The fireworks were now ended, and much admiration was expressed by the
spectators. The king roused himself from the mood into which he had
been thrown by the faithful Aage's farewell, and the Marsk's sternness.
"Where is the master of that fair pageant?" he said aloud; "where is
the learned Thrand Fistlier?"
"Here, most gracious sovereign!" said a discordant self-satisfied
voice, close beside the king; and Master Thrand stepped forth from the
dark avenue, with his amanuensis, the youthful Master Laurentius, by
his side--
"If my poor skill hath pleased the royal and lordly company, I esteem
it a high pleasure and honour."
"You have surprised us in the most agreeable manner;" said the king,
"but what I have seen will please me still more, if you will explain to
us the ways and means by which such beautiful results are produced."
"The whole is insignificant, in comparison with what I yet purpose,
according to promise, to show your grace!" answered the artist, bowing
humbly; "it is a masterpiece that requires but a moment's time. The
ways and means by which I produce it belong partly to one of my great
Master Bacon's most important discoveries, which he hath indeed named
in his writings, but hath not clearly and minutely explained. It is a
discovery which may easily be abused, and therefore can only be
entrusted to the initiated. I am the only one of his pupils who fully
comprehend it. I have myself considerably extended and substantiated
what was to my master rather a profound conjecture, than an actual
discovery, and I trust I shall not be deemed vain, if I expect, even in
preference to my great master, to be immortalised by it in the history
of science----"
"Well, well!" interrupted the king, "what is it?"
"The only person to whom I have imparted something of this important
secret," continued Master Thrand, with a proud look, without suffering
himself to be abashed, "is my pupil Master Laurentius; but I have not
as yet been able to initiate him in the deepest mysteries of an art
which will perhaps require centuries ere it be fully revealed to the
prejudiced human race. With you wise king! and with these enlightened
nobles and scholars, I make honourable exception, in showing you what I
have not even as yet shown my pupil, and what I now, for the first
time, and in an altogether novel manner, am about to reduce from theory
to a decisive practical result. If this marvellous art is not to die
with me----"
"You expect to become immortal, no doubt. Master Thrand!" interrupted
the king again, somewhat impatiently, "and if I understand you aright,
even in the proper signification of the word; if your art enables you
to set even death at defiance, your important invention can never be in
danger of perishing from the world. Let us now see what you laud so
highly, and keep not our expectation longer on the stretch! You
diminish by it even the surprise you have perhaps intended us."
"Instantly! most mighty king!" answered the artist in a lowered tone,
and produced a calf-skin, which he rolled up and placed on the ground.
He then took out of his pocket a small, unknown substance, of some few
inches thickness, which he placed under it, and commenced several other
preparations, seemingly just as simple and trivial. "Now place yourself
there, your grace!" he resumed, "and give close heed! Quit not your
place until you see me withdraw. Let the ladies step aside, it might
perhaps alarm those who are weakly, although there is no danger
whatever. As soon as I light this torch and bring it into contact with
this simple apparatus, you will hear a voice like that which nature's
great spirit sends forth from the clouds of heaven, to announce his
sovereignty over all the earth, as lord of life and death; but _this_
voice obeys _my_ bidding and _my_ will--now mark!" The ladies stepped
aside and looked inquisitively towards the artist. Some of the noble
guests drew nearer; others drew back with suspicion. The king stood
silent and attentive, on the spot assigned him. The learned Master
Petrus de Dacia stood nearest him; his eyes were raised towards the
clear bright stars, and he appeared occasionally to look on the little
mountebank and his whole proceedings, with a kind of contemptuous pity.
Count Henrik was not present; at the Drost's suggestion he had employed
himself in securing the castle against every possible attack of the
outlaws, some of whom were supposed to have been recognised among the
masked wedding guests who, however, had already escaped.
The expectation of the whole assemblage was now turned towards the
exhibition of art, which had been so pompously announced. The
mysterious artist was still busied with his preparations, and appeared
himself somewhat thoughtful and hesitating. He lighted a torch at some
distance, and took a book out of his pocket, which he appeared to
consult. He had placed a pair of large spectacles before his eyes, and
as he thus stood in the torch-light, with his deformed figure and fiery
red mantle, he resembled a goblin or a fire-gnome, rather than a human
being. He presently replaced the book in his pocket, and lighted
another torch.
"Stop your ears with this, your grace!" whispered the considerate
Master Laurentius, handing a couple of wax-balls to the king, "from
what I know of this specimen of art, it may have a stunning and
injurious effect on the hearing." The king nodded and followed his
advice. The artist now held the lighted torch in his hand; the red
flame lit up his face--it was expressive of a fearful degree of
agitation--every muscle was horribly, almost convulsively,
distorted--He approached slowly with the torch towards the mysterious
apparatus, and most of the spectators drew back with apprehension. The
king stood calm and attentive in his place, by the side of Master
Petrus de Dacia, with his foot on the rolled-up hide.
"Hence! back! life is at stake!" said a voice behind him in a frantic
tone. The king felt himself forcibly grasped by a powerful hand, and at
the same moment a fearful explosion, resembling a clap of thunder, was
heard, with a flash as of a thousand combined lightnings; many persons
fell to the ground with a cry of horror. The ladies swooned--a cloud of
smoke encompassed them, with a suffocating sulphureous vapour. The
terrible artist himself lay mangled and lifeless on the grass, with the
extinguished torch in his hand. Master Laurentius threw himself upon
the body in grief; there was a fearful panic and confusion.
The king stood unscathed a few steps from the corpse of the wretched
Thrand, and now first perceived who had dragged him from his dangerous
position. It was his own brother Christopher, who, with his Duke's
diploma crumpled in his left hand, and with his right still
convulsively grasping the king's arm, stood pale as death gazing on the
lifeless philosopher. "The judgment of God!" he said in a deep and
scarcely audible voice. He quitted his hold of his brother's arm, and
then, as if pursued by evil spirits, rushed into the dark avenue, and
disappeared.
"Christopher! What is this?" said the king in a low voice, as he looked
after him, with a horrible conjecture, but he quickly recovered
himself, and hastened to attend his bride and the terrified ladies.
"The danger is over," he said with calmness, "but this specimen of art
hath cost the artist his life. If he hath spoken truth, his dangerous
art hath perished with him, and the whole world is lapsed into
barbarism and ignorance. He was a wise and learned man," he added, as
he saw most of the company tranquillised, but heard the suspicion of
treachery loudly expressed--"Let us not judge his intentions! perhaps
he hath sacrificed life as a martyr to his science--'twas pity,
however, he would personate our Lord; the Almighty lets himself not be
mocked."
None were injured but the hapless artist, and the company soon returned
composed and thoughtful to the illuminated avenues in the garden.
Ingeborg's fears were calmed and she clung tenderly to her bridegroom's
arm. It appeared to her and to all, as if an inconceivable miracle had
saved the king's life and crushed his treacherous foes. The report of
the king's peril had interrupted the bridal festivities; but wherever
he showed himself the music and merriment again commenced, and the
royal bridal pair were followed back to the castle, with almost
deafening acclamations.
While the bridemaids conducted the bride to the bridal chamber the king
repaired to his private apartment. He went in silence to his prie-dieu,
bent his knee before the holy crucifix, and became absorbed in silent
prayer. He had shut the door after him, and believed he was alone with
God on this spot, to which none beside himself and his confessors had
access; but he presently heard some one moving behind him, and he
arose. Junker Christopher stood before him, with his wild countenance
bathed in tears. "My brother!" he exclaimed, with outstretched arms, "I
have sinned against the Lord and against thee; I am not worthy to be
called thy brother. Canst _thou_ forgive me what _I_ cannot name? Canst
thou forgive me for the sake of our murdered father's soul, and for the
sake of the All-merciful, who blots out every transgression?"
"Christopher!" said the king, in a tone of the greatest consternation,
gazing fixedly on him with a piercing look, "thou wouldest--thou
knewest----"
"Say not what I willed--say not what I knew!" interrupted the junker,
in a choking voice, and covering his face with both his hands; "but
give me thy hand, if thou canst, and say.--'I am reconciled,' and by
the Almighty, who hath struck me with horror, thou shalt see this face
no more ere I can say, 'Brother! now hath the great and terrible God
forgiven me, as thou hast forgiven me!'"
"Christopher! brother! my father's son!" exclaimed Eric; the tears
gushed from his eyes, and he hastened towards his humbled brother with
open arms. "Come to my heart! may the merciful Lord forgive thee as I
have forgiven thee!" and the brothers sank in each other's arms.
"Amen!" said a friendly voice beside them. The king's confessor, the
pious Master Petrus de Dacia, who had led the despairing Christopher
hither, stepped forth from a niche in the chamber, and laid his hand on
their heads in token of blessing.
"This day hath now become the happiest of my life," said Eric, and went
arm-in-arm with the junker out of the private chamber.