"As, who that trusts the rotten bough,So, she who trusts a young man's vow."As, who would grasp the eel, must fail,So, she who trusts a young man's tale."
"As, who that trusts the rotten bough,So, she who trusts a young man's vow.
"As, who would grasp the eel, must fail,So, she who trusts a young man's tale."
"This song is new," said Lady Ingé; "it is not so said in the old one: there the faithful lovers are borne to the grave together."
"Much good might it do them!" exclaimed the maiden. "I cannot yet say that I should be pleased, if Mat Jute were to die: a dead bridegroom would never become a living one, were one to go ten times to the grave with him."
"There must have been more fidelity in the olden times," said Ingé, seriously. "It was better also for king and country. They must have been happy people who then lived in Denmark."
"What happiness there was in dying of grief, noble lady, I cannot well conceive; and what does it signify to the king and country, that there is no constancy in a love-smit soldier?"
"I can tell you, little Elsie, that when there is no constancy in a soldier in this respect, there is little in any other; and so he cannot be depended upon when he is called on to defend the throne and the realm. He who can forget and forsake his sweetheart, can still more easily forget and forsake his master."
"By my troth, so does not Mat Jute," replied Elsie. "He would rather slay every man alive, than permit any one to say a bad word concerning his master. He once lifted his knife against me, on that very score, though he vowed he loved me as the apple of his eye. He would not be afraid to make a thrust at the king himself, if a regular war should break out between him and the marsk."
"Are you mad, girl?" exclaimed Lady Ingé, in astonishment. "The marsk is the king's subject. If he should wage war against the king, he would be a traitor and shameless rebel."
"I do not understand that," said Elsie; "but this I know well, that if the marsk could not have his wife secure against our king, when he was waging war for him like a brave man, it is not so unreasonable, that, as a brave man, he should feel angry, and do the best he can to right himself."
"This is certainly a false and shameful rumour. A genuine Skiolding[17]can never disgrace his high lineage."
"It is all the same to me," answered the maiden; "but I should be quite as well satisfied if Mat Jute would only keep himself aloof from the great and their quarrels. The small suffer at last, and he may one day meet with some great mishap. I well remember how the ballad goes:--
"The knight, and eke his swain,They rode from the Ting together:The knight they let go free--The swain they hanged in a tether."
"The knight, and eke his swain,They rode from the Ting together:The knight they let go free--The swain they hanged in a tether."
"Let us rather sing one of the good old ballads, little Elsie," said Lady Ingé, interrupting the light-minded maiden; "and lay rightly to heart what you are singing, and so perhaps you may one day come to recollect that you are a Danish girl."
"I can well bear that in mind," replied Elsie: "I can never understand a word of German, and have trouble enough with the Jutlandish."
"But a Danish girl is true to her lover, and a Danish man deserts not king or country. Do you remember the ballad of King Didrik? Let us sing that."
Lady Ingé began, and her two handmaidens accompanied her:--
"The king he rules the castle,And else he rules the land,And he rules many a warrior bold,With drawn sword in his hand:For the king he rules the castle."
"The king he rules the castle,And else he rules the land,And he rules many a warrior bold,With drawn sword in his hand:
For the king he rules the castle."
While they were singing, the door was opened; but Lady Ingé was thinking only of the old heroic ballad that her mother had sung to her when a child, and which always led her to fancy a king like Waldemar the Great, and a castle like Flynderborg, where she was sitting, the only castle she was acquainted with. The bold notes of the song, and the remembrances of her childhood which it awakened within her, always put her in a gay and happy frame of mind; and she felt herself secure in the castle, which the king ruled with his warriors bold. Upon this occasion, the song had the usual inspiriting effect. She had forgotten all that so recently disturbed her: her eyes sparkled with lively animation; and the maidens could only give ear to her, while she sang alone, in her unusually deep-toned voice, in continuation:--
"Let the peasant rule his house and home,His steed, the warrior bold--The king of Denmark rulethThe castle, keep, and hold.For the king he rules the castle."
"Let the peasant rule his house and home,His steed, the warrior bold--The king of Denmark rulethThe castle, keep, and hold.
For the king he rules the castle."
Lady Ingé and her maidens now for the first time noticed the tread of spurred heels on the floor. They rose in astonishment, and Lady Ingé with unwonted precipitation. They perceived three strangers in the middle of the hall. One was in the dress of a huntsman, and the two others were clad as citizens on a journey; nevertheless, under their gray cloaks they had long swords, like those worn by knights. It was Sir Rimaardson, with Drost Peter, and Sir Thorstenson. The mien and expression of the fair songstress, on their entrance, astonished them; and they remained standing, unwilling to interrupt her.
They now approached with much politeness, and saluted the knight's fair daughter. Although they were not dressed as knights, their bearing and manners instantly denoted them to be men of high station and dignity; and Lady Ingé supposed them the distinguished guests of whom her father had spoken. The first glance at their interesting and friendly countenances gave her confidence.
"You are welcome, noble sirs," said she, with entire self-possession, and returning their salute. "My father has been expecting you, and has ridden out to meet you. You must have come by another road than he anticipated. Your groom or squire has doubtless told you that there are no strangers here?"
"We have only this instant arrived, noble lady," began Sir Thorstenson; "and our squire could have told us nothing regarding the state of the house, seeing that he has not yet penetrated farther than the stables. That your father has expected us, we cannot at all suppose: indeed, we thought we should have surprised him."
"To our astonishment, the gates were opened to us without any one inquiring our name or business," said Sir Rimaardson. "This confidence is flattering. Your song, fair maiden, we would not dare to disturb: it was an assurance that, even although unknown, we should be welcome to you, as men true to our king and country."
"For none else stands this castle open," replied Ingé. "Your names and errand no one may presume to inquire about, noble sirs. You are specially welcome to my father, I can assure you." So saying, she regarded their manly, honest countenances with satisfaction and confidence.
Drost Peter had not yet said a word, but stood perplexed, and almost bashfully, before her, with a singular expression of surprise and melancholy, and with a kind of dreamy pleasure in his calm, earnest look.
"Step nearer, gentlemen," continued Lady Ingé, with a light heart, and completely relieved from any doubt of disloyalty in her father's connections, and from every uneasiness regarding the mysterious guests expected: "you find here an open lady's room, where, truth to say, I am glad to see the friends of my father, who can occupy his place in his absence. He left me half an hour since, to return in an hour if he did not meet you. A fellow, who represented himself as your groom, almost frightened me in the dusk of the evening. The castle, at other times, is never so accessible. Under these circumstances, you are to me the more welcome. If you would please to take refreshment, gentlemen, it is already prepared."
The knights looked at each other with astonishment.
"Some mistake must have occurred here, noble lady," said Sir Rimaardson; "but, if you will permit us, we shall avail ourselves of it, and defer the explanation until your father arrives."
"Permit me a question, noble lady," said Drost Peter, appearing at length to wake from his sweet dream; his eyes, meanwhile, resting with kindly interest on the maiden's open countenance and noble form; "and pardon me if it is amiss. Is your Christian name Ingé? and are you the daughter of the governor of this castle, Sir Lavé Little, and his noble wife, deceased, the Lady Margarethé, Absalom Andersen's youngest daughter?"
"You knew my mother, noble sir," exclaimed Lady Ingé, joyfully, and, in her joy, forgetting his question and his singular solemnity of manner: "but, nay, you could scarcely have known her, else you would have known me also; for I am said to resemble my blessed mother exceedingly."
"I have seen your mother in my childhood," said the young drost; "but she was then no longer young: she was, however, about your height. You have inherited her eyes, noble lady, and, as I can hear, her deep, sweet voice, and her fondness for our old heroic ballads. The one you have just sung, I seem to have heard in my cradle: it recalls a time when I had happy dreams about the days of our Waldemars, and of him who ruled the castle, and so many warriors bold."
"That was no mere dream, noble knight," replied Ingé, with lively interest. "That you and these good gentlemen are knights, I must permit myself at once to believe, though I am not at liberty to put the question. That the king, God be praised! still rules over every Danish land and castle, and over many bold and doughty heroes, is no dream, I know: this, at least, you and these good gentlemen will admit. If, then, you have heard heroic ballads in your cradle, noble sir," she added, with a look of confidence, "they have certainly not been sung in vain."
Drost Peter blushed, but raised his eyes boldly, and with a look of frankness. "If it please God and Our Lady," he said, "there is no dream so marvellous that it cannot be fulfilled, and the good old times may yet return."
A page now opened the door of the dining-hall.
"You have probably travelled far, and need refreshment," said Lady Ingé, remembering her duty as housekeeper, and pointing to the opened door.
Drost Peter, who was accustomed to courtly manners, involuntarily offered his arm to the knight's daughter. She led him to the end of the table, in the round turret apartment, and gave the maidens a signal for their attendance. Sir Thorstenson and Sir Rimaardson followed the young hostess, and Thorstenson took his place on her right hand. Two stately pages set forth, on the fringed table-cloth, roast game and baked barley-bread, while an active cupbearer took care to fill the wine-cups from a large silver flagon. The two handmaidens stood respectfully behind Lady Ingé's chair, with modest, downcast eyes, but ever and anon contrived to cast a look of curiosity towards the strangers; the handsome young drost, in particular, appearing much to attract them.
The conversation soon became general. Lady Ingé carefully guarded herself against any expression that would appear to betray curiosity; but still she would not have been displeased if her guests had chosen voluntarily to discover who they were.
"The Dane-court is over, it is said," she remarked, when a fitting pause ensued. "I regret that I have never been present at a Dane-court, for one does not hear or see much in this lonely fortress. You must have seen the king, noble sirs: I should like to know if he looks as I picture him to myself."
"What kind of person do you fancy him, then, noble lady?" inquired Sir Thorstenson. "I'll be bound you think him, at least, a head taller than I am, and like King Didrik of Bern, or some other of those valiant kings you sing about."
Lady Ingé looked at the tall knight with the long plaited beard. "More valiant than you appear, he needs scarcely be," she answered; "but such like I do not imagine him. At the head of a band of bold troopers, I should think you were in your place; but--excuse me, sir knight--you seem too hasty in your conduct to govern a kingdom."
Thorstenson stroked his beard. "In that you may be right, fair lady," he muttered; confirming, by his air of chagrin, the young lady's frank expression.
"Were I to compare any of you with my idea of the king," continued Lady Ingé "it would be this gentleman;" and her calm blue eyes rested searchingly on Drost Peter. He started at the compliment, which a playful smile seemed instantly to contradict. "But such a comparison might not astonish you, noble sir," she continued, "if, instead of deploring the departure of the days of the great Waldemars, you had power to bring them back again."
The guests regarded with surprise the knight's young daughter, who jested so good-humouredly; and, at the same time, with the dignity of a princess, exercised over them a secret mastery, of which she did not appear to be aware. Drost Peter's cheeks reddened; and he felt himself both attracted and repelled, in a singular manner, by the bold, composed girl. But, at her latter words, he seemed almost to forget himself and his position, in a higher and more important thought.
"The power you speak of, noble lady," he commenced, with calmness and earnestness, his large eyes sparkling with fire and energy--"that power which shall recall to a people days of departed glory, you may well miss, where it cannot be found save by a miracle. That power has no knight or hero in Denmark--that power has no monarch in this world: it must come from above, and it is not the lot of any single man to possess and exercise it. If it flashes not from many thousand eyes united, and pours not forth from every heart in Denmark, the greatest king in the universe cannot raise the fallen, nor restore to the people the lofty spirit of our ancestors."
"You may be right, noble sir," replied Lady Ingé, with an interest that gave her cheeks a deeper tinge, and her eyes an almost dazzling radiance; "but who has told you that this spirit is fled? Our king himself I know not, and he is arrogantly blamed by many; but still I know he has men by his side who boldly and bravely watch over the security of the crown and the honour of the people. Among these, I may venture to mention my own kinsman, the old Sir John: every Danish man, I know, must respect him. Were the proud marsk, at Möllerup, as loyal as he is brave, Denmark had yet perhaps an Axel Hvide, or a Count Albert. David Thorstenson, too, I have heard named among the heroes of our time; and you must certainly know, yourselves, many other names which do honour to our age."
Sir Thorstenson nodded, and felt himself highly flattered to hear his name among those of the young damsel's heroes. The adventure in which he and his friends found themselves amused him greatly, and he took a fancy to know the patriotic young lady's opinion of his comrades. "But the best you forget, fair maiden," said he, merrily. "What say you of Sir Bent Rimaardson, of Tornborg?"
"He guards our coasts like another Vetheman, they say: I and every woman in Zealand have to thank him that we need not fear the wild Norwegian algrev and the ruthless Niels Breakpeace."
Rimaardson bit his lips, and was silent in the presence of a renown that his own eyes had so recently shown him to be unmerited.
Thorstenson wished to compensate for the failure of his joke, and thought to give his other companion better cause to thank him for his sally.
"But if you would name the eminent men of the king and country," said he, hastily, "you ought, first and foremost, to have mentioned the young Drost Peter Hessel, who so soon has had the good fortune to stand so near the throne, and so deservedly."
Lady Ingé was silent for an instant, and her animation appeared suddenly to be converted into coldness. A short and general silence ensued; but to the young drost it was an eternity of torment. If he did not expect to be extolled and admired by his childhood's bride, neither did he expect to be, the object of her dislike and contempt.
"My father tarries long," said the knight's daughter, breaking the irksome silence. "I am conversing with you, noble sirs, on matters which probably are not befitting among strangers," she added. "But you must excuse me, gentlemen. On certain subjects I forget, at times, that my sex is seldom allowed the pleasure even of talking about the happy, busy life in which we are not permitted to take an active part. Respecting the person you last mentioned, you must allow me to be silent. It matters little to him what a Danish maiden thinks of him, if she cannot, like the queen, advance his power and fortune."
Drost Peter paled. He felt himself so deeply wounded with these words, that he was on the point of making himself known, or, at least, of defending himself against the last severe accusation; but, at that moment, the door of the outer hall was opened, and well-known voices were heard near at hand.
"The duke!" whispered Sir Rimaardson; and, to their surprise, they perceived the duke with his drost, together with the algrev and Sir Lavé, approaching the door of the dining-room.
Lady Ingé rose to receive her father and the new comers. The knights also arose, and Thorstenson and Rimaardson looked doubtingly at each other; but Drost Peter now felt himself entirely at his ease. The injurious mistake had awakened all his pride; and the consciousness that his own energy and merits had raised him to the honours he held, gave him a boldness that bordered almost on insolence. He felt here all the importance of his position, where, travelling on the king's errand, he had right and power, if required, to act with royal authority. He advanced towards the duke and his followers with politeness and dignity, but without letting it appear that he knew them in the plain gray cloaks in which they had wrapped themselves, as if they did not wish to be recognised. He directed his salutation principally to Sir Lavé, as governor and chief of the castle. The astonished Sir Lavé instantly recognised the drost, and changed colour, but hastily took occasion, from the drost's plain outer garment, to greet him as a stranger of humble rank, that he had never before seen.
"I and these gentlemen are not unwelcome to you, then?" said Drost Peter, while, without the least embarrassment, he presented to him his travelling companions, without naming them. "We have, as you perceive, sir knight, partaken of your hospitality without hesitation. We have, besides, an errand to you, as royal governor here, which we shall impart to you at your convenience."
Sir Lavé bowed, silently and distantly, with an anxious side look to the duke and his followers, who did not appear the least surprised at this meeting, and had hastily turned their backs towards Drost Peter and his friends.
"We flatter ourselves that we are known to you," continued Drost Peter, "notwithstanding the strange dress we prefer travelling in. The rumours respecting the insecurity of the roads are not unfounded: we have had serious proofs of that. You perceive that those good gentlemen there have used the same precaution," he added, as he pointed to the duke and Count Mindre-Alf, who, along with Sir Abildgaard, were engaged in private conversation, in the dimmest part of the outer hall, and closely wrapped in their large cloaks, with their backs towards the dining-room.
Sir Lavé, in the meanwhile, had recovered himself. "Be pleased to follow me to my private apartment, gentlemen," he said, with apparent calmness. "I see my daughter has already cared for your entertainment; I am, therefore, now at your service, and can hear your business without interruption. Take care of my new guests, in the meantime, my daughter."
He gave the servants a signal, on which they hastily took a wax-light in each hand, and opened a little concealed door in the wall of the circular dining-room. One of the servants led the way into a long dark passage, whilst the other remained standing by the door.
"Let me show you the way," said Sir Lavé, going before them.
As soon as Drost Peter and his two companions had entered the dark passage, the servant who had held the door open disappeared. It was suddenly dark behind them, and the door closed with a hollow clang, which made the knights start.
"This is a convenient arrangement," said Sir Lavé, in an indifferent tone. "I must be prepared for all kinds of guests, you know. Gentlemen like you, who come on important state affairs, I invariably converse with as privately as possible, to avoid interruption."
The long passage led to the eastern wing of the castle, which projected into the Sound. It was terminated by a narrow, vaulted, spiral staircase.
"I must beg you to go one at a time here," said Sir Lavé: "the stair is somewhat small, and you may be incommoded in getting a few steps upwards. I often find this way troublesome; but one cannot be cautious enough in these times, and a private message from the king must be heard in private." As he spoke, he ascended hastily, without looking behind him.
Drost Peter, who followed him closely, paused once or twice, and put a few indifferent questions to him on the construction of the castle, at the same time pointing behind him; but Sir Lavé continued to ascend, and answered his inquiries without stopping or turning.
"Singular!" whispered Sir Rimaardson to Thorstenson. "Were he not the brave John Little's kinsman, we should barely trust him. Saw you his perplexity, and his look towards the duke?"
"If he betray us, it shall cost him his life," whispered Thorstenson, laying his hand on the hilt of his sword: "he shall not go three strides from us."
Drost Peter, observing that his companions whispered suspiciously behind him, turned round, and laid his finger on his lips. "The wind is still easterly," he remarked, in a careless tone: "nobody can well think of crossing the Sound to-night."
"It is scarcely possible," replied Sir Lavé: "you must determine on taking your abode with me to-night, gentlemen."
"That is not our intention," said Drost Peter: "beside, you have guests, who probably have greater claims upon your hospitality, and from whose society we necessarily detain you too long. Shall we soon reach your private apartment, sir knight?"
"In a moment," he replied, as he redoubled his pace.
Drost Peter had mentally counted the number of steps, and had reckoned the sixtieth, when they halted on a landing. An iron-studded door was opened, and they entered a narrow turret-chamber, where there was only a single window, which stood open, but was provided with strong iron bars. The wax-lights flickered in the current of air, and the servant lighted a large lantern suspended from the roof.
"Your closet almost resembles a prison," observed Drost Peter.
"It is sometimes used for that purpose," replied Sir Lavé: "it is the most secure part of the castle. This tower, as you may perceive, stands half in the water, but it commands an excellent view over the Sound.----Now you may go," he said, turning to the servant: "nobody must disturb us here. Desire my daughter and the strangers not to wait for us."
The servant went out, and the knight locked the heavy door himself, and put the key in his pocket.
"Now, I am quite at your service, gentlemen. What weighty message does the king send me by three such important persons? Prudence forbade me to recognise you sooner."
"We are sent by the king on a business of much consequence," said Drost Peter, calmly and self-possessed; "and I, Drost Peter Hessel, am authorised to demand active assistance from every royal governor in the country. The object of our journey is a secret that no one is at liberty to inquire into. But that you, Sir Lavé Little, as the king's servant, and commandant of this castle, are bound, without objection, to provide us with thirty armed men and a vessel, this letter patent, to every royal governor in the country, will show you." So saying, he handed the astonished knight an open letter to this effect, with which, in addition to the royal warrants, he had taken care to provide himself.
The knight perused the missive with evident uneasiness; taking a considerable time to get through it, as if he found some difficulty in deciphering the writing.
"I have nothing to object to this, sir drost," he said, at length. "A ship and crew are at your service, whenever you choose to give the order. But, as you have just remarked, in the present state of the wind nobody can think of crossing the Sound."
"You perceive by the same letter royal," continued Drost Peter, "that I am empowered, on my own authority, to demand aid from every royal governor, to seize and conduct to Sjöberg whatever Danish knight or vassal I may find on any suspicious business."
"I see so, with surprise," replied Sir Lavé. "But I still hope, sir drost, that you do not mean to avail yourself of an authority so extensive and arbitrary. Such a step, as you well know, is at variance with the king's obligations to the laws and charters of the kingdom. He cannot issue a letter to imprison any man, until he has been legally accused before a provincial or state court of justice, and has had the advantage of a legal trial."
"You forget the exceptions, Sir Lavé'," replied Drost Peter. "This privilege extends not to rovers and criminals, and, of course, to traitors least of all. Therefore, in virtue of this royal warrant, I must demand of you, in the king's name, that you cause the castle to be locked up, and deliver over to me, under safe escort, every stranger at present within these walls."
Sir Lavé grew pale. "You are somewhat too harsh, sir drost," he said, looking anxiously towards the window: "you would not compel me to betray my guests? They are not accused of any crime; and, without apprehending such treatment, they have confidingly entered beneath my roof."
"This castle is not your's, but the king's," replied Drost Peter, apparently striving to subdue a feeling of pity, as he regarded the anxious castellan. "I fulfil a disagreeable duty," he continued; "but where I meet the enemies of the king and country, I must insist on their detention, without reference to personal feelings. One of these gentlemen, moreover, to whom you have opened this royal castle, is an open enemy of his country--that most notorious freebooter and incendiary, the Count of Tönsberg."
"What say you? the algrev!" stammered the castellan, terrified, and apparently highly astonished. "If that be true, then I am certainly to blame. But I assure you that one of these gentlemen was quite unknown to me: he came in the duke's train, and it is impossible I should know--"
"I am willing to believe you, Sir Lavé, though appearances are against you. You are not aware, then, that your illustrious friend and guest has the famous pirate, Niels Breakpeace, with him, as his squire?"
"You alarm me, noble sir!" again stammered the castellan, in the greatest embarrassment. "If I had suspected this, they had never set foot within these walls. What is now to be done? If the castle is full of traitors and pirates, our whole garrison is scarcely strong enough to oppose them."
"By Satan! letustake care of that," observed Thorstenson, impatiently. "Lock up the doors straightway, now that you know our errand."
"Courtesy I must beg of you for the present, and the matter must be well considered," replied Sir Lavé, delaying. "With such powerful criminals, it is a difficult business. I shall immediately give the castle-warden a private signal to bar the gates, and prevent all egress." He ran anxiously to the open grated window, and called out, in a subdued voice, "Lock the gate, fellow! not a living soul must be allowed to slip out!" He then took the key from his pocket, and struck upon the gratings with it.
"Lock it yourself, rather," said Drost Peter, making a hasty movement to take the key from his hand; but, at the same instant, they heard a clank on the stones in the water beneath the tower.
"What have you done, sir drost!" exclaimed Sir Lavé, as if in the highest degree terrified: "you have knocked the key out of my hand, and now we are all prisoners here. The Sound roars loud, and not a soul can hear us, as no one ventures near enough to this turret to liberate us. And my daughter--my poor child--is now alone, amidst these traitors and rievers." All started.
"Your daughter!" exclaimed Drost Peter, with great uneasiness. "Nay, nay," he added, with more composure, "the traitors and rievers will respect her. The duke and his drost are not rude and shameless criminals, although they have niddings in their train. If you had feared for your daughter, Sir Lavé, you would scarcely have brought home such dangerous guests, and perhaps would not so readily have lost the key of our prison here."
Sir Lavé was silent, and walked uneasily backwards and forwards.
Drost Peter and Sir Rimaardson observed the anxious castellan with scrutinising looks, betraying, at the same time, their indignation at this singular imprisonment at a moment of such great importance. None of them any longer doubted that the duke had recognised them, and suspected the object of their journey. It was, therefore, probable that he would now seize on every means of escape, to carry out his daring plans.
A suspicion of this had first crossed Drost Peter and his friends on their way to the tower; and Thorstenson and Rimaardson had, therefore, nodded to each other approvingly, when they heard the drost's bold determination, on his own responsibility, to seize the duke on the spot, notwithstanding that the royal warrant, strictly speaking, required them to defer this step until they encountered the duke on Swedish ground. This new and daring plan was now rendered impossible; and, while the castellan shared the imprisonment of his unwelcome guests, the duke and his dangerous train would, in all likelihood, place themselves in complete security.
While such thoughts as these flashed rapidly athwart the minds of Drost Peter and the cool Sir Rimaardson, Thorstenson gave vent to his indignation, and broke out into the most violent invectives against the troubled castellan, whom he did not hesitate to designate as a crafty traitor, and an abettor of rebels and foreign pirates. He immediately endeavoured to break open the door, and beat against it, like a madman, with his iron-heeled boots, but in vain.
"Open the door on the instant!" he roared, at the same time drawing his long sword; "or, by St. Canute, it shall cost your life, you cowardly, crafty cheat!"
At his terrible threat, Sir Lavé sprang towards Drost Peter.
"It is impossible!" he stammered, in terror. "Protect me from this madman, sir drost, until I can myself defend my life and honour. You can bear witness that it is not I, but yourself, who have caused our present imprisonment."
"For what has happened here, this gentleman shall be answerable when we demand it," said Drost Peter, placing himself between Sir Lavé and the enraged Thorstenson. "The commandant, as you perceive, is unarmed, noble knight. Whatever may have been his conduct in this affair, he now stands sheltered by the laws of chivalry and my protection. Let us endeavour, with our united strength, to burst our prison-door. If we do not succeed, we must be patient until we can procure aid."
"You are right, sir drost," muttered Thorstenson, sheathing his sword; "niddings are never safer than when they go unarmed amongst honest men. Let us now make a rush at the door together, and it may give way. Put forth your strength, sir commandant, and let us see you do not spare your boot-heels. You can then say, for your honour, that you have fought with your heels."
Without answering this sarcasm, Sir Lavé, apparently with his utmost effort, together with the three other knights, applied themselves to the iron-studded door. The united shock made a fearful noise, which rolled like thunder among the arches of the lonely tower; but as the door turned inwards, and was provided with strong oaken posts, it was not to be forced open in this fashion.
Greatly embittered, Thorstenson went to the window-grating, and shouted, as if he would awaken the dead--"Up hither, fellow! or it may cost your master, the commandant, his life."
But there was no reply. The restless Sound roared loudly beneath, and no sign of a human being was to be seen on this side the tower, in the stormy, murky night.
In the meantime, Lady Ingé, in her father's absence, had taken care of the last-arrived guests, and invited them to the newly-furnished board. As soon as the duke and his followers observed that their cautious host had rid them of unexpected and disagreeable company, they relied upon his cunning, and resolved to await his return, or, at least, to remain quiet until Niels Breakpeace brought word that they might set sail. They had thrown aside their gray cloaks, and shown themselves, before their fair hostess, in their dress as knights.
The young duke, with politeness and princely grace, took his seat at table, and on the young hostess' left hand. Sir Abildgaard took Rimaardson's vacated seat; and the daring Norse freebooter stretched himself rudely on the chair where Thorstenson had been sitting.
The strangers had not announced themselves; but, on their entrance, Lady Ingé had heard Rimaardson's subdued exclamation of surprise--'The duke!' and she surmised, with secret dread, that one of them must be the, to her, hateful Duke Waldemar of South Jutland. Any other duke she had not heard mentioned; and what was told her of Duke Waldemar's ambitious and dangerous designs against the crown and kingdom, had inspired her with so unfavourable an opinion of this personage, that she had conceived as repulsive a picture of his appearance as was possible. When she heard him mentioned among her father's new guests, it inspired her with so much fear, that she had difficulty in concealing it; and, when her father left the room with the three other gentlemen, it cost her a great effort to fulfil, with apparent calmness, her duties as mistress of the house, towards these dangerous visitors, whose secret connection with her father filled her soul with painful alarm.
Reserved, and sparing in her words, she now sat at table among them, and only partially heard all the polite remarks which the duke and his drost strove, in emulation, to address to her. These two personages appeared to engross the smallest share of her attention, although their easy, unconstrained manners denoted them to be fine, courtly gentlemen. Their thoughtless countenances, and the trifling conversation in which they indulged, did not appear to her to indicate men who could be dangerous; and she deemed it impossible that, in either of them, she saw the daring duke. At the same time, she believed it certain that, in their companion, she beheld the hated pursuer of the king's life and crown. He had not yet spoken a word; but his sharp look, and bold and impudent features, betokened a craftiness and an audacity without parallel.
With politeness, but without interest, Lady Ingé replied to the duke's questions--whether she had ever been at court, whether she liked dancing and tournaments, hawking or chess, and how she amused herself in this solitary castle? She did not appear to notice the duke's admiration of her beauty, and his easy, flattering remarks thereupon to his drost. On the contrary, she gave closer heed to the short, stout-built personage at the corner of the table on her right, who was equipped, partly as a seaman, and partly as a knight of princely blood.
He had stretched himself, with vulgar carelessness, upon his seat, and his fierce-looking eyes ran round the hall, as if he did not feel himself quite secure, and, at the same time, had a contempt of danger. His broad, low, animal forehead, was indicative of energy and defiance; his short, crisped, sandy-coloured hair united with his matted beard, and concealed his brutish, almost hideous under-jaw. His wide mouth was greedily distended, and only half concealed two rows of strong, shining, white teeth. His wild, rolling eyes met almost close to his crooked nose, and lay deeply buried under a pair of bushy eyebrows. He ate rapidly, gnawing, with a species of ravenousness, the largest bones; while his sinewy hand often rested on a dagger-hilt, set with precious stones. Whenever he raised the cup to his mouth, which was not seldom, he drained it to the bottom. He appeared at length to have satisfied his hunger and thirst. His brown cheeks were heated and flushed with wine, and he began to cast lewd and impudent glances, now at Lady Ingé, and now at her handmaids, as if comparing them, in order to decide upon which his choice should fall.
"Now for pleasure, gentlemen," he broke forth at length, in a rough, harsh voice, and in a singing Norwegian pronunciation. "What signify your fine manners on a journey? and why stand the pretty wenches behind the lady's chair? Take you the demure flat-nose, sir drost; I will hold to the little roguish brunette; and thus we shall allow his grace to retain the high-born, proud damsel for his own share."
He seemed about to rise, and the two handmaids, frightened, retreated a step.
Lady Ingé was also alarmed, but she overcame her fear in an instant. The guest's impudence, and his rude tones, provoked her. From his foreign accent, she immediately knew that he was not the duke. With a contemptuous look towards the unmanneredly freebooter, she rose from the table, and turned, with calm dignity, to the other two gentlemen.
"One ofyoumust be the duke, then," said she; "and I am glad of it; though, as the daughter of a Danish knight, I cannot rejoice to see a man here who dares to revolt against the Danish crown. But, whichever of you may be he, I appeal to him to protect me from the insolence of that rude man, who is probably one of your grooms."
"Satan fetch the saucy minx!" exclaimed the pirate chief, laughing. "Take you me for a groom, proud maiden, because I do not relish fine talking, like these polite courtiers? When needful, I understand that art, too; and, spite of any one, not a queen shall think herself too good to sit at table with the Count of Tönsberg, or to embrace him."
"Recollect yourself, brave count," said the duke, in a tone of authority, and rising: "we are not on board, nor in a tavern, but in the house of an honourable knight, and one of my friends. This lady and her handmaids are under my protection here."
"What the fiend! my young big-nosed duke, are you already tired of good fellowship, and desire a quarrel?" growled the algrev, projecting his legs, while he leant back on his chair, with his arms folded on his breast. "I would rather advise you not to try such a joke. The Count of Tönsberg can sup broth out of the same dish with both a Norse and Swedish king, and has not need to make himself a dog for the favour. I am not to be cowed by the biggest emperor in the world, least of all by a little duke. As I sit here, I will undertake to turn you and your genteel drost heels over head, if you have a mind to know whether you or the algrev is the strongest."
The duke grew pale with indignation. Sir Abildgaard sprang up, and placed himself, with his hand upon his sword, by the duke's side.
"Call the house-carls," said Lady Ingé to her maidens; and the frightened girls, screaming, ran out of the room to give the alarm: the lofty, earnest maiden herself remained standing, and regarded the enraged men with attention.
"This is not the time and place to prove our strength, Count Alf; and I am no boatman, who will drag a rope against a seahorse," said the duke, with supreme contempt, and laying his hand on his sword. "The wine has proved too strong for you; and what you say to-night, you will scarcely repeat tomorrow. If you were to bear in mind where we are, and what kind of a wind we have, you would perhaps come to your senses," he added, in a haughty, threatening tone. "Here, the Count of Tönsberg is of no more avail than Niels Breakpeace, or any other vile highwayman; and if you do not wish to prove your strength with Danish gaolers, and measure your height with the gallows of Orekrog, you will tame your unbridled, berserk[18]courage, without the aid of the house-carls and castle-warden."
They already heard a noise without, and the kitchen-door flew open.
"Bar the passage!" cried Lady Ingé; and the kitchen-door was again closed.
The eyes of the maddened freebooter rolled wildly in his head. He seized a massive silver trencher from the table, and seemed about to hurl it at the duke's head; but, recollecting himself, he was satisfied with twisting the heavy salver into the form of a rope. When he had thus vented his rage, and given his opponents an astonishing proof of his enormous strength, he appeared entirely calm and pacified.
"People don't understand joking in Denmark," he muttered. "We Norse sea-dogs are not accustomed to weigh words. Be at your ease, proud maiden; and sit you quietly down again, my noble young gentlemen. The wine, perhaps, runs a little in my noddle, and so I don't like standing. We sit here tolerably snug. But where is she off to, the little roguish brunette? Let her come hither, and pour out for me; and, death and the devil! you may have all the others: but the first house-carl that sets foot in the room, I will fell him like an ox!"
He now appeared drowsy and heavy-headed, and lolled comfortably back on his chair, as if he would go to sleep; but still kept his eyes half open, whilst his left hand rested on the hilt of his dagger, and in his right was clenched the silver trencher, which he had converted into a heavy truncheon.
"He is inebriated, as you perceive, noble lady," now said the duke, softly, to Ingé, while he offered her his arm, and led her into the farther hall. "Pardon us for having brought with us this rude travelling companion, who is, otherwise, a brave Norse knight, and of noble birth; but, when in this state, there is no controlling him: he becomes crazy, and fancies himself the powerful freebooter, Count Mindre-Alf of Tönsberg. We must, at such times, talk to him after his own fashion; and, in order to tame him, threaten him with rack and gibbet. He will not now rise from the drinking-table so long as there is a drop in the flagon, and therefore we can leave him. When he falls fast asleep, he will suffer himself to be carried on board, like a log, without moving. To-morrow, he will again be the smartest knight in the universe, if he does not dream that he has been Count of Tönsberg to-night."
"It is a singular weakness for a man so strong," replied Lady Ingé, examining the duke with an earnest, penetrating look: "perhaps, also, it was in consequence of his intoxication that he took you for the duke?"
"Nay: there he was right, noble lady. I am truly Duke Waldemar; and, although I am not welcome to you, your father has received me as his guest. For his sake, as well as for mine, I pray you to send the house-carls back, and not betray this private visit by any needless alarm. Notwithstanding that I feel confident of being able to justify myself against every accusation, I am at this moment misunderstood, and under pursuit. It may coat your father his life, if people here should recognise me."
Lady Ingé tottered and grew pale. The servants of the house had, in the meanwhile, barred all egress, and some of them now came, storming noisily, into the hall.
"Back!" cried Lady Ingé, suddenly recovering herself, and stepping with calm authority towards them: "it was a mistake. There is no danger at present. These are peaceful travellers, and my father's friends. One of them has become intoxicated, and has frightened us with his wild raving. You may return to the castle-stairs, and remain quiet until I call; but three of you remain in the kitchen."
The house-carls obeyed, and went back; but the frightened handmaidens did not venture to show themselves, and Ingé remained alone with the duke and his drost.
"You are Duke Waldemar, then?" she said, regarding the proud young nobleman with a composed and searching look, while she placed herself so near to the kitchen-door that she could open it whenever she chose. "Your drunken comrade within is likewise the open enemy of the country--the notorious Norse freebooter and incendiary; your groom is also a riever; and yet, with such a train, you dare to make yourself a guest in a royal castle! You have betrayed my father: his life is, perhaps, in danger. Where he has gone, you must know better than I. The pursuers you speak of are probably here, in the castle. It is to me a fearful riddle; but this I know, that at this instant I am mistress of your freedom."
The duke started, and looked at the lofty, earnest girl with astonishment; while Sir Abildgaard glanced uneasily round him, and made an involuntary movement towards the door.
"The passage is barred," continued Lady Ingé; "but it costs me only a nod, and it stands open to you. Promise me, Duke Waldemar, truly and piously, that, from this time forth, you will undertake no enterprise against the kingdom and country, and I shall then no longer prevent your departure from this castle; but if you cannot or will not promise me this, I instantly call the house-carls to seize you, as the accomplices of this audacious freebooter."
The duke and Sir Abildgaard regarded each other with the highest astonishment, and, for a moment, both appeared irresolute.
"Excellent!" exclaimed the duke, at length, in a gay and courtly tone of politeness: "to a lady's humour we may, with all honour, give way." But observing Lady Ingé's beautiful, serious countenance and determined mien, he suddenly changed his manner. "I promise you, noble lady," he continued, solemnly, "that I shall take no step that I do not hope to be able to defend, before the Danish people, at every legal tribunal. My conduct you cannot pronounce sentence upon; and you have no other right or power to be our mistress here than we freely concede to your beauty and patriotic spirit. If, then, you would not place your own father in peril of death, you will allow the castle to be opened for us, and not betray to any one what guests have been here."
Lady Ingé was silent. A mighty conflict seemed violently to agitate her bosom: she held one hand tremblingly before her eyes, and, with the other, indicated that they might depart. She then opened the kitchen-door, and gave the house-servants orders to re-open the barred passages.
The door of the fore-hall was immediately opened, and she perceived, standing in the doorway, the same clumsy-looking fellow who had so much alarmed her, at dusk, with his wild, brutish countenance.
"It blows south-east, and we can sail," said he: "all is clear."
"Good," answered the duke: "we are ready. Take care of the gentleman within. Farewell, noble lady," he continued, turning to the knight's fair daughter, with a genuine expression of respect: "I am sorry I must number you among my foes; but I shall never forget this hour, and never cease to esteem and admire you. Had Denmark many such women, scarcely any man would need to boast of his valour." With these flattering words, he raised her hand to his lips, bowed politely, and, with his drost, hastened from the door.
The tall, rude groom had, in the meanwhile, according to the duke's instructions, proceeded to the dining-room, where he first made free with what remained in the wine-flagons. He then put all the silver goblets into his pocket, and, taking the sleeping algrev's silver truncheon from his hand, he placed it among the rest of his booty. He then disposed himself to lift the drunken gentleman upon his shoulder.
"It is not needful, Niels," whispered the algrev: "I am not so drunk but that I can well walk; yet I have been drinking stupidly, and must allow I have enough. So just take me under your arm, and let us off to sea."
He thereupon began to growl forth a snatch of some wanton song, and, resting on the arm of his sturdy comrade, reeled into the next apartment. Here Ingé was still standing, with her hand on the latch of the kitchen-door.
"A proud little tit-bit, Niels," whispered the algrev to his rough attendant. "Could we but take her with us, we should not leave Zealand without a prime booty."
"It would be an easy matter for me to whip her up," whispered Niels; "but, should she scream, we are betrayed. Ill birds are about already."
"The fiend take the proud wench, then! I would rather have the little roguish brunette. But let the birds fly. Farewell, proud lady," he said, aloud, as, staggering towards her, he kissed his finger. "Salute our good friend, your worthy father. Thank him handsomely, for having allowed us to drink a goblet here in peace, and put the hounds on a false scent."
Lady Ingé answered not: she stood, as if rivetted to the floor with terror; and, as soon as the fearful guests were gone, she bolted the door after them. Exhausted by these unusual efforts, she sank on a chair, almost unconscious. She still appeared to hear footsteps in the court-yard of the castle; but soon all was still, and the castle-gates were shut with a hollow sound. The noise aroused her from her stupor, and, collecting her strength, she tried to recall what had happened. The idea of her father's connection with the terrible guests fell on her soul like an enormous burden. A flood of tears burst suddenly from her eyes, and she wrung her hands in deep and boundless grief.
"But where is he?" she broke out again, in anguish; "and where are the three brave men who went with him?" The angry sea-rover's parting words occurred to her, and she made a hurried movement towards the door, without exactly knowing what she intended to do.
At this moment, she heard a loud knocking at the front hall-door. She started, but did not long hesitate, and withdrew the bolts. An active stranger youth, in the habit of a squire, entered, and saluted her respectfully. It was Claus Skirmen.
"Be not alarmed, lady," he said, hastily; "but may I inform you, if you do not know it already, that there are pirates in the castle; whilst my master, and the two knights who came with him, together with the governor of the castle himself, are shut up in the eastern tower."
"Shut up by pirates! my father imprisoned!" exclaimed Lady Ingé, with a burst of joy, incomprehensible to the young squire. "Are you certain the pirates have shut him up? and how know you it?"
"Who has locked them in, I know not," replied Skirmen; "but, noble lady, understand me rightly: they are prisoners in the tower. I was out on the beach, washing our horses, when I heard some one shouting from above, and I rode out of the water towards the tower, in the direction from whence the sound came. They bade me look about, right under the tower, for a prison-key: it was lying, fortunately, upon a great stone, and here it is; but the entrance to the tower I could not discover. In the court-yard they were shouting that pirates are here, and I could not be heard."
"Give it me!" exclaimed Lady Ingé, anxiously snatching it from the squire's hand. "Bring the lantern from the stable: make haste!" And she hurried out across the court-yard, while Skirmen ran to the stable for the lantern.
In the castle-yard there was a great noise. The servants were all in commotion, and the old warden came towards her in great terror. "Ah, God pity us!" he whined: "the vile sea-cats! Has any misfortune happened, lady?"
"My father is imprisoned," she hastily replied, "and the strangers are gone. Unlock the eastern tower for us."
"Ah, God pity us!" whined the warden, once more, and hurried to the tower. "It was by your father's orders I locked his friends both in and out, and asked them neither their names nor errand. That Satan who last went out wrenched the key of the castle-gate from my hand, and opened it before my very nose. They must have been rovers and heretics. I saw them, from the castle-walls, hoist sail, and leave the haven, taking the direction of Scania--and in this flying storm, too. God grant that they may go to the bottom, neck and crop!"
"My father is locked in," exclaimed Lady Ingé, impatiently: "instantly open the tower for us, I say."
"Ah, the infernal rogues! have they locked the governor in? God grant they may sink!" cried the old man, obeying.
"Hence now, hammer and tongs, and break open the gates of the tower--despatch!"
The tower-gate was now open. Skirmen came with the lantern, and hastily preceded Ingé up the narrow, winding staircase. When she reached the top, she heard high words within the prison, and recognised the voices of her father and the strangers.
"This treason you shall pay for, Sir Lavé!" she heard exclaimed by a harsh-toned voice, which she recognised as that of the stranger with the large plaited beard. "If Drost Hessel will still be your defender," continued the angry speaker, "he cannot save your life when I denounce you, and prove you to be a traitor to the country."
At these words, which only seemed to confirm her own cruel suspicions, the unhappy daughter was well nigh sinking upon the spot. The name of Drost Hessel had also attracted her attention in the highest degree, and the key fell from her hands. It rolled a few steps downwards, and Skirmen picked it up.
"Still, there is no proof of so heinous a crime," she now heard uttered in the voice of the young gentleman who had known her mother, and who had seemed to her so kingly. "Appearances are very much against you, Sir Lavé," continued the same voice; "but we ought to think the best of Sir John's kinsman as long as possible; and for what has yet happened here, no one can legally condemn you."
At these words, a gleam of hope lighted up the soul of the magnanimous daughter. "Yes, he may still be innocent!" she exclaimed, hastily thrusting into the lock the key which Skirmen had handed to her. The door was instantly opened, and the sight of the courageous girl astonished the knights. Her father appeared still more surprised to see her.
"Are the strangers still here?" he hastily inquired.
"Nay," replied the daughter, scarcely daring to look in her father's face, lest she should read in his manner a confirmation of the crime that she still hoped was a matter of doubt.
"Ha! escaped! Perdition seize them!" exclaimed Thorstenson, stamping with rage. "Now, the object of our detention is clear enough."
"Do you know whether they have gone seawards or landwards, noble lady?" inquired Drost Peter. "Can you tell us, with certainty, which route they have taken? Your word is my surety that they are withdrawn, and are not concealed within these walls."
Lady Ingé was about to answer, but her father seized her hastily by the arm.
"Be thou silent, my daughter!" he commanded her, in a sterner tone than he was wont at other times to use. "My persecuted guests, as you hear, are no longer in the castle," he said, turning to the knights, and suddenly becoming bold and determined. "It is now your affair to pursue them farther, if you believe yourselves authorised to do so. I am obliged to furnish you with fighting-men, and to provide you with a sea-boat, if you demand it; but not to be a spy and an accuser. To such meanness you shall not compel my daughter; and none of my people in the castle shall give evidence in this matter until they are summoned to the Lands-Ting, and in presence of their lawful judges. That I have received the king's own kinsman, Duke Waldemar of South Jutland, into this castle, I need neither deny nor feel ashamed of. I know of no sentence passed upon him, as an enemy to the king or the country. Whom he had in his train I know not, nor does it concern me. His servants and followers were my guests, as well as he. I am glad that this singular accident has saved him from a pursuit which I consider to be alike illegal and tyrannical."
Thorstenson and Rimaardson looked with wonder on the previously desponding castellan. Thorstenson struck his sword wrathfully on the stone floor; but Drost Peter advanced calmly towards him.
"This concerns the safety of the crown and kingdom," he remarked, sternly and gravely. "What has happened may be regarded as an accident, and I do not intend to make Sir Lavé Little answerable for it. But if you, Lady Ingé Little, know where the traitors and their piratical train have gone, I, Drost Peter Hessel, demand of you, in the name of your king and country, to reveal it, that we may not, by a bootless journey, expose the royal house and the nation to the greatest peril."
Sir Lavé grew pale, and Lady Ingé regarded the authoritative young drost with wondering eyes. She saw her father's embarrassment, and observed a secret sign he gave her, by pointing towards the west; but her resolution was taken.
"If you are Drost Peter Hessel," she said, calmly and firmly, "I know that you have royal power and authority to demand faithful testimony from every loyal subject. As a knight's free daughter, I cannot debase myself by becoming a spy and an accuser, least of all, by betraying my father's friends and guests. But the persons you speak of cannot be my father's friends. They have not come as guests, but as disguised robbers. According to the warden's account, who himself has seen them, they are fled over the Sound, towards Sweden."
"In the name of our king and country, I thank you for this important evidence, noble Lady Ingé," said Drost. Peter, taking her hand warmly. "Yet a word in my own name, in the presence of your father, and of these brave men. I hope the time may yet come, when you will as little mistake Drost Peter Hessel's heart and conduct, as you now do his fealty to his king and country. If you do not reject the hand which I now give as a friend, it will be my greatest pride and happiness to proffer it to you hereafter with a dearer title."
"Never, never shall that time come, as long as my eyes are open!" exclaimed Sir Lavé, bitterly, and tearing their hands asunder. "Silence, and go to your chamber, my daughter, I command you!"
Lady Ingé cast a look of fervent esteem towards her childhood's bridegroom; and saluting him and his friends with silence and dignified composure, she departed.
Skirmen ran down the stairs before her with the lantern, and across the court-yard. On his return, his master and both the knights had already gone out of the opened castle-gate. He hastened to bring their horses from the stable, and followed his master. He rejoined them on the quay, where Sir Lavé commanded the ferrymen to convey the gentlemen, in their fleetest sloop, and without delay, to Helsingborg. Thirty men of the castle garrison stood armed on the quay, and received the castellan's orders to follow and obey the strangers. Having done this, Sir Lavé took a short and cold leave of Drost Peter and Sir Rimaardson. To Sir Thorstenson he silently handed his glove, and returned, with hasty and troubled steps, to the castle. Thorstenson flung the glove contemptuously after him, and leaped on board.
In a brief space, the knights, with their armed followers, were embarked. Skirmen took charge of the horses. The wind was blowing strong from the south. Drost Peter placed himself at the helm, and ordered all sails to be set; and the sloop dashed along at a rapid rate, cutting through the troubled waters of the Sound.
The night was intensely dark, a few stars only being visible. They steered in the direction of Helsingborg, Drost Peter sitting silently at the rudder; while Thorstenson, exasperated, paced up and down the deck with Rimaardson, giving vent to his indignation against the crafty castellan.
"Who would have believed it of him?" he growled: "I always took him for a flounder, and thought it his only claim to be governor of Flounder Castle."[19]
"Do not speak so loud, noble knight," whispered Rimaardson. "They are his people we have on board; and see you not how they lay their heads together? Should mutiny break out in the ship during this murky night, our condition then may be worse than that we have just escaped from."
"The first man that grumbles, I shall cut down," muttered Thorstenson. "Every Dane has not yet become a traitor."
Skirmen now ascended from the hold of the vessel, and approached his grave master, who sat thoughtfully, with his arm over the rudder, now and then casting back a look to the huge dark castle, where a single light only was visible, shining from a turret-chamber in the south-eastern angle. There, he knew that Lady Ingé, in her childhood, had her apartment; and there, as children, they had often played together.
"Master," said Skirmen, advancing a little nearer, "be not offended if I disturb you in the midst of important thoughts. But steer you not rather too much to the south?"
"You are right, Skirmen," answered Drost Peter, hastily turning the helm: "yes, this must be the right course. It is dark, and we need to have our eyes about us. Fortunately, I can see the light, yonder. Now, tell me somewhat. You followed the lady from the tower. How was she affected? Did she converse with you?"
"Not a word, sir, until I had set down the lantern, and was about to depart: then, indeed, she asked me if I was your squire."
"And what did you answer?" asked the drost, hastily.
"Eh? what could I answer save 'yes,' sir? But now, are you not steering rather southerly again?"
Drost Peter hastily corrected his error. "Said she nothing more to you?" he resumed, after a pause.
"Ay, true: as she was entering the door, she dropped her red hair-band, which I picked up, and restored to her. That I might not appear a lout, without a word to say, I remarked that she wore the queen's colours as well as my master, the drost. I perceived that she started on hearing this; on which I drew myself up a little; for I know it is an honour that no knight but yourself can boast."
"Stupidity--cursed bravado!" exclaimed Drost Peter, with unusual vehemence. "Moreover, it is untrue: I no longer wear the queen's colours."
"That I knew not, stern sir. You wore them, however, when we travelled from Melfert."
"But now, as I tell you, I no longer wear them; and, for the sake of bragging, you should say nothing but what you know for certain to be true."
Skirmen was abashed, and remained silent.
"And what said she to this stupid boasting?" continued Drost Peter, in a milder tone.
"Nothing, stern sir. Yet it occurred to me, that she was much moved thereat.----But be not angry, stern sir: the helm is a little wrong again."
"Certainly not: let me attend to that. Moved, say you? Why think you she was moved? What foolish talk is this?"
"Truly by this, my master: she turned away from me, blushed deeply, and, as it seemed to me, there were tears in her eyes."
"Nonsense, Skirmen! you must have mistaken.--Spring forwards, and put that sail to rights!"
Skirmen hastened to obey his master's order, although he could not conceive why he was so singularly abrupt and abstracted.
The young drost heaved a deep sigh, and looked back once more for the light in the turret-window. It was no longer to be seen; and it seemed to him as if, with that distant light, the fair, newly-risen star was also extinguished from his childhood's heaven.
The wind now blew strong, and they already began to perceive lights on the Swedish coast, when suddenly a wild shout was heard on board, and torches flared in the midst of clashing swords and lances. Drost Peter, surprised, sprang from the helm, and saw, with consternation, Sir Thorstenson and Sir Rimaardson engaged in fierce conflict with the thirty lancers from Flynderborg.
Drost Peter threw himself with drawn sword amidst the combatants. "Peace here, in the king's name, or you are dead men!" he commanded, in a voice which, without being alarming, had singular weight and authority. They all paused, and gazed at him. Even the maddened Sir Thorstenson, who had felled one man and wounded another, subdued his rage, and stood quietly.
"Speak! what has happened?" demanded the drost. "Here, I am supreme judge."
"Rebellion--mutiny!" cried Thorstenson: "there lies the ringleader."
"They think that we have arbitrarily compelled the commandant, and that we are leading them into mischief," said Rimaardson.
The uproarious landsknechts pressed forward, uttering defiance, and shouting lustily to one another: "We are free Danes, and will not suffer ourselves to be cowed by three rovers. We know well enough, that you would have murdered the castellan in the tower; and here are we, carried off in the murky night, like cattle for slaughter, and no one knows whither."
"Silence!" cried the drost. "Is there any one amongst you who knows the king's hand and seal?"
"That does wise Christen--yes, that does Christen Fynbo," cried the fellows.
"Let him come hither, then," commanded the drost, taking forth the royal warrant addressed to governors of castles. "A torch here! and now attend." He then read aloud, and distinctly, the order that he should be supplied with a force, whenever it should be demanded. "There you see the king's seal and signature."
"It is well attested, comrades," said the book-learned Fynbo; and the greater number were pacified: still, a few solitary murmurs were heard.
"Now you have seen black on white for our right and authority, fellows," continued Drost Peter, sternly; "but, even without this, you ought to obey, when your governor has commanded you. Meantime are you all my prisoners: I cannot employ fellows like you in the king's service. Your leader has met with his reward. Cast him overboard, and let the fish devour him. The rest of you lay down your arms immediately."
The soldiers delayed, and a subdued murmur ran among them.
"Do you hesitate?" cried the drost. "Will you be doomed as traitors? Cast the rebel's corpse overboard: his sentence is passed here--God be merciful to his soul!"
Two of the landsknechts, who stood nearest the drost, silently laid hold of the body of their fallen comrade, and heaved it overboard. It splashed into the deep, and for a moment there was a fearful silence. No one, however, had yet laid down his weapon.
"You have been misled, and in a mistake, countrymen," said the drost, in a milder tone: "I shall intercede for you, for this time. But, now, instantly lay down your arms, and descend quietly to the forehold. Whoever murmurs, forfeits his life."
The astonished soldiers obeyed: in a moment they were all disarmed, and shut down, within the fastenings of the forehold. The drost then went quietly back to the helm, which Skirmen in the meantime, at his signal, had undertaken to guide. There was a death-stillness on board. Sir Thorstenson and Sir Rimaardson stood, with drawn swords, by the hatchway of the prison-room, while Skirmen attended to the sails. The storm had lulled, and day began to dawn over the Swedish coast, when the last tack was made, and the ship glided in a right line towards the haven of Helsingborg.