When the sun rose over the Sound, signs of cheerful animation and
active stir were already perceptible in the village of Sorretslov,
while the bishop's town still lay shrouded in fog, ensconced behind its
trenches and palisades, and seemed to slumber after the wild revels of
the preceding night. Peasants were seen removing cattle on the
pastures, between the village and the northern gate of the town. The
grooms of the king's household were riding the horses to water from the
farms and meadows of the royal castle, at the large pool in the midst
of the village; but around the pasture near Sorretslov lake, where the
king's trained tournament-steeds had grazed, two grooms were running in
despair, vainly seeking the fine horses which were entrusted to their
charge.
"Help us, St. Alban! and all saints!" cried the younger groom. "If the
Marsk comes home he will slay us, at the least."
"And the king!" groaned the other--"the king will be wrath; and that is
even far worse. We must find them though we should have to run to the
world's end. Come!"--They sprang away over hedge and ditch, where they
saw the dew brushed off from the grass, and fresh traces of galloping
horses' feet on the meadow; at last they recognised the well-known
trained step of the steeds on the road between the two lakes, and were
soon far away.
It was a fine spring morning;--the king was, as usual, stirring at an
early hour. Accompanied by Count Henrik, he had mounted the flat-roofed
tower of the castle, from whence there was an extensive and noble
prospect over the whole adjacent country. Count Henrik had been
required, circumstantially to repeat his account of the flight of the
cardinal and the archbishop, and the very different greeting of the
prelates. The king was grave, but in good spirits; even the last threat
of the archbishop had not discouraged him.
"With God's blessing," he said with emphasis, "I await my chief
happiness from the hand of the Almighty, and the heart of my pious
Ingeborg, but neither from the mercy of the pope nor the archbishop.
Were my hope and success in love really sin and ungodliness, no
dispensation could ever sanctify it before Heaven and to myself."--He
paused, and gazed with a calm and enthusiastic look on the rising sun,
and a heartfelt prayer seemed as it were to beam from his bright eye.
"My deadly foe went hence alive," he continued;--"well! I have now
performed my promise to him. I let him 'scape hence alive. More none
can ask of a frail mortal; but it is the last time I promise peace and
respite of life to the enemy of my soul. So long as the Lord grants me
life and crown the presence of Grand shall never more infect the air I
breathe."
"This insurrection was quite opportune for us, my liege," observed
Count Henrik, with a confidential smile--"the foe you came hither to
banish hath been as good as stoned out of this country by the brisk men
of Copenhagen, on their own responsibility."
"That _I_ asked them not to do," answered the king, with proud
eagerness; "had I willed to use temporal power, against my
ecclesiastical foes here, I should not have needed the help of a
mutinous mob. The town hath suffered wrong; but mutiny is, and ever
will be, mutiny; and, _as such_, deserving of punishment, whether it
happens to suit my convenience or not. I consider the conduct of the
bishop and council to be arbitrary and illegal," he continued. "I hate
ban and interdict as I do the plague, as is well known; but it shall
not therefore be believed I favour revolt and rebellion against any
lawful authority. It was well done to force the locked churches. No
Roskild bishop shall place bars and bulwarks between us and our Lord;
but it was not for the Lord's sake they besieged the bishop's castle:
their devotion was also very moderate; it was more like howling wolves
singing 'credo,' than christianly-baptized people. Had you seen, with
me, the riots yesterday evening, in St. Nicholas church. Count Henrik!
you would hardly take on yourself the defence of these insurgents."
"I rode past St. Nicholas church-yard in the night, my liege!" answered
Count Henrik. "What was doing there pleased me but little, it is true.
It seemed as though a crowd of spirits moved among the graves, in the
moonshine: there was a strange muttering. I heard shouts and prayers,
which sounded to me like curses. It was St. Erik's Guild brethren, who
were chaunting prayers, it was said, and taking counsel against the
bishop. Those good people I will no longer defend; there must be wild
fanatics and turbulent spirits among them. But chastise them not too
hardly, in your wrath, my liege!--even though you should now be forced
to lend a helping hand to prelatical government. When the Lord's
servants shut the Lord's house themselves, and hinder all orderly
worship, it is surely no wonder that the plain man seeks to edify
himself as well as he can in his own way: a mixture of defiance and
ferocious fanaticism with this species of devotion is inevitable, but
whose is the blame, your grace? Where God's word is silent, the evil
one instantly sends forth his priests among the people, and drives them
mad."
"Ay indeed! those are true words. Count! It is usually the fault of the
shepherd when the flock strays. Spiritual government is a matter I dare
not much intermeddle with, but this I have promised, and I shall
honestly keep my promise: every church door in the country which they
would hereafter shut, I will cause myself without further ado to be
forced with the staff of the spear; and every priest or bishop who
hinders my, or my people's lawful and orderly devotion, I banish from
state and country, as I have banished Archbishop Grand--let the pope
excommunicate me a thousand times over for it! Look! in this I am
agreed with my brave and loyal people, and with these rather too brisk
Copenhageners. What I here tell you, I cannot give any one under sign
and seal," he added, "but I will whisper it in confidence into the ear
of every Danish bishop and future archbishop; none shall say, however,
I side with rebels. If authority is to be used, that is my affair; but
there _shall_ be peace and order here. I will uphold the rights of
every lawful authority, whether it be spiritual or temporal, our
highest rights, as God's children, and the rights and authority of the
crown, unimpaired."
The king was silent--his cheek glowed, and an expression of fervid
energy beamed in his countenance, as he turned from the fair spectacle
of the rising sun, and looked out upon the fog-enveloped town, the
church towers of which glittered in the dawn of morning. He now opened
a letter and a small packet, which a skipper from Skanoer had brought
him from Drost Aage. He read the letter with attention. It contained an
account of the Drost's meeting with the Hanseatic merchants and Thrand
Fistlier at Kjoege, and at Skanoer fair, as well as of the disturbance
which had been caused by this mountebank, and the Hanseatic forgers;
and also how the Drost, partly to save the artist's life, had been
under the necessity of sending him prisoner to Helsingborg. In the
packet was one of Master Thrand's optic tubes, and some polished
glasses, which Aage had bought at Skanoer fair, and which he now
presented to the king as extraordinary rarities. In the letter, Aage
had not been able to conceal his suspicion of the wonderful mountebank,
and the singular uneasiness which this man's operations and expressions
had caused him.
Count Henrik also, had lately received and read a secret epistle from
the Drost, in which Aage conjured him to caution the king respecting
the captive Icelander, and above all to keep a watchful eye on whoever
approached him. "Trust not the junker!" Aage wrote, "God forgive me if
I do him injustice! Kagge is alive and under convoy of the foreign
merchants, who threatened the king at Sjoeborg; Helmer and my bravest
squire are in their power. The revenge of the outlaws is unwearied.
Stir not from the king's side! watch over his life, while I care for
his happiness."
"Truly! my good Drost Aage is a strange visionary," said the King,
shaking his head with a smile, as he tried the glasses with a feeling
of wonder at the power of these instruments; "my much-loved Aage is
ready to side with the ignorant mob, and regard the fruits of the noble
arts and sciences as the work of the evil one."
"How! my liege!" asked Count Henrik, in surprise.
"That good friend of mine is still somewhat weak both in mind and body;"
continued the king, "he is afraid our whole fair world will perish,
because here and there people get their eyes opened, and learn to see
things better and more justly in nature. The Lord knows what new danger
he can now be dreaming of from this artist. Just look here. Count!" The
king reached Henrik the optic tube. "It is one of the discoveries of
the great Roger Bacon, the wise English monk we have heard so much
of--a skilful Icelander hath arrived here in the country, who hath
known him, and learned the art from him. These kind of things he brings
with him; he is said to understand many wonderful arts, and knows
secrets in nature which may be of importance, as well in war as in the
general advancement of the country; Aage, I suppose, means only we
should be cautious and not trust him over much. I will see and know
that man; he certainly doth honour to our northern lands, and he shall
not have visited me in vain;--now what say you, Count? Such glass eyes
may be useful, I think, both for a king and a general, when he should
take a wide survey!"
"Noble! astonishing!" exclaimed Count Henrik, "the town, the river, the
whole of Solbierg, seem as near as if close at hand."
"And a skilful coiner, and a rare judge of metals, is this Icelander
besides," resumed the king with satisfaction, as he glanced over the
letter, "he is just the man we need, now that the land is inundated
with the false coin of the outlaws; if he were in league with my foes,
as Aage fears, he would hardly venture into my sight; as yet no enemy
hath faced me, unpunished. He is reported to hold many erring opinions
in matters of faith; but what is that to me? If he be a heretic, so
much the worse for himself; in what concerns temporal things he is apt,
I must confess."
"If he be a Leccar brother, as Drost Aage thinks, then beware of him,
my liege!" observed Count Henrik. "I thought that sect was banished in
all Christian lands, and in Denmark also, on account of their dangerous
opinions."
"On account of opinions, I have never banished any living soul," said
the king: "for ought I care, every man may think and believe what he
will, provided he obeys but the laws of the land, and seduces not the
people to insurrection and ungodliness. One description of madmen I
once banished, however--it is true," he added, recollecting himself:
"what they called themselves I have now forgot; but the madness I
remember well enough--they were self-appointed priests, without a
consecrated church or true doctrine. They scoured the country round,
and preached both to high and low, and would, in short, have made us
all heathens. They denied both our Lord and our blessed Lady, and all
the saints and martyrs besides; they would have nought to do either
with church or pope; and in fact, just as little with kings and
princes, or any temporal government; they zealously affirmed that we
should obey our Lord only--but when it came to the point, their Lord
was but their own ignorant and perverted will. From such mad doctrine
we may well pray our Lord to preserve us and all Christian lands."
"But that is exactly, as far as I know, the creed of the Leccar
brethren," observed Count Henrik. "We have chased the sect from
Mecklenborg also, and the pope hath doomed them to fire and faggot."
"You are right, they are called Leccarii in Latin," answered the king:
"the holy father's caring for their _souls_, by burning their _bodies_,
suits me just as little as his excommunicating, and giving us over to
the devil. That mistakes may be made in Rome we are all agreed. If the
learned Icelander belongs to yon sect, he must doubtless decamp," he
added, "and that I should be sorry for; but I must hear it from
himself, ere I will believe it; it is inconceivable to me how madness
and learning can dwell together in one brain."
"Look once again, my liege!" said Count Henrik, handing the optic tube
to the king. "Yonder comes a boat up the canal towards St. George's
hospital; if I am not mistaken it is steered by a couple of clerks;
perhaps the bishop would now vouchsafe us tidings, and put up with your
protection."
From St. George's lake flowed a broad rivulet, which bounded the
pasture ground of Sorretslov and divided it from the meadows of the
village of Solbierg. This rivulet, which widened into a canal, flowed
down under the west gate of the town, and ended its course in the
Catsound. Between the stream and the town of Sorretslov lay St.
George's Hospital. A large boat came slowly up the river, in which the
forms of two men, attired in black, were discernible. They rowed with
unsteady strokes of the oar, and with great exertion, against the
stream. The boat put ashore at the pasture ground opposite St. George's
hospital. The sable-clad personages sprang out of the boat and drew it
on land. The king and Count Henrik thought they recognised the
archbishop's confidential friends, Hans Rodis and the canon Nicolaus,
and paid close attention to their proceedings. A large loose sail was
taken from the boat, from under which four ecclesiastics rose up, one
after another, and stepped on shore. They looked around on all sides
with caution, and proceeded along a by-path, with slow and uncertain
steps towards the royal castle. They were all four soon recognised. It
was the domineering little Bishop Johan, with the haughty abbot from
the forest monastery, accompanied by the provincial prior, and the
inspector of the Copenhagen chapter. They seemed to have secretly taken
flight from Axelhuus in the morning fog, to place themselves under the
king's protection, and perhaps to demand the help of arms against the
mutinous town.
When the king recognised them he became grave, and fell into a reverie.
He reached the optic tube to Count Henrik, and seated himself in
silence on a bench on the southern side of the tower, whence he had a
view of the town and the north gate. Count Henrik remarked that the two
suspicious-looking canons had yet another person in the boat, whom they
carried on shore; he appeared to be either sick or dead, and was
closely shrouded in a mantle. The canons looked around on all sides,
and bore, seemingly with doubtful and anxious steps, the sick or dead
man up to St. George's Hospital, where they were instantly admitted.
Count Henrik considered their conduct most suspicious; he determined,
however, not to name it to the king; and resolved to examine himself
into the affair, and to inspect the hospital that very day.
The town was by no means so tranquil as was supposed. The nocturnal
assemblage in the churchyard of St. Nicholas had not dispersed until
near daybreak. The bishop's men had heard wild threats of fire and
murder, and taunting speeches against their master. A new and bloody
outbreak of the insurrection was feared whereupon the bishop had not
deemed it advisable to await the dawn of day at Axelhuus, although it
was probable that he most unwillingly took refuge with the king, who he
knew was incensed at the enforcement of the interdict.
The bishop's stern protest against the demi-ecclesiastical assemblies
of the guild-brethren of St. Canute, had rendered that fraternity his
bitterest and most dangerous foes. During the shutting of the churches,
the devotion of the guild-brethren, which was almost always blended
with fanaticism and intemperance, had assumed a wild and desperate
character. They were charged with the most licentious impiety, it was
believed there were atheists and Leccar brethren among them, who sought
to sever them from the church and from Christendom, as well as from
burgher-rule and obedience. A secret dread of the extravagancies and
gloomy deportment of these persons prevailed among the best-informed
and better class of burghers, who, however, had themselves, on
account of the shutting of the churches, made common cause with the
guild-brethren, and deemed a general revolt against prelatic tyranny to
be necessary.
Ere the sun had dispersed the thick morning mist which lay over
the town, the burghers of Copenhagen thronged in crowds to the
council-house, where they assembled a council, though it was not the
usual day of meeting.
Meanwhile, mattins were performed in all the churches in the town, and
no priest dared any longer to observe the interdict. All the churches
were unusually crowded, but no disturbances took place. It was only
from the stone-built houses, where St. Canute's and St. Eric's
guild-brethren had rung their bells ere daylight, and were now
performing their morning's devotions, before full goblets and with
locked doors, that wild cries and sounds of tumult proceeded. As soon
as early mass was ended, a great procession passed through North Street
and through the north gate. It was the deputies of the town and
council, who had drawn up at the council-house a long list of
complaints against the bishop, and as long a justification of the
recently-suppressed insurrection. This document they now intended to
present to the king, as they were willing to enter into any treaty with
the spiritual Lord of the town, which their sovereign might consider
just and reasonable. A continually increasing crowd accompanied this
procession. None of the guild-brethren were to be seen among the
deputies of the town; but a number of these gloomy agitators soon
joined themselves to the train, and sought to excite suspicion in the
populace respecting this negotiation of peace. The guild-brethren,
meanwhile, seemed at variance among themselves; the king's presence had
struck terror into many, and their wild plans of overthrowing all
spiritual and temporal rule lacked concert and counsel. Hardly had they
quitted their guild houses ere the provost's men and the bishop's
retainers, assisted even by the burghers, took possession of these
buildings, and stationed guards before them. The dispersion of this
degenerate and dangerous fraternity was now become one of the most
earnest wishes of the council and burghers.
The king had not left the tower of Sorretslov when the throng hastened
forward towards the village and his unfortified castle, in the
direction of the southern gate; while the bishop and the three
prelates, with their slow and dubious pace, had not as yet reached the
approach from the by-path to the western castle gate. Count Henrik's
attention had been wholly engrossed in watching the tardy and undecided
movements of the ecclesiastics, and the king had been so lost in
thought that he did not observe the crowd until the distant murmur of
many thousand voices reached his ear. He rose hastily, with a quick
glance on both sides, and appeared wroth, but undecided only for a
moment. "The gate shall be barred. Count! the black snails shall be
brought up here!" he exclaimed impetuously in a loud voice to Count
Henrik, pointing to the ecclesiastics below, who again paused on the
by-path, and seemed to hesitate. "Let them be brought to my private
chamber instantly, even though it should be by force. They are my
prisoners."
Count Henrik started.
"Look!" continued the king, pointing towards the village and the road.
"They flock out hither by thousands; but, by all the holy men! whoever
disturbs the peace of the royal castle shall be chastised as he
deserves. Ride to meet the throng. Count! announce my will to them--say
their bishop is in my power. Every fitting proposition I will listen
to; but every agitator shall instantly be banished; whoever obeys not
shall be punished as a rebel."
"Now I understand you, my liege," said Count Henrik, and instantly
departed.
The king's command was immediately put into execution. With great fear
and dismay, the bishop and his three ecclesiastical companions beheld a
troop of horsemen gallop out of the castle towards them, while a willow
hedge hid the main road and the concourse of people from their sight,
and they still stood close to the meadow gate, debating whether they
had not acted with precipitation, and were not about to encounter a
still greater danger here than that from which they had fled.
"Treachery!" cried the bishop, drawing back. "I feared it would be so.
Fools that we are to trust to the generosity of an excommunicated
tyrant! Now we may all fare as did Grand, and may come to rot alive in
his dungeons."
"I will answer for the king's justice, even should he imprison us,"
said the general superior of the chapter.
"Ha! you betray me! you side with the tyrant! _you_ counselled me to
this step."
"Look, my brother!" cried the abbot of the forest monastery, pointing
in dismay to the right, where but a single-fenced meadow separated them
from the road and the concourse of people which now came in view. "The
whole town is flocking hither. They have spied us--hear how they howl
and bluster! They are springing over hedge and ditch towards us. Let us
thank God and our guardian saint for the king's horsemen; it is better
after all to fall into the hands of one tyrant than into those of a
thousand."
At this moment the king's horsemen surrounded them, and saluted them
with courtesy. "Follow us, venerable sirs," said their leader, a brisk
young halberdier. "We have orders to bring you to the king's castle."
"In the name of the Lord and all the saints we accept the king's
convoy!" said the bishop, looking around with uneasiness, while his
cheeks glowed, and he seemed but half to trust to this unexpected safe
conduct.
"The bishop! the bishop! Seize him! stone him!" shouted a whole crowd
of the excited rabble, who, headed by some guild-brethren, had quitted
the burgher procession, and ran, with weapons and stones in their
hands, over the meadow towards the ecclesiastics.
"Back, countrymen!" shouted the leader of the horsemen, brandishing his
sword. "We lead him captive to the king."
"Captive! the bishop captive!" exclaimed the insurgents with joyous
shouts. "That's right!--long live the king!--to the dungeon with
Grand's friends and all king-priests!"
"Captive!" repeated the bishop, clasping his hands; "ha, the
presumptuous traitors!"
"Compose yourselves, venerable sirs," said the young halberdier, in a
lowered tone. "I obey the commands of my sovereign; if you refuse to
comply I shall be compelled to use force; but whether you are the
king's guests or his prisoners you will assuredly be treated as beseems
your rank and condition."
The ecclesiastics were soon within the gates of the king's castle, and
looked doubtfully at each other, as one door after another was with
much deference shut behind them, and they stood at last in anxious
expectation in a vaulted chamber, which, with its high windows and the
little iron-cased door, which was also secured behind them, bore a
greater resemblance to a prison than an apartment destined for the
reception of guests. There was no want, however, of furniture or
comfort; there were writing materials as well as both edifying and
entertaining books. It was the king's private chamber.
The deputies of the burghers and counsel started almost in as great
dismay as the bishop and his clerical companions, when they beheld
themselves surrounded on a sudden by royal halberdiers and horsemen
before the castle gate. The captain of halberdiers dismissed the
half-armed mob, who had followed the procession with shouts and threats
against the bishop, and with frequent acclamations for the king, on
occasion of his having (according to report) thrown the bishop into
prison.
"In the name of my liege and sovereign!" called Count Henrik, on
horseback, as he waved his hat, "the castle is open to the deputies of
the loyal burghers; but every one who bears arms here, or combines to
cause riot and uproar disturbs the peace of the king's castle, and is
guilty of treason. Your lord bishop is at this moment in the king's
power, but he is also his guest and under his protection. Every insult
to the bishop here is an insult to the ruler of the land. The king will
judge justly, and negociate a peace between you and your lord. Ere the
sun goes down the result of his mediation shall be made known. Now,
back! all here who would not pass for rebels!"
The restless crowd returned silent and downcast to the town. The
arrogant bravado of the insurgents that they had the king on their
side, had been suddenly put down. Their confidence in his presumed
wrath against the bishop, and his partiality to the burghers of
Copenhagen, appeared to have given way to a reasonable apprehension of
his justice and known severity. It even seemed to them no good sign
that the bishop, in his distress, had sought shelter at the royal
castle--and the guild-brethren muttered that when it came to the push,
the powerful and the great ever sided together after all; even though
they were deadly foes at heart, and that every thing was visited upon
those of low degree whether they were guilty or not.