"To entertain any such fear, in your presence and that of so many bold knights, would but insult you," replied the queen. "Besides, as you may observe, I have considerably strengthened my body-guard. I am not insensible to your delicacy or your chivalrous submission to what you deem my humours and weaknesses," she continued; "and I certainly owe you a better explanation than you have yet received of the reasons which have led me to change my determination. In important affairs of state, it may seem truly unwise to be guided by dreams, presentiments, and all such considerations as are held in contempt by your stronger sex; and weaknesses of this description have not hitherto been imputed to me. But still you must allow, that a dream of warning, in connection with the dark remembrances of my life, may justly carry with it a considerable weight. Neither is it so unwise to hasten the completion of a ceremony which, in the popular estimation, can alone sanctify and protect the crown against the vindictiveness of traitors. Besides, without any whimsey, as you may term it, the actual sight of the regicides, at the Dane-court yesterday, might well dissuade me from approaching at present the crypt chapel of Viborg, or the barn of Finnerup."
The duke rapidly changed colour. "Most noble queen!" he hastily exclaimed, "your dreams and presentiments are surely not connected with these horrible events?"
"Partly. You are aware, Duke Waldemar, that grayfriars' cloaks concealed the traitors on that fearful St. Cecilia's night. I dreamt last night of these twelve men, and that they bore the crown of Denmark on the points of their spears. They seemed to me like wolves in sheep's clothing, and at their head stood one whose face was entirely concealed by his hood."
"And him you took for Marsk Stig?" hastily interrupted the duke. "You have reason, indeed, to beware of him, and therefore---"
"And therefore have I changed my resolution," she continued "I saw you, too--"
"Me?" ejaculated the duke: "you do me great honour; but I hope that, in this dream, you did not find me among those whom your grace knows I abhor and condemn."
"Methought you stood by my side, and, by your paleness and agitation, I perceived that you, too, trembled at the sight of the tottering crown on the murderers' spears. I fancied that the guardian saint of Denmark, the holy King Canute, stood before me, and said--'The anointed one shall wear the crown until his death.' Can it surprise you, then, that such a warning should determine me to accomplish what is already desired by the council and by the whole people? Before your arrival in Nyborg, it was so resolved; for to delay the proclamation and act of homage in Skielskioer, and to defer the coronation, would have but the effect of exciting popular discontent."
The queen paused, and looked scrutinisingly at the duke. "If I see aright," she added, "one portion of my dream is already fulfilled: you are now, assuredly, standing quite pale by my side."
"I cannot at all times bear the sea-breeze," he replied, passing his hand across his face. "But indeed, noble queen," he added, in a careless tone, "if you consider these ceremonies as so important, I shall not persuade you to delay them. Since, however, Denmark's patron saint has condescended to make you a revelation, I can only wish that he had been somewhat more explicit: to wear the crown until his death, is saying little; to wear it long and happily, would be better worth revealing. But whether this is the road to it, I know not."
"I know not either," rejoined the queen; "but, in Heaven's name, let us try it."
As the young king, accompanied by Sir John and Count Gerhard, now drew near, this subject was broken off, and the conversation turned on indifferent topics. Sir John was jocular, and the royal party soon assumed the appearance of great gaiety. Drost Peter remained silent and reserved. But Count Gerhard felt so happy with the secret pledge of the queen's confidence which he carried in his bosom, that he yielded himself entirely to the current of his natural humour, and far excelled the others in amusing the queen. The duke strove in vain to regain his pre-eminence; but the endeavour to conceal his uneasy feelings deprived him of his usual sprightliness, and his forced compliments and pleasant conceits, with Count Gerhard's dry additions, often provoked a laugh, by no means flattering to him, but in which he was nevertheless obliged to join.
They were now approaching Skielskioer, where multitudes of people crowded both sides of the fiord, which divides the town into two almost equal parts. Young Erik was standing at the prow, by the side of Chancellor Martinus, listening attentively to what that learned gentleman was relating concerning Henrik Æmeldorf's rebellion against his grandfather, King Christopher Waldemarson.
"It is now five and thirty years ago, my young king and master," said the chancellor, "but it appears to me as if it had happened but yesterday: it was the very week after I had gained, in the chapter-house, my first palm in logic. Here your late grandfather landed with his army, to force the proud rebel to submission, and compel his homage. The town and castle, you must be aware, were legally in the power of the general, having been given him in pledge by King Abel for military pay; but he was grievously wrong in refusing homage to the king, and in stirring up the people to rebel against him. That deep trench there, across the town's-field, was cast up by the rebellious Æmeldorf, and on the other side he had a strong garrison to defend it."
"And my grandfather was beaten, and compelled to fly from the rebels?" exclaimed the youthful monarch. "That was truly provoking. Had he, then, no brave and trusty men in his army?"
"Many," replied the chancellor; "but what avails our strength, when the Lord intends to chastise us? The godless traitors, however, did not long retain their advantage. The following year your royal grandfather again came, like a stern and mighty judge, and the Lord was with him then. The city was taken and burnt, the leader of the rebels obliged to fly, and his adherents received the punishment due to traitors on yonder field--there, where the Retter-Ting and diets are now held.Soli Deo gloria!"
"And there shall homage be rendered me to-morrow," observed King Erik. "It is strange! If this occurred but thirty years ago, there must be many still living whose friends and kinsmen were then executed."
"It certainly may be so," replied the chancellor: "the race of the ungodly man is not uprooted from the earth. Might I counsel you, my young king, I would say, remove the Zealand Dane-court to another city, to avoid those gloomy recollections and forebodings of evil to which the superstition of the people will easily give birth. 'Tis true, the power and fortunes of kings are in the hands of God alone; but shortsighted men will sometimes see evil, where the Lord purposes only good; and, on what they deem an unlucky spot, they will not easily rejoice or be filled with faith in temporal prosperity."
"Entertain you any distrust of my dear subjects here, reverend sir?" inquired Erik. "See how joyfully they wave their caps. And, listen--they already salute me with shouts of welcome."
"The people, thank Heaven, are faithful and ardent," replied the chancellor; "but should the outlaws appear here, to protest against their sentence, they would, I fear much, find many adherents; for where, indeed, are not the sons of Satan? Still, you have with you faithful men, sir king; and, with the assistance of the King of kings, you have nothing to fear. If I see aright, Rimaardson also is here."
The royal smack had now reached the quay, where the royal party were received by the town's-governor and the burghers, as also by Sir Bent Rimaardson, who, with his galley, had newly arrived from Taarborg. The kinsman of the queen, and a faithful friend to the royal house, he was justly held in the greatest respect. The execution of his brother, along with Niels Breakpeace and his band, had rendered him yet more melancholy than before; but he sought, by the most vigilant activity, to efface the ignominy that thus attached to his noble race. Since the surprisal of Rypen House, in which he had taken an active part, he had been cruising about the coasts, for the purpose of protecting them against the Norse freebooters; and a pirate-vessel, that he had recently captured, now lay in Skielskioer fiord. When he had saluted the royal family, he begged to be permitted to accompany them to the Hovgaard, as the castle is called, where, he said, he had some tidings to impart.
"If your tidings are good, Sir Rimaardson, let us hear them here," exclaimed the youthful king. "Yet, nay," he added, "this is not the place for that."
The air of suspicion which Sir Rimaardson wore did not escape old Sir John, who also, as well as the chancellor, had observed the duke and Master Grand exchange uneasy and significant glances, when they discovered the captured pirate in the fiord.
Whilst the royal personages, amidst the acclamations of the people, repaired to the castle, Rimaardson hastily took Drost Peter aside. "There are traitors in the town," he whispered: "guard well the king, and keep an eye upon the duke. Had you crossed the Little Belt to-day, you had fallen into the hands of the marsk. A Norse fleet, with, it is rumoured, the Norse king himself, is lying at Ekeroe. The marsk, at this instant perhaps, burns one half of Funen with--"
"Just Providence!" exclaimed Drost Peter, "when stood a Danish king so surrounded by foes and traitors! Would only that he were anointed and crowned!"
"Would only that the duke had never left Sjöborg Tower!" whispered Rimaardson.
"He may again be there," exclaimed the drost, with flashing eyes; while the approach of the duke, at that moment, put an end to their private conference.
When the royal party were alone in the castle, they learned from Sir Rimaardson what he had just confided to Drost Peter. He produced, at the same time, a packet of intercepted letters from Drost Tuko Abildgaard in Norway, and from Marsk Stig, to Duke Waldemar, Master Grand, and Count Jacob of Halland, by which the league of the outlaws with the King of Norway, and their entire plans for overturning the Danish throne, were clearly discovered. Of the letters from the duke's drost, some were addressed, under ecclesiastical seals, to Dean Grand of Roskild, directing him to attend to the duke and the disaffected nobles of the kingdom. From these it appeared that Marsk Stig and the outlaws intended to place the duke upon the vacant throne, if he would faithfully join them, and seize the opportunity of getting the royal family into his power. By the letters to Count Jacob it appeared, on the contrary, that the marsk and the outlaws could not depend upon the duke, and that they had promised the crown of Denmark to the Norse king, if he would assist them with a fleet, and promise to reinstate them in their rights and dignities. These important letters were found on board the captured freebooter, the crew of which were then lying bound in the castle-dungeons.
This discovery excited the greatest alarm in the minds of the queen and her son, who immediately called into their secret council Sir John, Drost Peter, and Master Martin. Every necessary precaution was instantly adopted; and, by Sir John's advice, the duke was to be admitted only in appearance into their councils, and but half informed of what had been discovered. The intercepted letters, which betrayed his connection with the outlaws, were carefully concealed; and it was deemed prudent to communicate to him only the letters to Count Jacob, respecting the marsk's audacious proposals to the Norwegian king.
When this resolution was adopted, they requested the attendance of the duke, whose astonishment at the discovery they made to him seemed real and natural. The marsk and the other outlaws he reprobated in the strongest terms, and cordially approved of all the measures which the council had taken to defend the country against the Norwegians.
In the meanwhile, Count Gerhard had disembarked the royal troops, and quartered them in the town; and stationing a considerable body of them at the castle, he himself took his place in the ante-chamber, as captain of the guard.
When Drost Peter and Sir John left the royal closet, the cheeks of the former were flushed with anger, by which, and his flashing eyes, it was evident that some bold project was in his mind.
"Wretched weakness!" he exclaimed. "Have we not now sufficient proofs of his treachery? Why should we not arrest him, as a traitor, on the spot?"
"Prudence, my young friend," replied old John.
"Your prudence drives me mad!" exclaimed Drost Peter. "I can no longer bear to see the traitor amongst us, as our master and the ruler of the kingdom. If we be not beforehand with him, he will be beforehand with us, as old Henner said. It must now break or bear--"
"It will break unless we are cautious," interrupted the old knight, emphatically. "So long as he contrives to wear the mask, he is of service to us; but the moment he casts it aside, he must be overthrown."
"Good: one word will suffice for that."
"Beware of that word, Drost Peter, for by it you may perhaps overturn the throne of Denmark. Yet one thing," added the old man, in a sorrowful tone, as he cast a look of anxious concern on his excited friend: "are you aware that the father of our faithful Ingé was the bearer of these treasonable letters, and now lies a prisoner in the tower?"
Drost Peter seemed horror-struck. "Merciful Heaven!--Sir Lavé!" he exclaimed. "I can hardly doubt it. But is his crime quite evident?"
"He was on board the freebooter, and in his care the letters were found. What he can urge in his own defence, I know not. To-morrow he is to be heard before the council; and on account of our relationship with him, I have requested that you and I may be then exempted from sitting as his judges."
"Poor Ingé!" sighed Drost Peter. "Where is she? What have you done with her? She referred me to you, who have coldly and sternly avoided every question on the subject. But I can no longer refrain. What does she in Sweden, while we imprison and condemn her father here?"
"You shall know all, and will approve of it," replied Sir John, as he seized his hand. "Follow me to the chancellor. For the sake of Ingé, I could wish that Sir Lavé might, to-morrow, frustrate us all; although, were I his judge, there were small hopes of his deliverance. But that office lies with the duke, and one raven does not pick out the eye of another. As far as this goes, we may rejoice at the miscarriage of justice, and that we have a traitor for the kingdom's protector." So saying, he passed his hand over his eyes with much emotion, and drew Drost Peter along with him.
In the middle of the castle-yard stood a small gloomy tower, the stone vaults of which served as a prison. In one of these subterranean dungeons lay Sir Lavé. He stirred not but with dreadful apprehension, and seemed terrified at the clank of his own chains. At every sound he huddled himself up, and gazed earnestly on the securely bolted iron door; but it opened not. A small grating, looking forth upon the castle-yard, was situated high in the wall. This, with the aid of an old block of wood, which some wretched captive had formerly dragged after him, and a few loose stones, he succeeded, after considerable labour, in reaching. Here he saw Sir John and Drost Peter pass by; but he was afraid to meet his kinsman's look, and indignation choked his voice as he was about to call on Drost Peter to save him. He wept and wrung his hands, but regained courage when he perceived several of the duke's people passing to and fro. He then drew out a little note, which he had concealed in his sleeve, anxiously hiding it at every suspicious noise, and pulling it forth again when a follower of the duke appeared.
The young king showed himself for a moment on the balcony and was received by the curious spectators in the court below with shouts and waving of caps. This spectacle greatly agitated the captive, who, again concealing the letter, shortly afterwards became absorbed in deep and gloomy thought, in which he remained until the moonbeams, penetrating his cell, announced to him the approach of night. At that moment he perceived the duke descend the castle-stairs, and proceed to that wing of the castle appropriated to him. Preceding him was a royal page, bearing a torch, and six of his knights attended him at a little distance. His air was thoughtful; and, as he approached the grating of the dungeon, a gleam of hope inspired with courage the despairing prisoner. He coughed. The duke heard it, and looked towards the grating.
"Drop your glove, Duke Waldemar," whispered the captive knight, as he rolled the letter up, and threw it forth.
The duke dropped his glove as desired, and, in picking it up again, also secured the letter.
"There lies one of the traitors from Norway, awaiting the gallows," he exclaimed aloud, as he threw an indignant glance towards the dungeon, and passed on, regardless of the deep sigh that burst from the heart of the despairing prisoner.
Skirmen, who, by his master's orders, was observing every motion of the duke, was at this instant concealed in the deep shadow of a corner, near the tower. The moment the duke had disappeared, the trusty squire came forth, and was hastening to his master, when he was arrested by a voice from the grating.
"In the name of the merciful God, listen to me, young man!" exclaimed the captive knight. "Art not thou Drost Hessel's squire?"
"At your service," answered Skirmen, as he stopped.
"Inform your master, then," stammered the prisoner, "that the man who once saved Drost Peter Hessel's life and preserved his freedom, would now converse with him a moment for the sake of his own mind's peace. Tell him that I can reveal to him something of great importance. But time presses."
"I shall deliver your message," replied Skirmen, as he hastened away.
The prisoner descended from his dangerous seat, and carefully removed the means by which he had reached the grating. He then seated himself sorrowfully on the block beneath it, and listened anxiously to every sound he heard. Some time elapsed thus, when at length the rattling of the gaoler's keys, and the withdrawing of the bolts one by one from the door, announced a visitor. In another moment Drost Peter stood in the cell with him.
The moonlight through the grating fell upon the pale face of the prisoner, who remained in a crouching posture, without daring to raise his eyes. The drost stood for an instant, silently contemplating him. In the half-despairing countenance before him, there was that which reminded him bitterly both of Lady Ingé and the brave Sir John--some of the lineaments of the noble race of Littles. Tears stood in his eyes.
"Miserable man!" he exclaimed, at length, "what can I effect for your peace? And of what have you to unburden yourself to me?"
"Tell me truly, Peter Hessel," asked the prisoner, in a trembling voice, but with a tone of parental familiarity that reminded the drost of the relation in which they had stood in his youthful days, "are thou and Cousin John to be my judges?"
"Nay, Heaven be praised! Our relationship to you exempts us from that duty."
"I may, then, hope for mercy; for from thee and Sir John I could expect only what you call justice. But God help us all, if we must be treated according to our deserts!"
"Sir Lavé," interrupted Drost Peter, "think you, then, that there is not a powerful, perhaps an all too-powerful voice, which pleads for you both in my breast and that of old kinsman?"
"I believe it, and will prove to thee my sincerity," replied the prisoner, "since, as thou art not to sit in judgment on me, I can venture to unburden my heart to thee."
He arose, and threw on the drost a penetrating look, while he continued in the same familiar tone:--"Misfortune has now taught me what thou in vain wouldst have had me believe in time. I now perceive that no success or blessing attends rebellion against lawfully constituted authority, even when instigated by the purest attachment to freedom and fatherland. By the law, my doom is death; but the prerogative of mercy lies with the king, in whose hands I place my life and fate. I had no share in his father's death, and he can therefore pardon me. Had I seen him before, as I have seen him to-day, I should not now be in this dungeon. The stern Marsk Stig himself, I firmly believe, could not look the youthful monarch in the face and deny him the name of king. I cannot now blame thee, Peter Hessel, who wert his tutor and weapon-master, for entertaining the greatest hopes of him. If he spare my life, I will swear fealty to him, and reveal matters of importance. Tell him I will confess my sins to the chancellor, and atone for my crimes in a state-prison. Tell him--"
"Kind Heaven!" exclaimed Drost Peter, joyfully, as he seized Sir Lavé's trembling hand, "dare I believe? Has, then, the Almighty heard my petition, and inclined your heart to faith and honour. You will be loyal and attached to our young king--you will confess all, and swear him fealty--you will atone your treason--and he will--he must pardon you. But he does not govern alone," he added, with a sigh; "and, without the concurrence of the queen and the duke, his wishes will avail you not."
Sir Lavé's pale cheeks flushed, and for an instant he remained silent. "The duke cannot condemn me," at length he whispered, with a smile of confidence: "I have taken care of that. The will of the king I know thou canst easily determine, and a favourable word to the queen would perhaps also find a willing ear. There was a time when Peter Hessel was all-powerful with the fair Queen Agnes--"
A frown gathered on Drost Peter's brow, for the expression of Sir Lavé's features did not please him. The joy he had felt at his conversion quickly disappeared, while the discovery that Skirmen had just imparted to him suddenly presented itself to his mind.
"As a man, I may perhaps venture to speak, where, as drost, I must be silent," he replied, sternly; "but I can only venture to do so when I am convinced of your sincerity, and that you are not, even here, taking counsel against the king and country."
"What! do you still doubt me, Drost Peter?" asked Sir Lavé, in a tone of terror and bitterness. "I say I am converted to your state-creed. Must you see me howl in sackcloth and ashes before you believe me? Intercede for me, Peter Hessel! and you will find that I am not ungrateful," he continued, fawningly. "Thy father was my friend, and what I promised him on his deathbed I have not forgotten. Save my life now, as once I saved thine, and my hand shall no longer separate what a mightier than mine hath joined together."
Drost Peter was much affected; but observing a cunning smile on Sir Lavé's restless features, he felt, with wounded self-esteem, how nearly he had been befooled.
"Not even for that prize, Sir Lavé, shall I forfeit my fidelity," he exclaimed, warmly. "If, without self-abasement, I intercede and promise for you, I must first be convinced that we dare trust you. What connection subsists between the duke and you? and what was the purport of the letter which, but half an hour ago, you bade him pick up with his glove?"
Sir Lavé became pale with terror. "Letter!--what letter?" he stammered out. But perceiving the uselessness of denial, he continued:--"Well, as you appear to be omniscient, it was so: but I swear it contained nothing but what was true--that I was an incautious fool, and had brought letters to land which would perhaps occasion the duke embarrassment, if I did not explain the nature of them. I can testify that they were written by his enemies, and, being intercepted, might lay him under the suspicion of having private intercourse with the outlaws."
"Wretched man!" interrupted Drost Peter: "on the brink of a gulph you are still playing with two sharp-edged swords, both of which will fall with deadly force upon your head. I cannot--I dare not, now intercede for you. I should myself be an enemy to Denmark and the royal house, and a traitor to my country, should I do so. But I will provide for the peace of your soul. Within an hour the chancellor will visit you. Confess yourself sincerely to him, and bethink of your eternal weal. He may then, perhaps, beg mercy for you from the pitying God."
"Alas, alas! let, then, the chancellor come, and prepare me for death!" groaned Sir Lavé, as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead. "I must now put my hope in God, for in man there is no mercy! Alas! could my Ingé see how hardhearted you are, Drost Peter, she would never love the man who can treat so cruelly her unfortunate father."
"Heaven is my witness," sorrowfully exclaimed Drost Peter, laying his hand upon his breast, "that it cuts me to the soul that I cannot trust you better. You would win the duke with false witness, and me with a false hope; and would, if you could, make my affection traitor to my loyalty. Nay, Sir Lavé Little, you are not thus to be saved. Truth only can save you, the country, and us all. God give your unstable mind constancy and strength to resolve earnestly on that to which you now only pretend for the purpose of saving yourself before a human tribunal!"
With these words he left the dungeon, and Sir Lavé sank with a groan upon the stone floor, where the fear of death wrung a sincere prayer from his bosom.
Half an hour afterwards, Chancellor Martinus, in his Dominican habit, with his breviary and a candle in his hand, was admitted to the anxious captive, whom he found in a state of such bewilderment and mental conflict, that the philosophical chancellor found it impossible to understand his incoherent and contradictory expressions.
"Is it you who are to prepare me for death?" asked the prisoner, starting up with a wild stare. "Ha! it is time. The wheel and stile are ready. Drost Peter will not intercede for me; and my child, my poor child, she will die of shame for her miserable father. But my punishment is just," he continued, sinking his voice to a whisper: "I nodded--see, I nodded thus--in that horrible council. That nod cost me perhaps my salvation, and King Erik Christopherson his life. Was I not among the twelve in Finnerup barn? Nay, nay, that was but a dream!" he exclaimed, vehemently--"that night I only betrayed my master's castle--his blood is not upon my hand, and will not be visited upon my head. But I heard the woe-cry from his coffin: from the grave it came--nay, from hell itself! It yet rings in my ears. To be doomed an outlaw by men is nothing--but outlawed, eternally outlawed from heaven, I became at that hour. I am an unfortunate man!" He paused and sighed. "Ha! but misfortune shall not strike me down," he continued, strutting boldly across the dungeon--"I am of noble birth, and die not as a traitor, but as a patriot and the foe of tyrants. What wilt thou with me, clerk? Thou art no confessor of mine--thou art not the bold dean who bids defiance to kings and kaisers. I know thee well: thou art the book-worm from Antvorskov, the learned chancellor--thou wert the tyrants' friend, and now wouldst outlaw and put under the ban every free-minded Dane. Comest thou hither to shrive me to-night, ere thou doomest me to the wheel to-morrow? Nay, nay--that thou mayst spare thyself, my very learned sir. A wise statesman can hold his tongue, and die like a heathen, without shrift or penitence."
He continued for some time raving in this wild manner, now accusing himself as the greatest criminal, and now boasting his high birth and political sagacity, but at length recovered himself, and burst into tears.
The learned Master Martinus had several times vainly attempted to stop him, to point out the rules inlogicaagainst which he was offending; but the zealous carer for souls now triumphed over the philosopher, and he seized this favourable opportunity of exhorting to repentance the despairing sinner before him; and, in the supposition that he had been among the regicides, he became stern and vehement, and thundered forth the most fearful threatenings of the law against traitors and man-slayers.
"Nay, nay!" exclaimed Sir Lavé, "I am no regicide; but still I must surely perish, unless there dwells pity with Heaven and the Holy Church. Listen, and I will shrive!"
He then threw himself at the feet of the chancellor, and confessed every step he had taken, relating how he had been inveigled into the conspiracy, and protesting that he had, however, taken no share in his kinsman's sanguinary revenge.
"Drost Peter was right," he exclaimed: "the truth alone can save me and all of us. Even at that hour I would have deceived him, and he cannot trust--he cannot sue for mercy for me. Let justice, then, overtake me. Here I must be condemned; but save, oh save my soul from the eternal death!"
"Your sin is great," answered the chancellor, who was much affected; "but those who abused your weakness, have more to atone for than you have." He then, in the blessed words of the Gospel, exhorted him to repentance, and in the name of the Holy Church granted him indulgence for his sins, should he continue firm in his repentance, and true to the change of conduct he had promised. "Even your earthly judges," he added, "I hope to soften, after this your confession. What you have confided to me no man shall know without your own permission; but allow me to reveal it to the queen and our young king, and I promise that time shall be accorded you for repentance in a bearable state-prison."
"Reveal it to all!" exclaimed Sir Lavé, embracing his knees with trembling arms. "In the wall of my closet at Flynderborg is a secret depository, where lie the proofs of my greatest crime. Let all the world know it, but let me not die thus in my sin. Spare but my life--this wretched life--and I will gladly hide myself and my shame in Denmark's darkest prison. Reveal all!" he continued, in the accents of fear and anxiety--"tell them, too, that there will be a tumult here to-morrow, if they take not means to prevent it. The outlaws are here, and, with the assistance of the duke, will possess themselves of the king's person. I have even brought the duke the letter respecting it."
"Merciful Heaven!" exclaimed the chancellor, who, terrified, suddenly rose and knocked violently at the prison-door, which was quickly opened for him.
The prisoner attempted to escape with him; but a violent blow from the sturdy turnkey threw him backwards on the stone floor, without consciousness.
An innumerable multitude of people from all quarters of Zealand were assembled in Skielskioer, to see and do homage to the young king. All the villages in the environs were thronged, for the town, which had been half burnt down in the feud between King Christopher and Henrik Æmeldorf, had not yet recovered its former prosperity, and could with difficulty accommodate but an inconsiderable portion of the strangers.
These throngs were further augmented by the friends and adherents of the outlawed noblemen, who had assembled in great numbers, in consequence of the rumour that the murderers of King Erik Christopherson had been personally cited to hear their doom, and that they intended to defend their cause before the people, and protest against the sentence of outlawry.
As evening approached the tumults and contentions which occurred between these partisans and the populace became so frequent, that the town-governor was compelled to call on the royal landsknechts to assist him in keeping order.
On the following morning, when the matin-bell had rung from the lofty spire of St. Nicholas, the people were already assembled in the Thing-place, and in the large area before the Hovgaard, to witness the procession of the royal family to the Dane-court; but hour after hour elapsed, and the royal party appeared not. The castle was encircled by the royal landsknechts and a body of the burgher-guard, whilst, posted before the gate, at the head of a small party of the queen's life-horse, were Drost Peter and Count Gerhard. Both appeared thoughtful. Drost Peter still carried his right arm in a sling; but, like a skilful swordsman, he knew how to support at need his weapon with his left.
As it appeared, they had hoped to prevent all tumult at the proclamation, and had found it impolitic to break with the duke. The inner courts of the castle had, in the meanwhile, by the drost's arrangements, been secretly filled with the remaining portion of the queen's life-horse, which were supposed to have been left on board the ships. These, the most trusty of the royal troops, had orders to advance and secure the duke, the instant they saw the drawn sword in the drost's hand.
Not far from Count Gerhard and Drost Peter, in a magnificent suit of armour, was the duke, seated on his charger, in the midst of his knights and a considerable body of Sleswick horsemen. His looks, as he surveyed the multitude, seemed anxious and uneasy, and the dark, earnest countenance of Drost Peter did not appear to please him, any more than did the bold bearing of Count Gerhard.
The people now began to display symptoms of impatience at the long delay; and, with visible discontent, Drost Peter whispered to Count Gerhard--"This is the fault of our good, thoughtful chancellor."
Murmurs and expressions of anger speedily followed.
"How long must we remain here upon our pegs, before we see either wet or dry?" growled a corpulent burgher, who was standing sentry.
"There is good reason for the delay, Faerlil," answered a long-bearded Sleswick horseman: "your king, to be sure, has no need yet to stop to polish his beard; but he must be swaddled and suckled. The queen, too, must be trim and spruce, that your maids and wives may not tempt Drost Hoseol to prove untrue to her."
A boisterous laugh from the horsemen accompanied this coarse joke.
"The people are becoming merry--that pleases me well," observed Count Gerhard, who heard the laughter, but not the disgraceful words which created it.
Drost Peter, however, had heard them, and burned with indignation, which he endeavoured to suppress, looking with apparent inattention in the opposite direction; whilst the merriment continued, and was kept up with other expressions of a like nature.
"Peace, fellows, or speak of royalty with greater respect!" exclaimed the duke, with apparent severity, to his people.
"Yes," added one of his knights, "take care, you fellows! The drost's left arm is not to be laughed at. And you, my good man," he observed to the burgher--"you should remember the consequences of grumbling in Skielskioer at a royal proclamation."
"I'faith, that is true, stern sir knight," growled the burgher: "unless we would have our houses again burnt over our heads, we must howl with the wolves, and submit to boy-rule and petticoat government."
"Fie for shame on every Danish man," cried another, "that they should patiently submit to be ruled by a king in slippers and baby-clothes."
"Thou hast a mind to be outlawed before night, my bold fellow," observed a tall personage, in a monk's habit. "A good word now-a-days may bring that on a man."
"Know you the news, holy sir?" exclaimed an awkward, heavy mass-boy to the monk: "Marsk Stig and his friends have to-day been put under the ban of the Church by the Archbishop of Lund."
"The ban--the ban!" was muttered around from one to the other, with increasing discontent.
"They could never be so infatuated," observed a tall man, enveloped in a large blue cloak.
"He begins sharply, this little master," exclaimed a jeering voice close by the side of the last speaker; "and his pinafore must be as wide as a church-door, since he can carry an archbishop in his pocket."
"The apple doesn't fall wide of the tree," remarked the corpulent burgher; whilst his neighbour began humming:--
"And so grows up the little wolf,With sharp teeth in his jaws."
"And so grows up the little wolf,With sharp teeth in his jaws."
"What else could you expect?" demanded the Sleswick horseman: "all that come of the wolf, howl like the wolf, as they say in our country."
One of the queen's horsemen, who was stationed next to the Sleswicker, had long sat in his saddle as if on glowing coals. "If there be wolves' cubs amongst us," he now at last broke out, in a broad Jutlandic accent, "they are rather in your troop than ours, my dainty Sleswicker."
"It needs a good dog to smell that out," retorted the other.
"In our country the dogs are as keen as they are true," rejoined the North Jute; "but down by Gottorp they ought to be keen indeed, as the late King Abel, your duke's grandfather, must well know, seeing that three fiery hounds hunt him every night to the infernal regions."
"Whoever says an ill word of my duke or of his race, shall have his neck broken!" exclaimed the Sleswick horseman, drawing his sword.
"And whoever slanders my queen or the drost, shall have his nose and ears cut off!" vociferated the other, already brandishing his glaive.
As the contention thus grew hot, several joined in it; and although it was strictly forbidden that any one should draw his sword before orders, many weapons were already seen gleaming among the troopers, both of the queen and of the duke.
"Peace, there!" now cried the latter, as, with some uneasiness, he examined the multitude around him.
"Whoever strikes a blow without his officer's command, is a dead man!" shouted Drost Peter; and the swords were again sheathed, whilst the noisy quarrel subsided to a murmur.
A cry of "The king! the king!" was now heard, and the most perfect silence instantly pervaded the restless crowd.
At that moment the queen and the young king issued on horseback from the castle-gate, escorted by twelve trabants, and attended by Sir John, Rimaardson, and Chancellor Martin. The ecclesiastic, who was mounted on his palfrey, and wore his Dominican habit, with polished shoes and white heels, looked very pale and apprehensive.
Nearly the entire multitude instantly greeted the king with a shout of homage, and the quarrel between the troopers was apparently at an end, when a powerful voice, from amidst the crowd, exclaimed--"Long live Marsk Stig and his friends! Down, down with the tyrants!"
The duke looked hastily around him, whilst Drost Peter narrowly watched him, with his left hand on the hilt of his sword.
Although the cheering for the king continued, the shout of "Long live the duke! Long live Waldemar Erikson!" still gained ground: it was repeated by great numbers of the burghers, and by all the Sleswick horsemen; and, as it increased in vehemence and extent, the duke again looked round, lifting his hat, and saluting the assemblage with an air of bravery.
Li this salute Drost Peter perceived a preconcerted signal; for the duke was then cheered on every side, by the same voices that had just raised the seditious cry in favour of Marsk Stig. The drost could no longer retain his indignation. "Down, down with the traitors!" he shouted, as his sword flew from its scabbard, and gleamed in his left hand, whilst, at the same instant, the concealed horsemen, rushing forward, surrounded the spot.
Duke Waldemar beheld this unexpected movement with astonishment and consternation. "Rebellion! treason!" he exclaimed: "defend your protector, brave Danes! Seize the drost! He is the traitor.--At them!" shouted he to his horsemen; who, however, before they could, in the general confusion, range themselves in any order of battle, were, with the duke, charged with so much impetuosity by Drost Peter and Count Gerhard, at the head of the queen's horsemen, that they were compelled to seek for safety in a rapid flight; the whole body hastening from the town through a narrow street, which had not yet been blockaded.
"After the duke! Seize the traitor!Heis the chief of the regicides!" shouted the drost, as, at the head of the queen's troopers, he pursued the fugitives.
During this uproar, the noise of which was augmented by the cries and clamour of the people, Sir John and Rimaardson, with the chancellor and the twelve trabants, had instantly formed a close circle round the king, and, without awaiting the issue, had hurried with him across the castle-square, and through the excited crowds, down to the fiord.
But the queen had boldly ridden forward amidst her faithful body-guard, and soon found herself at their head, between Count Gerhard and Drost Peter; whilst before them, and without once looking behind, fled the duke and his horsemen, as if panic-struck.
"Noble queen," exclaimed Drost Peter, "here you are exposed to too much danger."
"I think myself safer nowhere than between the brave Count Gerhard and yourself," was her confident reply.
"Shame befall us," cried Count Gerhard; "if we are not now invincible, we never deserve success."
Outside of the town, on Trandrup Field, where Henrik Æmeldorf engaged King Christopher, the duke first commanded his troopers to halt; and, availing himself of his start, he wheeled about, and hastily placed his men in order of battle.
The drost, who, with his troop, was rapidly pushing forward, now heard the wild shout of assailants behind him, and, on looking round, perceived a large body of mail-clad horsemen in his rear, in the leaders of which he thought he recognised Count Jacob and the two knights who had been outlawed at Nyborg.
"You have ventured too far, most noble queen!" he exclaimed. "The traitors have out-manœuvred us. Fall into a circle, lads--place the queen in the centre--and you, Count Gerhard, stir not from her side."
"By Beelzebub!" muttered the count, "must I be only a peg in this confounded game of skittles? Stay you here, rather, with your wounded arm, Drost Hessel."
But the drost heard him not, while the queen's troopers immediately obeyed the order of their chief, and formed a circle around their mistress, who, although pale and apprehensive, yet retained her firmness, and closely observed every movement of the enemy; whilst Count Gerhard rode around the circle like a wild beast in a cage.
The foe, meanwhile, had been pressing on from both sides, when the drost, commanding the circle to extend, slackened his bridle, and, with his sword in his left hand, dashed against the duke and his horsemen.
"Turn you now against the outlaws, Count Gerhard," said the queen, calmly.
This was precisely the intention of the skilful warrior, who sprang from the circle, shouting;--"Forward, carls, in a line! Follow me!"
The circle, thus dividing, soon formed compact lines, which fought in opposite directions against the twofold superior foe. The queen remained between the lines, a witness of the sanguinary conflict, which cost many of her faithful men their lives. Her checks glowed with ardour and excitement whilst she glanced now towards Drost Peter, and now towards Count Gerhard; but her eye most frequently rested on the valiant count, who had engaged in the fray with the greatest spirit and ardour, every stroke of his good sword appearing to drive the enemy a step before him.
The space between the two lines of horsemen was every instant increasing, and the queen, with lively satisfaction and joy, beheld the success of Count Gerhard's bold attack; when, turning her eyes once more towards Drost Peter, she uttered a cry of alarm. His troopers were in disorder, and he himself was unhorsed in the midst of the duke's people, who cast themselves upon him with a savage shout of triumph.
"Merciful Heaven!" she exclaimed, "they will murder him! Save, oh save Drost Peter, noble count!" and, heedless of the danger, she rode into the midst of the mêlée, where Count Gerhard's horsemen were on the point of beating the outlaws from the field, and, pressing close up to the side of the count, repeated her request.
"In God's name, be it as you command, noble queen!" he replied. "Forword, lads! Think not of me!" And turning his steed, he hastened to the assistance of Drost Peter, and endeavoured to restore order to his broken ranks.
But his own troops now fell into similar confusion, and the outlaws, inspired with new courage, again pressed forward with shouts of triumph; whilst, on the opposite side, the all-victorious duke continued to pursue the drost's chiefless band.
The attempts of Count Gerhard to rally the flying horsemen, and restore them to order, were vain: he found it impossible to collect the scattered soldiers; and the enemy pressed on victoriously from both sides. The confusion was now at its height, and the slaughter around him was dreadful.
"All is lost--we must fly, noble queen!" he at length cried, turning to the spot where the queen had stood only a moment before. But he now beheld her not. One of her troopers had thrown his cloak over her, and in the confusion she had disappeared, whilst the count, who could nowhere discover her amidst the tumultuous bands of contending horsemen, then became furious, and his blows fell fast on every side, directed indiscriminately at friends or foes. His glaring eye sought only the queen; but, at last, even his sight began to fail him: the scene appeared to whirl around him, and he became unconscious. When he recovered his senses, he found himself alone on the dreary battle-field, with only dead and wounded around him. His eye was safe, but that which was yet dearer to him had disappeared. He looked around once more; and then mounting his steed, which had remained near him, he proceeded rapidly in the direction of the town.
The tumult there had not yet ceased. Soldiers and armed burghers were scouring the streets, and scenes of bloodshed were everywhere enacted. Some shouted the names of Marsk Stig and Count Jacob, and exclaimed: "Vengeance for the outlaws!" Others had for their rallying cry the name of the duke, cutting down all who refused to join in it; whilst a great portion of the burghers and badly armed peasants vociferated: "Long live our young king! Death to the traitors!" The adherents of the duke and those of the outlaws did not seem to be quite certain whether they should regard each other as friends or foes; although, in general, they made common cause against the royalists.
Meanwhile, the duke, at the head of his Sleswick horsemen, returned triumphantly to the castle. The report of his victory, and the defeat of the royal party, soon became known, and greatly alarmed the trusty burghers and peasants, who had assembled in defence of their youthful king. The duke was accompanied by a crowd of savage-looking butchers, with blood-stained axes, and by many strangers in disguise, who applauded him loudly. A band of mailed horsemen, wearing their visors down, and who were supposed to be the outlaws and their followers, closed this triumphal procession.
The duke dismounted at the castle, and immediately occupied it with his troops.
"Where is the king?" he demanded.
"Out of the fiord, on his flight to Nyborg," replied a heavy butcher.
The duke's triumphant look changed suddenly to one of disappointment. He gave a private order to one of his knights, who instantly rode off for the haven, with a troop of horsemen.
"And where is her grace the queen?" again inquired the duke.
But this no one knew; and all he could learn was, that Prince Christopher and the little Princess Mereté had been taken from the castle by Sir Rimaardson's seamen.
"Let there be tranquillity now, brave burghers," he said, addressing the noisy crowds that surrounded him; "and let every one retire to his abode, for the Dane-court and proclamation are postponed. I have succeeded fortunately in quelling this tumult, and the ringleader is now in my power. He is the queen's presumptuous favourite, Drost Hessel, who so far abused the ear of his royal mistress as to create in her distrust of me. His object was to obtain possession of the king's person, and so be master of the nation; but you have nothing now to fear from the traitor, for he shall never more see the light of day. I am still your lawful protector, and shall watch carefully over your good and the welfare of the country."
When he had finished this address, which was received with noisy acclamation, he saluted his uproarious adherents with all the condescension and bearing of a sovereign, and entered the castle, accompanied by his gay knights, and the tall mail-clad warrior with the closed visor and blue mantle, who had led on the outlaws. With this individual, in whom many thought they recognised Count Jacob of Halland, he had a short and private conversation, at the close of which the unknown warrior left the castle; and, an hour after, not one of the outlaws or their followers was to be seen in the town. They had departed in anger, it was said, threatening to return with fire and sword within a twelvemonth and a day.
The duke himself soon began to think of leaving a town where the king possessed many faithful subjects. He therefore directed that the captive and sorely-wounded drost should be carried in chains on board the ducal vessel, which, with the exception of a lugger, supposed to contain some of the queen's people, was the only one then in the haven.
The duke, however, delayed his departure till the evening, as he did not consider it advisable to leave the castle until the town was entirely quiet. The disappearance of the queen, whom he had himself seen, and again lost sight of, in the midst of the fray, gave him much uneasiness. He ordered a minute search to be made of the battlefield, but no trace was to be found of either the queen or of Count Gerhard. A portion, also, of his Sleswick horsemen, who had been separated from him in the engagement, had disappeared.
Night began to fall, whilst, with anxious thoughts, he paced up and down the riddersal. He felt proud indeed of his victory; but the escape of the king altogether thwarted his project, and he feared, with reason, that he had prematurely thrown off the mask, and exposed his daring plans. Since he had learned the promise of the marsk to the Norwegian king, he felt he could not depend on the outlaws; and hence his thanks to Count Jacob had been cold and reserved. He now appeared wavering and undecided as to the next step towards the object of his proud ambition.
"Seize the spirit-compelling sceptre, and thy crown shall be bright as the sun," he whispered to himself; feeling as if he were again in Sjöborg with his owl, and looking fearfully around the large gloomy hall, almost as much afraid of his own words as if the dead bishop had spoken.
"Lights! lights!" he now shouted; and his servants, who knew their master's great aversion to darkness, instantly produced them. He then issued some farther orders respecting; his departure, and again despatched messengers to ascertain whether the town was tranquil, and the road to the fiord unobstructed.
Shortly after, two of his knights entered with a prisoner, who had demanded to be conducted to their master. The captive, who stood closely enveloped in a horseman's cloak, with a rainhood over the head, for a moment or two seemed to scrutinise the uneasy conqueror, when suddenly the hood fell back, and the cloak dropped upon the floor; whilst the duke started with surprise, as he beheld before him the fair and majestic Queen Agnes, in her magnificent robes of ceremony.
"They say I am your prisoner, Duke Waldemar," she said, with an air of calm dignity; "but I maintain that you are mine, as certainly as that you are an audacious rebel, and I at this moment the reigning Queen of Denmark."
The duke requested his astonished knights to withdraw.
"Noble queen," he then began, courteously and respectfully, "you are, in truth, partly right: I am, now and for ever, your knightly prisoner; but rebel I am not. On the contrary, I have been attacked by Drost Hessel and your men in a manner at once treacherous and unprovoked. At your own request I accompanied you hither as joint protector; and here, against all faith and law, have I been suddenly set upon, at the moment I intended to proclaim the king, and was about to quell the popular discontent at the sentence pronounced upon the outlaws. I beheld, with astonishment, your grace yourself at the head of my assailants, which may plead my excuse if, for a moment, I left the king's side, and sought to avoid a conflict in which your precious life would have been placed in danger."
"What do I hear!" cried the queen, in amazement. "You deny that you were the leader of this tumult, and even dare to impeach me as the cause of it!"
"Nay, not you, illustrious queen, but the ambitious and arrogant Drost Hessel. On his head lies every drop of blood that has this day been shed. He is the rebel and traitor--not I--and Heaven forbid that I should accuse you of his faithlessness! He has shamefully abused your clemency and grace; and has caused me to suspect that, by my fall, he hopes to soar to the regency, or perhaps even to the throne of Denmark."
Retiring a step, the queen scrutinised keenly the crafty lord. For an instant she appeared in doubt; but, as if a light had suddenly broken in upon her, she again approached him, with an air of apparent confidence.
"You have revealed to me what may perhaps prove a matchless piece of treachery," said she, unable completely to master the tones of her voice; "and should this be proved to have been really the drost's design, he must be brought to a severe account. Before the king and people he must be condemned as the most deceitful of traitors. But where is he?"
"In my power," replied the duke, with a polite smile; "and there, with your permission, he must remain, while I am protector of Denmark."
"For his life you shall be responsible to me," said the queen, with ill-concealed uneasiness. "Be his crime as great as it may, by the king and people only can he be tried and doomed; and that in my presence and in your's, at the Land-Ting."
"Believe me, your grace, that even my bitterest foe shall have justice! But suffer me first, most gracious and illustrious queen, to lay my own cause before your judgment-seat," he politely added, as he bowed profoundly, and drew forward a gilded chair, upon which the queen seated herself. "I clearly perceive that you suspect me," he continued. "You are brought here as my prisoner, although, in truth, as I have already said, I am your captive for ever, and can easily prove to you how innocent I am of this tumult." As he spoke, his air of politeness suddenly changed to an expression of intense and passionate admiration, and he added, with warmth--"I can give you proof, clear as the sun, how foolishly, nay, how madly, I should have acted, to place myself in a position of hostility to you." He paused, and appeared to hesitate. "It must be dared!" he again broke forth: "I shall now reveal to you what has long been the dearest and boldest wish of my heart, and what, as a princely scion of the race of the great Waldemars, in my proudest moments I have sometimes dared to hope."
He paused again, and looked inquiringly at the queen, over whose countenance had passed a sudden change, which caused him to hesitate; but the consciousness of his handsome person banished every doubt, and the flush of indignation on the queen's cheeks he mistook for an indication of bashful surprise.
"Your noble and lofty mind, fairest queen," he continued, boldly, "cannot feel offended at a wish which unites the desire for a kingdom's happiness with the most respectful attachment to womanly worth--a wish which words fail me to express, but which springs from chivalrous esteem for your beauty, prudence, and elevation of soul, and which has received ardour and strength from those feelings that reduce the prince to the man, while, in truth, they exalt the man to the prince."
"You speak prettily and politely, Duke Waldemar," replied the queen, with much composure, "and seem to think that when the Queen of Denmark is your captive, she cannot refuse her ear to a suit of love, nor buy her freedom too dearly by presenting her conqueror with her hand and heart?"
The duke started. "Mistake me not in this also, noble queen," he resumed, with less ardour. "If I chose this moment for so important a declaration, it was but to convince you, in the clearest manner, how impossible it is that I should be your enemy. Your captivity here is altogether a blunder of my people, and is at an end when you command. Here you are equally queen and mistress as if surrounded by your own soldiers. But," he added, boldly, as he perceived a proud smile on her countenance, "you are too sagacious not to perceive, that, at this moment, I hold in my hands your fate and that of Denmark. Far be it from me to abuse this accidental advantage. But, if even no responsive voice pleads for me in your heart, your keen political sagacity might still counsel you not to despise such a proposal at so critical a moment."
As he thus spoke, his air of pride and complacency betrayed a wooer who intended to allow his prisoner not even the freedom of denial. To soften, however, this stroke of policy, he suddenly changed his tone and manner, for he felt the importance of bringing the heart of the fair queen, or at least her vanity, to favour the considerations of political prudence which he had suggested. He therefore again became the chivalrous lover, and with much eloquence and apparent ardour broke forth in admiration of her beauty and in flattering compliments to her lofty mind.
"My life and happiness," he at last exclaimed, as he knelt before her, "I place in your hands, most noble queen!"
Agnes remained silent, but bestowed a glance on her kneeling suitor that seemed to pierce his soul; and a bitter answer hovered on her lips, when the door was suddenly opened, and a knight of the duke's retinue entered.
The duke arose, and, stamping furiously--"What means this?" he cried--"who dares to--"
"Count Gerhard, stern sir," hastily replied the knight--"Count Gerhard of Holstein has surrounded the castle with a superior force, and threatens to storm and pull it down, if the Queen of Denmark is not instantly set at liberty."
The duke seemed thunderstruck.
"You come right opportunely, sir knight," observed the queen, rising with calm dignity. "Your illustrious master was in a posture for which he needs not blush: he has acknowledged that a blunder of his soldiers has made him appear a rebel, and guilty of lese-majesty, thus placing his life and fate in my hands. You are witness, however, that I forgive him an error in which he had no share. Your arm, Duke Waldemar: I intend to travel within an hour; and the noble Count Gerhard expects me with my train."
A loud noise outside the castle was now heard; and the duke, bowing profoundly, gave the queen his arm without hesitating. The knight preceded them, bearing two lights, and at the duke's signal his pages hastened forward with torches. To Count Gerhard's surprise, therefore, the queen was thus led forth with the greatest pomp and attention, and, without opposition, confided to his protection.
A few hours afterwards, the queen sailed with a fair wind into Nyborg Harbour, and Duke Waldemar, with the captive Drost Peter, departed in the direction of Alsen.
While Drost Peter lay a close prisoner in Nordborg Castle, unable to serve in any way his king and country, the measures of old Sir John, Count Gerhard, the chancellor, and the trusty Rimaardson were unceasingly directed to secure the royal house, and to strengthen the minor's throne. The duke no longer found it advisable to assert his authority as regent. The plan of the outlaws for subjecting Denmark to the crown of Norway, and his own fear that he had too soon betrayed his daring project, so completely embarrassed him, that he did not even appear at the Danish court. Annoyed by the unsuccessful issue of his attempt, as well as by the failure of his love-suit to the queen, which he felt as a mortifying humiliation, he shortly after withdrew into Saxony, and it soon became publicly known that he had suddenly espoused Duke Johan's daughter, the pious Princess Sophia.
At the same time, an accidental occurrence averted the invasion with which the country was threatened by the Norwegian fleet, which lay at Ekeroe; the armament from which, as was reported, was to have been conducted by the rude Jarl Mindre-Alf, and the favourite of the Norwegian king, Halkell Augmund. The jarl, however, had quarrelled with Halkell at the drinking-table, and killed him with a wine-stoup in the presence of the king. This led to a sanguinary strife on board the fleet, in which two hundred and sixty of the jarl's men were slain or executed; he himself being outlawed, and forced to fly to Sweden.
The expedition against Denmark was therefore deferred; but the outlaws incessantly ravaged the Danish coasts--burning Middelfert and Hindsholm in Funen, and visiting nearly every seaport town in Denmark with blood and rapine. The name of Marsk Stig became a terror to every Dane. Nor did Rané Jonsen hold the least conspicuous place among the boldest pirates who disturbed the country. His castle, Giordslöv, in Stevn's Point, where he maintained a garrison, served as a place of refuge for his rover-crew. To mislead his pursuers, he always, when on shore, rode a horse whose shoes were reversed; and, to warn him of danger, was constantly attended by a large, ferocious hound, which could easily master the strongest soldier. Rané, as well as the marsk and the other outlaws, was included in the ecclesiastical ban pronounced by the Archbishop of Lund; but they appeared to despise excommunication as much as they did the sentence of outlawry. Most of them had again fled to Norway, where they endeavoured to incite the Norwegian king to a decisive expedition against Denmark. The marsk, however, continued boldly to occupy Hielm, whence he extended his forays to North Jutland and the adjacent islands. The proud Count Jacob fortified Hunehal, in North Halland, and, like the marsk, prepared to defend himself in the country to the last.
The queen and privy council meanwhile had deferred the coronation only until a severe winter rendered the Belt and Sound inaccessible to enemies and pirates. On Christmas-day, 1287, the young King Erik Menved, as he was already called,[38]was solemnly anointed and crowned at Lund. This was the last important transaction in which the aged Archbishop Johan Dros was engaged, as he died shortly afterwards, and before his prayer for the security of the crown was fulfilled.
Not long after the coronation, a treaty of friendship was concluded between King Erik and the powerful Swedish king, Magnus Ladislaus, and the double alliance ratified which had previously been privately agreed upon: the little Princess Mereté, who had been betrothed to Birger, the crown-prince of Sweden, was conducted by Swedish ambassadors to that court; and, about the middle of March, the betrothal of King Erik of Denmark to the Swedish Princess Ingeborg was publicly declared. On this occasion there were great festivities at Helsingborg, where the royal betrothals were to be celebrated with a tournament.
The whole Danish and Swedish courts were present at these rejoicings, where the youthful King Erik exhibited himself in all the pomp of chivalry before his future queen, the beautiful Princess Ingeborg, whose childlike beauty and graces none could sufficiently extol--the bards of Denmark in their transport having already named her Danebod--the hope of the Danes.
The tournament was conducted with great magnificence, and in the manner of those of France and Germany. On the preceding day, the arms of the different knights were displayed on the cross-walk of the Dominican convent, where a stately herald announced the names of those to whom they belonged. Here they were visited by Queen Agnes and Queen Hedwig of Sweden, Count Gerhard's sister, with the princesses and noble ladies at court, for the purpose of touching the shields of those whom they judged to be unworthy knights, and who were by this means excluded from the lists.
Two shields were thus touched, one of which belonged to the powerful Swedish knight, Sir Carl Algotson, who, with the assistance of Jarl Mindre-Alf, had abducted Sir Thorstenson's rich and distinguished bride, Jomfru Ingrid. The Danish queen, who had heard of the affair, and of the brave Thorstenson's loss, had touched the shield, which was immediately removed by the herald, and an order issued by the Swedish king that the matter should be strictly investigated.[39]
The second shield, which had been touched by a noble lady as an impeachment of its owner, belonged to a Danish knight--John Rimaardson, another brother of the trusty Bent Rimaardson. Although related to Queen Agnes, he was instantly excluded from the tourney; and, being threatened with the vengeance of the law, as a ravisher and murderer, he was forced to seek safety in flight.[40]
At the tournament itself, everything was conducted with the greatest pomp and ceremonial. The Queen of Beauty, the fair-haired Princess Ingeborg, sat, full of childish joy, between Queen Agnes and her mother, the gay, good-natured Queen Hedwig, who strongly resembled her brother, the valiant Count Gerhard. On the right of the Swedish queen sat the mighty King Magnus Ladislaus, a tall and spare but majestic figure, with a stern and warlike air, and wearing a golden crown and a mantle of purple and ermine.
Many there were, among the ladies of Princess Ingeborg, who attracted looks of homage and tenderness from both Danish and Swedish knights; but the tall silent maiden who sat nearest the royal personages, excited the greatest attention. This was Jomfru Ingé Little, who observed not the interest she awoke, but, with melancholy countenance, gazed upon the gay lists, where, as her eye ran over the line of knights, she missed the noble figure of Drost Peter. She had heard of his imprisonment, and entertained but little hope of his release from Nordborg, so long as the variance existed between the duke and the royal house of Denmark. Another still heavier sorrow oppressed the brave maiden: she knew that her unhappy father lay in Kallundborg Castle, awaiting his sentence as a dangerous state-criminal. At times, nevertheless, a light spread over her melancholy features, as she looked upon the Princess Ingeborg and the young chivalrous king: she appeared then to forget her own heart's sorrow in the fair hopes of her fatherland; and again the sounds of the song, "For Erik the king so young!" echoed in her bosom.
Nearest the barrier, and as judges, sat the oldest of the Danish and Swedish knights, chief among whom appeared old Sir John. Within the arena were seen a stately king-at-arms, and numerous heralds bearing white staves and feathered hats in their hands, whose duty it was to preserve order, and, together with their subalterns, the pursuivants, closely to attend to every thrust and motion of the antagonists.
The tourney was opened with a joust on horseback, with blunt lances, between the Danish King Erik and the little Prince Berger, who carried light armour suitable to their years and strength. The Danish king wore the sky-blue colour of Princess Ingeborg, and displayed her little glove fastened to his helmet. Prince Berger also wore the colour of his bride, and his armour was white as Princess Mereté's silken kirtle. They both showed themselves active and dexterous; but reciprocal courtesy forbade that either should be regarded as the vanquisher.
The jousts were accompanied with song and music, numerous Swedish and Danish skalds[41]being present to celebrate the exploits of their respective knights, nearly all of whom wore gloves, veils, pearl-bands, or some other female ornament in their helmets; while, during the battle, they would often shout their peculiar watchwords, which their own ladies only understood. Many lances were broken in the fray, and many knights unhorsed; but as they fought with blunt weapons, no dangerous or serious blow was received. It seemed, indeed, that the Danish and Swedish knights, at this joyful festivity, only sought to outvie each other in gentle bearing and knightly courtesies.
But the most distinguished on this occasion was Count Gerhard of Holstein, who good-naturedly unhorsed six knights without himself being shaken. With the black veil of the fair Queen Agnes, he felt himself invincible; whilst his watchword was the burthen of a song he had heard at Sir John's on the evening he first spoke with the queen. One word in it only he changed every time he thrust a knight from his saddle shouting delightedly:--