Chapter XIX: Part III (2)

Kirstine opened her eyes in astonishment. "So, indeed--I understand thee now," she said: "thou hast powerful friends, I see. But we must be prudent. The warden will henceforth look after thee strictly, and will scarcely give thee liberty to ride out with me. But let us see who this strange knight is, who has arrived in my father's ship. If he returns to Denmark, he may be persuaded to take thee with him; and if it can be done, I shall accompany thee. It will be surprising if two fair damsels, like us, cannot get a knight to carry us off, and make him fancy it was against our wishes."

"Giddy girl! thy thoughts are engaged with adventures and daring freaks; but, for God and the Holy Virgin's sake, be prudent, and reveal not what I have confided to thee; for in its success lies my freedom and all my hopes of the future. Yet one thing more thou must hear," she added, with a deep sigh: "the powerful commandant at Kongshelle, Sir Thord--dost thou know him?"

"The wealthy Thord, with the long red nose--what of him?"

"He has demanded me in marriage, and my father dare not say him nay. A hasty flight alone can save me, for within eight days he will be here."

"And then his nose will be twice as long!" cried Kirstine. "Come along, dear Ingé!--thou shalt quickly away from hence, and I myself will carry thee off."

They now rode back towards the little town of Tönsberg, in the midst of which lay the castle, called Tönsberg House. The fiord, and the painted wooden houses of the town on both sides the hill, with the sun shining on its nine convents and the fourteen Kings' Chapels, as they are called, presented a scene at once beautiful and picturesque. It failed just then, however, to attract the notice of the two maidens, who had become thoughtful, as they dared no longer speak aloud among the crowds of seamen and busy merchants whom they encountered.

When they reached the castle, they found that the vessel they had seen entering the fiord had, in the meanwhile, arrived. The stately young knight whom it conveyed had landed, and presented himself with much pomp to the warden of Tönsberg House, with whom he had held a private conversation. Arrangements were made to entertain the stranger as a distinguished guest. The two young damsels entered the large day-room of the castle, where they sat down in silence to their embroidery, occasionally casting expectant glances towards a side-door, by which they knew the warden would introduce the Danish knight, who, they had already determined, should aid them in their important enterprise.

The door was at length opened, and the old warden entered, accompanied by Chamberlain Rané, whom he presented to the daughter of the jarl as a man whom her father had honoured with knighthood, and who had arrived at Tönsberg on an affair of importance.

Rané saluted the fair ones with much politeness. When Lady Ingé saw him, and heard his name, she became somewhat alarmed. His crafty smile and well-bred, insinuating manners, were highly repulsive to her, and she remembered to have heard him mentioned as the confidant of the murdered king, in many an affair that was neither to his own honour nor that of his former master. She had also heard of his suspicious conduct in reference to the king's murder; and, when she now beheld him as a messenger from Mindre-Alf, she might justly regard him as an open traitor. She could not conceal the contempt and loathing he inspired, which did not escape his observation while conversing with the lively Kirstine.

The warden having left them, Rané appeared desirous to draw Lady Ingé into the conversation, and endeavoured to conciliate her by some expressions of concern for Denmark, and the dangerous position of the young king. Who Lady Ingé was, and her attachment to the royal house, he well knew; and he had already observed, with some surprise, that the daughter of the Norwegian jarl shared her sympathies with much spirit. He immediately availed himself of this discovery to place himself in an advantageous light before both young ladies; while, to flatter them with his confidence, he entrusted to them, as a dangerous secret, that he was a faithful friend to the royal family of Denmark, and had ventured hither on far other grounds than those which were alleged as the object of his visit.

The young damsels were astonished. In order to strengthen his statement, and allay every suspicion, Rané then painted in glowing colours, yet with apparent modesty, his valorous defence of the unfortunate king in Finnerup barn. He related to them how, notwithstanding this, he had been suspected in the most shameful manner; and assured them that, to justify himself in the eyes of every loyal Dane, he would risk his life in the most dangerous undertaking on behalf of the young king.

"My fidelity to my former king and master," he added, "has already cost me my fair ancestral castle on Hielm. Marsk Stig has seized it by storm, and slain my faithful garrison. I have been constrained to use stratagem against force; but, with the aid I pretend to obtain here for the marsk, I mean to convince him and your brave father, noble Jomfru Kirstine, that I am not unworthy of the stroke of knighthood with which the jarl has honoured me, while even I venture to expose myself to his anger."

"You are as bold as you are frank, Sir Rané!" exclaimed Kirstine, with astonishment. "What assures you that Jarl Mindre-Alf's daughter, after this confession, will permit you to slip free from Tönsberg Castle? Suppose now, that I instantly order you to be cast into the tower--"

"Then I shall have greatly mistaken your lofty, noble mind, illustrious damsel," replied Rané; "although I should not consider it a very serious misfortune even were I compelled to be your prisoner. But this I know, that the friend of Jomfru Ingé Little can never hate or persecute any adherent of Denmark's royal house."

"That you should not altogether depend upon, sir knight," replied the jarl's daughter. "The Danish kings have not left behind them the fairest memorials at Tönsberg. Tales are still told here of Harald Bluetooth's cruelty; and there are ruins lying around us from the times of your valorous King Waldemar. If you imagine that the damsels of Norway are less patriotis than those of Denmark, you mistake us much."

For an instant Rané seemed alarmed; but he soon recovered himself on perceiving a roguish smile in the countenance of the bold jomfru, and the glance she directed to her Danish friend. He bent his knee before the jocular damsel. "My freedom, perhaps my life, is in your hands," he said; "yet I repent not my avowal. In the presence of Jarl Mindre-Alf's fair daughter, it were, indeed, impossible to make a more daring admission; but I could not look on you, and for a moment forget what I bear on my shield. With the fair ones of Norway the knights of Denmark never made war, and the misdeeds of our kings and princes should not be visited on their innocent subjects--"

"Enough, Sir Rané--rise! the warden is approaching," said Jomfru Kirstine, hastily.

He kissed her hand respectfully while she raised him; and the warden now entering, a conversation on indifferent topics was gaily resumed.

But Jomfru Ingé placed no confidence in the crafty Rané. In the evening, when alone with Kirstine, she warned her of him; for she had well observed that his respectful homage to her beauty, and his flattery of her free spirit and independence, had not been without effect. Lady Ingé at the same time was forced to acknowledge that Sir Rané was not deficient in courage, and possessed much sagacity and eloquence. She even admitted that her distrust of him might possibly be unfounded; but, in the eyes of Kirstine, he was a true and doughty knight.

Next day Rané eagerly sought an opportunity of conversing with Kirstine alone. He found it, and soon confided to her that the fame of her beauty had long made him her passionate admirer. He informed her that her father had formerly accorded him permission to solicit her hand in person, but that the jarl now sought to evade his promise; and, finally, that his present journey, and the hazard to which he thereby exposed his life, having been undertaken solely for the purpose of seeing her, there was now no enterprise so dangerous that he would not venture on it for her sake.

She listened to all his protestations without any apparent displeasure, but gave him no decided answer.

Four days elapsed, during which Rané continued his efforts to win Kirstine, and to inspire Jomfru Ingé with a more favourable opinion of him. Many secret councils had been held between the two damsels, and it was finally concluded that, before they confided in him, they should, at all events, put his fidelity to a stern proof.

Rané had spoken highly of the swiftness of his vessel, and of his powerful connections in Denmark. A hint, or an apparently accidental occurrence, was therefore all that was required for flight or an abduction. Kirstine planned the hazardous design, to which, from necessity and her dangerous situation, Jomfru Ingé was forced to accede.

On the fifth day after the arrival of Rané, Ingé was alarmed by the intelligence that her father, with Sir Thord, was expected from Kongshelle on the following day, and that festive preparations, as for a wedding, were going forward in the castle.

Rané's vessel lay ready to sail in Tönsberg Fiord, a few bow-shots from the strand. It was manned by a numerous crew, whom Rané had gained over with gold and promises. The crafty young knight had proposed a walk by the beach, where, a little before sunset, he proceeded, accompanied by Kirstine and Lady Ingé. The old warden attended them, although he was heartily tired of hearing of fells, and waterfalls, and all the other beauties of nature which strangers extol so highly. Rané conversed with the young ladies with much politeness: he greatly admired the beauty of the landscape. "But," he observed, "the view from the sea must be far more magnificent. When I arrived, the sky was not so clear as it now is."

"It appears to me, however," observed the warden, with a yawn, "that it was just as clear."

"It is possible," replied Rané; "but towards evening the coast assumes a more beautiful appearance. Here is a boat close by, with part of my crew: the ladies, perhaps, would like to row a little way on the fiord."

"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Kirstine, pulling Ingé along with her into the boat: "the weather is fine, and I can show thee that the sun does not set over a nobler land than Norway. Will you go with us, warden?"

Rané had placed himself beside the ladies. The warden was displeased; but, unwilling to oppose himself to the will of the proud young damsel, he entered the boat grumbling, and it rapidly glided from the beach. Whilst Rané dilated with animation on the beauties of the scenery, the boatmen, who had been previously instructed, rowed straight to the vessel, which lay with her sails half unfurled, and her crew ready to heave the anchor as soon as their master was on board.

The invitation of Rané to inspect the ship was accepted. The objections of the warden were silenced by the eloquent knight, who, the moment they stood on deck, gave a signal, and the vessel stood out under full sail. The terrified warden was conducted, as a prisoner, to the cabin; while Rané, throwing himself upon his knee before Kirstine, poured out a torrent of flattering apologies for carrying off her friend and her to Denmark; where, he said, he as certainly hoped to obtain her forgiveness, as he was now prepared by every deed of chivalry to deserve the hand of the fairest maiden in Norway.

Lady Ingé, as well as Kirstine, was half terrified at this sudden abduction, although it was their own plan which the crafty knight, without knowing it, was carrying into effect. They both remained silent and thoughtful; but Lady Ingé was too proud to carry dissimulation farther.

"Well, Sir Rané," she said, gravely, "I follow you willingly to Denmark, for I desire to leave Tönsberg." And with this avowal she retired to the other side of the vessel, leaving it to her companion to simulate anger at his daring conduct.

By this step Sir Rané had gained a great object. As long as the fate of the conspirators was uncertain, it was important that he should be able, in some satisfactory manner, to justify his connection with them. By this daring action he also hoped to increase his reputation as a bold knight in the estimation of Marsk Stig and the jarl; while in the daughter of the powerful algrev he possessed a hostage that would secure him from their enmity. Neither did it escape his observation, that, in the eyes of the brave daughter of the viking, he had established his character as an adventurous knight; and he now clearly perceived that she secretly favoured him as her suitor, notwithstanding the rage and scorn which she pretended to heap upon him. As long, too, as Lady Ingé remained in his power, he supposed that her kinsman, old Sir John, and Drost Hessel, would reflect before they took any steps against him.

* * *

On a beautiful evening in the middle of May, there was a torch-dance and great rejoicing in the streets of Rypen. Such festivities, where the burghers mingled in the gay crowd of knights, were not uncommon; but at a time so serious, and so soon after the murder of the king, these public rejoicings gave great scandal to the friends of the royal house among the burghers of the place; while the adherents of Marsk Stig heartily entered into them, as a proof of the security with which the rebel governor of the castle, Sir Tagé Muus, defied the royal party. In this way, the revolted chief showed, too, how well he understood, and how much he disregarded, the feigned threats with which Duke Waldemar had summoned him to surrender.

The duke, with his army, was encamped about half a mile south of Rypen. His forces consisted chiefly of South Jutlanders; although among them there were also a few Brandenburg and Saxon horsemen. On the evening to which we have alluded, the duke entertained, in his magnificent crimson tent, the two Margraves of Brandenburg, old Duke Johan of Saxony, and Count Gerhard of Holstein; the latter having reached the army the previous day, at the head of a chosen troop of Holstein horse. The brave count had scarcely awaited his recovery from the unfortunate blow which had cost him an eye, before he had armed himself for the defence of Queen Agnes and the young king. He had united his forces to those of the duke without suspicion; but was received at the camp with a coldness that surprised him. The queen's brothers had newly arrived from Viborg, to hasten some decisive attempt against Marsk Stig and his adherents. The aged Duke of Saxony, who had been the youthful friend of Duke Waldemar's father, the unfortunate Duke Erik, had often manifested a fatherly interest in the ambitious young Waldemar. He had arrived, uninvited, at the head of his brave troops, not solely to strengthen the duke, but for the purpose of preventing, by his presence, any thoughtless step which might be prompted by his ambitious aspirations, of which the old nobleman was not ignorant. He had been partly moved to this by his daughter, the pious Princess Sophia, of whom Duke Waldemar had, two years before, been an ardent suitor, without having received any decisive answer. At that time she was not quite fifteen, and had declared that in three years she would determine, should her wooer then renew his suit. She was well aware that she had made a strong impression on the young duke, whom she loved tenderly, but without passion, and she also entertained well-grounded doubts of his constancy. She therefore dreaded his ambitious plans, and felt more solicitous about his honour and the welfare of his soul than the loss of his heart, which she already looked upon as having escaped her, for she had not seen him for two years. She awaited, however, the expiration of the third year, when she intended to bid farewell to the world, and assume the veil.

The upright old Duke Johan had approved his daughter's views and determination. Without alluding to her, he had, like a true and fatherly friend, spoken seriously to the young duke relative to his present position and his duties to the Danish crown. His words were not without effect; but the idea that wholly engrossed the young nobleman was the proud consciousness that he possessed the power to decide the fate of the royal house of Denmark by casting his sword into either scale of the nicely balanced parties.

The presence of the margraves and the honest Count Gerhard, however, and their unanimous demand that something decisive should be attempted, caused him some embarrassment. A council of war was held in the duke's tent, at which, after those noblemen had each expressed his opinion boldly and frankly, the duke arose.

"Here, my lords, I am commander," he said, firmly; "and with every respect for your advice and sincere intentions, I must still follow my own convictions. Before the Dane-court has decided how Marsk Stig and his friends are to be treated, and until I myself have been formally recognised as protector, nothing decisive can be undertaken. Within twelve days the Dane-court will be held, and, consequently, my presence in Nyborg will be necessary. Until then no campaign can be commenced, far less completed. From what I have heard of Marsk Stig's preparations, a greater force than we possess will be necessary to subdue him. Besides, by the law of the land, he and his friends have still the right to defend themselves before the Dane-court, if they choose to risk it; and, as I have already said, no decisive step can be taken until it is legally determined in what quality I stand here, and with whom we have to contend."

"With your leave, illustrious duke," began Count Gerhard, "I think we know right well who we are, and what we have to do. That we two, at least, stand here as vassals of the Danish crown, requires no confirmation. That the commander of Rypen House, by placing the banner of Marsk Stig where that of the king should wave, has openly declared himself an enemy of the crown, is certain enough. Before we advance against Helgeness and Hielm, Rypen House must be ours. With what forces we have here the place can be stormed within twelve hours; and it seems to me shameful and indefensible that we should lie here idly, and tamely permit a royal castle to remain in the hands of rebels."

"If, with your own troopers, you choose to storm Rypen House, brave Count Gerhard," replied the duke, carelessly, "you are welcome; but it must be on your own responsibility; and you will further have to answer before the Dane-court for kindling a civil war before the conduct of these men has been legally condemned, and without knowing by what law and authority you yourself are acting."

"So, then, illustrious duke," exclaimed Count Gerhard, with suppressed indignation, "in God and St. George's name I shall act alone, and I doubt not that I shall be able to defend my conduct well." He then bowed, and retired.

Shortly afterwards he left the camp, at the head of fifty horsemen, and took the road to Rypen. By his side, attired as a squire, rode Daddy Longlegs, who, since the unfortunate foolery which had cost his master an eye, had laid aside the dignity and dress of a jester, but still followed his master, to whom he was indispensable.

As Count Gerhard approached the Nipsaa, which defended the town from the south, his anger gradually abated; prudence returned, and he perceived the absurdity of attempting, with his handful of men, to storm a well-fortified castle like Rypen House. Shame, however, deterred him from returning to the camp, and he rode leisurely forward. His troopers followed silently; but he perceived, by their thoughtful and serious looks, how certainly fatal they considered the enterprise on which their master and prince was conducting them.

"Let us make good speed, gracious sir," observed Longlegs, in a tone of grave raillery, "before they at Rypen House behold our terrible army and surrender themselves. It would be a sad misfortune should we miss this chance of immortality, and have no opportunity of using our storming-ladders and lithers--"

"I rely upon thee being a wizard, Longlegs, who can as easily knock out the eye of the enemy as thou didst mine, and so prevent him from seeing our strength," replied the count, entering at once, as usual, into the humour of his jester. "But who has informed thee that I mean to storm Rypen House? There are banquetings and rejoicings in Rypen, thou knowest; and what if I should intend to treat myself and all of you to a romp with the fair maids of Rypen?"

"Ah! that is another matter, sir. A right merry dance it will be; and, besides, we come not unbidden to the junkettings, for the letter brought you in the gloaming by the old pilgrim was doubtless an invitation to sport and joviality."

Count Gerhard nodded. "Didst thou know him, Longlegs?" he inquired.

"If I am not mistaken, it was our old host in Middelfert, Henner Friser. He is a daring carl, and, it is said, knows something more than his paternoster. He fled from Middelfert for a murder: so take care, sir, that he does not lead you into a snare."

"If thou hadst heard what he said, Longlegs, thou wouldst not fear that. Onwards."

Not far from the Southgate Bridge and Hostorg Port, on what is called the Marshland, Count Gerhard ordered his troopers to halt and dismount. Having set them the example, he remained for a moment in profound thought.

"Now, my men," he at length said, good-humouredly, "I shall conduct you to the feast to-night. You see the torches are flaring on the bridge. Well, there is mirth in Rypen, and only merry guests are expected. The grooms will remain with the horses, and you others, one by one, will follow me on foot, with your swords beneath your cloaks, for the sake of security. If you can get a torch in one hand, and a girl in the other, dance away. But the jig must pass through Southgate-street to Grayfriars-street, and then along Crutched-friars, to the large bleaching-green by the castle. There you must gather around me when you hear my hunting-horn. What further fun is to be had, must depend on luck and opportunity. You understand me, carls?"

A general shout of applause announced the acquiescence of the troopers in the adventurous project of their master. He immediately crossed the bridge, followed, singly and at a distance, by the others, who mingled with the crowds of merrymakers that filled the streets.

The mirth had reached its height. Torches blazed and songs were sung in every street leading to the castle. Gaily-dressed knights, and ladies in mantles of silk and scarlet, mingled in the dance. Count Gerhard strode along in his heavy riding-boots, without taking any active part in the festivities. When he had reached and was about to pass the gateway into the court-yard of the Crutched-friars, he received a nod of recognition from a brave, well-known face, concealed under a peasant's hood, while, with a hearty shake of the hand, he was drawn beneath the arch.

"Drost Hessel!--you here, and in this disguise!" he exclaimed, with astonishment.

"Have you come to join our dance, noble count?" inquired Drost Peter, hastily.

"The fiend take the dance! I am here to storm Rypen House, in spite of the duke and his fine prudential considerations.

"'Tis well! You are in the dance, then, whether you will or not. But whence comes it? Who is the leader?"

"He that comes first, I should think. But, by Beelzebub! you must well know that, Drost Hessel. Ask not me, for I know nothing: I have had only a private hint, which I am undecided whether I ought to act upon or not. Do you know old Henner Friser, from Melfert?"

"Him we can rely upon," replied Drost Peter, gladly; "and if the hint came from him, we may safely follow it. What force is with you?"

"Not a great one; but still, I can muster half a hundred with a blast of my horn."

"Good!" exclaimed the drost: "there is, then, some meaning in it, and I now begin to be in earnest; for, hitherto, the whole affair has appeared to me somewhat like a joke. I know not with whom the daring idea originated, and I came here with only two companions, merely to discover the temper of the people. On my way I met Henner Friser, and the mysterious old man predicted me success, and then disappeared. It seems he has good friends here. The disposition of the burghers is favourable; but the duke delays, and I have no faith in him. To storm the place without an army would never have occurred to me; but there must be amongst us a spirit more inventive and daring than we were aware of. An hour since a stranger invited me to be the second knight in the row of dancers, when the Danish maidens should begin the song;--'For Erik the king so young.' But what avails it without a storm?"

"I understand," exclaimed the count rubbing his hands with delight: "for the young king, then. True, I would rather sing, 'For Queen Agnes the fair;' but it is the same. Dance only, in God's name, across the castle-bridge. I dance behind, and follow you with my men. 'For our young king,' is the watchword; and he who hesitates to give it tongue, shall be cut down."

This conversation was interrupted by a party of boisterous young knights, with black plumes in their helmets, and torches in their hands, who danced into the court-yard of the convent, summoning the terrified monks to open the refectory for them, and bawling for wine and Saxon ale.

"Saw you the black-plumes? That is a band of Marsk Stig's adherents," observed Drost Peter, as he retired with Count Gerhard to an obscure corner of the gateway, unable to conceal his indignation at such audacious proceedings, which were not unusual during this unsettled period.

The clamour in the convent-yard subsided for an instant, while a reverend friar came forth, and reminded the disturbers that they were not in an enemy's country, and that it was the duty of the brave gentlemen at Rypen House to protect the town, and not to plunder it.

The priest was answered with mockery and threats; and one of the overbearing young knights, brandishing his torch, swore he would set fire to the convent, if their demands were longer resisted. The door of the refectory was then instantly opened, and the unwelcome guests were admitted.

Drost Peter boiled with indignation. "Behold, Count Gerhard!" he exclaimed, vehemently: "these are the men who would be masters in Denmark. Let us after them!"

"Nay, let them drink till they cannot see a hole through a storming-ladder," cried Count Gerhard, laughing--"the better will go our dance. When does it begin, and where?"

"Two hours after the ave, and on the bleach-green, near the castle."

"'Tis well. The time is near: therefore let us hence. There is some meaning in this dance, and an honest warrior can engage in it without being laughed at. Plague take it! if the queen were only here, she should see me dance better and more gaily than I did the last time."

They proceeded hastily to the bleach-green, where a great crowd was assembled. In the middle of the open space stood a table, covered with refreshments. Merry music filled the air, while many torches shed their light upon the scene, and numerous gaily dressed ladies occupied the benches around. Drost Peter and Count Gerhard observed with attention and surprise the glittering knights and dames about them, most of whom had their faces fantastically painted, and all sharing in the merriment with spirit and joyousness.

As Count Gerhard was making his remarks on this, Skirmen hastily approached, and whispered a few words to his master, who immediately, with joyful surprise, directed his eyes to a bench, on which sat three ladies veiled. In the nearest he thought he recognised the black-haired little Aasé. She who sat in the middle, Skirmen, with a roguish smile, had informed him was the lady who had invited him to the dance. Skirmen had again disappeared, and Drost Peter fixed his eyes on the tall stranger lady with a feeling of delight he could not express, although a painful anxiety mingled with it.

"Can it be possible? Can she be here, and engaged in this dangerous sport?" he exclaimed, half aloud, as he felt the ground spin round with him. He began to think he was in some wonderful dream. He again looked round for Skirmen, but without success, and was at last obliged to support himself on a bench near where he stood.

At that moment the three maidens arose, and began to sing:--

"On Rypen streets the dance goes light,
With ladys gay and gentle knight.
On Rypen Bridge a measure is trod:
There dance the knights so gaily shod--
For Erik the king so young!"

When the burthen was heard, the flutes and horns chimed in, and a number of knights sprang forward with their ladies, and formed a long row of dancers.

Drost Peter distinguished Jomfru Ingé's clear and mellow voice, and in the middle singer he now plainly recognised her tall and noble form. He started up and clasped her in his arms. "Ingé, dearest Ingé!" he whispered, "what daring is this? Are you come hither to dance to the death with me? If so, then joyfully for Denmark and our young king! But unriddle to me this mystery."

"My knight follows me to the royal castle and to victory," whispered Ingé: "if our leader deceive us not, we shall succeed."

"Who, then, is our leader?" inquired the drost, eagerly. "If any one leads here, I should do so."

"The gates of the rebels' castle are not opened to Drost Hessel," she rejoined, hastily. "There stands our leader, but you must not know him. If he were free, I should trust him as little as you do; but here he is in our power, and must now dance himself to a bride--or die."

She pointed to a stately young knight, with long yellow hair, who stood near them, with a torch in his hand, and apparently hesitating whether he should place himself at the head of the dancers or not. He had hitherto stood with his back towards them; but as he now turned to one side, the light of his torch fell on his cheek, and Drost Peter exclaimed, in the highest astonishment--"Rané!"

"Be silent," whispered Ingé: "with a fox we must catch a fox to-night; but not like Hamlet. With May-garlands, and, as I hope, without the red rose, will we bind our enemies."

Meanwhile, the music continued, many singing to it a well-known ballad that suited the tune. Whilst Rané stood, as if yet undecided, the row of dancers was constantly increasing; and Jomfru Ingé, in a few words, acquainted Drost Peter with the whole daring plan. Jarl Mindre-Alf's daughter and herself had persuaded Rané, who knew the governor, to bring about the present festival. The bitter feeling of the knight towards Marsk Stig, and his anxiety to show himself a friend to the royal house, had favoured the project of the young damsels. Through Skirmen and Aasé, old Henner Friser had been induced to engage in it. The proximity of Drost Peter had redoubled the courage of his betrothed, although she feared that his co-operation with Rané might defeat the whole scheme.

"And now, my dear sir knight," she added, playfully, "the numerous chivalrous gentlemen you perceive around you are our trusty Rypen burghers and their sons, who, at the request of their wives and sweethearts, will dance tonight to the songs of the maidens."

Having given this explanation, she then, with the other damsels, again renewed the song, whilst the knights proceeded to arrange themselves in conformity with the words of the ballad, wherein themselves and their ladies were indicated by feigned names, taken for the most part from old romances, but the application of which they all knew well. The only one who was named aright was the governor of Rypen House, who was at that moment sitting at a drinking-bout in the castle, but whose name, being sung aloud as if he were engaged in the dance, assured any of his adherents who might be present, and suspicious of the game.

Whilst those nearest the castle arranged themselves as directed by the song, the others at the extremity of the line formed a long chain, and danced around the green, to assure themselves that none were present in the dance but those engaged in the plot. Rané, meanwhile, still stood undecided by the bench on which Jomfru Kirstine was seated, when Jomfru Ingé and the others began to sing:--

"Riber Ulf first dances here--
A king is he without compeer."

"'Tis you, Sir Rané!" exclaimed the daughter of the Norwegian jarl--"'tis you: you are Riber Ulf to-night. Show me now that you are a king without compeer."

Rané, however, did not seem to hear her. The song continued:--

"Then dances Tagé Muns so free--
Captain of Rypen House is he."

Drost Peter had cast aside his hood, and donned a high feathered hat, which Skirmen had brought him, together with a scarlet mantle, which he threw over his peasant's dress.

"Now are you captain of Rypen House," whispered Jomfru Ingé. His dress, which was the same as the court-suit of the castellan, and which they had procured on purpose, caused the knight to be mistaken by many for Sir Tagé Muus himself; his portly bulk, derived from his peasant's clothes beneath, greatly favouring the deception. In this guise he danced forward in the ranks with Jomfru Ingé, who, with the maidens, continued to sing:--

"Then dancing comes Sir Saltensee,
And so come on his kinsmen three.

"Then dance the noble Limbeks trim,
And they were kings of sturdy limb.

"Then after dances Byrge Green,
And many a gentle knight I ween.

"And now comes dancing Hanke Kann,
And eke his wife, hight Lady Ann.

"Then dancing comes a noble pair--
Sir Rank, and Lady Berngerd fair.

"Then rich Sir Wolfram, with his dame,
A lady fair, without a name."

At this verse Sir Bent Rimaardson, who had received the same invitation as Drost Peter, joined the dancers, with an unknown lady by his side.

At the last couplet--

"Then dancing came Sir Iver Helt:
He followed the king across the Belt:"[36]

to his great surprise, Drost Peter perceived the brave Sir Thorstenson advance, conducting a smart peasant-girl by the hand.

"What! Sir Thorstenson here, too!" he exclaimed, as he turned to Lady Ingé, who hastily informed him that the bold knight was there to accompany him to Nyborg, whither he had conducted the king and the whole court, and that he had immediately approved of and entered into her project.

Rané, however, had yet shown no disposition to take his part in the dance. They had twice danced round the open space, and each time that Lady Ingé had approached him, she had sung in a louder tone:--

"Riber Ulf first dances here,
A king is he without compeer."

She was now drawing near a third time; but he still remained as if in deep thought.

"Are you afraid that your fair hair will get entangled, Sir Rané, that you so long delay leading me to the dance?" exclaimed the courageous Jomfru Kirstine, mockingly, and with a gesture of impatience.

"You are right, noble jomfru," answered Rané: "both head and hair may easily be entangled here. My hair is a little red, as you must have observed; but in this dance it might quickly become redder--"

"And your rosy cheeks might become all too white," interrupted she, derisively.

"You are right in that also, fair jomfru," replied Rané, smiling slyly. "You would have little service of the boldest bridegroom, when his cheeks were as pale as those of a corpse. It is natural that a man should hesitate before he springs into a death-dance, even with a damsel ever so rich and fair."

"If you hesitate a moment longer, Sir Rané," angrily exclaimed the bold jomfru, "I shall consider that I have been shamefully wronged and insulted by you; and then, instead of being the bridegroom of Jarl Mindre-Alf's daughter, you shall become the laughing-stock of every girl in Norway. Yet, nay," she added, in a milder tone--"you will never heap such shame and scorn on both yourself and me. Shall Ingé's words prove true, and shall her knight behold your weakness and hesitation? See how proudly he dances with her, the brave Drost Hessel!"

"Drost Hessel!" exclaimed Rané with surprise, as the blood forsook his cheeks.

"Drost Hessel, of course. Surely you are not afraid of the name. If you are as brave as you pretend to be, and my father has really given you the stroke of knighthood, convince us now that you are worthy of it, and show the proud drost that you are not allied to rebels and traitors. He is severe, it is said, and old Friser has sworn your death if you deceive us."

"Mistake me not, noble jomfru," said Rané, hastily. "I dread neither the drost nor the ferocious innkeeper--for fear of them I stir not a single step. But for your sake alone, fairest Kirstine, and my own knightly honour, shall I stake my head upon the game, and dance with you even to the castle-gate. When it is opened at my signal, I shall have kept my word; but will you then as truly and honestly do what you have promised, and accompany me from Rypen as my bride?"

"What I have promised I shall perform, like an honest Norwegian maiden," replied Jomfru Kirstine, gladly, as she quickly rose, and gave him her hand. "Dance but through the castle-gate with me, and you are the bold and noble hero I believed you, and worthy of the daughter of any jarl."

Rané seemed transformed as by some sudden inspiration; he sprang nimbly forward with his lady, and placed himself at the head of the dancers, who had now for the third time nearly made the circuit of the area.

Before Lady Ingé had again sung the first verse of the ballad, calling on Riber Ulf, Rané was dancing gaily along, with Jomfru Kirstine on his arm. Lightly tripping it, he sang aloud, while all the damsels and knights accompanied him:

"And on Rypen streets the dance goes light,
With ladye gay and gentle knight--
For Erik the king so young."

"Right!" exclaimed the lively Norwegian lady, whom he whirled along, her silken ribbons fluttering in her plaited hair, as she danced the lightest and nimblest of them all. "Dance thus over the bridge, and I shall praise your courage; and dance thus through the gate, and I give you my plighted troth."

Rané waved his scarf when they reached the drawbridge, and it was instantly lowered.

"Ingé, dearest Ingé, it succeeds!" exclaimed Drost Peter, as he warmly pressed the arm of his partner.

The heavy boots of the knights thundered on the drawbridge, amidst the light tread of shoes, and all sang merrily:--

"On Rypen Bridge a measure is trod;
There dance the knights so gaily shod--
For Erik the king so young!"

Rané now clapped his hands, and the castle-gates were opened. With song and shout and merriment, the whole of the dancers were soon within.

Count Gerhard, who still stood on the bleach-green, laughing heartily, then blew a merry strain on his horn; and in an instant he was surrounded by his fifty men, who followed him with great glee to the open gate. Here he posted one half of his force, and with the other followed quickly after the dancers.

A considerable portion of the castle garrison were dispersed throughout the town. The governor, Sir Tagé Muus, was sitting half intoxicated, with thirty other knights, in the large royal riddersal. He heard, without surprise, the singing and dancing in the castle-court and in the passage of the riddersal; for he had given permission to his good friend Rané and his young knights to conduct the fair daughters of the citizens to him, with dance and song. In a few seconds the doors flew open, and the whole company danced in, the knights holding their ladies by the left hand and carrying blazing torches in their right. The whole of them were linked together by a chain of green May-leaves, interspersed with rare roses. By a sudden movement the ladies formed a cluster, waving the torches, while the knights, in a compact circle, surrounded the table with drawn swords in their hands.

The governor and his thirty knights now first became aware of their betrayal, and started up in alarm to defend themselves. But in an instant, and without bloodshed, the castellan and his entire force were disarmed.

Beyond the circle of knights and their captives, the maidens now began to dance, and with loud jubilation sang:

"And thus we danced the castle in,
With drawn sword under scarlet sheen--
The castle it is won!"

"For Erik the king so young!" exclaimed Drost Peter, stepping forward. He then, in the king's name, took possession of the castle, and sent the rebel governor and his adherents, bound, to the dungeon of the fort.

To the great joy of the loyal Rypen burghers, the royal banner was seen shortly after waving over the castle-gate, where it had been planted by a tall and beautiful maiden. Now was there in Rypen a true feast of gladness. While Drost Peter and Count Gerhard were placing trusty men at every post, and adopting the strictest precautions, the dancing was continued in the castle, as well as in the city, with the utmost rejoicing.

When the necessary measures for the defence and security of the fortress had been taken, Drost Peter returned with longing haste to the riddersal, where he had left Lady Ingé, with Skirmen and Sir Thorstenson, in the midst of a gay dance of victory. The meeting with his childhood's bride, and the whole daring exploit, still presented itself to his imagination like a wonderful dream. The artifice by which the castle had been taken, and Rané's traitorous co-operation in it, did not please him; but joy at having once more seen the brave Lady Ingé, and the hope that her return to Denmark was no more a fleeting vision than the whole night's adventure, inspired him with a feeling of happiness that banished every other sentiment.

Doubt and inquietude, however, soon seized him, for nowhere could he find her. He saw only the cheerful knights and disguised burghers, who, with laughter, song, and merriment, whirled around with the nimble Rypen damsels. He saw Sir Thorstenson, and the otherwise melancholy Bent Rimaardson, glide past him in the mazes of the dance, as if intoxicated with the general hilarity; while Count Gerhard clattered away in his heavy boots, and sang lustily from the bottom of his heart. In the song, to which they were now dancing with so much animation, Drost Peter heard not the mellow voice of Lady Ingé, while both knights and ladies repeated the words of their former bold songstress:--

"And thus we danced the castle in,
With drawn sword under scarlet sheen--
The castle it is won!

"With rosy wreath and ridder dance,
A keep so won I ne'er saw chance--
For Erik the king so young!"

The general delight would certainly have again communicated itself to Drost Peter, had he anywhere caught a glimpse of Lady Ingé. But her sudden disappearance was a painful mystery; and his anxiety augmented when he perceived that Rané, too, had vanished. He knew that this crafty knight had been her attendant from Norway; and notwithstanding the apparent change in his sentiments, and his important share in surprising the castle, he still considered him as the most treacherous and dangerous foe of himself and the royal house. Neither could he perceive the brave Norwegian maiden, whom Ingé had called her friend, and who, with Rané, had led the dancers. That she was the daughter of Jarl Mindre-Alf he knew, and Ingé's connection with this family increased his uneasiness. While he was assailed by these doubts and fears, Sir Thorstenson approached him and extended his hand.

"This, by my troth, I call a merry maiden's victory, Drost Peter!" exclaimed the warlike knight, gaily. "The fair damsels are likely to win the honours of war from us. To-night, at all events, the wreath of victory certainly belongs to them. Next time, I hope it will be our's."

They retired to a corner, when Sir Thorstenson informed his anxious and abstracted friend how, on his arrival at Rypen a few hours before, he had been dragged into this singular adventure, whose important and successful issue might excuse him for not having immediately attended to his proper duty.

"Truth to say, my good friend," he added, "your cool mind and knightly sword, no less than your authority as drost, were required to help us to success; but I would rather dispense with your all too conscientious scruples. Therefore it was that I persuaded Jomfru Ingé to take you by surprise. If this deserves punishment, let the offence be visited only on me. You are my superior, and can now, if you choose, place me in arrest for neglecting my duty, and taking counsel against you with your betrothed--for such, in truth, I suppose she is."

"Know you what has become of her?" inquired Drost Peter, hastily.

"That know I not," replied Thorstenson; "but leave the maidens to dance, and let us no longer lose our wit over this conceit of the fair ones."

Drost Peter was silent, and Thorstenson continued: "The duke's preparations for war, notwithstanding the queen's confidence in him, are regarded by the council as suspicious. Old Sir John considered the young king as no longer safe in Viborg; and, in your absence, I was obliged secretly to convey him to Nyborg. I myself believe that there are evil birds about. Sir John informed me that I should meet you here, and he charged me with these letters for you, both from himself and the queen. I know that you must on to Nyborg. But here you now command. Whilst you follow the king's orders, I must follow your's. I shall do so, however, with pride and pleasure."

Drost Peter hastily perused the letters. "I must depart before day," he said; and, after a moment's reflection, added--"you are governor of Rypen House, Sir Thorstenson. This important fortress cannot be entrusted to an abler knight; and, as a punishment for acting on your own counsel, I require you to defend it to the last extremity, should even the duke and Marsk Stig agree to storm it with their united strength."

"Well," exclaimed Thorstenson, joyfully, "a more honourable punishment could not have been awarded me. You show your displeasure, Drost Peter, in a noble manner. Thanks for your confidence! There are brave men amongst the burghers to defend the castle; and while one stone stands upon another, nor foe nor traitor shall set foot within it. If the king has no other place of security in the country, bring him hither. Rypen House is and shall remain the strongest royal castle in Denmark. Within a month it shall be impregnable."

"Bravely spoken!" exclaimed Drost Peter. "Within half an hour the keys of the castle, with your authority as commandant legally drawn out, shall be delivered to you. Meantime let the festivities be brought to a close, and let all leave the castle who do not belong to it. If you will, at the same time, do me a friendly service," he added, whilst endeavouring to conceal his anxiety, "let search be made, with all haste, for Jomfru Ingé Little. Perhaps she will allow me to be her escort to her kinsman, the counsellor."

Thorstenson nodded, and, warmly pressing his hand, prepared to depart.

"Yet one word!" exclaimed the drost, with much inquietude. "If you encounter Rané, he is our prisoner until his conduct has been investigated. He must be sought for diligently. Let the town-gates be locked, and suffer no vessel to leave the river within the next four and twenty hours. God be with you!"

Thorstenson nodded, and, with the joyful sense of his new dignity, he departed hastily to execute the injunctions of the drost.

The latter proceeded to the governor's private chamber, where he found everything that was requisite to enable him to complete the necessary instructions and authorities. Notwithstanding his anxiety, and the pressure of his own dearest heart affairs, he fully felt the duty imposed on him by his important station, and prepared the necessary formulas with perfect deliberation. He had already put his large signet-ring, bearing the flying eagle, to the wax of Thorstenson's appointment, when the door was opened, and Claus Skirmen entered, in great haste, and almost breathless.

"I have found you at last, stern sir," joyfully exclaimed the trusty squire. "I have been searching for you everywhere; and bring you many salutations, besides a pretty little letter, from Jomfru Ingé. I saw her depart in excellent style, in the town-governor's own carriage, drawn by four horses, with twelve troopers for an escort."

"What sayest thou, Skirmen?" exclaimed Drost Peter, in astonishment. "She travels! and whither?"

"Know you not, sir? Was it not your own arrangement? But you shall hear. When she had placed the royal banner over the castle-gate, she directed me to follow her to the town-governor, to whom she showed a letter, bearing three large seals. He bowed to her as if she had been the queen herself, and immediately ordered the horses to be yoked--"

"Whither, I ask--where does she journey to? But you have a letter--give it me quickly."

"She travels to Kolding, and from thence to Sweden, sir," replied Skirmen, as he handed him a slip of parchment, tied with a rose-coloured silk ribbon.

While the drost hastily perused the billet, he blushed deeply.

"Farewell, my childhood's bridegroom!" it ran. "'For Erik the king so young,' I still sing in my heart, and the torch in the hand of my true knight still gleams before mine eyes. He who is powerful in the feeble, has given me also a work to do. The true Sir John knows of it. Ask of him, but follow me not. In Denmark's darkest night we have danced a victor-dance together; and, God be praised! it cost no blood. When the child-king is Denmark's lord, and the crown sits firmly on his brow, we may perhaps see each other in a happier hour. My father alone can unite our hands. But our hearts, which God in truth hath joined together, no man can ever sunder."

Drost Peter heaved a deep sigh, although his eyes sparkled with a great and glorious hope. He concealed the note in his bosom, and turned again to Skirmen.

"To Kolding, sayest thou--and from thence to Sweden? Who told thee this?"

"I gathered it from what I heard her tell the town-governor, and the Norse jomfru or fru--"

"The Norse jomfru!" interrupted Drost Peter, hastily. "She and Sir Rané have not accompanied her?"

"Nay, the saints forbid, sir! Had I thought so, I should never have allowed her to go, had I been compelled to keep her back by main force. But I thought you knew all, and--"

"But Rané, Rané--where sawest thou him?"