisfaction, to receive a full explanation of the reasons which had so

unexpectedly decided him to subscribe.

In the meanwhile, Master Grand stood amidst the wondering house-carls,

who, agreeably to the castellan's orders, guarded him closely, but with

a reverence that, by his authoritative air, he knew how to obtain. Cook

Morten stood, smiling, by the storming-ladder, and seemed to find

amusement in the night's adventure. Master Grand directed towards him

an upbraiding and disdainful look, without saying a word.

"I thought at least he would have slipped down," said the cook

to the house-carls. "I had never before seen a worthy dean upon a

storming-ladder, and could not resist the temptation; but I would have

shunned the dangerous joke, had I not known that you and the castellan

were in the neighbourhood. It will now be seen whether I have done the

pious gentleman an ill turn. Nobody can find fault with me, for having

taken him for a crafty cheat. Who else in the world is so zealous in

the cure of souls, that he puts his neck in jeopardy to save a single

couple? It was fortunate for the learned clerk that you came; for I was

just on the point of drawing the ladder from under him, and then his

reverence might have hung suspended by his hands on the iron bars, like

a cat on a bird-cage, till I had brought you."

"Wretched, faithless soul!" exclaimed Master Grand, vehemently. "I told

you that my intentions were pious and god-fearing, and yet you could

conceive the idea of depriving a servant of the Lord of his life!"

"I shall answer for that to my master, and his grace our most precious

king," replied Morten: "here, we have no respect of persons. We lock up

princes and great lords, when we have instructions to regard them as

rascals. I place the most guilty on the spit, when I have orders to

regard them as capons; and, if even the pope or kaiser wills to creep

through the window to them, I shall answer for it before all

Christendom, if I suffer them to break their high and holy necks."

Cook Morten was becoming noisy, and the castellan, who had now returned

from the prison, on hearing these insolent words, ordered him to

moderate his zeal, and to talk with more reverence to the pious worthy

sir dean, who was entirely innocent, and had, at the same time, done a

deed for which every brave Dane ought to thank him.

"I believe I know the world and mankind tolerably well," said he, with

a self-satisfied air, to Master Grand; "and I am rejoiced, your

reverence, that I was not mistaken in my good opinion of you. That your

intentions towards the king and country are good, I am now satisfied,

albeit you spoke hard words, yesterday evening, against the sins and

errors of the great. As a faithful man of God, you had a right to do

so; but, Herregud! we are all human, and even the most virtuous among

us may be suspected, and have appearances against him. That I have

myself just experienced, pious sir. You are now free to depart, at what

instant you please, but I shall be delighted if you will be my guest

until it is day. Night is no man's friend; and, though you are a pious

servant of the Lord, you might still go astray."

"I fear not that," replied Master Grand: "I have nothing further to do

here, if you are satisfied with the deed of conveyance, my good, honest

Poul Hvit?"

"Entirely so, pious sir. Bear Abbot Magnus my respectful salutations;

and, since it must be so, God be with you!"

At the castellan's order, Master Grand's palfrey was immediately led

out. The lofty ecclesiastic saluted the castellan with calm dignity,

and gave the token of benediction, with three fingers, to the

respectful house-carls; whereupon, attended by a lay-brother who acted

in the capacity of his groom, he quitted Sjöborg in the quiet moonlight

night.

A few hours after, and when the sun had risen, Duke Waldemar and his

drost, accompanied by Poul Hvit and twelve armed troopers, rode from

the castle-gates of Sjöborg, and took the road to Korsöer, in order to

cross over to Nyborg, where the king and his Best Men were residing,

and where the agreement, under seal and oath, was required to be

ratified by the Dane-court, before the duke and his drost could obtain

their full liberty.

* * *

After an unusually severe winter, during which the Baltic had been

frozen over, spring once more, with rapid steps, extended her lovely

and flowery reign over the favoured plains of Denmark. In the middle of

May, the beech-woods were in leaf; and, notwithstanding the miserable

condition of the people, and the private discords that divided so many

hearts, to those who were unacquainted with its disjointed internal

condition, the country seemed a peaceful and happy paradise.

On one of the finest days of spring, a company of travellers on

horseback, consisting of two distinguished knights and two ladies,

together with an ecclesiastic of eminence, and accompanied by a young

squire, two grooms, and two waiting-maids, rode in through the gate of

Flynderborg Castle, near Orekrog. On the castle-stairs stood the

commandant, Sir Lavé Little, uncovered, to receive his honoured guests

with due respect. The tall Lady Ingé stood by her father's side.

Whilst the knights assisted their ladies to dismount, and conducted

them up the stairs, the corpulent ecclesiastic remained quietly seated

on his palfrey, reading a Latin inscription over the doorway: he was

the chancellor of the kingdom, the learned Master Martinus de Dacia.

The short, gray-haired, but still hale and nimble knight, who first

ascended the castle-stairs, with a tall, middle-aged lady upon his arm,

was Counsellor Sir John Little, with his wife, Fru Ingefried. His

daughter Cecilia was accompanied by a young, knightly gentleman, in

whose tall form Jomfru[23] Ingé, with blushing cheeks, immediately

recognised Drost Peter Hessel.

Not without a certain degree of embarrassment and secret uneasiness did

Sir Lavé receive his guests. Despite his extreme politeness, he

appeared to scan, with much anxiety, his old kinsman's looks. Having

saluted Drost Peter with repulsive coldness, Sir Lavé seemed to regard

the learned chancellor, who had at length reached the top of the stairs

with a shy, suspicious glance; but when the learned gentleman at once

commenced his inquiries respecting the age of the castle and its

antiquities, Sir Lavé appeared somewhat more at ease, and referred him

to his daughter, who, as he said, knew better about such odd kind of

things than any one else in the castle.

"You must live here like a little king, my good Lavé," observed Sir

John, looking round the large arched hall, which occupied the whole

breadth of the wing, and from which two large doors opened into the

castle-garden, commanding a most beautiful view over the Sound.

"Yes, indeed, sir counsellor: the castle is royal enough, and your

presence gives it its proper lustre," replied Sir Lavé, in a submissive

tone, which showed at once the dependent relation in which he stood to

his renowned kinsman, whose preponderance, both in rank and intellect,

he only too oppressively felt.

"You are too polite, cousin," replied Sir John. "Lustre, you know well

enough, is not my affair. But if the castle is as strong as it is fair

and pleasant, I should like to be governor of it in time of war. Have

you been here before, Drost Peter?"

"In my childhood I was often in these halls, and I here regain the

memory of my dearest, fairest years," replied Drost Peter, with a

glance at Jomfra Ingé, whom he had yet only silently saluted, and who

appeared to be entirely busied with Fru Ingefried and Lady Cecilia. Her

eyes now met his, and he observed, with pleasure, that this remembrance

did not appear indifferent to her.

"Have you not been here since?" inquired Sir John; but Drost Peter did

not hear him.

"You are under a spell, I think. Have you been here since, Peter

Hessel?" he repeated.

"Last year," answered Drost Peter, somewhat embarrassed, "in the course

of my unpleasant duty respecting Duke Waldemar's arrest."

At these words Sir Lavé turned, highly uneasy, towards the old

counsellor, and overwhelmed him with half a score of questions at once,

principally about court news, and indifferent matters.

"I do not trouble myself concerning such fooleries," replied Sir John,

gravely, looking at his uneasy kinsman with a sharp, inquiring glance;

"but the best and most important news is already well known to you,

cousin--that, since the king has regained a faithful subject in Duke

Waldemar, we may now hope for peace and unity in the country. We may

therefore reasonably expect that every Danish knight who may have been

mistaken, but who still means honestly towards his country, will follow

the young duke's example, and sincerely forswear every thought of

turbulent resistance and rebellious defiance to the laws of the

kingdom. In some instances a strict inquiry may perhaps be deemed

necessary," he added; "but I hope that many adherents of the audacious

Marsk Andersen are not to be found in the country."

Sir Lavé had become deadly pale; and on the stern Sir John's

countenance appeared a mingled expression of anger and deep sorrow,

which, however, immediately disappeared, as he turned playfully to

Jomfru Ingé, with reference to one of her childhood's heroines, proud

Dotté, whose history was represented on the old wrought tapestry of the

hall.

"Do you still hold by this proud damsel?" he inquired, pointing to the

picture, representing a lady chained, on board a ship, with a little

anchor in her hand. "Can you still sing about her cheese-anchors, with

which she would have kept the whole of Harald Hardrada's fleet from

Denmark?"[24]

"Do you still remember that, my noble kinsman?" asked Lady Ingé

blushing. "When I sang that song by your side, and defended Dotté

against your jokes, I was still a child, and you laughed at my zeal:

but I must still defend her, my noble kinsman. Had the men of Denmark,

in her time, been as brave as she calculated upon, they would have

found steel enough to defend her cheese-anchors, and not have suffered

the Norwegian pirate-king to carry off a Danish maiden in chains, on

account of a bold word. Somewhat of haughtiness, and of childish

defiance towards a superior power, there certainly was in the whole

jest," she continued, with warmth; "but a little innocent boasting was

still a sign that she had good faith in Danish manhood and fidelity.

Had she been your daughter, I am certain that you would have gladly

paid a double ransom for her freedom."

"That may well be," replied Sir John, patting his brave kinswoman on

the cheek. "Right, proud Ingelil![25] Thou art thy brave mother's

daughter. The girl is right in some things," he continued, turning to

the learned chancellor: "she is better acquainted with these ancient

heroes than I am. This Harald Hardrada was little better than a bold,

skilful pirate: a lofty, kingly soul, he never had. His doings in

Denmark and Myklegaard redounded not to his honour; and I look upon the

daring Jarl Mindre-Alf, of our own times, as his worthy

representative."

"In mind and deed, abundance of similar representatives might be

mentioned, with sanguinary, heathenish souls in Christian bodies,"

replied Master Martin.

"Jarl Mindre-Alf!" repeated Jomfru Ingé, starting: "the coarse, rude

algrev--the little, fierce, brutish sea-rover--is he a jarl?[26] I

thought he was only Count of Tönsberg."

"He is a mighty jarl, and, next to King Erik the Priesthater, and Duke

Hakon, the greatest man in Norway," answered Sir John. "But thou art

right, child: he is a coarse, rude carl, and more like a beast than a

man. Thou hast never seen him, hast thou?"

"I have heard more of him than I could have desired," she replied,

hastily, avoiding the question, which occasioned her father great

anguish.

Drost Peter still hoped that Sir Lavé, notwithstanding his present

palpable embarrassment, had been more imprudent than guilty on the

occasion of the suspicious visit to which this accidental allusion had

just been made. In order, therefore, to rid him of this uneasiness, and

to relieve him from every fear of being called upon to answer for that

transaction, the drost turned, with perfect good nature, to Lady Ingé's

father, and informed him that the real object of the present journey,

which gave him an opportunity of revisiting so dear a spot, was an

embassy to the Swedish court of Stockholm; and that Sir John was, at

the same time, taking his family to their summer residence, Tommerup

Guard, in Scania.