Chapter XXII: Part III (5)

"You are right," observed the queen, after a moment's reflection; "and I now understand the complaisance of Sir John to-day. Great God! when has a traitor stood unmolested so near the throne of Denmark? Let Count Gerhard enter."

Drost Peter retired, and in a moment returned with Count Gerhard, who remained by the door, bowing bashfully and awkwardly.

"Approach, noble count," said the queen, as she advanced with blushing cheeks to meet him. "You have probably saved from destruction the kingdom and royal house. But explain how you attained this information. How did you divine the plans of the marsk, or suspect the duke of such base knavishness?"

"I cannot boast my own penetration, most noble queen," replied Count Gerhard, advancing with greater boldness--"that would ill become me. A large portion of my sagacity in this matter I owe to a long-headed old pilgrim whom I met in Rypen, and who seemed to know the world better than the world knew him. I had already noted mischief, and a few hints made me clear-eyed. With the subtle Duke Waldemar I may as little contend in statecraft as in accomplishments and fine manners; but this I dare aver, that when he thought he could reach the throne of Denmark without lifting his hand, or losing the semblance of being a true friend to the people and kingdom, he was willing to let the marsk disturb his election to the regency here, and to bid farewell to the honour and happiness of being the protector of your grace and of the royal house. It may be only my poor opinion, your grace," he added, with some embarrassment, "but that the duke carries a fox on his shield, is certain: indeed, he seems even to entertain the boldest hopes of your grace's sympathy and confidence."

The queen started, while the count continued:--

"I regret that I have no better proofs of this than my own word and sword, and the evidence of my trusty jester. But that many of the marsk's adherents were stopped by me on their way to the Dane-court, is beyond doubt; and that the duke was really in Sleswick on the first day of the Dane-court, he has himself taken care to furnish the best proof. With what view he was there, and whether there really would have been a tumult here, had they not perceived danger, cannot now be further demonstrated. My entire services to your grace and to the royal house, most noble queen, are thus but of small avail; and however beneficial to the crown and country they may appear, I have only given you probable grounds for guarding yourself and the young king against the counsels of the duke."

"For this important warning accept my heartiest thanks, noble count," replied the queen, as she extended her hand, which, while he bent before her, he pressed to his lips with concealed ardour.

Having quickly resumed his former respectful demeanour, he continued:--"I regret that what I and so poor a statesman as my late jester have brought to light, must, for the present, remain a secret, noble queen. At a Retter-Ting, where it can only be fought with words, I am of little service; but I would have willingly proved with my good sword, in honest combat with the duke, before the whole knighthood, that he is a nidding and a traitor, had not your trusty counsellors convinced me that I should thereby only expose your grace and the kingdom to the greatest danger. Indeed, I now see clearly that, for the present, it imports much to be at peace with him; and therefore he shall have peace from me, until a future time. But permit me, noble queen, henceforth to join the ranks of your own and the young king's bodyguard, and grant that the protection of your royal person may also form a portion of my duty."

"I choose you for my knight and protector, brave Count Gerhard," replied the queen, in a cordial tone; "and, as a pledge, accept this remembrance of my bereaved and sorrowful position by the throne of Denmark."

As she spoke, she untied her black veil, which she handed to him; whilst he, kneeling in knightly fashion, pressed the pledge of confidence to his lips, and then concealed it in his bosom.

"My colour was formerly crimson," added the queen, in a sorrowful accent, as she looked mildly towards Drost Peter. "This faithful friend to the royal house once wore it, as you doubtless remember; but no good fortune attended it. It was, moreover, borrowed, and, in truth, did not become me. I then determined that no man should wear it with my consent. The colour of night and disappointment has now become mine, as it has become that of Denmark. If its sight inspires you not with pain, Count Gerhard, as mine and the country's faithful friend wear it until morning again breaks on Denmark."

Count Gerhard, who had again risen, felt more intoxicated with joy than he had ever been before.

"As long as God permits me to live in this fair world," he exclaimed, while a tear glistened in his eye, "so long at least, noble queen, I will think only of showing myself worthy of your confidence, and of being, from my heart's core, a faithful friend to your grace and to the Danish kingdom. For your sake, so I promised long ago to this your brave knight;" adding, as he seized the hand of Drost Peter--"he still wears the rosy red in secret; but now I fight not with him concerning it, for I know it is Lady Ingé's gage and hairband."

A blush suffused the cheeks of Drost Peter, and the queen also seemed perplexed by the indiscreetness of the plain-spoken count.

"True--this is another matter," hastily added the latter, as he observed the embarrassment he had caused: "it was perhaps a secret, respecting which I should have been silent; but this is what I would say, most noble queen, that, next to myself, you have not a more sincere admirer in the world than is Drost Hessel. We two shall now contend in earnest for the privilege of permanently wearing your colour. It imports not to me whether it is black or red, since it is your's; but this I know, that if there exists in the world one who can restore to your mind that joy and happiness you were surely born to possess, I would gladly give my only remaining eye to be that one; and then, although I could never more see your fair face and lovely form, I should still feel happy in knowing that you were pleased with the blind Count Gerhard."

The cordial sincerity with which he uttered these words, caused the queen and Drost Peter to overlook their want of delicacy and propriety. It was evident, however, from the manner of the queen, that she desired to terminate this extraordinary visit, and the direction the conversation had taken. Young Erik, too, who had been listening attentively, seemed to think that the count's speech had nothing to do with the dangerous business that had brought them thither.

"Let this subject be ended, Count Gerhard!" he exclaimed, impatiently. "My mother will be happy enough again when we have taken measures against the faithlessness of the duke, and restored the kingdom to security. We shall not set out to-morrow for Viborg: his traitor-army is there encamped, you say. If I am to be King of Denmark, I will be anointed and crowned forthwith. If it is the will of Providence that I should be betrayed and murdered, as my father and grandfather were, I shall die a lawful king, and it shall not be well for the traitors who dare to lay hands upon the Lord's anointed, young as he may be."

"Thy will shall be done, my son," replied the queen, patting his glowing cheeks. "Thy wish was also Sir John's, and that of the whole council, before, in my blindness, I mistook the smooth words of the duke for sincere attachment. To-morrow we shall set out, not for Viborg, but for Skielskioer; and, when thou art proclaimed in Zealand, we shall proceed to the coronation at Lund. But let me advise. The duke, as my most courteous knight, shall accompany us. He must not perceive the slightest symptom of distrust on our part. To you, gentlemen, I confide our security on the way."

"Yes--let it be so!" cried the young king, joyfully. "The Almighty, and Our dear Holy Lady, will assuredly protect us. Good night, my dear mother. You can now sleep securely, for Sir John is stationed in the guard-chamber, and these trusty gentlemen will remain tonight in the palace."

"God keep his hand over thee, my son!" exclaimed the queen, as she fondly kissed his smooth forehead. "Thank Heaven, with me, for having preserved to us these devoted and faithful friends in our hour of need and danger."

With queenlike dignity she then bowed to the two knights, who, with the young king, retired through the same private door by which they had entered.

* * *

At early morning of the following day, the queen's travelling-car, with six milk-white steeds attached, stood before the castle-steps, attended by many smartly dressed outriders and grooms. More than thirty squires were grouped about, with their masters' horses in charge; foremost among whom was conspicuous, by his gray suit, emblazoned with the Sleswick lions, the attendant of the duke, who, with great ostentation, was allowing his master's noble steed, covered with splendid trappings, to prance and gambol about. Near him stood Daddy Longlegs, bearing Count Gerhard's simple shield, in the shape of a nettle-leaf, and holding a strong brown stallion by the bridle. Skirmen, carrying Drost Peter's mantle and shield, stood by his master's horse, apparently lost in contemplating the faces of the ducal lions, which resembled wolves more than the animals they were intended to represent. As he turned with his impatient charger in the direction of the Strand-gate, he was delighted to observe a great bustle among the ferrymen, and to see the royal flag carried from the house of the alderman.

"We are off for Melfert, and then for Jutland," observed Longlegs to him. "I thought, however, your master had a keener nose."

"You might wish your's were half as keen, Longlegs," replied Skirmen; "and then, perhaps, you would not allow your master's horse to turn his tail in the direction he is to ride."

"But I know that people do not ride or drive over the Great Belt in the month of May," returned the old jester. "It might be quite as well, however, while the wind sits in this quarter."

"What mean you, Longlegs? The wind is in the right quarter for the Great Belt."

"Ay, but not for the Little. The boatmen say it is the duke's wind; and when we have that against us, a sagacious nose, like that of your master, should smell the straw from the barn of Finnerup."

"Turn the car and horses!" ordered Drost Peter, who suddenly appeared at the top of the steps: "the royal family ride to the haven."

When the squires had obeyed, Drost Peter re-entered; and in a few moments the queen, leaning on the arm of the duke, and the little king, with his sister Mereté and Junker Christopherson, issued from the palace and entered the car. Notwithstanding the polite behaviour of the duke, an air of displeasure was visible in his smile.

"We dare not offer you a seat in a lady's car, Duke Waldemar," observed the queen; "and, besides, you are too good a horseman to desire it."

The duke replied by a polite bow, and vaulted into his saddle.

When all were mounted, "To the quay!" cried Sir John to the postilions; and, followed by a long train of knights, the royal car rolled across the castle-square, down to the old Strand-gate by the canal, and from thence to the harbour, accompanied by a great crowd of curious spectators, shouting with joy, while the young king saluted them, and the queen cordially returned their greetings.

"They are going to have him proclaimed at Skielskioer, and then crowned in Lund," they cried; and a thousand shouts of homage and blessing ascended from every quarter.

The following day was fixed for the proclamation in Skielskioer; and, by the arrangement of Sir John and Drost Peter, the Archbishop of Lund had departed over night, in a swift vessel, to prepare everything for the king's reception and coronation in Lund.

At Nyborg Haven all was ready for the embarkation, and they were speedily on board. In the royal smack, on which the duke had embarked, were also the drost, the chancellor, and Count Gerhard, together with Sir John and the royal trabants. To the duke's astonishment the royal smack was accompanied by six large galleys, strongly manned with soldiers. His own numerous train of knights and retainers, with Dean Grand, and many ecclesiastics, who had attended the Dane-court, in three smaller vessels, followed the king's smack, which, with a brisk and favourable wind, left the fiord.

Almost at the same time, a light-built sloop ran out from the coast, which Skirmen informed his master he took for a Norse freebooter, and on board which he had observed the duke's squire to spring before they left the haven. Drost Peter strictly scrutinised the suspicious vessel, which, however, was speedily out of sight.

The weather was fine; and as the queen stood at the stern, gazing back on the Funen coast, which was still crowded with people, waving their caps and cheering lustily, the duke approached her with an air of boldness and candour.

"This sudden change in your determination has surprised me, noble queen," he observed, in a tone intended for one of reproach more than of displeasure: "but I must suppose your grace has weightier reasons for it than those you have deigned to communicate to me. I cannot believe that a restless night and a singular dream could have such an influence on our wise and strong-minded mistress. That, as your dutiful knight, I respect and obey as commands even your most inexplicable humours, you now perceive. I must, however, observe that, at this critical juncture, by these frequent gatherings of the people, and by this coronation journey, we expose the kingdom to the greatest danger, and afford the outlaws the opportunity they pant for of revenging themselves--nothing being too daring for them to attempt, in the first flush of their enraged feelings."

"To entertain any such fear, in your presence and that of so many bold knights, would but insult you," replied the queen. "Besides, as you may observe, I have considerably strengthened my body-guard. I am not insensible to your delicacy or your chivalrous submission to what you deem my humours and weaknesses," she continued; "and I certainly owe you a better explanation than you have yet received of the reasons which have led me to change my determination. In important affairs of state, it may seem truly unwise to be guided by dreams, presentiments, and all such considerations as are held in contempt by your stronger sex; and weaknesses of this description have not hitherto been imputed to me. But still you must allow, that a dream of warning, in connection with the dark remembrances of my life, may justly carry with it a considerable weight. Neither is it so unwise to hasten the completion of a ceremony which, in the popular estimation, can alone sanctify and protect the crown against the vindictiveness of traitors. Besides, without any whimsey, as you may term it, the actual sight of the regicides, at the Dane-court yesterday, might well dissuade me from approaching at present the crypt chapel of Viborg, or the barn of Finnerup."

The duke rapidly changed colour. "Most noble queen!" he hastily exclaimed, "your dreams and presentiments are surely not connected with these horrible events?"

"Partly. You are aware, Duke Waldemar, that grayfriars' cloaks concealed the traitors on that fearful St. Cecilia's night. I dreamt last night of these twelve men, and that they bore the crown of Denmark on the points of their spears. They seemed to me like wolves in sheep's clothing, and at their head stood one whose face was entirely concealed by his hood."

"And him you took for Marsk Stig?" hastily interrupted the duke. "You have reason, indeed, to beware of him, and therefore---"

"And therefore have I changed my resolution," she continued "I saw you, too--"

"Me?" ejaculated the duke: "you do me great honour; but I hope that, in this dream, you did not find me among those whom your grace knows I abhor and condemn."

"Methought you stood by my side, and, by your paleness and agitation, I perceived that you, too, trembled at the sight of the tottering crown on the murderers' spears. I fancied that the guardian saint of Denmark, the holy King Canute, stood before me, and said--'The anointed one shall wear the crown until his death.' Can it surprise you, then, that such a warning should determine me to accomplish what is already desired by the council and by the whole people? Before your arrival in Nyborg, it was so resolved; for to delay the proclamation and act of homage in Skielskioer, and to defer the coronation, would have but the effect of exciting popular discontent."

The queen paused, and looked scrutinisingly at the duke. "If I see aright," she added, "one portion of my dream is already fulfilled: you are now, assuredly, standing quite pale by my side."

"I cannot at all times bear the sea-breeze," he replied, passing his hand across his face. "But indeed, noble queen," he added, in a careless tone, "if you consider these ceremonies as so important, I shall not persuade you to delay them. Since, however, Denmark's patron saint has condescended to make you a revelation, I can only wish that he had been somewhat more explicit: to wear the crown until his death, is saying little; to wear it long and happily, would be better worth revealing. But whether this is the road to it, I know not."

"I know not either," rejoined the queen; "but, in Heaven's name, let us try it."

As the young king, accompanied by Sir John and Count Gerhard, now drew near, this subject was broken off, and the conversation turned on indifferent topics. Sir John was jocular, and the royal party soon assumed the appearance of great gaiety. Drost Peter remained silent and reserved. But Count Gerhard felt so happy with the secret pledge of the queen's confidence which he carried in his bosom, that he yielded himself entirely to the current of his natural humour, and far excelled the others in amusing the queen. The duke strove in vain to regain his pre-eminence; but the endeavour to conceal his uneasy feelings deprived him of his usual sprightliness, and his forced compliments and pleasant conceits, with Count Gerhard's dry additions, often provoked a laugh, by no means flattering to him, but in which he was nevertheless obliged to join.

They were now approaching Skielskioer, where multitudes of people crowded both sides of the fiord, which divides the town into two almost equal parts. Young Erik was standing at the prow, by the side of Chancellor Martinus, listening attentively to what that learned gentleman was relating concerning Henrik Æmeldorf's rebellion against his grandfather, King Christopher Waldemarson.

"It is now five and thirty years ago, my young king and master," said the chancellor, "but it appears to me as if it had happened but yesterday: it was the very week after I had gained, in the chapter-house, my first palm in logic. Here your late grandfather landed with his army, to force the proud rebel to submission, and compel his homage. The town and castle, you must be aware, were legally in the power of the general, having been given him in pledge by King Abel for military pay; but he was grievously wrong in refusing homage to the king, and in stirring up the people to rebel against him. That deep trench there, across the town's-field, was cast up by the rebellious Æmeldorf, and on the other side he had a strong garrison to defend it."

"And my grandfather was beaten, and compelled to fly from the rebels?" exclaimed the youthful monarch. "That was truly provoking. Had he, then, no brave and trusty men in his army?"

"Many," replied the chancellor; "but what avails our strength, when the Lord intends to chastise us? The godless traitors, however, did not long retain their advantage. The following year your royal grandfather again came, like a stern and mighty judge, and the Lord was with him then. The city was taken and burnt, the leader of the rebels obliged to fly, and his adherents received the punishment due to traitors on yonder field--there, where the Retter-Ting and diets are now held. _Soli Deo gloria!_"

"And there shall homage be rendered me to-morrow," observed King Erik. "It is strange! If this occurred but thirty years ago, there must be many still living whose friends and kinsmen were then executed."

"It certainly may be so," replied the chancellor: "the race of the ungodly man is not uprooted from the earth. Might I counsel you, my young king, I would say, remove the Zealand Dane-court to another city, to avoid those gloomy recollections and forebodings of evil to which the superstition of the people will easily give birth. 'Tis true, the power and fortunes of kings are in the hands of God alone; but shortsighted men will sometimes see evil, where the Lord purposes only good; and, on what they deem an unlucky spot, they will not easily rejoice or be filled with faith in temporal prosperity."

"Entertain you any distrust of my dear subjects here, reverend sir?" inquired Erik. "See how joyfully they wave their caps. And, listen--they already salute me with shouts of welcome."

"The people, thank Heaven, are faithful and ardent," replied the chancellor; "but should the outlaws appear here, to protest against their sentence, they would, I fear much, find many adherents; for where, indeed, are not the sons of Satan? Still, you have with you faithful men, sir king; and, with the assistance of the King of kings, you have nothing to fear. If I see aright, Rimaardson also is here."

The royal smack had now reached the quay, where the royal party were received by the town's-governor and the burghers, as also by Sir Bent Rimaardson, who, with his galley, had newly arrived from Taarborg. The kinsman of the queen, and a faithful friend to the royal house, he was justly held in the greatest respect. The execution of his brother, along with Niels Breakpeace and his band, had rendered him yet more melancholy than before; but he sought, by the most vigilant activity, to efface the ignominy that thus attached to his noble race. Since the surprisal of Rypen House, in which he had taken an active part, he had been cruising about the coasts, for the purpose of protecting them against the Norse freebooters; and a pirate-vessel, that he had recently captured, now lay in Skielskioer fiord. When he had saluted the royal family, he begged to be permitted to accompany them to the Hovgaard, as the castle is called, where, he said, he had some tidings to impart.

"If your tidings are good, Sir Rimaardson, let us hear them here," exclaimed the youthful king. "Yet, nay," he added, "this is not the place for that."

The air of suspicion which Sir Rimaardson wore did not escape old Sir John, who also, as well as the chancellor, had observed the duke and Master Grand exchange uneasy and significant glances, when they discovered the captured pirate in the fiord.

Whilst the royal personages, amidst the acclamations of the people, repaired to the castle, Rimaardson hastily took Drost Peter aside. "There are traitors in the town," he whispered: "guard well the king, and keep an eye upon the duke. Had you crossed the Little Belt to-day, you had fallen into the hands of the marsk. A Norse fleet, with, it is rumoured, the Norse king himself, is lying at Ekeroe. The marsk, at this instant perhaps, burns one half of Funen with--"

"Just Providence!" exclaimed Drost Peter, "when stood a Danish king so surrounded by foes and traitors! Would only that he were anointed and crowned!"

"Would only that the duke had never left Sjöborg Tower!" whispered Rimaardson.

"He may again be there," exclaimed the drost, with flashing eyes; while the approach of the duke, at that moment, put an end to their private conference.

When the royal party were alone in the castle, they learned from Sir Rimaardson what he had just confided to Drost Peter. He produced, at the same time, a packet of intercepted letters from Drost Tuko Abildgaard in Norway, and from Marsk Stig, to Duke Waldemar, Master Grand, and Count Jacob of Halland, by which the league of the outlaws with the King of Norway, and their entire plans for overturning the Danish throne, were clearly discovered. Of the letters from the duke's drost, some were addressed, under ecclesiastical seals, to Dean Grand of Roskild, directing him to attend to the duke and the disaffected nobles of the kingdom. From these it appeared that Marsk Stig and the outlaws intended to place the duke upon the vacant throne, if he would faithfully join them, and seize the opportunity of getting the royal family into his power. By the letters to Count Jacob it appeared, on the contrary, that the marsk and the outlaws could not depend upon the duke, and that they had promised the crown of Denmark to the Norse king, if he would assist them with a fleet, and promise to reinstate them in their rights and dignities. These important letters were found on board the captured freebooter, the crew of which were then lying bound in the castle-dungeons.

This discovery excited the greatest alarm in the minds of the queen and her son, who immediately called into their secret council Sir John, Drost Peter, and Master Martin. Every necessary precaution was instantly adopted; and, by Sir John's advice, the duke was to be admitted only in appearance into their councils, and but half informed of what had been discovered. The intercepted letters, which betrayed his connection with the outlaws, were carefully concealed; and it was deemed prudent to communicate to him only the letters to Count Jacob, respecting the marsk's audacious proposals to the Norwegian king.

When this resolution was adopted, they requested the attendance of the duke, whose astonishment at the discovery they made to him seemed real and natural. The marsk and the other outlaws he reprobated in the strongest terms, and cordially approved of all the measures which the council had taken to defend the country against the Norwegians.

In the meanwhile, Count Gerhard had disembarked the royal troops, and quartered them in the town; and stationing a considerable body of them at the castle, he himself took his place in the ante-chamber, as captain of the guard.

When Drost Peter and Sir John left the royal closet, the cheeks of the former were flushed with anger, by which, and his flashing eyes, it was evident that some bold project was in his mind.

"Wretched weakness!" he exclaimed. "Have we not now sufficient proofs of his treachery? Why should we not arrest him, as a traitor, on the spot?"

"Prudence, my young friend," replied old John.

"Your prudence drives me mad!" exclaimed Drost Peter. "I can no longer bear to see the traitor amongst us, as our master and the ruler of the kingdom. If we be not beforehand with him, he will be beforehand with us, as old Henner said. It must now break or bear--"

"It will break unless we are cautious," interrupted the old knight, emphatically. "So long as he contrives to wear the mask, he is of service to us; but the moment he casts it aside, he must be overthrown."

"Good: one word will suffice for that."

"Beware of that word, Drost Peter, for by it you may perhaps overturn the throne of Denmark. Yet one thing," added the old man, in a sorrowful tone, as he cast a look of anxious concern on his excited friend: "are you aware that the father of our faithful Ingé was the bearer of these treasonable letters, and now lies a prisoner in the tower?"

Drost Peter seemed horror-struck. "Merciful Heaven!--Sir Lavé!" he exclaimed. "I can hardly doubt it. But is his crime quite evident?"

"He was on board the freebooter, and in his care the letters were found. What he can urge in his own defence, I know not. To-morrow he is to be heard before the council; and on account of our relationship with him, I have requested that you and I may be then exempted from sitting as his judges."

"Poor Ingé!" sighed Drost Peter. "Where is she? What have you done with her? She referred me to you, who have coldly and sternly avoided every question on the subject. But I can no longer refrain. What does she in Sweden, while we imprison and condemn her father here?"

"You shall know all, and will approve of it," replied Sir John, as he seized his hand. "Follow me to the chancellor. For the sake of Ingé, I could wish that Sir Lavé might, to-morrow, frustrate us all; although, were I his judge, there were small hopes of his deliverance. But that office lies with the duke, and one raven does not pick out the eye of another. As far as this goes, we may rejoice at the miscarriage of justice, and that we have a traitor for the kingdom's protector." So saying, he passed his hand over his eyes with much emotion, and drew Drost Peter along with him.

In the middle of the castle-yard stood a small gloomy tower, the stone vaults of which served as a prison. In one of these subterranean dungeons lay Sir Lavé. He stirred not but with dreadful apprehension, and seemed terrified at the clank of his own chains. At every sound he huddled himself up, and gazed earnestly on the securely bolted iron door; but it opened not. A small grating, looking forth upon the castle-yard, was situated high in the wall. This, with the aid of an old block of wood, which some wretched captive had formerly dragged after him, and a few loose stones, he succeeded, after considerable labour, in reaching. Here he saw Sir John and Drost Peter pass by; but he was afraid to meet his kinsman's look, and indignation choked his voice as he was about to call on Drost Peter to save him. He wept and wrung his hands, but regained courage when he perceived several of the duke's people passing to and fro. He then drew out a little note, which he had concealed in his sleeve, anxiously hiding it at every suspicious noise, and pulling it forth again when a follower of the duke appeared.

The young king showed himself for a moment on the balcony and was received by the curious spectators in the court below with shouts and waving of caps. This spectacle greatly agitated the captive, who, again concealing the letter, shortly afterwards became absorbed in deep and gloomy thought, in which he remained until the moonbeams, penetrating his cell, announced to him the approach of night. At that moment he perceived the duke descend the castle-stairs, and proceed to that wing of the castle appropriated to him. Preceding him was a royal page, bearing a torch, and six of his knights attended him at a little distance. His air was thoughtful; and, as he approached the grating of the dungeon, a gleam of hope inspired with courage the despairing prisoner. He coughed. The duke heard it, and looked towards the grating.

"Drop your glove, Duke Waldemar," whispered the captive knight, as he rolled the letter up, and threw it forth.

The duke dropped his glove as desired, and, in picking it up again, also secured the letter.

"There lies one of the traitors from Norway, awaiting the gallows," he exclaimed aloud, as he threw an indignant glance towards the dungeon, and passed on, regardless of the deep sigh that burst from the heart of the despairing prisoner.

Skirmen, who, by his master's orders, was observing every motion of the duke, was at this instant concealed in the deep shadow of a corner, near the tower. The moment the duke had disappeared, the trusty squire came forth, and was hastening to his master, when he was arrested by a voice from the grating.

"In the name of the merciful God, listen to me, young man!" exclaimed the captive knight. "Art not thou Drost Hessel's squire?"

"At your service," answered Skirmen, as he stopped.

"Inform your master, then," stammered the prisoner, "that the man who once saved Drost Peter Hessel's life and preserved his freedom, would now converse with him a moment for the sake of his own mind's peace. Tell him that I can reveal to him something of great importance. But time presses."

"I shall deliver your message," replied Skirmen, as he hastened away.

The prisoner descended from his dangerous seat, and carefully removed the means by which he had reached the grating. He then seated himself sorrowfully on the block beneath it, and listened anxiously to every sound he heard. Some time elapsed thus, when at length the rattling of the gaoler's keys, and the withdrawing of the bolts one by one from the door, announced a visitor. In another moment Drost Peter stood in the cell with him.

The moonlight through the grating fell upon the pale face of the prisoner, who remained in a crouching posture, without daring to raise his eyes. The drost stood for an instant, silently contemplating him. In the half-despairing countenance before him, there was that which reminded him bitterly both of Lady Ingé and the brave Sir John--some of the lineaments of the noble race of Littles. Tears stood in his eyes.

"Miserable man!" he exclaimed, at length, "what can I effect for your peace? And of what have you to unburden yourself to me?"

"Tell me truly, Peter Hessel," asked the prisoner, in a trembling voice, but with a tone of parental familiarity that reminded the drost of the relation in which they had stood in his youthful days, "are thou and Cousin John to be my judges?"

"Nay, Heaven be praised! Our relationship to you exempts us from that duty."

"I may, then, hope for mercy; for from thee and Sir John I could expect only what you call justice. But God help us all, if we must be treated according to our deserts!"

"Sir Lavé," interrupted Drost Peter, "think you, then, that there is not a powerful, perhaps an all too-powerful voice, which pleads for you both in my breast and that of old kinsman?"

"I believe it, and will prove to thee my sincerity," replied the prisoner, "since, as thou art not to sit in judgment on me, I can venture to unburden my heart to thee."

He arose, and threw on the drost a penetrating look, while he continued in the same familiar tone:--"Misfortune has now taught me what thou in vain wouldst have had me believe in time. I now perceive that no success or blessing attends rebellion against lawfully constituted authority, even when instigated by the purest attachment to freedom and fatherland. By the law, my doom is death; but the prerogative of mercy lies with the king, in whose hands I place my life and fate. I had no share in his father's death, and he can therefore pardon me. Had I seen him before, as I have seen him to-day, I should not now be in this dungeon. The stern Marsk Stig himself, I firmly believe, could not look the youthful monarch in the face and deny him the name of king. I cannot now blame thee, Peter Hessel, who wert his tutor and weapon-master, for entertaining the greatest hopes of him. If he spare my life, I will swear fealty to him, and reveal matters of importance. Tell him I will confess my sins to the chancellor, and atone for my crimes in a state-prison. Tell him--"

"Kind Heaven!" exclaimed Drost Peter, joyfully, as he seized Sir Lavé's trembling hand, "dare I believe? Has, then, the Almighty heard my petition, and inclined your heart to faith and honour. You will be loyal and attached to our young king--you will confess all, and swear him fealty--you will atone your treason--and he will--he must pardon you. But he does not govern alone," he added, with a sigh; "and, without the concurrence of the queen and the duke, his wishes will avail you not."

Sir Lavé's pale cheeks flushed, and for an instant he remained silent. "The duke cannot condemn me," at length he whispered, with a smile of confidence: "I have taken care of that. The will of the king I know thou canst easily determine, and a favourable word to the queen would perhaps also find a willing ear. There was a time when Peter Hessel was all-powerful with the fair Queen Agnes--"

A frown gathered on Drost Peter's brow, for the expression of Sir Lavé's features did not please him. The joy he had felt at his conversion quickly disappeared, while the discovery that Skirmen had just imparted to him suddenly presented itself to his mind.

"As a man, I may perhaps venture to speak, where, as drost, I must be silent," he replied, sternly; "but I can only venture to do so when I am convinced of your sincerity, and that you are not, even here, taking counsel against the king and country."

"What! do you still doubt me, Drost Peter?" asked Sir Lavé, in a tone of terror and bitterness. "I say I am converted to your state-creed. Must you see me howl in sackcloth and ashes before you believe me? Intercede for me, Peter Hessel! and you will find that I am not ungrateful," he continued, fawningly. "Thy father was my friend, and what I promised him on his deathbed I have not forgotten. Save my life now, as once I saved thine, and my hand shall no longer separate what a mightier than mine hath joined together."

Drost Peter was much affected; but observing a cunning smile on Sir Lavé's restless features, he felt, with wounded self-esteem, how nearly he had been befooled.

"Not even for that prize, Sir Lavé, shall I forfeit my fidelity," he exclaimed, warmly. "If, without self-abasement, I intercede and promise for you, I must first be convinced that we dare trust you. What connection subsists between the duke and you? and what was the purport of the letter which, but half an hour ago, you bade him pick up with his glove?"

Sir Lavé became pale with terror. "Letter!--what letter?" he stammered out. But perceiving the uselessness of denial, he continued:--"Well, as you appear to be omniscient, it was so: but I swear it contained nothing but what was true--that I was an incautious fool, and had brought letters to land which would perhaps occasion the duke embarrassment, if I did not explain the nature of them. I can testify that they were written by his enemies, and, being intercepted, might lay him under the suspicion of having private intercourse with the outlaws."

"Wretched man!" interrupted Drost Peter: "on the brink of a gulph you are still playing with two sharp-edged swords, both of which will fall with deadly force upon your head. I cannot--I dare not, now intercede for you. I should myself be an enemy to Denmark and the royal house, and a traitor to my country, should I do so. But I will provide for the peace of your soul. Within an hour the chancellor will visit you. Confess yourself sincerely to him, and bethink of your eternal weal. He may then, perhaps, beg mercy for you from the pitying God."

"Alas, alas! let, then, the chancellor come, and prepare me for death!" groaned Sir Lavé, as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead. "I must now put my hope in God, for in man there is no mercy! Alas! could my Ingé see how hardhearted you are, Drost Peter, she would never love the man who can treat so cruelly her unfortunate father."

"Heaven is my witness," sorrowfully exclaimed Drost Peter, laying his hand upon his breast, "that it cuts me to the soul that I cannot trust you better. You would win the duke with false witness, and me with a false hope; and would, if you could, make my affection traitor to my loyalty. Nay, Sir Lavé Little, you are not thus to be saved. Truth only can save you, the country, and us all. God give your unstable mind constancy and strength to resolve earnestly on that to which you now only pretend for the purpose of saving yourself before a human tribunal!"

With these words he left the dungeon, and Sir Lavé sank with a groan upon the stone floor, where the fear of death wrung a sincere prayer from his bosom.

Half an hour afterwards, Chancellor Martinus, in his Dominican habit, with his breviary and a candle in his hand, was admitted to the anxious captive, whom he found in a state of such bewilderment and mental conflict, that the philosophical chancellor found it impossible to understand his incoherent and contradictory expressions.

"Is it you who are to prepare me for death?" asked the prisoner, starting up with a wild stare. "Ha! it is time. The wheel and stile are ready. Drost Peter will not intercede for me; and my child, my poor child, she will die of shame for her miserable father. But my punishment is just," he continued, sinking his voice to a whisper: "I nodded--see, I nodded thus--in that horrible council. That nod cost me perhaps my salvation, and King Erik Christopherson his life. Was I not among the twelve in Finnerup barn? Nay, nay, that was but a dream!" he exclaimed, vehemently--"that night I only betrayed my master's castle--his blood is not upon my hand, and will not be visited upon my head. But I heard the woe-cry from his coffin: from the grave it came--nay, from hell itself! It yet rings in my ears. To be doomed an outlaw by men is nothing--but outlawed, eternally outlawed from heaven, I became at that hour. I am an unfortunate man!" He paused and sighed. "Ha! but misfortune shall not strike me down," he continued, strutting boldly across the dungeon--"I am of noble birth, and die not as a traitor, but as a patriot and the foe of tyrants. What wilt thou with me, clerk? Thou art no confessor of mine--thou art not the bold dean who bids defiance to kings and kaisers. I know thee well: thou art the book-worm from Antvorskov, the learned chancellor--thou wert the tyrants' friend, and now wouldst outlaw and put under the ban every free-minded Dane. Comest thou hither to shrive me to-night, ere thou doomest me to the wheel to-morrow? Nay, nay--that thou mayst spare thyself, my very learned sir. A wise statesman can hold his tongue, and die like a heathen, without shrift or penitence."

He continued for some time raving in this wild manner, now accusing himself as the greatest criminal, and now boasting his high birth and political sagacity, but at length recovered himself, and burst into tears.

The learned Master Martinus had several times vainly attempted to stop him, to point out the rules in _logica_ against which he was offending; but the zealous carer for souls now triumphed over the philosopher, and he seized this favourable opportunity of exhorting to repentance the despairing sinner before him; and, in the supposition that he had been among the regicides, he became stern and vehement, and thundered forth the most fearful threatenings of the law against traitors and man-slayers.

"Nay, nay!" exclaimed Sir Lavé, "I am no regicide; but still I must surely perish, unless there dwells pity with Heaven and the Holy Church. Listen, and I will shrive!"

He then threw himself at the feet of the chancellor, and confessed every step he had taken, relating how he had been inveigled into the conspiracy, and protesting that he had, however, taken no share in his kinsman's sanguinary revenge.

"Drost Peter was right," he exclaimed: "the truth alone can save me and all of us. Even at that hour I would have deceived him, and he cannot trust--he cannot sue for mercy for me. Let justice, then, overtake me. Here I must be condemned; but save, oh save my soul from the eternal death!"

"Your sin is great," answered the chancellor, who was much affected; "but those who abused your weakness, have more to atone for than you have." He then, in the blessed words of the Gospel, exhorted him to repentance, and in the name of the Holy Church granted him indulgence for his sins, should he continue firm in his repentance, and true to the change of conduct he had promised. "Even your earthly judges," he added, "I hope to soften, after this your confession. What you have confided to me no man shall know without your own permission; but allow me to reveal it to the queen and our young king, and I promise that time shall be accorded you for repentance in a bearable state-prison."

"Reveal it to all!" exclaimed Sir Lavé, embracing his knees with trembling arms. "In the wall of my closet at Flynderborg is a secret depository, where lie the proofs of my greatest crime. Let all the world know it, but let me not die thus in my sin. Spare but my life--this wretched life--and I will gladly hide myself and my shame in Denmark's darkest prison. Reveal all!" he continued, in the accents of fear and anxiety--"tell them, too, that there will be a tumult here to-morrow, if they take not means to prevent it. The outlaws are here, and, with the assistance of the duke, will possess themselves of the king's person. I have even brought the duke the letter respecting it."

"Merciful Heaven!" exclaimed the chancellor, who, terrified, suddenly rose and knocked violently at the prison-door, which was quickly opened for him.

The prisoner attempted to escape with him; but a violent blow from the sturdy turnkey threw him backwards on the stone floor, without consciousness.

* * *

An innumerable multitude of people from all quarters of Zealand were assembled in Skielskioer, to see and do homage to the young king. All the villages in the environs were thronged, for the town, which had been half burnt down in the feud between King Christopher and Henrik Æmeldorf, had not yet recovered its former prosperity, and could with difficulty accommodate but an inconsiderable portion of the strangers.

These throngs were further augmented by the friends and adherents of the outlawed noblemen, who had assembled in great numbers, in consequence of the rumour that the murderers of King Erik Christopherson had been personally cited to hear their doom, and that they intended to defend their cause before the people, and protest against the sentence of outlawry.

As evening approached the tumults and contentions which occurred between these partisans and the populace became so frequent, that the town-governor was compelled to call on the royal landsknechts to assist him in keeping order.

On the following morning, when the matin-bell had rung from the lofty spire of St. Nicholas, the people were already assembled in the Thing-place, and in the large area before the Hovgaard, to witness the procession of the royal family to the Dane-court; but hour after hour elapsed, and the royal party appeared not. The castle was encircled by the royal landsknechts and a body of the burgher-guard, whilst, posted before the gate, at the head of a small party of the queen's life-horse, were Drost Peter and Count Gerhard. Both appeared thoughtful. Drost Peter still carried his right arm in a sling; but, like a skilful swordsman, he knew how to support at need his weapon with his left.

As it appeared, they had hoped to prevent all tumult at the proclamation, and had found it impolitic to break with the duke. The inner courts of the castle had, in the meanwhile, by the drost's arrangements, been secretly filled with the remaining portion of the queen's life-horse, which were supposed to have been left on board the ships. These, the most trusty of the royal troops, had orders to advance and secure the duke, the instant they saw the drawn sword in the drost's hand.

Not far from Count Gerhard and Drost Peter, in a magnificent suit of armour, was the duke, seated on his charger, in the midst of his knights and a considerable body of Sleswick horsemen. His looks, as he surveyed the multitude, seemed anxious and uneasy, and the dark, earnest countenance of Drost Peter did not appear to please him, any more than did the bold bearing of Count Gerhard.

The people now began to display symptoms of impatience at the long delay; and, with visible discontent, Drost Peter whispered to Count Gerhard--"This is the fault of our good, thoughtful chancellor."

Murmurs and expressions of anger speedily followed.

"How long must we remain here upon our pegs, before we see either wet or dry?" growled a corpulent burgher, who was standing sentry.

"There is good reason for the delay, Faerlil," answered a long-bearded Sleswick horseman: "your king, to be sure, has no need yet to stop to polish his beard; but he must be swaddled and suckled. The queen, too, must be trim and spruce, that your maids and wives may not tempt Drost Hoseol to prove untrue to her."

A boisterous laugh from the horsemen accompanied this coarse joke.

"The people are becoming merry--that pleases me well," observed Count Gerhard, who heard the laughter, but not the disgraceful words which created it.

Drost Peter, however, had heard them, and burned with indignation, which he endeavoured to suppress, looking with apparent inattention in the opposite direction; whilst the merriment continued, and was kept up with other expressions of a like nature.

"Peace, fellows, or speak of royalty with greater respect!" exclaimed the duke, with apparent severity, to his people.

"Yes," added one of his knights, "take care, you fellows! The drost's left arm is not to be laughed at. And you, my good man," he observed to the burgher--"you should remember the consequences of grumbling in Skielskioer at a royal proclamation."

"I'faith, that is true, stern sir knight," growled the burgher: "unless we would have our houses again burnt over our heads, we must howl with the wolves, and submit to boy-rule and petticoat government."

"Fie for shame on every Danish man," cried another, "that they should patiently submit to be ruled by a king in slippers and baby-clothes."

"Thou hast a mind to be outlawed before night, my bold fellow," observed a tall personage, in a monk's habit. "A good word now-a-days may bring that on a man."

"Know you the news, holy sir?" exclaimed an awkward, heavy mass-boy to the monk: "Marsk Stig and his friends have to-day been put under the ban of the Church by the Archbishop of Lund."

"The ban--the ban!" was muttered around from one to the other, with increasing discontent.

"They could never be so infatuated," observed a tall man, enveloped in a large blue cloak.

"He begins sharply, this little master," exclaimed a jeering voice close by the side of the last speaker; "and his pinafore must be as wide as a church-door, since he can carry an archbishop in his pocket."

"The apple doesn't fall wide of the tree," remarked the corpulent burgher; whilst his neighbour began humming:--

"And so grows up the little wolf,
With sharp teeth in his jaws."

"What else could you expect?" demanded the Sleswick horseman: "all that come of the wolf, howl like the wolf, as they say in our country."

One of the queen's horsemen, who was stationed next to the Sleswicker, had long sat in his saddle as if on glowing coals. "If there be wolves' cubs amongst us," he now at last broke out, in a broad Jutlandic accent, "they are rather in your troop than ours, my dainty Sleswicker."

"It needs a good dog to smell that out," retorted the other.

"In our country the dogs are as keen as they are true," rejoined the North Jute; "but down by Gottorp they ought to be keen indeed, as the late King Abel, your duke's grandfather, must well know, seeing that three fiery hounds hunt him every night to the infernal regions."

"Whoever says an ill word of my duke or of his race, shall have his neck broken!" exclaimed the Sleswick horseman, drawing his sword.

"And whoever slanders my queen or the drost, shall have his nose and ears cut off!" vociferated the other, already brandishing his glaive.

As the contention thus grew hot, several joined in it; and although it was strictly forbidden that any one should draw his sword before orders, many weapons were already seen gleaming among the troopers, both of the queen and of the duke.

"Peace, there!" now cried the latter, as, with some uneasiness, he examined the multitude around him.

"Whoever strikes a blow without his officer's command, is a dead man!" shouted Drost Peter; and the swords were again sheathed, whilst the noisy quarrel subsided to a murmur.