warships, which he might have used for defence, but in his terror he
thought only of flight. All the treasure he could lay hands on was
carried to these vessels, even the gilt balls on top of the church spires
being taken. Sigbrit, a detestable favorite, who had given him much evil
counsel and dared not show herself to the enraged people, was carried on
board in a chest and placed among his valuables. He, his wife and
children, and a few faithful servants, followed, and on the 20th of
April, 1523, he set sail from his native land in a passion of grief and
despair. A violent storm scattered his ships, but the one that bore him
reached Antwerp in safety. Sigbrit, who had crept from her trunk, sought
to console him by saying that if he could no longer be king of Denmark he
might at least become burgomaster of Amsterdam.
Thus did this cruel and contemptible coward, who less than three years
before had been unquestioned monarch of all Scandinavia, lose the crown
he was so unfit to wear, and land, a despised fugitive, in a Dutch city,
with but a handful of followers. His fall was thoroughly well deserved,
for it was an immediate consequence of the detestation he had aroused by
his deed of blood in Stockholm, and there was scarce a man in Europe to
pity him in his degradation.
It was a sad thing that the salutary laws he had promulgated in the last
year of his reign came from so evil a source. Frederick was forced by the
nobles to whom he owed his throne to abrogate them, and the code was even
burned as "a dangerous book contrary to good morals." The peasants fell
back into their former state of semi-slavery and for centuries afterwards
failed to enjoy the freedom accorded to the people of their sister states
of Norway and Sweden.
In the years that followed the deposed king went from court to court of
the German princes, seeking help to regain his throne, but meeting with
scorn and contempt from some of them and refusal from all. He still
retained much of the wealth of which he had robbed Copenhagen, and now,
in despair of obtaining assistance, he took into his service a number of
soldiers of fortune whom a treaty of peace had lately thrown out of
employment.
With these sons of adventure, twelve thousand in all, he ravaged Holland,
which had recently afforded him refuge, doing so much mischief that he
was at length bought off. The emperor, Charles V., then ruler over
Holland and brother-in-law to the adventurer, paid him the fifty thousand
gulden still due on his wife's dower and gave him twelve battle-ships in
addition. The Dutch whom he was plundering helped in this as the easiest
way to be quit of him, and, with a body of experienced troops, with
funds and a fleet, the hope of winning back his old dominions arose in
his soul.
There were many malcontents then in Sweden, ready to aid him in an
invasion, and the clergy and nobility of Norway, dissatisfied with
Frederick's rule, subscribed large sums in money and plate for his aid.
Finally, thus strengthened and encouraged, Christian set sail for the
Northland with twenty-five ships and an army of eight thousand men.
Unfortunately for him the elements proved adverse, a violent storm
scattering the fleet and sending nearly half of it to the bottom. He had
only fifteen ships and a reduced number of men when, in November, 1531,
he landed at Obslo, Norway.
The nobles and people, however, discontented with Frederick's government
and eager for a king of their own choice, declared for him and at a diet
held at Obslo proclaimed him king, only a few nobles dissenting. These,
however, held the strongest fortresses in the kingdom. One of these was
Magnus Gyllenstierna, governor of Aggerhus. Against this stronghold
Christian led all his force and might easily have taken it, for it was
lacking in provisions, but for a stratagem by which Magnus saved himself
and his fortress.
He sent word to Christian that the place was too weak for him to attempt
to hold and that he had seen the king's success with pleasure; but, to
save himself from the imputation of cowardice, he begged leave for time
to ask King Frederick for assistance. If none came before the 1st of May
he would willingly surrender the place.
Adept in deceit as Christian was, he this time suffered himself to be
tricked. At the suggestion of Magnus a thousand men were sent from
Denmark, and led by secret paths over mountains and through forests in
all haste, throwing themselves into Aggerhus while Christian was watching
the seas to intercept them. In a rage he hurried back to renew the siege,
but the shrewd commandant was now strong enough to defy him.
Ture Jönsson, one of the Swedish nobles who had joined Christian, led a
portion of his forces against the fortress of Bohus, writing to its
commandant, Klass Bille, a letter in which he set forth the great change
for good which had come upon King Christian and begging him to side with
his Grace. He closed in the manner customary in those days: "Commending
you, with your dear wife, children, and friends, hereby to God's
protection."
On the next day he received the following answer:
"Greeting suited to the season.
Learn, Ture Jönsson, that I yesterday received your writing with
some of your loose words with which you sought to seduce me from my
honor, soil my integrity and oath, and make me like yourself, which
God, who preserves the consciences of all honest men, forbid. To the
long and false talk which your letter contains, I confess myself,
by God's providence to be too good to give you any other answer than
this which my letter conveys. You have so often turned and worn your
coat, and it is now so miserably thread-bare on both sides, that it
is no longer fit to appear among the apparel of any honest man. No
more this time, I commend you to him to whom God the Father
commended that man who betrayed His only Son,
_Ex Bohus._
Sunday next before Lady-day, 1531."
Klass Bille proved as good with an answer by balls and blows as by pen,
and the Castle of Bohus defied all attempts to take it.
Meanwhile the Swedish exiles were writing to their friends at home, and,
elated by the capture of a Swedish fort, Christian marched his army
towards the frontier, and made ready to invade the kingdom from which he
had been driven two years before.
But Gustavus and Frederick were not idle. They recognized the danger of
this invasion and prepared to meet it, renewing their treaties that they
might work loyally together. Gustavus wrote to his officers not to fight
with Christian unless they were from four to six times as strong, as he
wished to give him a reception that would cure him of all future desire
to return to Sweden.
The forces of Christian and Gustavus first met at Kungelf, where
Christian looked with disturbed eyes on his antagonists as he saw them
marching across a frozen river, among them three thousand men in armor of
polished steel. Turning to Ture Jönsson, who stood beside him, he said
wrathfully:
"You said that there was not a man-at-arms in Sweden. What see you
yonder? Do you think those old women?"
The next morning Ture Jönsson's body was found lying headless in the
street, whether thus punished by Christian for his lies or by some Swede
for his treason, is not known.
The war began with equal fortune at first to each side, but later fortune
turned in favor of the Swedes, while food grew scarce in Christian's
army, his foragers being beaten back wherever they appeared. Soon, with
an army dwindled to two thousand men, he was forced to march back to
Obslo.
So far Gustavus's army had been fighting alone, and it was not until
March, 1532, that some Danish ships of war arrived. But their coming soon
ended the war. They burned Christian's vessels and reinforced Aggerhus,
and in May sailed towards Obslo.
Christian's hopes of success were now at an end. He had made his final
effort and had failed. His men were forsaking him in troops and
resistance to his foes became impossible. As a last resort he tried a
crafty expedient, contriving to get some forged letters distributed in
the Danish camp to the effect that twenty Dutch men-of-war, with five
thousand troops, were coming to his aid.
The Danish commander, alarmed at this report, hastened to conclude peace
with him, on condition that all who had taken part in the rebellion
should be pardoned. Christian was to cross to Denmark, and if he could
not agree with Frederick was to be free to go to Germany, on giving a
solemn oath never again to make any attempt on the three Scandinavian
kingdoms.
Before this treaty was confirmed messengers arrived from Frederick who
discovered the condition of Christian to be hopeless and insisted on an
unconditional surrender. But Knut, the Danish admiral, who had been given
full power to act, took Christian on his ships and sailed with him to
Denmark, where he insisted that the conditions he had made should be
observed.
Frederick and his council were in a strait. To let this tiger loose again
was too dangerous, and finally some pretext for breaking the treaty was
made and Christian was sentenced to a life imprisonment in the Castle of
Sanderberg on the island of Femern. Frederick and his son were obliged to
confirm this sentence by a written promise to the Danish nobles that they
would never release the detested prisoner.
When Christian learned that the convention had been broken he wept
bitterly, lamenting that "he had fallen into the hands of men who cared
neither for oaths, promises, nor seals."
These complaints no one heeded. He was taken deep into the dungeons of
Sanderberg Castle, and locked up in a dark and narrow prison vault
destitute of every convenience, his only companion being a half-witted
dwarf who had long been in his service. With the harshness common in
those days, and which in his case was well deserved, the door of the
cell was walled up, only one small opening being left through which he
could receive the scanty allowance of food brought him, and a little
barred window through which some sparse light could make its way.
In this dreadful prison the captive remained twelve years without the
slightest amelioration of its conditions. Then the door was opened and
fresh air and other conveniences were allowed him, but a strict watch was
kept up. Finally in 1549, five years later, it being believed that no
harm could possibly come from an old man sixty-eight years of age, he was
taken to Kallendborg Castle, where he was permitted to entertain himself
by hunting or in any other manner he pleased. He lived ten years later,
ending in 1559 a life whose misfortunes were a just reward for his
faithlessness and cruelty in his day of power.
_THE WEST GOTHLAND INSURRECTION._
Sweden never had a wiser or more judicious ruler than King Gustavus Vasa,
but in that land of turbulent lords and ambitious mischief-makers the
noblest and most generous of kings could not reign without secret
plotting and rebellious sentiments. So it fell out in Sweden in 1529,
after Gustavus had been six years on the throne.
The leader in this movement was one Ture Jönsson, a hoary old conspirator
of great influence in West Gothland, where he and his ancestors had long
been judges and where he was looked upon by the people as their lord and
chief. By a decision of the court he was obliged to restore to the king
certain property which he unjustly held, and he vented his feelings
bitterly against the heretic and tyrant, as he called him. In fact, he
hatched a conspiracy, which spread widely, through his influence, among
the nobles of West Gothland.
In Smaland there was much discontent with the teaching of the Lutheran
doctrines and an outbreak took place, the king's sister and her husband
being taken prisoners by the insurgents. These sent letters to Ture
Jönsson in West Gothland, asking him to be their captain, and also wrote
to East Gothland, inciting the people to rise and expel their monarch.
Ture Jönsson had three sons, one of them a distinguished soldier in the
king's service, while the second was a man high in the king's favor. The
old rebel had high hopes of aid from these two, and wrote them letters
inciting them to rebellion. But they were not to be drawn from their
allegiance, and took the letters with unbroken seals to the king,
promising to devote their lives to his cause.
The third son, Herr Göran, dean in Upsala, was of different mold and
sentiment. Opposed to the king on religious grounds, he gathered a body
of peasant runaways, a hundred in number, and, afraid to stay in his
house, he took them to a wood in the neighborhood, felled trees for
barricades, and laid up a supply of provisions in his impromptu fort.
From there he proceeded to Bollnäs, gathering more men and growing
bolder, and fancying in his small soul that he was the destined leader of
a great rebellion. But his valor vanished when a priest of the vicinity,
named Erik, a man faithful to the king, called together a body of his
parishioners and marched against the would-be insurgent.
Dean Göran was standing at a garret window when he saw these men
approaching. At once, with a most unsoldierlike panic, he rushed in
terror down stairs and fled through a back door into the forest, without
a word to his men of the coming danger. The house was surrounded and the
men made prisoners, the king's steward, whom they held captive, being
released. Erik spoke to them so severely of their disloyalty that they
fell on their knees in prayer and petition, and when he told them that
the best way to gain pardon for their act was to seek and deliver their
fugitive leader, they gladly undertook the task.
[Illustration: NORWEGIAN CARRIAGE CALLED STOLKJAEM.]
The scared leader of rebels meanwhile was wandering in anguish and alarm
through the wide wood, not knowing what to do. Coming at length to a
large forest lake, he entered a little boat that he found and pushed off
from land, thinking thus to be in greater safety.
As he thus sat, lost in his unquiet thoughts, some of his late followers
reached the lake and saw him. So absorbed was he in his bitter
reflections that he failed to see other boats gliding out towards him,
and they were close upon him before he perceived them. Then, leaping up
in wild fright, he sought in his despair to jump into the water, but
before he could do so some of the peasants had rowed up and seized him.
In his bitterness of spirit he tore the gold chain from his neck and the
rings from his fingers and flung them into the lake, resolved that they
should not become the spoil of the king he hated.
But Gustavus was not the man to trouble himself about such small fry of
conspirators as this. The dean was taken to Upsala and thence to
Stockholm, where he was kept in confinement, though with every comfort,
until the rebellion incited by his father was quelled. Then the king,
taking into account his brothers' loyalty and his own insignificance,
freed him and restored him his property. He could well afford to be
lenient to a rebel of his calibre.
If this was all we had to tell, it would not be worth the telling, but
the conspiracy in West Gothland went on and led to events of far greater
interest. A born plotter, old Jönsson kept at his work, and to prevent
any news of what was taking place from reaching the king, a guard of a
thousand men was placed to watch the highway and stop all messengers. At
the head of this guard was a priest called Nils of Hvalstad, a thorough
hater of the king. To him the insurgents sent their letters, to be
forwarded to those for whom they were intended. Such was the state of
affairs, the designs of the plotters ripening while the king was in this
way kept in ignorance of matters of such importance to him.
Now we come to the dramatic means by which the king was advised of the
plot. A scout was needed to pass the guards set by the rebels and bring
word to Gustavus of what was going on in West Gothland, and for this
purpose was chosen a young town-sergeant of Stockholm, so famed for
boldness that the people called him Hans Hardy. He had been born in West
Gothland and was familiar with the people and the roads of that province
and was therefore well adapted for the work. He accomplished it in a
manner much better than was expected.
Making his way through forest paths and along little-frequented by-ways,
he succeeded in crossing the river that bordered the province and passing
the rebel outposts, making his way to his old home, where he spent
several weeks with his relations, meanwhile secretly gathering the
information needed.
On his return he pursued a different course. Buying a quantity of West
Gothland cheese, he went directly towards the ford of the Tiweden and so
managed as to let himself fall into the hands of the guard, who brought
him to their leader, Nils of Hvalstad.
The rebel priest charged the seeming peasant roundly with being a spy,
but the cunning fellow pretended to be very simple and bucolic, saying
that it had been four years since he had been in Upland and he now wanted
to go there and sell his cheese.
Nils was not so easily to be hoodwinked, but bade his men take the
supposed spy to the sergeant's house at Hofwa, where four men were set
over him as guards. The pretended simpleton seemed well-enough pleased,
eating and drinking freely, talking cheerfully of country affairs with
his guards, and spending his money freely, so that the sergeant grew to
like the jovial country lad.
After a few days, however, Hans pretended to be sick, sighing and
groaning as if in severe pain. Finally he took to his bed and seemed in
such a sad state that they all pitied the poor cheesemonger and his
guards often left him for hours alone, thinking his sickness was all the
security that was needed.
Hans Hardy had a purpose in this. He had discovered that Nils kept a box
in a dark corner of the room and imagined that it might contain something
of importance to him in his mission. In fact he had thrown himself in his
hands for the purpose of fathoming his plots. One day, while left alone,
he got up and examined the box, and to his joy found in it a number of
letters from the chief conspirators, containing full evidence of their
complication. Having read enough of them to gain an idea of their
character, he put them back, shut the box, and pushed it again into its
dark corner.
Then he took to his bed once more and when his guards returned they found
him moaning more sorely than before and seeming in such sad case that
they thought him at the point of death. Pitying the poor fellow, they
deemed it idle to watch him and went contentedly to their beds. The next
morning, when they rose, the sick man had vanished and with him the box
and its contents. Hans had got off with the precious burden into the
forest, with whose paths he was thoroughly familiar, leaving his late
guards his cheese for consolation.
He reached Stockholm in safety with his budget of letters and took them
to the king, who rewarded him liberally for his valuable service and bade
him to keep it secret. This he did, and it was long before any one knew
where Hans Hardy had been or what had become of the lost letters. King
Gustavus kept his counsel and bided his time.
Meanwhile the work of the conspirators went on, they going so far as to
nominate a new king, their choice falling upon Mans Bryntesson, Ture
Jönsson's brother-in-law, a handsome and eloquent young man, far more
suitable in person than in mind for a king. He was soft, irresolute, and
somewhat foolish, and when treated with royal honors by the conspirators,
he began holding court with princely pomp, borrowing money from his
friends for this purpose when his own was exhausted.
Having gone so far with his plans, Ture called a convention of the people
of the province to meet on Larfva Heath, saying that he had matters of
the highest importance to lay before them. Here was a great plain, where
the Gothlanders for ages had held their public meetings, and where Ture's
summons brought together a goodly number.
With the insurgent lords around him, and proud of his power and
authority, Sir Ture now addressed the peasants, in full confidence of
their support. His principal charge against the king was that he had
accepted the Lutheran doctrines and wished to introduce a new faith into
the country to the ruin of the common people.
"Now," he continued, "I have always understood that the good West
Gothlanders have no mind to become Lutherans, but prefer to retain the
old faith which their fathers and forefathers have had before them. If
you will from this day renounce King Gustavus I will give you a mild and
gracious sovereign, who will preserve for you your good old customs."
Bishop Magnus followed with a brief address, after which Sir Ture,
convinced from the intent silence of the peasants that they were with
him, said:
"Let him who gives his consent to take a new king stretch up his hands."
To his consternation not a hand was lifted, while a threatening murmur
was heard among the peasants. Neither the lords nor the bishop knew what
to make of this. They had gone on with their plots without a dream that
the people would not be with them. As for the newly chosen king, who had
been eagerly waiting to receive their homage, he fell back white and
trembling. At length two young peasants stood forth to speak for the
people, one of them loudly declaring:
"We have nothing to charge against King Gustavus, but owe him deep
gratitude for having freed us from the cruel and tyrannical rule of King
Christian, and kept the land in law and right as well as in peace and
quiet. What you, good sirs, say of the new faith, we peasants can neither
judge nor understand; perhaps it may not be so bad as fame reports.
Change of rulers generally costs the peasants and the land dear, and we
might by these means draw upon ourselves and our children long disquiet
and disorder. It seems, therefore, best for us to remain in the faith
and allegiance which we have sworn and promised to our lawful lord and
master Gustaf Eriksson."
These words had evidently the full approval of the people, to judge from
their upstretched hands and their loud acclamations, and at once the
courage of the conspirators fell to the ground. What to say or to do they
knew not. They had foolishly gone forward with their plots without
consulting the people and now found themselves in a sore dilemma. Instead
of coming to their aid, as they had expected, there was reason to fear
that the peasants would seize them and hand them over to the king. In his
utter dismay Ture Jönsson faltered out:
"My very good friends, I only wished by this trial to test your fidelity.
None of the lords have a thought of deserting the king. A fortnight hence
we hope to meet you here again, to consult further on our mutual
interests."
This ended the meeting on Larfva Heath. The peasants returned to their
homes and the lords in dismay sought their castles. The bottom had
suddenly dropped out from the rebellion and the conspirators were in a
perilous position. War against the king was impossible, and in haste they
sent a message to Nils of Hvalstad ordering him to break up the camp on
the Tiweden and bidding him to come to them without delay.
When he came they asked him what he had done with the letters which had
been put in his care. Not daring to tell that they had been stolen, he
said that he had burnt them on hearing of the result of the Larfva
meeting. Another custodian of letters was also sent for and asked the
same question. He had really sent his letters to the king, but he
produced a budget of papers which he now threw into the fire, telling
them that they might be at rest about these perilous papers, which could
now never appear against them.
Somewhat relieved in their minds by this act, Mans Bryntesson, Ture
Bjelke, and Nils Winge, three of the leading conspirators, decided to
remain at home. To become wandering outlaws was too bitter a fate; they
had not spoken at Larfva Heath, their letters were burnt, there was no
evidence against them. But as for Ture Jönsson and Bishop Magnus, they
had put themselves openly on record. The pretence that the meeting had
been called to test the loyalty of the people would have no weight with a
man like King Gustavus. To remain would be to risk their lives, and
collecting their money and valuables they made all haste to set foot on
Danish territory, Ture Jönsson finally to meet a tragical death in the
invasion of Norway by the deposed King Christian, as described in the
preceding tale.