After the tournament, the king bestowed in the knights' hall, with the
usual ceremonies, the honour of knighthood on some squires, who had
distinguished themselves in Marsk Stig's feud, and the Norwegian war.
Palfreys, splendid aims, and other honourable gifts, were also
distributed to the princely wedding guests, and some of the Swedish
nobles who had accompanied Princess Ingeborg from Stockholm. The king
was particularly desirous on this occasion to give Marsk Thorkild
Knudsen a proof of his special regard, and presented him with the
knightly sword of state, which he had this day worn himself. "Wear this
at your country's high festivals, noble Sir Marsk," he said, "but
should I ever--which the Almighty forbid!--forget the compact and the
friendship with the noble Swedish nation and its king, of which this
day hath given me and Denmark the fairest pledge! then turn it against
me, as you turned your own good sword against the heathen Kareles."
Thorkild[7] acknowledged this mark of royal favour, in an animated and
enthusiastic speech; he congratulated Denmark, as well as Sweden, on a
new and happy era, when the swords of their princes and knights should
only be drawn on each other in the honourable rivalry of the tilt and
tournay, but when required, flash like the northern lights and flaming
comets, against the common foes of the north.
At last, the king produced a document, to which, by a green silken
string, was attached the great royal seal in wax impression, with the
three crowned leopards in the shield, on one side, and the king's image
on the throne and in royal robes, on the other. Without turning to that
side of the throne which was Junker Christopher's station, and towards
which Eric, during the whole ceremony, had not once glanced, he said in
a loud voice, and apparently with effort, "Junker Christopher Ericson
of Denmark! step forth and receive a commemorative gift from my hand,
on this the happiest day of my life! I have, out of sincere brotherly
love and good-will, and with the assent of my council, three weeks
since, signed and sealed this document, which is now for the first time
made public, and which nominates thee, Duke of Estland, with all feudal
rights and privileges. May the Lord grant his blessing on it!" After he
had pronounced these words in a clear and audible voice, it seemed as
though an oppressive weight had been removed from his spirits, and he
looked calmly and cheerfully to the side from whence he expected to see
his brother step forward; but the junker's place was vacant, none of
those present had seen him since the tournament. The junker's master of
the household, therefore, stepped forth on the part of his lord, and
received the royal investiture, while he bent his knee before the king;
he then rose, bowed low, and departed to seek the prince.
Prince Christopher did not appear at the marriage feast. Some reported
they had seen him ride like a madman, at full gallop, through the
chase, immediately after the tournament.
The prince had not returned as yet on the commencement of the evening
festivities. The castle resounded with music and mirth. The doors of
the knights' hall and the great antechamber were thrown open to admit
persons of all ranks to the dance and masque. The amusements here, as
at the merry carnival, consisted in whimsical mummings, and scenic
representations, in which the spectators beheld, without displeasure,
the most grotesque mixture of sacred, and profane, subjects. Even a
number of disguised ecclesiastics took part in this diversion, and
enacted what was called "a mystery," or a biblical farce; in which a
German harlequin constantly cracked his jests, while the fight between
David and Goliath was represented, to the great delight of the
populace, who thought to discern, in King David, an allusion to the
king, and in the gigantic Goliath recognized a resemblance, now to Duke
Longshanks, now to the Junker; but as soon as the Drost noticed the
unlucky interpretation of the farce, he ordered these masks away. When
Eric stepped forth among the dancers in the antechamber, the young
maidens sang the ballad, with which he was usually greeted, and which
had now become a kind of a national song. With a feeling of enthusiasm
for their youthful sovereign, and allusion to one of the most romantic
adventures which had occurred in his childhood--they sang gaily:
"O'er Ribe's bridge the dance is led,
The castle it is won!
In broidered shoe the knights they tread,
For young Eric this feat is done!"[8]
The king listened with pleasure to the lay, and talked with Aage of his
beloved Drost Peter Hessel, of whom this song always reminded him; and
when Count Gerhard heard the ballad of Ribehuus, he tramped gaily into
the ranks of the dancers, in joyous remembrance of that event, at which
he had himself been present.
The king's mother and Queen Helvig now entered the antechamber, with
the young and lovely bride, and the joy of the people was uttered yet
more loudly. The ballad-singers instantly began the ballad of Queen
Dagmar's bridal; all the maidens joined in it, and the dancers moved to
the tune. The king stepped forward, with his bride, at the head of the
troop of dancers. At last the maidens sang:
"'Great joy there was o'er Denmark's land,
When Dagmar stepped upon the strand;
Both burgher and peasant then lived in peace,
From tax and ploughpenny-yoke had ease,
From Bohmerland[9] the lady crossed the seas!"
But as they were going to sing the last verse, the ballad-singers took
up the lay and sang:
"'Again there's joy o'er Denmark's land,'
Fair Ingeborg comes unto our strand!
Like Waldemar Seier, King Eric hath found
A Dagmar to bring us on Danish ground;
From Sweden's land so far renowned!"
This verse was repeated amid loud and joyous acclamations.
"Thanks, good people! thanks!" said the king, with pleased emotion; "if
it please the Lord, and our blessed Lady, Valdemar's and Dagmar's days
shall return."
The young queen feelingly greeted the many loyal persons who surrounded
her.
Amid the general rejoicing and festive stir, there was no one beside
Drost Aage who saw anything suspicious in the continuance of the mask;
but among the great number of maskers, he had especially noticed two,
who frequently made their way nearly up to the king, and disappeared
again. They were dressed up according to the ideas which the lower
classes entertained of mermen; their painted faces were hidden by green
silken hair, and they wore coats of glittering silver scales. Their
restless deportment appeared suspicious to Aage, who paid close
attention to every movement of these masks--but his suspicion soon
vanished; a pretty little fishermaiden came to meet the second mask and
the pair soon danced so lovingly together, that Aage conjectured a
little love affair was in progress. "Why cannot I thus dance here with
_her_?" he sighed, and his thoughts travelled to the maiden's tower at
Wordinborg. He looked with interest on the fair fisher-maiden, who with
her long hair, and her joyous sparkling eyes, bore a faint resemblance
to the Lady Margaretha's capricious sister Ulrica. "Alas, no! poor
maidens!" sighed the Drost, stepping out into the hall balcony--"they
are now in the gloomy tower over yonder; _they_ hear and see nought of
these rejoicings--and yet they are innocent--it is injustice; crying
injustice--in this matter he is stern and unyielding. To-night,
however, he is mild, and joyous, and happy--who knows----." It seemed
as if Aage was suddenly inspired by a bold hope; he returned into the
antechamber, and approached the king, who took greater pleasure in
being a spectator of the merriment of the lower orders in the
antechamber than in looking on the more graceful and skilful dancing in
the knights' hall. But the Drost presently once more beheld one of the
frightful mermen figures near the king; his suspicions of this mask
were again awakened, and he observed the glittering handle of a dagger
between the silver scales on the merman's breast, on which his hand
often rested when he approached Eric. Aage placed himself between the
king and the intrusive mask, and asked, "Who art thou?"
"Rosmer[10]," said a strange, unknown voice--"ho, ho, ho!"--and the
merman now sang in a hoarse tone:
"Home came Rosmer from the sea,
To curse he did begin:
My right hand's scent it warneth me
A christian man's within."
He then once more seized the hand of the fisher-maiden, and joined in
the dance. The Drost looked after him with suspicion; he thought of the
outlaws, and of the dishonoured Knight Kagge. The idea of this
dangerous and audacious miscreant became so vivid in his imagination,
that he seemed to recognise him in the merman, and almost in every
mask. He made a signal to some halberdiers to keep an eye on the mask,
and followed the king into the knights' hall. Here he also gave Count
Henrik a hint of what he dreaded, and a numerous troop of halberdiers
was soon stationed near the king; but neither he nor any of his guests
observed that this was done with any special design. The Drost's
scrutinising looks and the precautions which had been taken, did not,
however, seem to have escaped all the guests. Shortly afterwards the
well-known ballad of the "Merman and Agnete" was heard in the
antechamber, and a dance was performed to it, in which the merman mask
and the fisher-maiden were the principal performers. The merman only
chimed in with the burden of the song, and repeated, in a wild, hoarse
voice,
"Ho! ho! ho!
To the depths of the sea then lead her did he."
At last this masker and his partner departed: they danced out of the
door, and down the great staircase into the court-yard of the castle,
amid a crowd of disguised personages, who belonged to their party, and
represented all kinds of sea-monsters. No one knew what had become of
them: another dance began, and none concerned themselves any longer
about these unsocial maskers; but the report afterwards spread among
the people, that the masker was a real merman, who had carried off a
maiden. Some even would have it that they had seen the glittering
merman swim off with the maiden in his arms, in the clear moonlight.