When the squires had obeyed, Drost Peter re-entered; and in a few

moments the queen, leaning on the arm of the duke, and the little king,

with his sister Mereté and Junker Christopherson, issued from the

palace and entered the car. Notwithstanding the polite behaviour of the

duke, an air of displeasure was visible in his smile.

"We dare not offer you a seat in a lady's car, Duke Waldemar," observed

the queen; "and, besides, you are too good a horseman to desire it."

The duke replied by a polite bow, and vaulted into his saddle.

When all were mounted, "To the quay!" cried Sir John to the postilions;

and, followed by a long train of knights, the royal car rolled across

the castle-square, down to the old Strand-gate by the canal, and from

thence to the harbour, accompanied by a great crowd of curious

spectators, shouting with joy, while the young king saluted them, and

the queen cordially returned their greetings.

"They are going to have him proclaimed at Skielskioer, and then crowned

in Lund," they cried; and a thousand shouts of homage and blessing

ascended from every quarter.

The following day was fixed for the proclamation in Skielskioer; and,

by the arrangement of Sir John and Drost Peter, the Archbishop of Lund

had departed over night, in a swift vessel, to prepare everything for

the king's reception and coronation in Lund.

At Nyborg Haven all was ready for the embarkation, and they were

speedily on board. In the royal smack, on which the duke had embarked,

were also the drost, the chancellor, and Count Gerhard, together with

Sir John and the royal trabants. To the duke's astonishment the royal

smack was accompanied by six large galleys, strongly manned with

soldiers. His own numerous train of knights and retainers, with Dean

Grand, and many ecclesiastics, who had attended the Dane-court, in

three smaller vessels, followed the king's smack, which, with a brisk

and favourable wind, left the fiord.

Almost at the same time, a light-built sloop ran out from the coast,

which Skirmen informed his master he took for a Norse freebooter, and

on board which he had observed the duke's squire to spring before they

left the haven. Drost Peter strictly scrutinised the suspicious vessel,

which, however, was speedily out of sight.

The weather was fine; and as the queen stood at the stern, gazing back

on the Funen coast, which was still crowded with people, waving their

caps and cheering lustily, the duke approached her with an air of

boldness and candour.

"This sudden change in your determination has surprised me, noble

queen," he observed, in a tone intended for one of reproach more than

of displeasure: "but I must suppose your grace has weightier reasons

for it than those you have deigned to communicate to me. I cannot

believe that a restless night and a singular dream could have such an

influence on our wise and strong-minded mistress. That, as your dutiful

knight, I respect and obey as commands even your most inexplicable

humours, you now perceive. I must, however, observe that, at this

critical juncture, by these frequent gatherings of the people, and by

this coronation journey, we expose the kingdom to the greatest danger,

and afford the outlaws the opportunity they pant for of revenging

themselves--nothing being too daring for them to attempt, in the first

flush of their enraged feelings."

"To entertain any such fear, in your presence and that of so many bold

knights, would but insult you," replied the queen. "Besides, as you may

observe, I have considerably strengthened my body-guard. I am not

insensible to your delicacy or your chivalrous submission to what you

deem my humours and weaknesses," she continued; "and I certainly owe

you a better explanation than you have yet received of the reasons

which have led me to change my determination. In important affairs of

state, it may seem truly unwise to be guided by dreams, presentiments,

and all such considerations as are held in contempt by your stronger

sex; and weaknesses of this description have not hitherto been imputed

to me. But still you must allow, that a dream of warning, in connection

with the dark remembrances of my life, may justly carry with it a

considerable weight. Neither is it so unwise to hasten the completion

of a ceremony which, in the popular estimation, can alone sanctify and

protect the crown against the vindictiveness of traitors. Besides,

without any whimsey, as you may term it, the actual sight of the

regicides, at the Dane-court yesterday, might well dissuade me from

approaching at present the crypt chapel of Viborg, or the barn of

Finnerup."

The duke rapidly changed colour. "Most noble queen!" he hastily

exclaimed, "your dreams and presentiments are surely not connected with

these horrible events?"

"Partly. You are aware, Duke Waldemar, that grayfriars' cloaks

concealed the traitors on that fearful St. Cecilia's night. I dreamt

last night of these twelve men, and that they bore the crown of Denmark

on the points of their spears. They seemed to me like wolves in sheep's

clothing, and at their head stood one whose face was entirely concealed

by his hood."

"And him you took for Marsk Stig?" hastily interrupted the duke. "You

have reason, indeed, to beware of him, and therefore---"

"And therefore have I changed my resolution," she continued "I saw you,

too--"

"Me?" ejaculated the duke: "you do me great honour; but I hope that, in

this dream, you did not find me among those whom your grace knows I

abhor and condemn."

"Methought you stood by my side, and, by your paleness and agitation, I

perceived that you, too, trembled at the sight of the tottering crown

on the murderers' spears. I fancied that the guardian saint of Denmark,

the holy King Canute, stood before me, and said--'The anointed one

shall wear the crown until his death.' Can it surprise you, then, that

such a warning should determine me to accomplish what is already

desired by the council and by the whole people? Before your arrival in

Nyborg, it was so resolved; for to delay the proclamation and act of

homage in Skielskioer, and to defer the coronation, would have but the

effect of exciting popular discontent."

The queen paused, and looked scrutinisingly at the duke. "If I see

aright," she added, "one portion of my dream is already fulfilled: you

are now, assuredly, standing quite pale by my side."

"I cannot at all times bear the sea-breeze," he replied, passing his

hand across his face. "But indeed, noble queen," he added, in a

careless tone, "if you consider these ceremonies as so important, I

shall not persuade you to delay them. Since, however, Denmark's patron

saint has condescended to make you a revelation, I can only wish that

he had been somewhat more explicit: to wear the crown until his death,

is saying little; to wear it long and happily, would be better worth

revealing. But whether this is the road to it, I know not."

"I know not either," rejoined the queen; "but, in Heaven's name, let us

try it."

As the young king, accompanied by Sir John and Count Gerhard, now drew

near, this subject was broken off, and the conversation turned on

indifferent topics. Sir John was jocular, and the royal party soon

assumed the appearance of great gaiety. Drost Peter remained silent and

reserved. But Count Gerhard felt so happy with the secret pledge of the

queen's confidence which he carried in his bosom, that he yielded

himself entirely to the current of his natural humour, and far excelled

the others in amusing the queen. The duke strove in vain to regain his

pre-eminence; but the endeavour to conceal his uneasy feelings deprived

him of his usual sprightliness, and his forced compliments and pleasant

conceits, with Count Gerhard's dry additions, often provoked a laugh,

by no means flattering to him, but in which he was nevertheless obliged

to join.

They were now approaching Skielskioer, where multitudes of people

crowded both sides of the fiord, which divides the town into two almost

equal parts. Young Erik was standing at the prow, by the side of

Chancellor Martinus, listening attentively to what that learned

gentleman was relating concerning Henrik Æmeldorf's rebellion against

his grandfather, King Christopher Waldemarson.

"It is now five and thirty years ago, my young king and master,"

said the chancellor, "but it appears to me as if it had happened

but yesterday: it was the very week after I had gained, in the

chapter-house, my first palm in logic. Here your late grandfather

landed with his army, to force the proud rebel to submission, and

compel his homage. The town and castle, you must be aware, were legally

in the power of the general, having been given him in pledge by King

Abel for military pay; but he was grievously wrong in refusing homage

to the king, and in stirring up the people to rebel against him. That

deep trench there, across the town's-field, was cast up by the

rebellious Æmeldorf, and on the other side he had a strong garrison to

defend it."

"And my grandfather was beaten, and compelled to fly from the rebels?"

exclaimed the youthful monarch. "That was truly provoking. Had he,

then, no brave and trusty men in his army?"

"Many," replied the chancellor; "but what avails our strength, when the

Lord intends to chastise us? The godless traitors, however, did not

long retain their advantage. The following year your royal grandfather

again came, like a stern and mighty judge, and the Lord was with him

then. The city was taken and burnt, the leader of the rebels obliged to

fly, and his adherents received the punishment due to traitors on

yonder field--there, where the Retter-Ting and diets are now held.

_Soli Deo gloria!_"

"And there shall homage be rendered me to-morrow," observed King Erik.

"It is strange! If this occurred but thirty years ago, there must be

many still living whose friends and kinsmen were then executed."

"It certainly may be so," replied the chancellor: "the race of the

ungodly man is not uprooted from the earth. Might I counsel you, my

young king, I would say, remove the Zealand Dane-court to another city,

to avoid those gloomy recollections and forebodings of evil to which

the superstition of the people will easily give birth. 'Tis true, the

power and fortunes of kings are in the hands of God alone; but

shortsighted men will sometimes see evil, where the Lord purposes only

good; and, on what they deem an unlucky spot, they will not easily

rejoice or be filled with faith in temporal prosperity."

"Entertain you any distrust of my dear subjects here, reverend

sir?" inquired Erik. "See how joyfully they wave their caps. And,

listen--they already salute me with shouts of welcome."

"The people, thank Heaven, are faithful and ardent," replied the

chancellor; "but should the outlaws appear here, to protest against

their sentence, they would, I fear much, find many adherents; for

where, indeed, are not the sons of Satan? Still, you have with you

faithful men, sir king; and, with the assistance of the King of kings,

you have nothing to fear. If I see aright, Rimaardson also is here."

The royal smack had now reached the quay, where the royal party were

received by the town's-governor and the burghers, as also by Sir Bent

Rimaardson, who, with his galley, had newly arrived from Taarborg. The

kinsman of the queen, and a faithful friend to the royal house, he was

justly held in the greatest respect. The execution of his brother,

along with Niels Breakpeace and his band, had rendered him yet more

melancholy than before; but he sought, by the most vigilant activity,

to efface the ignominy that thus attached to his noble race. Since the

surprisal of Rypen House, in which he had taken an active part, he had

been cruising about the coasts, for the purpose of protecting them

against the Norse freebooters; and a pirate-vessel, that he had

recently captured, now lay in Skielskioer fiord. When he had saluted

the royal family, he begged to be permitted to accompany them to the

Hovgaard, as the castle is called, where, he said, he had some tidings

to impart.

"If your tidings are good, Sir Rimaardson, let us hear them here,"

exclaimed the youthful king. "Yet, nay," he added, "this is not the

place for that."

The air of suspicion which Sir Rimaardson wore did not escape old Sir

John, who also, as well as the chancellor, had observed the duke and

Master Grand exchange uneasy and significant glances, when they

discovered the captured pirate in the fiord.

Whilst the royal personages, amidst the acclamations of the people,

repaired to the castle, Rimaardson hastily took Drost Peter aside.

"There are traitors in the town," he whispered: "guard well the king,

and keep an eye upon the duke. Had you crossed the Little Belt to-day,

you had fallen into the hands of the marsk. A Norse fleet, with, it is

rumoured, the Norse king himself, is lying at Ekeroe. The marsk, at

this instant perhaps, burns one half of Funen with--"

"Just Providence!" exclaimed Drost Peter, "when stood a Danish king so

surrounded by foes and traitors! Would only that he were anointed and

crowned!"

"Would only that the duke had never left Sjöborg Tower!" whispered

Rimaardson.

"He may again be there," exclaimed the drost, with flashing eyes; while

the approach of the duke, at that moment, put an end to their private

conference.

When the royal party were alone in the castle, they learned from Sir

Rimaardson what he had just confided to Drost Peter. He produced, at

the same time, a packet of intercepted letters from Drost Tuko

Abildgaard in Norway, and from Marsk Stig, to Duke Waldemar, Master

Grand, and Count Jacob of Halland, by which the league of the outlaws

with the King of Norway, and their entire plans for overturning the

Danish throne, were clearly discovered. Of the letters from the duke's

drost, some were addressed, under ecclesiastical seals, to Dean Grand

of Roskild, directing him to attend to the duke and the disaffected

nobles of the kingdom. From these it appeared that Marsk Stig and the

outlaws intended to place the duke upon the vacant throne, if he would

faithfully join them, and seize the opportunity of getting the royal

family into his power. By the letters to Count Jacob it appeared, on

the contrary, that the marsk and the outlaws could not depend upon the

duke, and that they had promised the crown of Denmark to the Norse

king, if he would assist them with a fleet, and promise to reinstate

them in their rights and dignities. These important letters were found

on board the captured freebooter, the crew of which were then lying

bound in the castle-dungeons.

This discovery excited the greatest alarm in the minds of the queen and

her son, who immediately called into their secret council Sir John,

Drost Peter, and Master Martin. Every necessary precaution was

instantly adopted; and, by Sir John's advice, the duke was to be

admitted only in appearance into their councils, and but half informed

of what had been discovered. The intercepted letters, which betrayed

his connection with the outlaws, were carefully concealed; and it was

deemed prudent to communicate to him only the letters to Count Jacob,

respecting the marsk's audacious proposals to the Norwegian king.

When this resolution was adopted, they requested the attendance of the

duke, whose astonishment at the discovery they made to him seemed real

and natural. The marsk and the other outlaws he reprobated in the

strongest terms, and cordially approved of all the measures which the

council had taken to defend the country against the Norwegians.

In the meanwhile, Count Gerhard had disembarked the royal troops, and

quartered them in the town; and stationing a considerable body of them

at the castle, he himself took his place in the ante-chamber, as

captain of the guard.

When Drost Peter and Sir John left the royal closet, the cheeks of the

former were flushed with anger, by which, and his flashing eyes, it was

evident that some bold project was in his mind.

"Wretched weakness!" he exclaimed. "Have we not now sufficient proofs

of his treachery? Why should we not arrest him, as a traitor, on the

spot?"

"Prudence, my young friend," replied old John.

"Your prudence drives me mad!" exclaimed Drost Peter. "I can no longer

bear to see the traitor amongst us, as our master and the ruler of the

kingdom. If we be not beforehand with him, he will be beforehand with

us, as old Henner said. It must now break or bear--"

"It will break unless we are cautious," interrupted the old knight,

emphatically. "So long as he contrives to wear the mask, he is of

service to us; but the moment he casts it aside, he must be

overthrown."

"Good: one word will suffice for that."

"Beware of that word, Drost Peter, for by it you may perhaps overturn

the throne of Denmark. Yet one thing," added the old man, in a

sorrowful tone, as he cast a look of anxious concern on his excited

friend: "are you aware that the father of our faithful Ingé was the

bearer of these treasonable letters, and now lies a prisoner in the

tower?"

Drost Peter seemed horror-struck. "Merciful Heaven!--Sir Lavé!" he

exclaimed. "I can hardly doubt it. But is his crime quite evident?"

"He was on board the freebooter, and in his care the letters were

found. What he can urge in his own defence, I know not. To-morrow he is

to be heard before the council; and on account of our relationship with

him, I have requested that you and I may be then exempted from sitting

as his judges."

"Poor Ingé!" sighed Drost Peter. "Where is she? What have you done with

her? She referred me to you, who have coldly and sternly avoided every

question on the subject. But I can no longer refrain. What does she in

Sweden, while we imprison and condemn her father here?"

"You shall know all, and will approve of it," replied Sir John, as he

seized his hand. "Follow me to the chancellor. For the sake of Ingé, I

could wish that Sir Lavé might, to-morrow, frustrate us all; although,

were I his judge, there were small hopes of his deliverance. But that

office lies with the duke, and one raven does not pick out the eye of

another. As far as this goes, we may rejoice at the miscarriage of

justice, and that we have a traitor for the kingdom's protector." So

saying, he passed his hand over his eyes with much emotion, and drew

Drost Peter along with him.

In the middle of the castle-yard stood a small gloomy tower, the stone

vaults of which served as a prison. In one of these subterranean

dungeons lay Sir Lavé. He stirred not but with dreadful apprehension,

and seemed terrified at the clank of his own chains. At every sound he

huddled himself up, and gazed earnestly on the securely bolted iron

door; but it opened not. A small grating, looking forth upon the

castle-yard, was situated high in the wall. This, with the aid of an

old block of wood, which some wretched captive had formerly dragged

after him, and a few loose stones, he succeeded, after considerable

labour, in reaching. Here he saw Sir John and Drost Peter pass by; but

he was afraid to meet his kinsman's look, and indignation choked his

voice as he was about to call on Drost Peter to save him. He wept and

wrung his hands, but regained courage when he perceived several of the

duke's people passing to and fro. He then drew out a little note, which

he had concealed in his sleeve, anxiously hiding it at every suspicious

noise, and pulling it forth again when a follower of the duke appeared.

The young king showed himself for a moment on the balcony and was

received by the curious spectators in the court below with shouts and

waving of caps. This spectacle greatly agitated the captive, who, again

concealing the letter, shortly afterwards became absorbed in deep and

gloomy thought, in which he remained until the moonbeams, penetrating

his cell, announced to him the approach of night. At that moment he

perceived the duke descend the castle-stairs, and proceed to that wing

of the castle appropriated to him. Preceding him was a royal page,

bearing a torch, and six of his knights attended him at a little

distance. His air was thoughtful; and, as he approached the grating of

the dungeon, a gleam of hope inspired with courage the despairing

prisoner. He coughed. The duke heard it, and looked towards the

grating.

"Drop your glove, Duke Waldemar," whispered the captive knight, as he

rolled the letter up, and threw it forth.

The duke dropped his glove as desired, and, in picking it up again,

also secured the letter.

"There lies one of the traitors from Norway, awaiting the gallows," he

exclaimed aloud, as he threw an indignant glance towards the dungeon,

and passed on, regardless of the deep sigh that burst from the heart of

the despairing prisoner.

Skirmen, who, by his master's orders, was observing every motion of the

duke, was at this instant concealed in the deep shadow of a corner,

near the tower. The moment the duke had disappeared, the trusty squire

came forth, and was hastening to his master, when he was arrested by a

voice from the grating.

"In the name of the merciful God, listen to me, young man!" exclaimed

the captive knight. "Art not thou Drost Hessel's squire?"

"At your service," answered Skirmen, as he stopped.

"Inform your master, then," stammered the prisoner, "that the man who

once saved Drost Peter Hessel's life and preserved his freedom, would

now converse with him a moment for the sake of his own mind's peace.

Tell him that I can reveal to him something of great importance. But

time presses."

"I shall deliver your message," replied Skirmen, as he hastened away.

The prisoner descended from his dangerous seat, and carefully removed

the means by which he had reached the grating. He then seated himself

sorrowfully on the block beneath it, and listened anxiously to every

sound he heard. Some time elapsed thus, when at length the rattling of

the gaoler's keys, and the withdrawing of the bolts one by one from the

door, announced a visitor. In another moment Drost Peter stood in the

cell with him.

The moonlight through the grating fell upon the pale face of the

prisoner, who remained in a crouching posture, without daring to raise

his eyes. The drost stood for an instant, silently contemplating him.

In the half-despairing countenance before him, there was that which

reminded him bitterly both of Lady Ingé and the brave Sir John--some of

the lineaments of the noble race of Littles. Tears stood in his eyes.

"Miserable man!" he exclaimed, at length, "what can I effect for your

peace? And of what have you to unburden yourself to me?"

"Tell me truly, Peter Hessel," asked the prisoner, in a trembling

voice, but with a tone of parental familiarity that reminded the drost

of the relation in which they had stood in his youthful days, "are thou

and Cousin John to be my judges?"

"Nay, Heaven be praised! Our relationship to you exempts us from that

duty."

"I may, then, hope for mercy; for from thee and Sir John I could expect

only what you call justice. But God help us all, if we must be treated

according to our deserts!"

"Sir Lavé," interrupted Drost Peter, "think you, then, that there is

not a powerful, perhaps an all too-powerful voice, which pleads for you

both in my breast and that of old kinsman?"

"I believe it, and will prove to thee my sincerity," replied the

prisoner, "since, as thou art not to sit in judgment on me, I can

venture to unburden my heart to thee."

He arose, and threw on the drost a penetrating look, while he continued

in the same familiar tone:--"Misfortune has now taught me what thou in

vain wouldst have had me believe in time. I now perceive that no

success or blessing attends rebellion against lawfully constituted

authority, even when instigated by the purest attachment to freedom and

fatherland. By the law, my doom is death; but the prerogative of mercy

lies with the king, in whose hands I place my life and fate. I had no

share in his father's death, and he can therefore pardon me. Had I seen

him before, as I have seen him to-day, I should not now be in this

dungeon. The stern Marsk Stig himself, I firmly believe, could not

look the youthful monarch in the face and deny him the name of king.

I cannot now blame thee, Peter Hessel, who wert his tutor and

weapon-master, for entertaining the greatest hopes of him. If he spare

my life, I will swear fealty to him, and reveal matters of importance.

Tell him I will confess my sins to the chancellor, and atone for my

crimes in a state-prison. Tell him--"

"Kind Heaven!" exclaimed Drost Peter, joyfully, as he seized Sir Lavé's

trembling hand, "dare I believe? Has, then, the Almighty heard my

petition, and inclined your heart to faith and honour. You will be

loyal and attached to our young king--you will confess all, and swear

him fealty--you will atone your treason--and he will--he must pardon

you. But he does not govern alone," he added, with a sigh; "and,

without the concurrence of the queen and the duke, his wishes will

avail you not."

Sir Lavé's pale cheeks flushed, and for an instant he remained silent.

"The duke cannot condemn me," at length he whispered, with a smile of

confidence: "I have taken care of that. The will of the king I know

thou canst easily determine, and a favourable word to the queen would

perhaps also find a willing ear. There was a time when Peter Hessel was

all-powerful with the fair Queen Agnes--"

A frown gathered on Drost Peter's brow, for the expression of Sir

Lavé's features did not please him. The joy he had felt at his

conversion quickly disappeared, while the discovery that Skirmen had

just imparted to him suddenly presented itself to his mind.

"As a man, I may perhaps venture to speak, where, as drost, I must be

silent," he replied, sternly; "but I can only venture to do so when I

am convinced of your sincerity, and that you are not, even here, taking

counsel against the king and country."

"What! do you still doubt me, Drost Peter?" asked Sir Lavé, in a tone

of terror and bitterness. "I say I am converted to your state-creed.

Must you see me howl in sackcloth and ashes before you believe me?

Intercede for me, Peter Hessel! and you will find that I am not

ungrateful," he continued, fawningly. "Thy father was my friend, and

what I promised him on his deathbed I have not forgotten. Save my life

now, as once I saved thine, and my hand shall no longer separate what a

mightier than mine hath joined together."

Drost Peter was much affected; but observing a cunning smile on Sir

Lavé's restless features, he felt, with wounded self-esteem, how nearly

he had been befooled.

"Not even for that prize, Sir Lavé, shall I forfeit my fidelity," he

exclaimed, warmly. "If, without self-abasement, I intercede and promise

for you, I must first be convinced that we dare trust you. What

connection subsists between the duke and you? and what was the purport

of the letter which, but half an hour ago, you bade him pick up with

his glove?"

Sir Lavé became pale with terror. "Letter!--what letter?" he stammered

out. But perceiving the uselessness of denial, he continued:--"Well, as

you appear to be omniscient, it was so: but I swear it contained

nothing but what was true--that I was an incautious fool, and had

brought letters to land which would perhaps occasion the duke

embarrassment, if I did not explain the nature of them. I can testify

that they were written by his enemies, and, being intercepted, might

lay him under the suspicion of having private intercourse with the

outlaws."

"Wretched man!" interrupted Drost Peter: "on the brink of a gulph you

are still playing with two sharp-edged swords, both of which will fall

with deadly force upon your head. I cannot--I dare not, now intercede

for you. I should myself be an enemy to Denmark and the royal house,

and a traitor to my country, should I do so. But I will provide for the

peace of your soul. Within an hour the chancellor will visit you.

Confess yourself sincerely to him, and bethink of your eternal weal. He

may then, perhaps, beg mercy for you from the pitying God."

"Alas, alas! let, then, the chancellor come, and prepare me for death!"

groaned Sir Lavé, as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead. "I

must now put my hope in God, for in man there is no mercy! Alas! could

my Ingé see how hardhearted you are, Drost Peter, she would never love

the man who can treat so cruelly her unfortunate father."

"Heaven is my witness," sorrowfully exclaimed Drost Peter, laying his

hand upon his breast, "that it cuts me to the soul that I cannot trust

you better. You would win the duke with false witness, and me with a

false hope; and would, if you could, make my affection traitor to my

loyalty. Nay, Sir Lavé Little, you are not thus to be saved. Truth

only can save you, the country, and us all. God give your unstable mind

constancy and strength to resolve earnestly on that to which you now

only pretend for the purpose of saving yourself before a human

tribunal!"

With these words he left the dungeon, and Sir Lavé sank with a groan

upon the stone floor, where the fear of death wrung a sincere prayer

from his bosom.

Half an hour afterwards, Chancellor Martinus, in his Dominican habit,

with his breviary and a candle in his hand, was admitted to the anxious

captive, whom he found in a state of such bewilderment and mental

conflict, that the philosophical chancellor found it impossible to

understand his incoherent and contradictory expressions.

"Is it you who are to prepare me for death?" asked the prisoner,

starting up with a wild stare. "Ha! it is time. The wheel and stile are

ready. Drost Peter will not intercede for me; and my child, my poor

child, she will die of shame for her miserable father. But my

punishment is just," he continued, sinking his voice to a whisper: "I

nodded--see, I nodded thus--in that horrible council. That nod cost me

perhaps my salvation, and King Erik Christopherson his life. Was I not

among the twelve in Finnerup barn? Nay, nay, that was but a dream!"

he exclaimed, vehemently--"that night I only betrayed my master's

castle--his blood is not upon my hand, and will not be visited upon my

head. But I heard the woe-cry from his coffin: from the grave it

came--nay, from hell itself! It yet rings in my ears. To be doomed an

outlaw by men is nothing--but outlawed, eternally outlawed from heaven,

I became at that hour. I am an unfortunate man!" He paused and sighed.

"Ha! but misfortune shall not strike me down," he continued, strutting

boldly across the dungeon--"I am of noble birth, and die not as a

traitor, but as a patriot and the foe of tyrants. What wilt thou with

me, clerk? Thou art no confessor of mine--thou art not the bold dean

who bids defiance to kings and kaisers. I know thee well: thou art the

book-worm from Antvorskov, the learned chancellor--thou wert the

tyrants' friend, and now wouldst outlaw and put under the ban every

free-minded Dane. Comest thou hither to shrive me to-night, ere thou

doomest me to the wheel to-morrow? Nay, nay--that thou mayst spare

thyself, my very learned sir. A wise statesman can hold his tongue, and

die like a heathen, without shrift or penitence."

He continued for some time raving in this wild manner, now accusing

himself as the greatest criminal, and now boasting his high birth and

political sagacity, but at length recovered himself, and burst into

tears.

The learned Master Martinus had several times vainly attempted to stop

him, to point out the rules in _logica_ against which he was offending;

but the zealous carer for souls now triumphed over the philosopher,

and he seized this favourable opportunity of exhorting to repentance

the despairing sinner before him; and, in the supposition that he had

been among the regicides, he became stern and vehement, and thundered

forth the most fearful threatenings of the law against traitors and

man-slayers.

"Nay, nay!" exclaimed Sir Lavé, "I am no regicide; but still I must

surely perish, unless there dwells pity with Heaven and the Holy

Church. Listen, and I will shrive!"

He then threw himself at the feet of the chancellor, and confessed

every step he had taken, relating how he had been inveigled into the

conspiracy, and protesting that he had, however, taken no share in his

kinsman's sanguinary revenge.

"Drost Peter was right," he exclaimed: "the truth alone can save me and

all of us. Even at that hour I would have deceived him, and he cannot

trust--he cannot sue for mercy for me. Let justice, then, overtake me.

Here I must be condemned; but save, oh save my soul from the eternal

death!"

"Your sin is great," answered the chancellor, who was much affected;

"but those who abused your weakness, have more to atone for than you

have." He then, in the blessed words of the Gospel, exhorted him to

repentance, and in the name of the Holy Church granted him indulgence

for his sins, should he continue firm in his repentance, and true to

the change of conduct he had promised. "Even your earthly judges," he

added, "I hope to soften, after this your confession. What you have

confided to me no man shall know without your own permission; but allow

me to reveal it to the queen and our young king, and I promise that

time shall be accorded you for repentance in a bearable state-prison."

"Reveal it to all!" exclaimed Sir Lavé, embracing his knees with

trembling arms. "In the wall of my closet at Flynderborg is a secret

depository, where lie the proofs of my greatest crime. Let all the

world know it, but let me not die thus in my sin. Spare but my

life--this wretched life--and I will gladly hide myself and my shame in

Denmark's darkest prison. Reveal all!" he continued, in the accents of

fear and anxiety--"tell them, too, that there will be a tumult here

to-morrow, if they take not means to prevent it. The outlaws are here,

and, with the assistance of the duke, will possess themselves of the

king's person. I have even brought the duke the letter respecting it."

"Merciful Heaven!" exclaimed the chancellor, who, terrified, suddenly

rose and knocked violently at the prison-door, which was quickly opened

for him.

The prisoner attempted to escape with him; but a violent blow from the

sturdy turnkey threw him backwards on the stone floor, without

consciousness.

* * *

An innumerable multitude of people from all quarters of Zealand were

assembled in Skielskioer, to see and do homage to the young king. All

the villages in the environs were thronged, for the town, which had

been half burnt down in the feud between King Christopher and Henrik

Æmeldorf, had not yet recovered its former prosperity, and could with

difficulty accommodate but an inconsiderable portion of the strangers.

These throngs were further augmented by the friends and adherents of

the outlawed noblemen, who had assembled in great numbers, in

consequence of the rumour that the murderers of King Erik

Christopherson had been personally cited to hear their doom, and that

they intended to defend their cause before the people, and protest

against the sentence of outlawry.

As evening approached the tumults and contentions which occurred

between these partisans and the populace became so frequent, that the

town-governor was compelled to call on the royal landsknechts to assist

him in keeping order.

On the following morning, when the matin-bell had rung from the lofty

spire of St. Nicholas, the people were already assembled in the

Thing-place, and in the large area before the Hovgaard, to witness the

procession of the royal family to the Dane-court; but hour after hour

elapsed, and the royal party appeared not. The castle was encircled

by the royal landsknechts and a body of the burgher-guard, whilst,

posted before the gate, at the head of a small party of the queen's

life-horse, were Drost Peter and Count Gerhard. Both appeared

thoughtful. Drost Peter still carried his right arm in a sling; but,

like a skilful swordsman, he knew how to support at need his weapon

with his left.

As it appeared, they had hoped to prevent all tumult at the

proclamation, and had found it impolitic to break with the duke. The

inner courts of the castle had, in the meanwhile, by the drost's

arrangements, been secretly filled with the remaining portion of the

queen's life-horse, which were supposed to have been left on board the

ships. These, the most trusty of the royal troops, had orders to

advance and secure the duke, the instant they saw the drawn sword in

the drost's hand.

Not far from Count Gerhard and Drost Peter, in a magnificent suit of

armour, was the duke, seated on his charger, in the midst of his

knights and a considerable body of Sleswick horsemen. His looks, as he

surveyed the multitude, seemed anxious and uneasy, and the dark,

earnest countenance of Drost Peter did not appear to please him, any

more than did the bold bearing of Count Gerhard.

The people now began to display symptoms of impatience at the long

delay; and, with visible discontent, Drost Peter whispered to Count

Gerhard--"This is the fault of our good, thoughtful chancellor."

Murmurs and expressions of anger speedily followed.

"How long must we remain here upon our pegs, before we see either wet

or dry?" growled a corpulent burgher, who was standing sentry.

"There is good reason for the delay, Faerlil," answered a long-bearded

Sleswick horseman: "your king, to be sure, has no need yet to stop to

polish his beard; but he must be swaddled and suckled. The queen, too,

must be trim and spruce, that your maids and wives may not tempt Drost

Hoseol to prove untrue to her."

A boisterous laugh from the horsemen accompanied this coarse joke.

"The people are becoming merry--that pleases me well," observed Count

Gerhard, who heard the laughter, but not the disgraceful words which

created it.

Drost Peter, however, had heard them, and burned with indignation,

which he endeavoured to suppress, looking with apparent inattention in

the opposite direction; whilst the merriment continued, and was kept up

with other expressions of a like nature.

"Peace, fellows, or speak of royalty with greater respect!" exclaimed

the duke, with apparent severity, to his people.

"Yes," added one of his knights, "take care, you fellows! The drost's

left arm is not to be laughed at. And you, my good man," he observed to

the burgher--"you should remember the consequences of grumbling in

Skielskioer at a royal proclamation."

"I'faith, that is true, stern sir knight," growled the burgher: "unless

we would have our houses again burnt over our heads, we must howl with

the wolves, and submit to boy-rule and petticoat government."

"Fie for shame on every Danish man," cried another, "that they should

patiently submit to be ruled by a king in slippers and baby-clothes."

"Thou hast a mind to be outlawed before night, my bold fellow,"

observed a tall personage, in a monk's habit. "A good word now-a-days

may bring that on a man."

"Know you the news, holy sir?" exclaimed an awkward, heavy mass-boy to

the monk: "Marsk Stig and his friends have to-day been put under the

ban of the Church by the Archbishop of Lund."

"The ban--the ban!" was muttered around from one to the other, with

increasing discontent.

"They could never be so infatuated," observed a tall man, enveloped in

a large blue cloak.

"He begins sharply, this little master," exclaimed a jeering voice

close by the side of the last speaker; "and his pinafore must be as

wide as a church-door, since he can carry an archbishop in his pocket."

"The apple doesn't fall wide of the tree," remarked the corpulent

burgher; whilst his neighbour began humming:--

"And so grows up the little wolf,

With sharp teeth in his jaws."

"What else could you expect?" demanded the Sleswick horseman: "all that

come of the wolf, howl like the wolf, as they say in our country."

One of the queen's horsemen, who was stationed next to the Sleswicker,

had long sat in his saddle as if on glowing coals. "If there be wolves'

cubs amongst us," he now at last broke out, in a broad Jutlandic

accent, "they are rather in your troop than ours, my dainty

Sleswicker."

"It needs a good dog to smell that out," retorted the other.

"In our country the dogs are as keen as they are true," rejoined the

North Jute; "but down by Gottorp they ought to be keen indeed, as the

late King Abel, your duke's grandfather, must well know, seeing that

three fiery hounds hunt him every night to the infernal regions."

"Whoever says an ill word of my duke or of his race, shall have his

neck broken!" exclaimed the Sleswick horseman, drawing his sword.

"And whoever slanders my queen or the drost, shall have his nose and

ears cut off!" vociferated the other, already brandishing his glaive.

As the contention thus grew hot, several joined in it; and although it

was strictly forbidden that any one should draw his sword before

orders, many weapons were already seen gleaming among the troopers,

both of the queen and of the duke.

"Peace, there!" now cried the latter, as, with some uneasiness, he

examined the multitude around him.

"Whoever strikes a blow without his officer's command, is a dead man!"

shouted Drost Peter; and the swords were again sheathed, whilst the

noisy quarrel subsided to a murmur.

A cry of "The king! the king!" was now heard, and the most perfect

silence instantly pervaded the restless crowd.

At that moment the queen and the young king issued on horseback from

the castle-gate, escorted by twelve trabants, and attended by Sir John,

Rimaardson, and Chancellor Martin. The ecclesiastic, who was mounted on

his palfrey, and wore his Dominican habit, with polished shoes and

white heels, looked very pale and apprehensive.

Nearly the entire multitude instantly greeted the king with a shout of

homage, and the quarrel between the troopers was apparently at an end,

when a powerful voice, from amidst the crowd, exclaimed--"Long live

Marsk Stig and his friends! Down, down with the tyrants!"

The duke looked hastily around him, whilst Drost Peter narrowly watched

him, with his left hand on the hilt of his sword.

Although the cheering for the king continued, the shout of "Long live

the duke! Long live Waldemar Erikson!" still gained ground: it was

repeated by great numbers of the burghers, and by all the Sleswick

horsemen; and, as it increased in vehemence and extent, the duke again

looked round, lifting his hat, and saluting the assemblage with an air

of bravery.

Li this salute Drost Peter perceived a preconcerted signal; for the

duke was then cheered on every side, by the same voices that had just

raised the seditious cry in favour of Marsk Stig. The drost could no

longer retain his indignation. "Down, down with the traitors!" he

shouted, as his sword flew from its scabbard, and gleamed in his left

hand, whilst, at the same instant, the concealed horsemen, rushing

forward, surrounded the spot.

Duke Waldemar beheld this unexpected movement with astonishment and

consternation. "Rebellion! treason!" he exclaimed: "defend your

protector, brave Danes! Seize the drost! He is the traitor.--At them!"

shouted he to his horsemen; who, however, before they could, in the

general confusion, range themselves in any order of battle, were, with

the duke, charged with so much impetuosity by Drost Peter and Count

Gerhard, at the head of the queen's horsemen, that they were compelled

to seek for safety in a rapid flight; the whole body hastening from the

town through a narrow street, which had not yet been blockaded.

"After the duke! Seize the traitor! _He_ is the chief of the

regicides!" shouted the drost, as, at the head of the queen's troopers,

he pursued the fugitives.

During this uproar, the noise of which was augmented by the cries and

clamour of the people, Sir John and Rimaardson, with the chancellor and

the twelve trabants, had instantly formed a close circle round the

king, and, without awaiting the issue, had hurried with him across the

castle-square, and through the excited crowds, down to the fiord.

But the queen had boldly ridden forward amidst her faithful body-guard,

and soon found herself at their head, between Count Gerhard and Drost

Peter; whilst before them, and without once looking behind, fled the

duke and his horsemen, as if panic-struck.

"Noble queen," exclaimed Drost Peter, "here you are exposed to too much

danger."

"I think myself safer nowhere than between the brave Count Gerhard and

yourself," was her confident reply.

"Shame befall us," cried Count Gerhard; "if we are not now invincible,

we never deserve success."

Outside of the town, on Trandrup Field, where Henrik Æmeldorf engaged

King Christopher, the duke first commanded his troopers to halt; and,

availing himself of his start, he wheeled about, and hastily placed his

men in order of battle.

The drost, who, with his troop, was rapidly pushing forward, now heard

the wild shout of assailants behind him, and, on looking round,

perceived a large body of mail-clad horsemen in his rear, in the

leaders of which he thought he recognised Count Jacob and the two

knights who had been outlawed at Nyborg.

"You have ventured too far, most noble queen!" he exclaimed. "The

traitors have out-man[oe]uvred us. Fall into a circle, lads--place the

queen in the centre--and you, Count Gerhard, stir not from her side."

"By Beelzebub!" muttered the count, "must I be only a peg in this

confounded game of skittles? Stay you here, rather, with your wounded

arm, Drost Hessel."

But the drost heard him not, while the queen's troopers immediately

obeyed the order of their chief, and formed a circle around their

mistress, who, although pale and apprehensive, yet retained her

firmness, and closely observed every movement of the enemy; whilst

Count Gerhard rode around the circle like a wild beast in a cage.

The foe, meanwhile, had been pressing on from both sides, when the

drost, commanding the circle to extend, slackened his bridle, and, with

his sword in his left hand, dashed against the duke and his horsemen.

"Turn you now against the outlaws, Count Gerhard," said the queen,

calmly.

This was precisely the intention of the skilful warrior, who sprang

from the circle, shouting;--"Forward, carls, in a line! Follow me!"

The circle, thus dividing, soon formed compact lines, which fought in

opposite directions against the twofold superior foe. The queen

remained between the lines, a witness of the sanguinary conflict, which

cost many of her faithful men their lives. Her checks glowed with

ardour and excitement whilst she glanced now towards Drost Peter, and

now towards Count Gerhard; but her eye most frequently rested on the

valiant count, who had engaged in the fray with the greatest spirit and

ardour, every stroke of his good sword appearing to drive the enemy a

step before him.

The space between the two lines of horsemen was every instant

increasing, and the queen, with lively satisfaction and joy, beheld the

success of Count Gerhard's bold attack; when, turning her eyes once

more towards Drost Peter, she uttered a cry of alarm. His troopers were

in disorder, and he himself was unhorsed in the midst of the duke's

people, who cast themselves upon him with a savage shout of triumph.

"Merciful Heaven!" she exclaimed, "they will murder him! Save, oh save

Drost Peter, noble count!" and, heedless of the danger, she rode into

the midst of the mêlée, where Count Gerhard's horsemen were on the

point of beating the outlaws from the field, and, pressing close up to

the side of the count, repeated her request.

"In God's name, be it as you command, noble queen!" he replied.

"Forword, lads! Think not of me!" And turning his steed, he hastened to

the assistance of Drost Peter, and endeavoured to restore order to his

broken ranks.

But his own troops now fell into similar confusion, and the outlaws,

inspired with new courage, again pressed forward with shouts of

triumph; whilst, on the opposite side, the all-victorious duke

continued to pursue the drost's chiefless band.

The attempts of Count Gerhard to rally the flying horsemen, and restore

them to order, were vain: he found it impossible to collect the

scattered soldiers; and the enemy pressed on victoriously from both

sides. The confusion was now at its height, and the slaughter around

him was dreadful.

"All is lost--we must fly, noble queen!" he at length cried, turning to

the spot where the queen had stood only a moment before. But he now

beheld her not. One of her troopers had thrown his cloak over her, and

in the confusion she had disappeared, whilst the count, who could

nowhere discover her amidst the tumultuous bands of contending

horsemen, then became furious, and his blows fell fast on every side,

directed indiscriminately at friends or foes. His glaring eye sought

only the queen; but, at last, even his sight began to fail him: the

scene appeared to whirl around him, and he became unconscious.

When he recovered his senses, he found himself alone on the dreary

battle-field, with only dead and wounded around him. His eye was safe,

but that which was yet dearer to him had disappeared. He looked around

once more; and then mounting his steed, which had remained near him, he

proceeded rapidly in the direction of the town.

The tumult there had not yet ceased. Soldiers and armed burghers were

scouring the streets, and scenes of bloodshed were everywhere enacted.

Some shouted the names of Marsk Stig and Count Jacob, and exclaimed:

"Vengeance for the outlaws!" Others had for their rallying cry the name

of the duke, cutting down all who refused to join in it; whilst a great

portion of the burghers and badly armed peasants vociferated: "Long

live our young king! Death to the traitors!" The adherents of the duke

and those of the outlaws did not seem to be quite certain whether they

should regard each other as friends or foes; although, in general, they

made common cause against the royalists.

Meanwhile, the duke, at the head of his Sleswick horsemen, returned

triumphantly to the castle. The report of his victory, and the defeat

of the royal party, soon became known, and greatly alarmed the trusty

burghers and peasants, who had assembled in defence of their youthful

king. The duke was accompanied by a crowd of savage-looking butchers,

with blood-stained axes, and by many strangers in disguise, who

applauded him loudly. A band of mailed horsemen, wearing their visors

down, and who were supposed to be the outlaws and their followers,

closed this triumphal procession.

The duke dismounted at the castle, and immediately occupied it with his

troops.

"Where is the king?" he demanded.

"Out of the fiord, on his flight to Nyborg," replied a heavy butcher.

The duke's triumphant look changed suddenly to one of disappointment.

He gave a private order to one of his knights, who instantly rode off

for the haven, with a troop of horsemen.

"And where is her grace the queen?" again inquired the duke.

But this no one knew; and all he could learn was, that Prince

Christopher and the little Princess Mereté had been taken from the

castle by Sir Rimaardson's seamen.

"Let there be tranquillity now, brave burghers," he said, addressing

the noisy crowds that surrounded him; "and let every one retire to his

abode, for the Dane-court and proclamation are postponed. I have

succeeded fortunately in quelling this tumult, and the ringleader is

now in my power. He is the queen's presumptuous favourite, Drost

Hessel, who so far abused the ear of his royal mistress as to create in

her distrust of me. His object was to obtain possession of the king's

person, and so be master of the nation; but you have nothing now to

fear from the traitor, for he shall never more see the light of day. I

am still your lawful protector, and shall watch carefully over your

good and the welfare of the country."

When he had finished this address, which was received with noisy

acclamation, he saluted his uproarious adherents with all the

condescension and bearing of a sovereign, and entered the castle,

accompanied by his gay knights, and the tall mail-clad warrior with the

closed visor and blue mantle, who had led on the outlaws. With this

individual, in whom many thought they recognised Count Jacob of

Halland, he had a short and private conversation, at the close of which

the unknown warrior left the castle; and, an hour after, not one of the

outlaws or their followers was to be seen in the town. They had

departed in anger, it was said, threatening to return with fire and

sword within a twelvemonth and a day.

The duke himself soon began to think of leaving a town where the king

possessed many faithful subjects. He therefore directed that the

captive and sorely-wounded drost should be carried in chains on board

the ducal vessel, which, with the exception of a lugger, supposed to

contain some of the queen's people, was the only one then in the haven.

The duke, however, delayed his departure till the evening, as he did

not consider it advisable to leave the castle until the town was

entirely quiet. The disappearance of the queen, whom he had himself

seen, and again lost sight of, in the midst of the fray, gave him much

uneasiness. He ordered a minute search to be made of the battlefield,

but no trace was to be found of either the queen or of Count Gerhard. A

portion, also, of his Sleswick horsemen, who had been separated from

him in the engagement, had disappeared.

Night began to fall, whilst, with anxious thoughts, he paced up and

down the riddersal. He felt proud indeed of his victory; but the escape

of the king altogether thwarted his project, and he feared, with

reason, that he had prematurely thrown off the mask, and exposed his

daring plans. Since he had learned the promise of the marsk to the

Norwegian king, he felt he could not depend on the outlaws; and hence

his thanks to Count Jacob had been cold and reserved. He now appeared

wavering and undecided as to the next step towards the object of his

proud ambition.

"Seize the spirit-compelling sceptre, and thy crown shall be bright as

the sun," he whispered to himself; feeling as if he were again in

Sjöborg with his owl, and looking fearfully around the large gloomy

hall, almost as much afraid of his own words as if the dead bishop had

spoken.

"Lights! lights!" he now shouted; and his servants, who knew their

master's great aversion to darkness, instantly produced them. He then

issued some farther orders respecting; his departure, and again

despatched messengers to ascertain whether the town was tranquil, and

the road to the fiord unobstructed.

Shortly after, two of his knights entered with a prisoner, who had

demanded to be conducted to their master. The captive, who stood

closely enveloped in a horseman's cloak, with a rainhood over the head,

for a moment or two seemed to scrutinise the uneasy conqueror, when

suddenly the hood fell back, and the cloak dropped upon the floor;

whilst the duke started with surprise, as he beheld before him the fair

and majestic Queen Agnes, in her magnificent robes of ceremony.

"They say I am your prisoner, Duke Waldemar," she said, with an air of

calm dignity; "but I maintain that you are mine, as certainly as that

you are an audacious rebel, and I at this moment the reigning Queen of

Denmark."

The duke requested his astonished knights to withdraw.

"Noble queen," he then began, courteously and respectfully, "you are,

in truth, partly right: I am, now and for ever, your knightly prisoner;

but rebel I am not. On the contrary, I have been attacked by Drost

Hessel and your men in a manner at once treacherous and unprovoked. At

your own request I accompanied you hither as joint protector; and here,

against all faith and law, have I been suddenly set upon, at the moment

I intended to proclaim the king, and was about to quell the popular

discontent at the sentence pronounced upon the outlaws. I beheld, with

astonishment, your grace yourself at the head of my assailants, which

may plead my excuse if, for a moment, I left the king's side, and

sought to avoid a conflict in which your precious life would have been

placed in danger."

"What do I hear!" cried the queen, in amazement. "You deny that you

were the leader of this tumult, and even dare to impeach me as the

cause of it!"

"Nay, not you, illustrious queen, but the ambitious and arrogant Drost

Hessel. On his head lies every drop of blood that has this day been

shed. He is the rebel and traitor--not I--and Heaven forbid that I

should accuse you of his faithlessness! He has shamefully abused your

clemency and grace; and has caused me to suspect that, by my fall, he

hopes to soar to the regency, or perhaps even to the throne of

Denmark."

Retiring a step, the queen scrutinised keenly the crafty lord. For an

instant she appeared in doubt; but, as if a light had suddenly broken

in upon her, she again approached him, with an air of apparent

confidence.

"You have revealed to me what may perhaps prove a matchless piece of

treachery," said she, unable completely to master the tones of her

voice; "and should this be proved to have been really the drost's

design, he must be brought to a severe account. Before the king and

people he must be condemned as the most deceitful of traitors. But

where is he?"

"In my power," replied the duke, with a polite smile; "and there, with

your permission, he must remain, while I am protector of Denmark."

"For his life you shall be responsible to me," said the queen, with

ill-concealed uneasiness. "Be his crime as great as it may, by the king

and people only can he be tried and doomed; and that in my presence and

in your's, at the Land-Ting."

"Believe me, your grace, that even my bitterest foe shall have justice!

But suffer me first, most gracious and illustrious queen, to lay my own

cause before your judgment-seat," he politely added, as he bowed

profoundly, and drew forward a gilded chair, upon which the queen

seated herself. "I clearly perceive that you suspect me," he continued.

"You are brought here as my prisoner, although, in truth, as I have

already said, I am your captive for ever, and can easily prove to you

how innocent I am of this tumult." As he spoke, his air of politeness

suddenly changed to an expression of intense and passionate admiration,

and he added, with warmth--"I can give you proof, clear as the sun, how

foolishly, nay, how madly, I should have acted, to place myself in a

position of hostility to you." He paused, and appeared to hesitate. "It

must be dared!" he again broke forth: "I shall now reveal to you what

has long been the dearest and boldest wish of my heart, and what, as a

princely scion of the race of the great Waldemars, in my proudest

moments I have sometimes dared to hope."

He paused again, and looked inquiringly at the queen, over whose

countenance had passed a sudden change, which caused him to hesitate;

but the consciousness of his handsome person banished every doubt, and

the flush of indignation on the queen's cheeks he mistook for an

indication of bashful surprise.

"Your noble and lofty mind, fairest queen," he continued, boldly,

"cannot feel offended at a wish which unites the desire for a kingdom's

happiness with the most respectful attachment to womanly worth--a wish

which words fail me to express, but which springs from chivalrous

esteem for your beauty, prudence, and elevation of soul, and which has

received ardour and strength from those feelings that reduce the prince

to the man, while, in truth, they exalt the man to the prince."

"You speak prettily and politely, Duke Waldemar," replied the queen,

with much composure, "and seem to think that when the Queen of Denmark

is your captive, she cannot refuse her ear to a suit of love, nor buy

her freedom too dearly by presenting her conqueror with her hand and

heart?"

The duke started. "Mistake me not in this also, noble queen," he

resumed, with less ardour. "If I chose this moment for so important a

declaration, it was but to convince you, in the clearest manner, how

impossible it is that I should be your enemy. Your captivity here is

altogether a blunder of my people, and is at an end when you command.

Here you are equally queen and mistress as if surrounded by your own

soldiers. But," he added, boldly, as he perceived a proud smile on her

countenance, "you are too sagacious not to perceive, that, at this

moment, I hold in my hands your fate and that of Denmark. Far be it

from me to abuse this accidental advantage. But, if even no responsive

voice pleads for me in your heart, your keen political sagacity might

still counsel you not to despise such a proposal at so critical a

moment."

As he thus spoke, his air of pride and complacency betrayed a wooer who

intended to allow his prisoner not even the freedom of denial. To

soften, however, this stroke of policy, he suddenly changed his tone

and manner, for he felt the importance of bringing the heart of the

fair queen, or at least her vanity, to favour the considerations of

political prudence which he had suggested. He therefore again became

the chivalrous lover, and with much eloquence and apparent ardour broke

forth in admiration of her beauty and in flattering compliments to her

lofty mind.

"My life and happiness," he at last exclaimed, as he knelt before her,

"I place in your hands, most noble queen!"

Agnes remained silent, but bestowed a glance on her kneeling suitor

that seemed to pierce his soul; and a bitter answer hovered on her

lips, when the door was suddenly opened, and a knight of the duke's

retinue entered.

The duke arose, and, stamping furiously--"What means this?" he

cried--"who dares to--"

"Count Gerhard, stern sir," hastily replied the knight--"Count Gerhard

of Holstein has surrounded the castle with a superior force, and

threatens to storm and pull it down, if the Queen of Denmark is not

instantly set at liberty."

The duke seemed thunderstruck.

"You come right opportunely, sir knight," observed the queen, rising

with calm dignity. "Your illustrious master was in a posture for which

he needs not blush: he has acknowledged that a blunder of his soldiers

has made him appear a rebel, and guilty of lese-majesty, thus placing

his life and fate in my hands. You are witness, however, that I forgive

him an error in which he had no share. Your arm, Duke Waldemar: I

intend to travel within an hour; and the noble Count Gerhard expects me

with my train."

A loud noise outside the castle was now heard; and the duke, bowing

profoundly, gave the queen his arm without hesitating. The knight

preceded them, bearing two lights, and at the duke's signal his pages

hastened forward with torches. To Count Gerhard's surprise, therefore,

the queen was thus led forth with the greatest pomp and attention, and,

without opposition, confided to his protection.

A few hours afterwards, the queen sailed with a fair wind into Nyborg

Harbour, and Duke Waldemar, with the captive Drost Peter, departed in

the direction of Alsen.

* * *

While Drost Peter lay a close prisoner in Nordborg Castle, unable to

serve in any way his king and country, the measures of old Sir John,

Count Gerhard, the chancellor, and the trusty Rimaardson were

unceasingly directed to secure the royal house, and to strengthen the

minor's throne. The duke no longer found it advisable to assert his

authority as regent. The plan of the outlaws for subjecting Denmark to

the crown of Norway, and his own fear that he had too soon betrayed his

daring project, so completely embarrassed him, that he did not even

appear at the Danish court. Annoyed by the unsuccessful issue of his

attempt, as well as by the failure of his love-suit to the queen, which

he felt as a mortifying humiliation, he shortly after withdrew into

Saxony, and it soon became publicly known that he had suddenly espoused

Duke Johan's daughter, the pious Princess Sophia.

At the same time, an accidental occurrence averted the invasion with

which the country was threatened by the Norwegian fleet, which lay at

Ekeroe; the armament from which, as was reported, was to have been

conducted by the rude Jarl Mindre-Alf, and the favourite of the

Norwegian king, Halkell Augmund. The jarl, however, had quarrelled with

Halkell at the drinking-table, and killed him with a wine-stoup in the

presence of the king. This led to a sanguinary strife on board the

fleet, in which two hundred and sixty of the jarl's men were slain or

executed; he himself being outlawed, and forced to fly to Sweden.

The expedition against Denmark was therefore deferred; but the outlaws

incessantly ravaged the Danish coasts--burning Middelfert and Hindsholm

in Funen, and visiting nearly every seaport town in Denmark with blood

and rapine. The name of Marsk Stig became a terror to every Dane. Nor

did Rané Jonsen hold the least conspicuous place among the boldest

pirates who disturbed the country. His castle, Giordslöv, in Stevn's

Point, where he maintained a garrison, served as a place of refuge for

his rover-crew. To mislead his pursuers, he always, when on shore, rode

a horse whose shoes were reversed; and, to warn him of danger, was

constantly attended by a large, ferocious hound, which could easily

master the strongest soldier. Rané, as well as the marsk and the other

outlaws, was included in the ecclesiastical ban pronounced by the

Archbishop of Lund; but they appeared to despise excommunication as

much as they did the sentence of outlawry. Most of them had again fled

to Norway, where they endeavoured to incite the Norwegian king to a

decisive expedition against Denmark. The marsk, however, continued

boldly to occupy Hielm, whence he extended his forays to North Jutland

and the adjacent islands. The proud Count Jacob fortified Hunehal, in

North Halland, and, like the marsk, prepared to defend himself in the

country to the last.

The queen and privy council meanwhile had deferred the coronation only

until a severe winter rendered the Belt and Sound inaccessible to

enemies and pirates. On Christmas-day, 1287, the young King Erik

Menved, as he was already called,[38] was solemnly anointed and crowned

at Lund. This was the last important transaction in which the aged

Archbishop Johan Dros was engaged, as he died shortly afterwards, and

before his prayer for the security of the crown was fulfilled.

Not long after the coronation, a treaty of friendship was concluded

between King Erik and the powerful Swedish king, Magnus Ladislaus, and

the double alliance ratified which had previously been privately agreed

upon: the little Princess Mereté, who had been betrothed to Birger, the

crown-prince of Sweden, was conducted by Swedish ambassadors to that

court; and, about the middle of March, the betrothal of King Erik of

Denmark to the Swedish Princess Ingeborg was publicly declared. On this

occasion there were great festivities at Helsingborg, where the royal

betrothals were to be celebrated with a tournament.

The whole Danish and Swedish courts were present at these rejoicings,

where the youthful King Erik exhibited himself in all the pomp of

chivalry before his future queen, the beautiful Princess Ingeborg,

whose childlike beauty and graces none could sufficiently extol--the

bards of Denmark in their transport having already named her

Danebod--the hope of the Danes.

The tournament was conducted with great magnificence, and in the manner

of those of France and Germany. On the preceding day, the arms of the

different knights were displayed on the cross-walk of the Dominican

convent, where a stately herald announced the names of those to whom

they belonged. Here they were visited by Queen Agnes and Queen Hedwig

of Sweden, Count Gerhard's sister, with the princesses and noble ladies

at court, for the purpose of touching the shields of those whom they

judged to be unworthy knights, and who were by this means excluded from

the lists.

Two shields were thus touched, one of which belonged to the powerful

Swedish knight, Sir Carl Algotson, who, with the assistance of Jarl

Mindre-Alf, had abducted Sir Thorstenson's rich and distinguished

bride, Jomfru Ingrid. The Danish queen, who had heard of the affair,

and of the brave Thorstenson's loss, had touched the shield, which was

immediately removed by the herald, and an order issued by the Swedish

king that the matter should be strictly investigated.[39]

The second shield, which had been touched by a noble lady as an

impeachment of its owner, belonged to a Danish knight--John Rimaardson,

another brother of the trusty Bent Rimaardson. Although related to

Queen Agnes, he was instantly excluded from the tourney; and, being

threatened with the vengeance of the law, as a ravisher and murderer,

he was forced to seek safety in flight.[40]

At the tournament itself, everything was conducted with the greatest

pomp and ceremonial. The Queen of Beauty, the fair-haired Princess

Ingeborg, sat, full of childish joy, between Queen Agnes and her

mother, the gay, good-natured Queen Hedwig, who strongly resembled her

brother, the valiant Count Gerhard. On the right of the Swedish queen

sat the mighty King Magnus Ladislaus, a tall and spare but majestic

figure, with a stern and warlike air, and wearing a golden crown and a

mantle of purple and ermine.

Many there were, among the ladies of Princess Ingeborg, who attracted

looks of homage and tenderness from both Danish and Swedish knights;

but the tall silent maiden who sat nearest the royal personages,

excited the greatest attention. This was Jomfru Ingé Little, who

observed not the interest she awoke, but, with melancholy countenance,

gazed upon the gay lists, where, as her eye ran over the line of

knights, she missed the noble figure of Drost Peter. She had heard of

his imprisonment, and entertained but little hope of his release from

Nordborg, so long as the variance existed between the duke and the

royal house of Denmark. Another still heavier sorrow oppressed the

brave maiden: she knew that her unhappy father lay in Kallundborg

Castle, awaiting his sentence as a dangerous state-criminal. At times,

nevertheless, a light spread over her melancholy features, as she

looked upon the Princess Ingeborg and the young chivalrous king: she

appeared then to forget her own heart's sorrow in the fair hopes of her

fatherland; and again the sounds of the song, "For Erik the king so

young!" echoed in her bosom.

Nearest the barrier, and as judges, sat the oldest of the Danish and

Swedish knights, chief among whom appeared old Sir John. Within the

arena were seen a stately king-at-arms, and numerous heralds bearing

white staves and feathered hats in their hands, whose duty it was to

preserve order, and, together with their subalterns, the pursuivants,

closely to attend to every thrust and motion of the antagonists.

The tourney was opened with a joust on horseback, with blunt lances,

between the Danish King Erik and the little Prince Berger, who carried

light armour suitable to their years and strength. The Danish king wore

the sky-blue colour of Princess Ingeborg, and displayed her little

glove fastened to his helmet. Prince Berger also wore the colour of his

bride, and his armour was white as Princess Mereté's silken kirtle.

They both showed themselves active and dexterous; but reciprocal

courtesy forbade that either should be regarded as the vanquisher.

The jousts were accompanied with song and music, numerous Swedish and

Danish skalds[41] being present to celebrate the exploits of their

respective knights, nearly all of whom wore gloves, veils, pearl-bands,

or some other female ornament in their helmets; while, during the

battle, they would often shout their peculiar watchwords, which their

own ladies only understood. Many lances were broken in the fray, and

many knights unhorsed; but as they fought with blunt weapons, no

dangerous or serious blow was received. It seemed, indeed, that the

Danish and Swedish knights, at this joyful festivity, only sought to

outvie each other in gentle bearing and knightly courtesies.

But the most distinguished on this occasion was Count Gerhard of

Holstein, who good-naturedly unhorsed six knights without himself being

shaken. With the black veil of the fair Queen Agnes, he felt himself

invincible; whilst his watchword was the burthen of a song he had heard

at Sir John's on the evening he first spoke with the queen. One word in

it only he changed every time he thrust a knight from his saddle

shouting delightedly:--

"For so chaste a dame I dree."

All competitors having withdrawn, he was declared victor in the

tournament; and springing gaily from his saddle, he received, kneeling,

the prize from the hands of the fair Queen Agnes.

The tilting appeared to be ended, when a strange knight, in bright gilt

harness, with a crown upon his locked helmet, and mounted on a snorting

war-steed, presented himself at the barrier. He flung his steel

gauntlet at Count Gerhard's feet, and, without uttering a word, tore,

with the sharp end of his lance, the black veil fastened to the count's

breastplate.

Queen Agues became pale; for by this action he attacked the honour of

the lady whose gage he had thus outrageously insulted. All eyes were

instantly turned with surprise and amazement on the strange knight.

"'Tis the duke--Duke Waldemar!" whispered one to another; although none

was sure that this surmise was well grounded.

Count Gerhard, burning with fury, sprang upon his charger, and resumed

his place in the lists, having first taken up the stranger's gauntlet,

to intimate that he accepted the challenge without farther explanation.

The heralds then opened the barrier, and admitted the strange knight,

who advanced, proudly man[oe]uvring his steed, and brandishing a sharp

lance. Count Gerhard, too, armed himself with a similar deadly weapon,

when the judges reminded them that the present was a festive

tournament, where no serious fighting was permitted. But the

exasperated count having demanded that the combat should be as serious

as the insult, the objection was urged no further.

Like thunderbolts the knights rushed against each other, and in the

shock Count Gerhard's lance was splintered against the gilded

breastplate of his antagonist, from whose weapon he received a violent

blow on the chest, but remained immoveable in his saddle.

The strange knight, who had been lifted slightly from his saddle by the

violence of the shock, laughed scornfully behind his visor. He cast

away his lance, and, following the example of the count, drew his

sword. The blades met, and in the fierce combat that ensued, both

exhibited great skill and courage. By one blow, Count Gerhard had

struck the crown off the gilded helmet of his antagonist, who, however,

lost no advantage offered by the unbridled ardour of the count; while

the varying fortunes of either combatant were watched by all with the

most intense interest.

"For the honour of my exalted lady!" shouted Count Gerhard, aiming what

he intended as a finishing stroke, but by which he exposed himself to

his antagonist; who, avoiding the blow, had raised his sword against

the count's unprotected head, when suddenly he became motionless,

gazing rigidly the while towards the barrier.

At the same instant a powerful voice cried out: "An infamous knight

fights here!"

All looked in astonishment towards the spot whence the voice proceeded,

where stood a tall and elegant knight, in steel-blue mail, with closed

visor, and displaying a magnificent dagger in his outstretched hand.

"Knowest thou this witness, traitor?" he continued, in the same mighty

voice, while in his hand he turned the dagger, on the hilt of which the

golden lions gleamed in the bright sunshine.

"That dagger was drawn from the corse of King Erik Christopherson, on

St. Cecilia's night," cried a loud voice among the people.

"That dagger armourer Troels of Melfert sold to Duke Waldemar," shouted

another: "I can swear to it."

"It is the marsk's dagger--Marsk Stig's dagger!" cried a third.

The battle had ceased; for the knight in the gilded mail sat as if

petrified, staring through the grating of his helmet at the blue knight

and the dagger. The sword fell from his hand, and he was becoming faint

and giddy, when, at a signal from the young Erik, the king-at-arms

advanced and cried aloud--"No one shall interrupt the combatants by

word or gesture, under the penalty of death!"

At this announcement the blue knight bowed respectfully, and placed the

dagger in his bosom, but remained calmly gazing at Count Gerhard's

antagonist.

"Hand him his weapon again!" cried the count to a pursuivant: "I know

that I fight with a false and dishonoured knight; but one of us must

here lose his life."

Whilst the pursuivant stooped to take up the sword, the golden knight

suddenly gave the spur to his steed, and cleared the barrier at a

bound. Every eye followed him with amazement, and a deathlike stillness

prevailed until he was no longer visible; and when they then turned to

look for the blue knight, he too had disappeared.

Count Gerhard therefore remained alone in the lists, and was declared

victor in this conflict of honour; while the unusual occurrence

caused many and various surmises among the spectators. The tournament

was then declared to be ended, and the royal party returned to the

palace, where, as old Sir John passed Lady Ingé, he whispered to her

softly--"Drost Peter!"

She nodded in silence, while a deep crimson overspread her lovely

cheeks. She had indeed perceived a rose-red pearl-band on the breast of

the blue blight, and fancied she recognised in it her own fillet; but

by what means her captive knight could have been present there was to

her inexplicable.

* * *

Scarcely was the tournament at Helsingborg concluded, before an

important message summoned the youthful Danish king, with all his

knights, to Zealand. A Norwegian fleet had been seen in the Cattegat,

and a landing was apprehended at Elsineur, where the fortress of

Flynderborg, surrendered by the treachery of Sir Lavé Little, still

remained in the hands of the rebels.

When Sir John took leave of the faithful Ingé, she whispered a few

words to him, and placed in his hand a little parchment scroll, on

which had been hastily sketched a building, and apparently an entrance

to it, denoted by small crosses. He seemed astonished, but listened

with attention to what she said. She repeated a few words, and pointed

to the scroll, which he then, with a sign of well-pleased assent,

carefully put up, and, imprinting a kiss on her forehead, hastened on

board with the royal family.

They landed unmolested on the coast of Zealand, in the neighbourhood of

Elsineur, whence Count Gerhard immediately conducted the queen and

Junker Christopherson to Rypen House, which, in these unsettled times,

was considered the most secure abode for the royal family. The young

king, who could not be induced to accompany them, set out with

Rimaardson for Tornborg, by Korsöer, for the purpose of inspecting that

important fortress, and to hasten in person the equipment of the fleet;

while Sir John prepared to defend North Zealand against any hostile

attack.

The king ordered the cruizers lying at Korsöer to be manned, and

stationed opposite the coast of North Jutland, ready to act in unison

with Sir John. To all the operations connected with these movements the

young monarch paid close attention, and found time also to examine the

defences of the castle, which in many points he condemned as

inefficient. Rimaardson, in acknowledging the correctness of his

opinions, could not restrain admiration of his early knowledge of

fortification, which he had acquired from Drost Peter.

Four days after the king's arrival at Tornborg, he was on the ramparts

early in the morning, attended by Rimaardson, and a knight who had

brought important tidings from Elsineur. The Norwegians, he informed

the king, had effected a landing at Orekrog, and burnt the town to

ashes; but the burghers had received succour from Sir John. Through a

subterranean passage, to which he had led the way, they penetrated into

Flynderborg, with the old knight at their head, and, overpowering the

garrison, had from this strong point repulsed the enemy. The knight

narrated circumstantially the whole occurrences, and informed the king

that they had sought in vain for the letters from the outlaws, which

Sir Lavé Little was accused of having received before the murder of the

king.

"By all holy men, this pleases me well!" exclaimed young Erik. "The

faithful Sir John has not wasted a word for his cousin's life; but now

he has wiped out a portion of his crime. Let the chancellor announce to

the prisoner at Kallundborg, that his doom is again deferred for a

year, and this because his trusty cousin has retaken Flynderborg, and

the proofs of his worst treachery have not been discovered."

Rimaardson eyed the king with a melancholy look. "Would to God and Our

Lady," he exclaimed, "that every trusty knight you possess could so

atone for the errors of his relations! There is now scarcely an honest

man in the country some one of whose kindred is not in tower or on

gibbet--and the end is not yet come."

The sorrowful knight was thinking of his brother Lavé's fate, and of

his brother John, who then stood impeached with crimes affecting his

life.

"The law is supreme over every man," observed the youthful monarch,

with a sigh: "it was not by my own will that I became king so soon;

yet, Heaven be praised, I have still many loyal and valiant men. Would

only that Drost Peter were with me again!"

The king then returned to the castle, attended by the strange knight

from Elsineur, and Rimaardson proceeded to examine the defences. Whilst

thus engaged, he observed a short stout figure in the black mantle of a

mass-boy, and a high cap drawn over his brows, waddling along the

ramparts with a prayer-book in his hand, seemingly engaged in his

morning devotions. The rolling boatman's gait of this individual struck

the commandant, who observed him more narrowly, when, discovering

traces of a badly-shorn beard, he recognised, to his astonishment, the

rude Jarl Mindre-Alf.

"Good morning, my son," he exclaimed, approaching him. "Whither away so

early?"

"To fetch wine for the priest, that he may pray for your soul,"

muttered the clumsy-looking mass-boy, in a deep gruff voice.

"Tarry a little," said Rimaardson, while he beckoned a couple of

landsknechts to approach. "Methinks I should know thee. Did not we two

once sit on the same bench in Lyse school-house? and didst thou not in

those times play the tyrant over us all? Methinks thou shouldst be a

count and jarl; and art thou only a poor mass-boy?" So saying, he

raised the jarl's cap, and looked him full in the face.

"Betray me not, Bendix Rimaardson, for old acquaintance' sake,"

whispered the detected algrev. "We are relations, and I behaved to thee

at school like a brother. I am now done with countship and jarldom. I

am an outlawed man, and fain to seek protection with the pious. Be a

good fellow, Bent. Pretend thou dost not know me, and let me run."

"Bind him, lads!" cried Rimaardson to the landsknechts: "he is a riever

and an incendiary!"

The sturdy viking-chief threw aside his prayer-book and mass-boy's

mantle, and stood in his knight's dress, prepared apparently to defend

himself with desperation. The landsknechts, however, succeeded in

disarming him, when he was instantly chained and fettered, and

conducted forthwith, under a strong guard, to the criminal prison of

Haraldsborg, having attempted in vain to bribe Rimaardson for his

freedom.

The latter cared not to disturb the king with a report of this

discovery, which might perhaps draw upon himself a reprimand for having

allowed so dangerous a foe to find his way into the fortress. He

considered, besides, that the castle was quite secure, and did

not waste a thought on the insolent and sardonic laughter of the

pirate-chief while he was dragged to prison. Rimaardson, amidst his

pressing cares, had not observed that, on the previous night, a

freebooter had run in close to Tornborg under Danish colours. Not only

had the daring Jarl Mindre-Alf landed unnoticed, bat Marsk Stig

himself, with a crew of bold pirates, had privately come on shore; and

on the evening of that day, Mat Jute, disguised as one of the king's

landsknechts, stood as sentinel outside the door of the royal

apartment. The watch was set, and, in the confidence of security, the

garrison retired to rest.

In the middle of the night the young king was awoke by a fearful noise.

The whole castle was in flames around him, and the terrible cry--"The

marsk! the marsk! the outlaws!" was shouted in every direction by the

surprised and bewildered soldiers. Screams and the din of arms

resounded from all quarters, while the youthful Erik stood alone, half

dressed, in his chamber, which was already enveloped in smoke and

flame.

"Merciful Heaven! must I now be burnt alive by my father's murderers!"

he exclaimed, whilst he hurriedly threw his cloak around him, grasped

his little sword, and prepared to rush through the flames.

He now distinguished the voice of his faithful Aagé Jonsen, mingled

with the clash of weapons, outside his apartment; but the fire at that

moment burst furiously forth, and the smoke so blinded him that it was

with difficulty he could find the door. Suddenly he felt himself seized

by a powerful mailed hand, and at the same instant he became

unconscious. When he recovered, he found himself in a little open boat,

speeding through cloud and storm with the rapidity of an arrow.

"Where am I?" he cried. "Am I among my father's murderers?"

"You are with faithful friends and subjects," replied a familiar voice

by his side; while, through the darkness, he caught a glimpse of a

knightly figure in full armour.

"Drost Peter! By all holy men, is it you?" he asked joyfully.

"Who I am I dare not say," replied the other; in whom the king now

thought he recognised the blue knight of the tournament.

"A pledge of honour binds my tongue," continued the knight, "and I must

hide my face from my king and the whole world. I shall convey you

safely to Rypen House, but I must myself withdraw to a place of

darkness. I entreat you, sir king, believe what you will, but tempt me

not to break my knightly promise."

"Be silent, then, in God's name!" exclaimed the monarch, as he pressed

the mailed hand of his companion. "Thou art assuredly Drost Peter.

Thinkest thou I know not thy voice? Thou hast saved my life to-night;

and if thou still remainest in the power of the duke, I shall set thee

free, cost what it may."

"Proceed not violently against the duke," replied the knight, with a

deep sigh: "his prisoner's life is in his hands."

The young king remained silent, while the skiff sped on, and quickly

disappeared beyond Sporgoe, where the new tower of Marsk Stig stood

gloomy and frowning in the night.

In a few days the news became generally known that the famous Jarl

Mindre-Alf had been made prisoner; that Marsk Stig had captured and

destroyed the castle of Tornborg, in defence of which the faithful Sir

Rimaardson had been slain; and that the young Erik, mysteriously saved,

was then in security at Rypen House.

The first important act of the king, after his arrival there, was his

nomination of the bold commandant of the castle, Sir David Thorstenson,

to fill the office of drost, so long as Drost Peter was in the duke's

power. And it was soon known that, in accordance with the new drost's

advice, the queen had subscribed the death-warrant of Jarl Mindre-Alf.

The duke was reported to be lying sick in Sleswick, to the great grief

of his young wife. His mind, it was said, was affected, and the rumours

of his connection with the world of spirits were again revived. Some

time previously he had disappeared for a few days, and, on his return,

after having visited his important prisoner, Drost Peter Hessel, at

Nordborg, whom he found secure in his chains, he was seized by this

singular malady, in the paroxysms of which he asserted that he had,

with his bodily eyes, seen the accusing angel, and that his prisoner in

Nordborg was in league with devils and mighty spirits against him.

* * *

The Norwegians and the outlaws long continued to disturb the repose of

Denmark; and although the Norse king nowhere succeeded in effecting a

landing, yet, in the then distracted condition of the kingdom, he was

no contemptible foe. He had committed ravages at Amager and Hveen; made

a descent on Aalborg, which, however, proved unsuccessful; and had not

spared even the towns belonging to Duke Waldemar. The council seriously

thought of entering into a treaty with him; but the negociation

appeared beset with difficulties, as he had promised the outlaws, in a

letter of protection, that he would never conclude peace with Denmark

without the consent of the marsk.

One calm autumn evening, the vaadesang rose mournfully from the crypt

under King Erik Christopherson's tomb, in Viborg Cathedral. When the

wind blew from the cathedral across the lake, the deep tones of the

vigil, which was thus to be chanted night after night until doomsday,

for the soul of the murdered king, could, at times, be heard at the

ferry-house on the opposite side. The road to the convent of Asmild lay

near the ferry-house, where, upon an upturned boat, sat a tall, aged

pilgrim, his head bent upon his breast in deep thought. By his side

stood a young girl, also in a pilgrim's habit, and holding by the hand

a gay-looking dark-haired youth, equipped as a squire, in a buff jerkin

and steel cap, and bearing, besides the usual arms, a long, gilt,

flame-shaped sword, apparently intended more for ornament than use.

"Shall we proceed to the convent and knock for admittance, father

Henner?" asked the youth. "Neither thou nor Aasé can go farther

to-night."

"Tarry here, Skirmen," replied the old man. "Here we can rest well; for

many a night have we watched under God's open sky since last we met.

Until I have seen the arrogant marsk, and have delivered him the

warning that I have been entrusted with, my penance is not ended. Until

I have done this, no roof shall cover my head. So have I sworn."

"But, dear father Henner," exclaimed Skirmen, "what, then, dost thou

here at Viborg? If the marsk be not in either of his strongholds on

Hielm or Spraa, he must he out on some marauding expedition against the

king's towns and castles. At Stege he was frustrated," he continued, as

the old man remained silent; "but Skielskioer and the fortress on

Samsoe have experienced the fate of Tornborg. Ah, Heaven help us!" he

added, dejectedly, crushing a reed he held in his hand--"since the

powerful Ladislaus as dead and gone, there is not a king in the world

of whom the marsk is afraid, and, least of all, of our young King

Erik."

"There is one King, my son, that neither the marsk nor any man may defy

with impunity; and if He is with the young king, the power of the marsk

is not greater than the reed you have crushed." As he uttered these

words, the old man pointed solemnly towards the sky. "I may soon

encounter him," he continued, after a thoughtful pause: "he may be

nearer us than thou seemest to imagine. He is not on Hielm, but on his

way to Halland, with his good friend the new archbishop. They were to

meet in Viborg, or in Asmild convent; where, perhaps, at this very

moment, they are plotting the ruin of the country."

"Methinks thou knowest everything, father Henner!" exclaimed Skirmen,

in astonishment. "But what brings the marsk to Halland? Does he carry

succour to Count Jacob at Hunehal?"

"Canst guess no better than that, Skirmen? thou, who hast had a

statesman for thy master! No. The council desire to conclude a treaty

with the Norse king at Varberg; but it cannot be done without the

marsk's consent; and the fate of two, perhaps of three kingdoms, is now

in the hands of that incendiary. It is high time he had a message from

the King of kings."

The old man again relapsed into deep thought; whilst Aasé and Skirmen

exchanged some tender words, without disturbing him.

"It is odd, however, that we should have met, Skirmen," resumed old

Henner, as he looked affectionately at the youthful pair. "Aasé and

thou remain good friends, I perceive. But thou canst not greatly boast

of fortune, Skirmen. Gold spurs grow not on trees; and a knight thou

must be, before thou hast her. Yet, courage, my son! If St. George help

thee not, perhaps St. Christian will. Thou hast my pilgrim-sword, with

which thou shalt succeed: the holy Michael has borne it for a century

on a church-steeple. It belongs more to a dancing-slipper than a pair

of red shoes; but if the cat would catch fish, she must wet her paws.

What hast thou been about at Harrestrup, whilst thy master is lying in

chains at Nordborg?"

"Alas! dear father Henner," replied Skirmen, "there is no excuse so

poor that people will not fly to it in their extremity. My master's

trusty old nurse, who lies sick at Harrestrup, sent me word that she

had something important to confide to me, and--"

"Hum! there is but little to be learned from an old woman's gabble,"

muttered old Henner.

"Well, but what said she to thee?" inquired Aasé, curiously. "It is

plain that the old nurse made thee feel ashamed of thyself, since thou

wilt not out with it. She has certainly cared better for thy master,

than thou--"

"Upbraid me not, dearest Aasé!" replied Skirmen, dejectedly. "On the

unhappy day that my master was taken prisoner at Skielskioer, he had

sent me on a message to Rypen House; and, ever since, I have thought of

little else besides the means of setting him free. Three times have I

been on Alsen; but the infernal prison-tower is strongly guarded night

and day. Twice I was caught, and should certainly have been hanged, had

I not contrived to escape."

"Thou dear, trusty Skirmen!" exclaimed Aasé, throwing her arms around

him. "That would have been a vile death for a squire who has been so

long in a fair way of becoming a knight," she added, waggishly. "Yet be

not angry, Skirmen. I like thee all the better for this; and, indeed,

thy exploits are quite enchanting. But what said the old nurse?"

"Alas! she is in her dotage, poor creature, and her mind is filled with

whims and extravagances. She would have me believe that she had lain

for eight days in my master's prison, instead of him. On Alsen, she

said, they took her for a witch, and the guard would not deny her

access to the prison, which my master left, disguised in her clothes;

having first sworn a solemn oath that he would return and release her

within eight days, and that during that time he would not show his face

nor discover himself to any one. The carlin must have been in a dream.

It could not possibly be as she says."

"Wherefore not, son?" asked old Henner, who had listened attentively:

"it could easily be done. It is, at least, characteristic of thy true

and chivalrous master, for the good woman I know not. Yet what purpose

could it answer, since the faithful drost had to return, and, like a

wizard, again creep into his prison-hole?"

"I know not: that is the most incredible part of the story, and makes

me disbelieve it all. Besides, I know that Dorothy could not have

remained quiet for eight days, nor help betraying herself by song and

chatter. Yet it is surprising how much she knows concerning the prison.

She described the exterior exactly as I had seen it myself; and,

moreover, she gave me this key, swearing deeply and solemnly that it

would open the innermost prison-doors."

"Ah, then, Skirmen, if thou doubtest longer, thou art an incredulous

fool!" cried Aasé, joyfully. "If thou believest not that we women-folks

can be silent to serve a good friend, thou little knowest us; and, if I

mistake not, thy master could effect more in eight days, than many

others could in a year. But, at any rate, he had one dear object to

visit. Give me the key. I, too, can play the witch; and, since the good

people on Alsen have so much respect for the weird sisterhood, we can

easily hit on an expedient. We have been to St. Peter's prison, in

Rome, thou must know, and have there received absolution of all our

sins, and a dispensation from going to the holy sepulchre. I have not

sinned greatly since, I believe; and if now our dear Holy Lady or St.

Christian will make use of me to open a prison, they may well do so,

though I am not altogether an angel--"

"Be silent, children, and conceal yourselves," suddenly exclaimed old

Henner. "I hear horsemen on the road from the convent. It may be the

marsk."

Aasé and Skirmen quickly obeyed, and retired to the thicket near the

lake, where many a tender word was ex-changed between them.

A troop of well-armed horsemen now appeared, approaching the

ferry-house from Asmild convent, having two tall personages at their

head. One of these, who sat with a proud air on his quiet palfrey, was

the haughty Master Jens Grand, who, after the death of the aged Johan

Dros, had been, much against the wish of the king, chosen Archbishop of

Lund. His mail-clad companion, who was stately and warlike, and mounted

on a champing war-steed, was no other than the famous Marsk Stig

himself. They halted on the road, while the attendant horsemen

descended to the lake to water their horses.

"As I observed, sir marsk," said the prelate, "they must restore you

your rank and estates if you will but allow the boy for the present to

retain his throne. He is still preferable to your powerful King

Priesthater."

"Out upon it, your reverence!" exclaimed the marsk: "you are afraid of

the name priesthater, although it is one he does not deserve. He is the

ablest monarch that ever sat on the throne of Norway, and possesses

indeed the lofty soul of a king. When before, without showing fear or

tyranny, has any northern king endured by his side a powerful brother,

such as is Duke Hakon? Under such a king, Denmark and Norway will

become unrivalled for power and greatness. Let me but wield the

general's staff for ten years, while you bear the crook, and the world

shall see that the ancient race of Skjalm Hvide have not degenerated

since the days of Absalom. In Sweden, too, there is now a boy-king on

the throne, but he will never become a man. What say you to an earthly

trinity, most reverend father?"

"You will bend the bow until it breaks," replied the archbishop. "You

forget that you are beyond the pale of the law, and that your large

estates are in the possession of the crown."

"My will and this good sword is now my law," replied the marsk; "and as

to estates, my friends and I have ample while all Denmark is in our

hands."

"Still you must remember that you are an outlaw," observed the

archbishop, emphatically, "and that you are also under the ban. If,

then, I obtain you release from the latter, you must not set the

priesthater as king over me and Denmark. I would rather you mounted the

throne yourself--a step almost as easy of accomplishment."

"Mean you to tempt me, Grand?" observed his companion, with a smile.

"Were Marsk Stig to sit on the throne of Denmark, Master Grand might

occupy St. Peter's chair, and keep his royal kinsman in awe."

"No need of that, sir marsk," rejoined the imperious archbishop. "You

despise not Holy Church and her chiefs, as does the proud Norseman, and

you would be too prudent to deny the first prelate of the north that

obedience and reverence he could extort. I meant not to tempt you; and,

whilst I know and respect your self-control and magnanimity, you cannot

be ignorant that it is my prerogative, not your's, to place the crown

upon the head of him who is to wear it. Hear me, Marsk Stig!" he

continued, proudly: "that I am your friend, you have had sufficient

proof. I am now, after the king, the greatest man in Denmark. Acquitted

of every part I took in your affair, I have even been admitted to his

confidence, and am commissioned to negotiate a peace with Norway. In

zealously attempting to effect this, I am labouring, not for the king's

sake, but for that of the Church and kingdom. I know well, that, with a

single word, you can annihilate the treaty. But be advised by me, Marsk

Stig, and do not so. Demand what you will, and rely upon me; but

remember that I it is who shall hereafter crown Denmark's kings, and I

need not the authority of St. Peter's chair to bind or loose the

monarch's soul, any more than those of his knights."

The marsk gazed for some moments with astonishment at the bold prelate.

"You possess great power, it is true," he at length said; "but I

believed, of a surety, that the son of Erik Glipping had no greater

enemy in Denmark than yourself. After his death you persecuted his

adherents, and caused even their corpses to be dug up from your

churchyard, and thrown like dogs into a dung-pit. How is it, then, that

you now cling so zealously to the boy-rule?"

"The boy is now anointed and crowned."

"Were he a thousand times anointed, 'tis the same. I have sworn his

downfall, and he or I must perish! Upon you I trusted, Grand; but I now

see that the Archbishop of Lund thinks not as did the Dean of Roskild.

It is strange that changing his seat should so alter a man. But the

highest elevated are the soonest giddy. Have you forgotten, reverend

sir, in the archbishop's chair, what you swore to me in the dean's?"

"That I have not, most valiant marsk," replied the prelate; "but you

have forgotten what we both promised to Duke Waldemar. He deserves

truer friends than those who agreed to bestow the crown of Denmark upon

the priesthater. That I do not support the boy's crown for the boy's

sake, I have shown; but I was not in your councils when you broke

promise to the duke."

"Ah! is it thus, your reverence? Now, for the first time, do I

comprehend you. I had forgotten that you were confessor to the duke.

But had you desired that I, or any honest man, should depend on that

wily gentleman, you had trained up your shriveling otherwise than

you did. As he was so base and faithless as to subscribe my sentence

of outlawry, he would certainly not have hesitated to sign my

death-warrant."

"Him you have to thank that you escaped so easily," replied Grand. "The

duke acted as your most discreet friend, when he subscribed that

sentence which, as regent, he has still the power to remit; and, if you

will assist us in effecting this treaty with Norway, you shall no

longer remain an outlaw. The time may come, too, when you shall sue for

the saving blessing of the Church, and tremble at its ban. Despise not,

valiant marsk, the lightning of its curse, which, ere now, has melted

crowns and overthrown heroes stronger than you."

"A truce with your lightnings and your bans!" indignantly replied the

marsk, as he erected himself proudly, and rode on. "You see, in me,

that a brave man can thrive and be strong, despite your thunders of

excommunication, launched against him from Lund Cathedral. Spiritual

weapons avail not with Marsk Stig, nor shall they turn him a

hair's-breadth from his course."

At that moment the vaadesang, from the tomb of the murdered king,

sounded clearly across the calm lake.

The marsk paused. "What was that?" he asked.

"It was the blood of thy murdered king, crying aloud to Heaven for

vengeance!" replied a hollow voice beside him, while the tall

pilgrim-form of Henner Friser rose from the side of the boat, where he

had been sitting, and, in the moonshine, stood menacingly before him.

The life-stream became cold in the warrior's veins while he gazed on

the pilgrim as on some horrid spectre, and the mournful tones of the

vaadesang were again wafted over the lake.

"Listen--listen!" exclaimed the pilgrim: "thus shall that song complain

and mourn, till, at the last day, King Erik and his murderers stand

before God's judgment-seat."

"Fiend! who art thou?" cried the marsk, unsheathing his sword.

"A king-killer--as thou art!" was the reply: "but I have atoned for my

sin; and to thee I bring this last warning--Despise not the ban!

despise not Heaven's weapons, Marsk Stig! Man's strength is but a reed;

but the Lord's hand is mighty, and vengeance is his. Repent thee, Stig

Andersen, or thine hour is near. 'Twas thus the holy father bade me

warn thee: wash the king's blood from thine hands, and do penance; or

set thine house in order, and prepare for death and perdition. Thy soul

is weighed and found wanting--thy day of grace is but short."

"Henner! is it thee?" cried the marsk, as he brandished his sword. "But

beware! thy crazy grayhead shall not always protect thee."

"Listen--listen!" calmly resumed the pilgrim, who shrunk not at the

threat, whilst a gentle breeze again bore the vigil-tones over the

lake, and the mournful chorus swelled louder and louder, vibrating

overhead in the calm night. "Listen!" he exclaimed: "the tones from the

grave ascend to heaven: they plead for the soul of the king, hurried

away in the midst of his sins; but woe and eternal perdition they sound

to those of his murderers!"

"Peace, accursed one!" exclaimed the enraged marsk, and his sword

flashed in the direction of Henner's head; but at the same instant it

was struck violently from his hand, while a sword of flame, as it were,

gleamed before him in the air. Seized with terror, he spurred his steed

forward, and galloped away, followed by the ecclesiastic, who, pale and

frightened, continued to cross himself, as he disappeared along the

dark road.

Shortly after the marsk's troop of horsemen rode past the pilgrim, who,

leading Aasé by the hand, strode leisurely along the highway, whilst

Skirmen still remained silently and gravely by the boat, leaning upon

the long flame-shaped sword.

* * *

Four weeks had elapsed since the night on which the inflexible marsk

encountered Henner Friser by Viborg Lake, and heard the tones of the

vigils ascend from the tomb of the murdered king. It was evening, and

the last golden rays of the sun rested on the turrets of Hielm Castle,

when the stern marsk, accompanied by his troopers, rode across the

little island in the direction of his stronghold. He had been attending

the meeting between the Danish and Norwegian kings at Varberg, at which

his unyielding pride and imperious demands had entirely frustrated the

conclusion of the treaty; and although he now returned to Hielm with

the proud consciousness of his formidable power and influence, his

haughty features were pale, and his lofty figure seemed to rock in the

saddle.

In presence of Archbishop Grand, he had concealed the strong impression

made upon him by the occurrence which we have related, and, indeed,

laughed at himself and the whole adventure, which he characterised as a

mere accident, or a piece of trickery, got up by the half-crazed

Henner. But during his homeward journey, when no longer sustained by

the archbishop's presence, he had not spoken a word; nor could he shake

off the conviction that the sword had been shivered in his hand by

lightning. He still imagined that, while the vaadesang from the royal

tomb rang in his ears, he had heard death and perdition announced to

him by a spectre, and that a mighty cherub-sword had struck him with

its lightning, while the accusing chorus swelled to heaven over his

guilty head. With heavy soul he rode through the dark gate of Hielm

Castle, and, dismounting from his steed, entered the arched hall of the

keep, where sat his daughters.

The quiet Margarethé advanced affectionately to meet him, and proceeded

to unbuckle his armour; while the impatient little Ulrica overwhelmed

him with inquisitive questions, as to where he had been, and whether he

had brought home booty and jewels.

"Hast thou not gold and jewels enough to fill thy young raven's maw?"

asked the gloomy warrior, without looking at the child. "I have brought

thee more than ever king's daughter in Denmark possessed. But the time

may come," he added, in an under tone, "when thou must be contented

with less. Go to the chamberlain, Rikké," he continued, in a sterner

tone: "he will open the treasure-closet, and give thee the rosary on

which King Erik Christopherson told his last prayer. Keep that as thy

patrimony."

"Thanks, father--thanks!" exclaimed the innocent, rosy-cheeked child.

"But, why dost thou always seem so angry when thou art kind to me? I

may, then, now take the handsome string of pearls and diamonds to deck

myself? Thanks, father--thanks!" she again cried, as she skipped away,

clapping her hands with delight.

"And thou, my pious Margarethé," continued the marsk to his

eldest daughter, as with emotion he gazed on her pale and quiet

features--"thou carest not for my treasures; therefore to thee I give

my blessing--if haply it carry not with it the weight of a curse!" he

added, mentally, while he laid his hand upon her head. "Go, my child,"

he said, aloud, as he felt himself becoming giddy--"go, and send hither

the chaplain."

"Art thou sick, dear father?" inquired the daughter, with deep concern:

"thy hand is cold, and thou art quite pale."