THE LEGEND OF THE SACRED "DANNEBROG"
"IT'S a letter from Uncle Oscar, mother! I just know it is!" cried
Valdemar, as Fru Ingemann opened and commenced reading aloud the only
letter found awaiting them the next day, upon their arrival in the
ancient town of Aarhus.
"And best of all," concluded the letter, "I have a great surprise in
store for you all when you reach the Park next week. Karl will be
especially delighted."
"Oh, Aunt Else, what can it be? How I wish I knew what father means!"
exclaimed Karl, dancing about the room in anticipation of so soon
seeing his father again.
"Let us make plans quickly," said Fru Ingemann. "I am wondering how we
shall ever crowd into one short week all the fine trips and excursions
we shall want to take before we leave here, for Fru Petersen tells
me that the surrounding country is far more interesting than Aarhus
itself."
"Yes, mother, the Riis Skov and the Marselisborg Skov, on the outskirts
of Aarhus, are at their very best now for picnicking," added Valdemar,
who always loved the woods. "A farmer passed us on our wheels this
morning, and told us so."
"And he said we should not fail to visit the beautiful chains of lakes
and fir-forests around Silkeborg," put in Karl. "He told us that
Silkeborg was once just a manor, the property of the bishops of Aarhus;
and that it came to be built in such a funny way. He said that one of
the bishops was so charmed with the scenery in that part of the country
that he took a vow that he would build a house wherever his silk cap,
which a gust of wind had blown away, should remain. And so the strange
name came about. Isn't that a funny story, Karen? Can't we go over to
Silkeborg right now, Aunt Else?"
"Oh, not to-day, Karl, for it's much too late. Besides, the sky looks
threatening. I thought I heard something like low, distant thunder
just a moment ago. But to-morrow we can take an all-day trip over to
Mt. Himmelbjaerg and back, if we're all up bright and early in the
morning," said Fru Ingemann.
They were stopping with the Petersen family, in a little red-roofed,
many-gabled house on a quiet side street in Aarhus. Karen and her
mother had taken a short walk through the residential portion of the
old town and back, and the two boys had been out on their wheels most
of the day, eagerly exploring every nook and cranny of the healthy
little trading city on the Kattegat, which was a town of standing in
the far-off days when Copenhagen was but a mere little fishing village.
They had ridden past the Public Library, the artistic Custom-house,
pretty little theatre, the interesting Art Gallery, with its fine
collections by Danish artists, the grim old red-brick Gothic Cathedral,
with its gables, narrow pointed windows and massive tower, and finally
down to the busy harbor of Jutland's thriving capital, where large
vessels enter, for it is built out on the open shore.
"Aunt Else, the other day, I remember, you called Jutland 'the
peninsula;' Fru Petersen always says 'the Continent;' and once I heard
somebody speak of 'us Islanders;' so which is it?" asked Karl.
"I'm not surprised that you are confused, Karl. I will try to explain
it all to you," said his aunt. "Denmark is literally an Island Kingdom,
for she has about two hundred islands in all, situated at the entrance
of the Baltic. Since the cutting of the Kiel Canal, even Jutland, which
originally was, and still is in name, the Cimbrian Peninsula, has
now become in reality an island, some of whose parts, being actually
below the sea-level, are protected by dykes and embankments. Even the
Limfjord, which is no longer a fjord but a Sound, cuts Jutland in two
again, adding one more to the list of Denmark's many islands. Even
Copenhagen, Denmark's capital, is built upon two islands,--the great
island of Zealand and the little island of Slotsholmen, over which it
extends.
"Besides these, and many other smaller islands of the Danish
archipelago, Denmark has colonies, much larger than herself, which,
strangely enough, are all islands. One is Iceland, with its volcanic
fires and geysers spouting through the ice; and the great snow-buried
island of Greenland is another of Denmark's frigid possessions. There
is also a group of islands in the West Indies.[19]
"Yes, Aunt Else, thank you for telling me all about it. But I do wish
I knew what father's 'great surprise' is to be!" sleepily murmured
Karl, closing his eyes. "Valdemar, you were going to tell us all about
Denmark's kings. Won't you do it now?"
"Yes, do, brother," begged Karen, as she yawned and buried her flaxen
head in a big, soft pillow.
"Tell my best stories to such a sleepy audience? I guess not!" said
Valdemar, himself yawning.
"Such a sleepy lot of children! Off to bed, every one of you, and up
early in the morning," said Fru Ingemann, kissing them good night.
Hardly had they been in bed an hour, when a terrific thunder-storm
broke over Aarhus. With the first deafening crash of thunder, the whole
Petersen family sprang from their beds, dressed and rushed to the
sitting-room, where they huddled around the great tile stove, their
arms loaded down with their most treasured family possessions, Fru
Petersen herself carrying the family plate and the cherished recipe
book, which in Danish households is handed down from grandmother to
mother and daughter.
The storm passed as quickly as it had come. By morning the ground was
dry, the sky fair and blue, and Fru Ingemann and her charges well on
their way to famous old Himmelbjaerg, which means Heaven's Mountain,
for it is the highest spot in all Denmark.
"Why didn't we all jump out of our beds last night, too, mother,"
questioned Karen, as their train was passing through much low, hilly
country, in the midst of beautiful woods and lakes.
"Oh, that was just _noget snak_,[20] Karen. The Petersens were brought
up in the country, and they were afraid of fire by lightning. But here
we are, Karl, in the scattered little town of Silkeborg, where the
bishop's silk cap blew."
They first armed themselves with a large basket of provisions, then
took a trim little motor-boat, which carried them past woods and
gardens and picturesque little stork-inhabited farmsteads, up a
pleasant river which soon widened into a lake, and then from one blue
lake into another, on and on, until they finally stopped at the foot
of heather-covered old Himmelbjaerg, on whose summit they could see a
tall, obelisk-like monument.
"It's Denmark's Pike's Peak! Isn't it, Aunt Else?" exclaimed Karl in
delight. "Father and I have climbed Pike's Peak in Colorado, and, I
can tell you, mountain climbing is just lots of fun! Can't we go to the
very top to-day, Aunt Else?"
With their long alpenstocks, Karen and the boys led the way up the
gentle slope, while Fru Ingemann closely followed with the basket of
good things to eat--_smörrebröd_, oranges, tarts, cake and sugar-plums,
which disappeared as though by magic when they spread them on the grass
in the shadow of the great brick tower.
The view from the "Kol," or top, was indescribably beautiful, reaching
as far as eye could see over far-stretching forests, and valleys and
corn fields and chains of lakes, in every direction to the unbroken
horizon.
"Mother, mother! how wonderful!" exclaimed Valdemar, after he had
looked long and silently at the impressive scene before him. "It's like
one of Turner's great paintings!"
[Illustration: "THEY SPREAD THEM ON THE GRASS IN THE SHADOW OF THE
GREAT BRICK TOWER"]
The grass on the mountain-side waved in the strong summer wind.
Beetles hummed, insects buzzed in the heather about them, and a little
field-lark, perched on a near-by beech-tree, poured forth its song,
while Karen chased the brilliant-winged butterflies as they dashed
through the sunlight.
"'Erected by Frederik VII,'" read Valdemar aloud, deciphering the
inscription on the base of the brick tower.
Karen and Karl came running up, their arms full of mountain
wild-flowers they had found almost hidden among the deep heather.
"Valdemar, are you going to tell us all about the Danish kings now?"
urged Karl, who was a good student of United States history, and loved
hero-tales of any country. "Please start at the very beginning. Karen
wants to hear, too."
"And, after the story is finished, perhaps we shall have time for a
little row on the lake," added Fru Ingemann.
Quickly they ranged themselves comfortably on the grass in the shade
of one of Himmelbjaerg's giant old beeches, whose long arms swept the
ground about them.
"Denmark means 'land of dark woods,'" began Valdemar, who loved his
beautiful country, and was familiar with her legends and history from
his babyhood up. "The Northmen were a fire-worshipping heathen people,
according to Snorre Sturlason, who says that Odin, their chief god, was
a real personage, who used to appear to men. But all this early history
of Denmark is so full of legend, petty fights of kings, piratical
exploits, and strange, wild stories and romances of the Skalds, that it
is very hard to tell which is fact or fable, until we come to the last
thousand years of Danish history.
"But in those early mythological days, when Denmark was covered with
dark forests of mighty firs, Dan the Famous was one of the earliest
kings, reigning in 1038 B. C. He became powerful, after uniting many
small chieftains to himself, and so, according to some authorities, the
country was called 'Danmark,' or the border of the 'Dans,' or Danes.
"Gorm the Old, in the middle of the ninth century, was really the first
king to rule over the whole of Denmark, and his was called the Golden
Age. His beautiful young wife, Queen Thyra Dannebod (the Dane's Joy),
was full of goodness and wisdom, and after Gorm's death, she built the
famous Dannewirke, a great wall that stretched across Denmark from
the North Sea to the Baltic, for her people's protection against the
fearful inroads and plunderings of their southern neighbors. One may
see the graves near Jellinge, to-day, of Gorm the Old and Queen Thyra,
two heather-covered, flat-topped cairns marked by massive old Runic
stones.
"Then Gorm's son, King Harold Blaatand (Blue-tooth), ruled over
Denmark, and was slain one night as he slept by a camp-fire, by the
gold-tipped arrow of his heathen enemy, Planatoke. After him came his
son, Svend Tveskaeg, who commenced the conquest of England, which was
ended by Knud den Store, or Canute the Great, thus uniting the crowns
of both kingdoms during his reign and that of his son, Harthaknud
(Hardicanute), who was followed by King Svend Estridsen.
"Sometime I must tell Karl some of the wonderful tales I've read
about all these old kings--tales re-told from the ancient Sagas and
Chronicles, with their warrior-songs, giant-songs, hero-tales and
ballads. Danish literature is full of them.
"But now we come to the three great Valdemars, and their glorious
battles."
"And all about our _Dannebrog_--the flag that fell from heaven,
Valdemar," broke in Karen, who never could hear that story often
enough.
"And tell us all about the king who was put into a bag, won't you,
Valdemar?" urged Karl.
"Yes, I'm coming right now to both those stories, which happened in the
reign of Valdemar II. But first I want to say that it was Valdemar I
who cleared the Baltic and North Seas of all the terrible Wend pirates,
and it was also during his reign that Denmark's war-like bishop,
Absalon, founded Copenhagen and gave the people a constitution.
"With Valdemar II a great and glorious era for Denmark set in. The old
ballads and folk-songs tell how he courted Dagmar, the fair Bohemian
princess, for his bride, and never was Danish queen more beloved by her
people.
"Indeed, the Golden Age seemed to have returned to Denmark under the
early reign of this successful young monarch, who was as knightly
and handsome as he was courageous. His empire grew until he finally
became master of Holstein, Schwerin, and all the provinces of Northern
Germany, and his people called him Valdemar Seir (the Victorious).
When the Pope granted him sovereignty over all the peoples he could
convert, he set out upon a crusade against the pagans of Esthonia,
with more than a thousand ships, and many thousands of men. With the
Pope's blessing he sailed across the Baltic, but so vast did the host
of the enemy appear, as his fleet neared the shore, that the Danes at
first feared to land. But their archbishop reassured them, and they
landed in safety. Towards evening, with King Valdemar at their head,
the battle raged furiously. The struggle grew fiercer and fiercer,
until the Danes, who were outnumbered, were beginning to give way, when
there arose a great cry: 'The Banner! The Banner!' Pagan and Christian
paused. All eyes turned towards the sky, where, as though miraculously
flung from heaven, was seen falling into the midst of the Christian
ranks a blood-red banner bearing a great white cross,--our sacred
_Dannebrog_. 'For God and the King,' cried the crusading Christians, as
they seized the Heaven-sent flag, and again charged their enemy, who
now fled in terror. The victory was won, and the _Dannebrog_, from that
hour, became the sacred national standard of Denmark.
"Now I'm coming to the 'king in a bag' story, Karl," said Valdemar.
"Denmark's power was now supreme throughout Scandinavia, Northern
Germany and even over to Russia. Valdemar's reign was at its height.
His people adored him. But there were secret foes--the conquered
princes of Germany--awaiting his downfall. Among them was one in
particular called Black Henry, who hated Valdemar, and was biding his
chance to overthrow, if not to kill him. All in one single night the
treacherous deed was done. Wearied by a day spent in hunting, the King
and his son slept that night in a small, unguarded tent in the woods of
the little island on Lyö. Suddenly their slumber was broken into by an
unseen foe. The King could scarcely move, or speak, or see, or breathe.
Black Henry had fallen upon King Valdemar and his son, bound, gagged
and tied them up into two bags, and fled with his royal captives to a
waiting boat in the river, and hurried them to Germany, where they were
thrown into prison.
"Some years after, the King was ransomed by his loyal people with gold
and lands, and he finally returned to his beloved Denmark amid the
greatest rejoicing, to find most of his splendor gone. He was no longer
king of a great empire, but he had his people's love, and spent his
remaining years faithfully improving all the laws of his country."
"Oh, what glorious stories you do tell!" exclaimed Karl, who, with
Karen, had been listening spell-bound to the end. "I shall never again
see the famous old _Dannebrog_, without thinking of that wonderful
story of how it fell from heaven, and saved the battle for the Danes."
"If Valdemar never makes his mark in the world as a celebrated
sculptor, he certainly will as a great historian, with that memory of
his," said his mother, indulgently. The afternoon sun was sinking in
the west as they made their way down the mountainside, and soon left
beautiful old Himmelbjaerg far behind.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 19: In 1902 the United States negotiated with Denmark for the
purchase of St. Thomas, one of these islands, as a coaling station,
or naval base; but the Danish Rigsdag refused, by a single vote, to
authorize the sale. It is believed that the matter will shortly be
again considered by the two countries.]
[Footnote 20: Some nonsense.]