Chapter XXIII: Part III (6)

A cry of "The king! the king!" was now heard, and the most perfect silence instantly pervaded the restless crowd.

At that moment the queen and the young king issued on horseback from the castle-gate, escorted by twelve trabants, and attended by Sir John, Rimaardson, and Chancellor Martin. The ecclesiastic, who was mounted on his palfrey, and wore his Dominican habit, with polished shoes and white heels, looked very pale and apprehensive.

Nearly the entire multitude instantly greeted the king with a shout of homage, and the quarrel between the troopers was apparently at an end, when a powerful voice, from amidst the crowd, exclaimed--"Long live Marsk Stig and his friends! Down, down with the tyrants!"

The duke looked hastily around him, whilst Drost Peter narrowly watched him, with his left hand on the hilt of his sword.

Although the cheering for the king continued, the shout of "Long live the duke! Long live Waldemar Erikson!" still gained ground: it was repeated by great numbers of the burghers, and by all the Sleswick horsemen; and, as it increased in vehemence and extent, the duke again looked round, lifting his hat, and saluting the assemblage with an air of bravery.

Li this salute Drost Peter perceived a preconcerted signal; for the duke was then cheered on every side, by the same voices that had just raised the seditious cry in favour of Marsk Stig. The drost could no longer retain his indignation. "Down, down with the traitors!" he shouted, as his sword flew from its scabbard, and gleamed in his left hand, whilst, at the same instant, the concealed horsemen, rushing forward, surrounded the spot.

Duke Waldemar beheld this unexpected movement with astonishment and consternation. "Rebellion! treason!" he exclaimed: "defend your protector, brave Danes! Seize the drost! He is the traitor.--At them!" shouted he to his horsemen; who, however, before they could, in the general confusion, range themselves in any order of battle, were, with the duke, charged with so much impetuosity by Drost Peter and Count Gerhard, at the head of the queen's horsemen, that they were compelled to seek for safety in a rapid flight; the whole body hastening from the town through a narrow street, which had not yet been blockaded.

"After the duke! Seize the traitor! _He_ is the chief of the regicides!" shouted the drost, as, at the head of the queen's troopers, he pursued the fugitives.

During this uproar, the noise of which was augmented by the cries and clamour of the people, Sir John and Rimaardson, with the chancellor and the twelve trabants, had instantly formed a close circle round the king, and, without awaiting the issue, had hurried with him across the castle-square, and through the excited crowds, down to the fiord.

But the queen had boldly ridden forward amidst her faithful body-guard, and soon found herself at their head, between Count Gerhard and Drost Peter; whilst before them, and without once looking behind, fled the duke and his horsemen, as if panic-struck.

"Noble queen," exclaimed Drost Peter, "here you are exposed to too much danger."

"I think myself safer nowhere than between the brave Count Gerhard and yourself," was her confident reply.

"Shame befall us," cried Count Gerhard; "if we are not now invincible, we never deserve success."

Outside of the town, on Trandrup Field, where Henrik Æmeldorf engaged King Christopher, the duke first commanded his troopers to halt; and, availing himself of his start, he wheeled about, and hastily placed his men in order of battle.

The drost, who, with his troop, was rapidly pushing forward, now heard the wild shout of assailants behind him, and, on looking round, perceived a large body of mail-clad horsemen in his rear, in the leaders of which he thought he recognised Count Jacob and the two knights who had been outlawed at Nyborg.

"You have ventured too far, most noble queen!" he exclaimed. "The traitors have out-man[oe]uvred us. Fall into a circle, lads--place the queen in the centre--and you, Count Gerhard, stir not from her side."

"By Beelzebub!" muttered the count, "must I be only a peg in this confounded game of skittles? Stay you here, rather, with your wounded arm, Drost Hessel."

But the drost heard him not, while the queen's troopers immediately obeyed the order of their chief, and formed a circle around their mistress, who, although pale and apprehensive, yet retained her firmness, and closely observed every movement of the enemy; whilst Count Gerhard rode around the circle like a wild beast in a cage.

The foe, meanwhile, had been pressing on from both sides, when the drost, commanding the circle to extend, slackened his bridle, and, with his sword in his left hand, dashed against the duke and his horsemen.

"Turn you now against the outlaws, Count Gerhard," said the queen, calmly.

This was precisely the intention of the skilful warrior, who sprang from the circle, shouting;--"Forward, carls, in a line! Follow me!"

The circle, thus dividing, soon formed compact lines, which fought in opposite directions against the twofold superior foe. The queen remained between the lines, a witness of the sanguinary conflict, which cost many of her faithful men their lives. Her checks glowed with ardour and excitement whilst she glanced now towards Drost Peter, and now towards Count Gerhard; but her eye most frequently rested on the valiant count, who had engaged in the fray with the greatest spirit and ardour, every stroke of his good sword appearing to drive the enemy a step before him.

The space between the two lines of horsemen was every instant increasing, and the queen, with lively satisfaction and joy, beheld the success of Count Gerhard's bold attack; when, turning her eyes once more towards Drost Peter, she uttered a cry of alarm. His troopers were in disorder, and he himself was unhorsed in the midst of the duke's people, who cast themselves upon him with a savage shout of triumph.

"Merciful Heaven!" she exclaimed, "they will murder him! Save, oh save Drost Peter, noble count!" and, heedless of the danger, she rode into the midst of the mêlée, where Count Gerhard's horsemen were on the point of beating the outlaws from the field, and, pressing close up to the side of the count, repeated her request.

"In God's name, be it as you command, noble queen!" he replied. "Forword, lads! Think not of me!" And turning his steed, he hastened to the assistance of Drost Peter, and endeavoured to restore order to his broken ranks.

But his own troops now fell into similar confusion, and the outlaws, inspired with new courage, again pressed forward with shouts of triumph; whilst, on the opposite side, the all-victorious duke continued to pursue the drost's chiefless band.

The attempts of Count Gerhard to rally the flying horsemen, and restore them to order, were vain: he found it impossible to collect the scattered soldiers; and the enemy pressed on victoriously from both sides. The confusion was now at its height, and the slaughter around him was dreadful.

"All is lost--we must fly, noble queen!" he at length cried, turning to the spot where the queen had stood only a moment before. But he now beheld her not. One of her troopers had thrown his cloak over her, and in the confusion she had disappeared, whilst the count, who could nowhere discover her amidst the tumultuous bands of contending horsemen, then became furious, and his blows fell fast on every side, directed indiscriminately at friends or foes. His glaring eye sought only the queen; but, at last, even his sight began to fail him: the scene appeared to whirl around him, and he became unconscious. When he recovered his senses, he found himself alone on the dreary battle-field, with only dead and wounded around him. His eye was safe, but that which was yet dearer to him had disappeared. He looked around once more; and then mounting his steed, which had remained near him, he proceeded rapidly in the direction of the town.

The tumult there had not yet ceased. Soldiers and armed burghers were scouring the streets, and scenes of bloodshed were everywhere enacted. Some shouted the names of Marsk Stig and Count Jacob, and exclaimed: "Vengeance for the outlaws!" Others had for their rallying cry the name of the duke, cutting down all who refused to join in it; whilst a great portion of the burghers and badly armed peasants vociferated: "Long live our young king! Death to the traitors!" The adherents of the duke and those of the outlaws did not seem to be quite certain whether they should regard each other as friends or foes; although, in general, they made common cause against the royalists.

Meanwhile, the duke, at the head of his Sleswick horsemen, returned triumphantly to the castle. The report of his victory, and the defeat of the royal party, soon became known, and greatly alarmed the trusty burghers and peasants, who had assembled in defence of their youthful king. The duke was accompanied by a crowd of savage-looking butchers, with blood-stained axes, and by many strangers in disguise, who applauded him loudly. A band of mailed horsemen, wearing their visors down, and who were supposed to be the outlaws and their followers, closed this triumphal procession.

The duke dismounted at the castle, and immediately occupied it with his troops.

"Where is the king?" he demanded.

"Out of the fiord, on his flight to Nyborg," replied a heavy butcher.

The duke's triumphant look changed suddenly to one of disappointment. He gave a private order to one of his knights, who instantly rode off for the haven, with a troop of horsemen.

"And where is her grace the queen?" again inquired the duke.

But this no one knew; and all he could learn was, that Prince Christopher and the little Princess Mereté had been taken from the castle by Sir Rimaardson's seamen.

"Let there be tranquillity now, brave burghers," he said, addressing the noisy crowds that surrounded him; "and let every one retire to his abode, for the Dane-court and proclamation are postponed. I have succeeded fortunately in quelling this tumult, and the ringleader is now in my power. He is the queen's presumptuous favourite, Drost Hessel, who so far abused the ear of his royal mistress as to create in her distrust of me. His object was to obtain possession of the king's person, and so be master of the nation; but you have nothing now to fear from the traitor, for he shall never more see the light of day. I am still your lawful protector, and shall watch carefully over your good and the welfare of the country."

When he had finished this address, which was received with noisy acclamation, he saluted his uproarious adherents with all the condescension and bearing of a sovereign, and entered the castle, accompanied by his gay knights, and the tall mail-clad warrior with the closed visor and blue mantle, who had led on the outlaws. With this individual, in whom many thought they recognised Count Jacob of Halland, he had a short and private conversation, at the close of which the unknown warrior left the castle; and, an hour after, not one of the outlaws or their followers was to be seen in the town. They had departed in anger, it was said, threatening to return with fire and sword within a twelvemonth and a day.

The duke himself soon began to think of leaving a town where the king possessed many faithful subjects. He therefore directed that the captive and sorely-wounded drost should be carried in chains on board the ducal vessel, which, with the exception of a lugger, supposed to contain some of the queen's people, was the only one then in the haven.

The duke, however, delayed his departure till the evening, as he did not consider it advisable to leave the castle until the town was entirely quiet. The disappearance of the queen, whom he had himself seen, and again lost sight of, in the midst of the fray, gave him much uneasiness. He ordered a minute search to be made of the battlefield, but no trace was to be found of either the queen or of Count Gerhard. A portion, also, of his Sleswick horsemen, who had been separated from him in the engagement, had disappeared.

Night began to fall, whilst, with anxious thoughts, he paced up and down the riddersal. He felt proud indeed of his victory; but the escape of the king altogether thwarted his project, and he feared, with reason, that he had prematurely thrown off the mask, and exposed his daring plans. Since he had learned the promise of the marsk to the Norwegian king, he felt he could not depend on the outlaws; and hence his thanks to Count Jacob had been cold and reserved. He now appeared wavering and undecided as to the next step towards the object of his proud ambition.

"Seize the spirit-compelling sceptre, and thy crown shall be bright as the sun," he whispered to himself; feeling as if he were again in Sjöborg with his owl, and looking fearfully around the large gloomy hall, almost as much afraid of his own words as if the dead bishop had spoken.

"Lights! lights!" he now shouted; and his servants, who knew their master's great aversion to darkness, instantly produced them. He then issued some farther orders respecting; his departure, and again despatched messengers to ascertain whether the town was tranquil, and the road to the fiord unobstructed.

Shortly after, two of his knights entered with a prisoner, who had demanded to be conducted to their master. The captive, who stood closely enveloped in a horseman's cloak, with a rainhood over the head, for a moment or two seemed to scrutinise the uneasy conqueror, when suddenly the hood fell back, and the cloak dropped upon the floor; whilst the duke started with surprise, as he beheld before him the fair and majestic Queen Agnes, in her magnificent robes of ceremony.

"They say I am your prisoner, Duke Waldemar," she said, with an air of calm dignity; "but I maintain that you are mine, as certainly as that you are an audacious rebel, and I at this moment the reigning Queen of Denmark."

The duke requested his astonished knights to withdraw.

"Noble queen," he then began, courteously and respectfully, "you are, in truth, partly right: I am, now and for ever, your knightly prisoner; but rebel I am not. On the contrary, I have been attacked by Drost Hessel and your men in a manner at once treacherous and unprovoked. At your own request I accompanied you hither as joint protector; and here, against all faith and law, have I been suddenly set upon, at the moment I intended to proclaim the king, and was about to quell the popular discontent at the sentence pronounced upon the outlaws. I beheld, with astonishment, your grace yourself at the head of my assailants, which may plead my excuse if, for a moment, I left the king's side, and sought to avoid a conflict in which your precious life would have been placed in danger."

"What do I hear!" cried the queen, in amazement. "You deny that you were the leader of this tumult, and even dare to impeach me as the cause of it!"

"Nay, not you, illustrious queen, but the ambitious and arrogant Drost Hessel. On his head lies every drop of blood that has this day been shed. He is the rebel and traitor--not I--and Heaven forbid that I should accuse you of his faithlessness! He has shamefully abused your clemency and grace; and has caused me to suspect that, by my fall, he hopes to soar to the regency, or perhaps even to the throne of Denmark."

Retiring a step, the queen scrutinised keenly the crafty lord. For an instant she appeared in doubt; but, as if a light had suddenly broken in upon her, she again approached him, with an air of apparent confidence.

"You have revealed to me what may perhaps prove a matchless piece of treachery," said she, unable completely to master the tones of her voice; "and should this be proved to have been really the drost's design, he must be brought to a severe account. Before the king and people he must be condemned as the most deceitful of traitors. But where is he?"

"In my power," replied the duke, with a polite smile; "and there, with your permission, he must remain, while I am protector of Denmark."

"For his life you shall be responsible to me," said the queen, with ill-concealed uneasiness. "Be his crime as great as it may, by the king and people only can he be tried and doomed; and that in my presence and in your's, at the Land-Ting."

"Believe me, your grace, that even my bitterest foe shall have justice! But suffer me first, most gracious and illustrious queen, to lay my own cause before your judgment-seat," he politely added, as he bowed profoundly, and drew forward a gilded chair, upon which the queen seated herself. "I clearly perceive that you suspect me," he continued. "You are brought here as my prisoner, although, in truth, as I have already said, I am your captive for ever, and can easily prove to you how innocent I am of this tumult." As he spoke, his air of politeness suddenly changed to an expression of intense and passionate admiration, and he added, with warmth--"I can give you proof, clear as the sun, how foolishly, nay, how madly, I should have acted, to place myself in a position of hostility to you." He paused, and appeared to hesitate. "It must be dared!" he again broke forth: "I shall now reveal to you what has long been the dearest and boldest wish of my heart, and what, as a princely scion of the race of the great Waldemars, in my proudest moments I have sometimes dared to hope."

He paused again, and looked inquiringly at the queen, over whose countenance had passed a sudden change, which caused him to hesitate; but the consciousness of his handsome person banished every doubt, and the flush of indignation on the queen's cheeks he mistook for an indication of bashful surprise.

"Your noble and lofty mind, fairest queen," he continued, boldly, "cannot feel offended at a wish which unites the desire for a kingdom's happiness with the most respectful attachment to womanly worth--a wish which words fail me to express, but which springs from chivalrous esteem for your beauty, prudence, and elevation of soul, and which has received ardour and strength from those feelings that reduce the prince to the man, while, in truth, they exalt the man to the prince."

"You speak prettily and politely, Duke Waldemar," replied the queen, with much composure, "and seem to think that when the Queen of Denmark is your captive, she cannot refuse her ear to a suit of love, nor buy her freedom too dearly by presenting her conqueror with her hand and heart?"

The duke started. "Mistake me not in this also, noble queen," he resumed, with less ardour. "If I chose this moment for so important a declaration, it was but to convince you, in the clearest manner, how impossible it is that I should be your enemy. Your captivity here is altogether a blunder of my people, and is at an end when you command. Here you are equally queen and mistress as if surrounded by your own soldiers. But," he added, boldly, as he perceived a proud smile on her countenance, "you are too sagacious not to perceive, that, at this moment, I hold in my hands your fate and that of Denmark. Far be it from me to abuse this accidental advantage. But, if even no responsive voice pleads for me in your heart, your keen political sagacity might still counsel you not to despise such a proposal at so critical a moment."

As he thus spoke, his air of pride and complacency betrayed a wooer who intended to allow his prisoner not even the freedom of denial. To soften, however, this stroke of policy, he suddenly changed his tone and manner, for he felt the importance of bringing the heart of the fair queen, or at least her vanity, to favour the considerations of political prudence which he had suggested. He therefore again became the chivalrous lover, and with much eloquence and apparent ardour broke forth in admiration of her beauty and in flattering compliments to her lofty mind.

"My life and happiness," he at last exclaimed, as he knelt before her, "I place in your hands, most noble queen!"

Agnes remained silent, but bestowed a glance on her kneeling suitor that seemed to pierce his soul; and a bitter answer hovered on her lips, when the door was suddenly opened, and a knight of the duke's retinue entered.

The duke arose, and, stamping furiously--"What means this?" he cried--"who dares to--"

"Count Gerhard, stern sir," hastily replied the knight--"Count Gerhard of Holstein has surrounded the castle with a superior force, and threatens to storm and pull it down, if the Queen of Denmark is not instantly set at liberty."

The duke seemed thunderstruck.

"You come right opportunely, sir knight," observed the queen, rising with calm dignity. "Your illustrious master was in a posture for which he needs not blush: he has acknowledged that a blunder of his soldiers has made him appear a rebel, and guilty of lese-majesty, thus placing his life and fate in my hands. You are witness, however, that I forgive him an error in which he had no share. Your arm, Duke Waldemar: I intend to travel within an hour; and the noble Count Gerhard expects me with my train."

A loud noise outside the castle was now heard; and the duke, bowing profoundly, gave the queen his arm without hesitating. The knight preceded them, bearing two lights, and at the duke's signal his pages hastened forward with torches. To Count Gerhard's surprise, therefore, the queen was thus led forth with the greatest pomp and attention, and, without opposition, confided to his protection.

A few hours afterwards, the queen sailed with a fair wind into Nyborg Harbour, and Duke Waldemar, with the captive Drost Peter, departed in the direction of Alsen.

* * *

While Drost Peter lay a close prisoner in Nordborg Castle, unable to serve in any way his king and country, the measures of old Sir John, Count Gerhard, the chancellor, and the trusty Rimaardson were unceasingly directed to secure the royal house, and to strengthen the minor's throne. The duke no longer found it advisable to assert his authority as regent. The plan of the outlaws for subjecting Denmark to the crown of Norway, and his own fear that he had too soon betrayed his daring project, so completely embarrassed him, that he did not even appear at the Danish court. Annoyed by the unsuccessful issue of his attempt, as well as by the failure of his love-suit to the queen, which he felt as a mortifying humiliation, he shortly after withdrew into Saxony, and it soon became publicly known that he had suddenly espoused Duke Johan's daughter, the pious Princess Sophia.

At the same time, an accidental occurrence averted the invasion with which the country was threatened by the Norwegian fleet, which lay at Ekeroe; the armament from which, as was reported, was to have been conducted by the rude Jarl Mindre-Alf, and the favourite of the Norwegian king, Halkell Augmund. The jarl, however, had quarrelled with Halkell at the drinking-table, and killed him with a wine-stoup in the presence of the king. This led to a sanguinary strife on board the fleet, in which two hundred and sixty of the jarl's men were slain or executed; he himself being outlawed, and forced to fly to Sweden.

The expedition against Denmark was therefore deferred; but the outlaws incessantly ravaged the Danish coasts--burning Middelfert and Hindsholm in Funen, and visiting nearly every seaport town in Denmark with blood and rapine. The name of Marsk Stig became a terror to every Dane. Nor did Rané Jonsen hold the least conspicuous place among the boldest pirates who disturbed the country. His castle, Giordslöv, in Stevn's Point, where he maintained a garrison, served as a place of refuge for his rover-crew. To mislead his pursuers, he always, when on shore, rode a horse whose shoes were reversed; and, to warn him of danger, was constantly attended by a large, ferocious hound, which could easily master the strongest soldier. Rané, as well as the marsk and the other outlaws, was included in the ecclesiastical ban pronounced by the Archbishop of Lund; but they appeared to despise excommunication as much as they did the sentence of outlawry. Most of them had again fled to Norway, where they endeavoured to incite the Norwegian king to a decisive expedition against Denmark. The marsk, however, continued boldly to occupy Hielm, whence he extended his forays to North Jutland and the adjacent islands. The proud Count Jacob fortified Hunehal, in North Halland, and, like the marsk, prepared to defend himself in the country to the last.

The queen and privy council meanwhile had deferred the coronation only until a severe winter rendered the Belt and Sound inaccessible to enemies and pirates. On Christmas-day, 1287, the young King Erik Menved, as he was already called,[38] was solemnly anointed and crowned at Lund. This was the last important transaction in which the aged Archbishop Johan Dros was engaged, as he died shortly afterwards, and before his prayer for the security of the crown was fulfilled.

Not long after the coronation, a treaty of friendship was concluded between King Erik and the powerful Swedish king, Magnus Ladislaus, and the double alliance ratified which had previously been privately agreed upon: the little Princess Mereté, who had been betrothed to Birger, the crown-prince of Sweden, was conducted by Swedish ambassadors to that court; and, about the middle of March, the betrothal of King Erik of Denmark to the Swedish Princess Ingeborg was publicly declared. On this occasion there were great festivities at Helsingborg, where the royal betrothals were to be celebrated with a tournament.

The whole Danish and Swedish courts were present at these rejoicings, where the youthful King Erik exhibited himself in all the pomp of chivalry before his future queen, the beautiful Princess Ingeborg, whose childlike beauty and graces none could sufficiently extol--the bards of Denmark in their transport having already named her Danebod--the hope of the Danes.

The tournament was conducted with great magnificence, and in the manner of those of France and Germany. On the preceding day, the arms of the different knights were displayed on the cross-walk of the Dominican convent, where a stately herald announced the names of those to whom they belonged. Here they were visited by Queen Agnes and Queen Hedwig of Sweden, Count Gerhard's sister, with the princesses and noble ladies at court, for the purpose of touching the shields of those whom they judged to be unworthy knights, and who were by this means excluded from the lists.

Two shields were thus touched, one of which belonged to the powerful Swedish knight, Sir Carl Algotson, who, with the assistance of Jarl Mindre-Alf, had abducted Sir Thorstenson's rich and distinguished bride, Jomfru Ingrid. The Danish queen, who had heard of the affair, and of the brave Thorstenson's loss, had touched the shield, which was immediately removed by the herald, and an order issued by the Swedish king that the matter should be strictly investigated.[39]

The second shield, which had been touched by a noble lady as an impeachment of its owner, belonged to a Danish knight--John Rimaardson, another brother of the trusty Bent Rimaardson. Although related to Queen Agnes, he was instantly excluded from the tourney; and, being threatened with the vengeance of the law, as a ravisher and murderer, he was forced to seek safety in flight.[40]

At the tournament itself, everything was conducted with the greatest pomp and ceremonial. The Queen of Beauty, the fair-haired Princess Ingeborg, sat, full of childish joy, between Queen Agnes and her mother, the gay, good-natured Queen Hedwig, who strongly resembled her brother, the valiant Count Gerhard. On the right of the Swedish queen sat the mighty King Magnus Ladislaus, a tall and spare but majestic figure, with a stern and warlike air, and wearing a golden crown and a mantle of purple and ermine.

Many there were, among the ladies of Princess Ingeborg, who attracted looks of homage and tenderness from both Danish and Swedish knights; but the tall silent maiden who sat nearest the royal personages, excited the greatest attention. This was Jomfru Ingé Little, who observed not the interest she awoke, but, with melancholy countenance, gazed upon the gay lists, where, as her eye ran over the line of knights, she missed the noble figure of Drost Peter. She had heard of his imprisonment, and entertained but little hope of his release from Nordborg, so long as the variance existed between the duke and the royal house of Denmark. Another still heavier sorrow oppressed the brave maiden: she knew that her unhappy father lay in Kallundborg Castle, awaiting his sentence as a dangerous state-criminal. At times, nevertheless, a light spread over her melancholy features, as she looked upon the Princess Ingeborg and the young chivalrous king: she appeared then to forget her own heart's sorrow in the fair hopes of her fatherland; and again the sounds of the song, "For Erik the king so young!" echoed in her bosom.

Nearest the barrier, and as judges, sat the oldest of the Danish and Swedish knights, chief among whom appeared old Sir John. Within the arena were seen a stately king-at-arms, and numerous heralds bearing white staves and feathered hats in their hands, whose duty it was to preserve order, and, together with their subalterns, the pursuivants, closely to attend to every thrust and motion of the antagonists.

The tourney was opened with a joust on horseback, with blunt lances, between the Danish King Erik and the little Prince Berger, who carried light armour suitable to their years and strength. The Danish king wore the sky-blue colour of Princess Ingeborg, and displayed her little glove fastened to his helmet. Prince Berger also wore the colour of his bride, and his armour was white as Princess Mereté's silken kirtle. They both showed themselves active and dexterous; but reciprocal courtesy forbade that either should be regarded as the vanquisher.

The jousts were accompanied with song and music, numerous Swedish and Danish skalds[41] being present to celebrate the exploits of their respective knights, nearly all of whom wore gloves, veils, pearl-bands, or some other female ornament in their helmets; while, during the battle, they would often shout their peculiar watchwords, which their own ladies only understood. Many lances were broken in the fray, and many knights unhorsed; but as they fought with blunt weapons, no dangerous or serious blow was received. It seemed, indeed, that the Danish and Swedish knights, at this joyful festivity, only sought to outvie each other in gentle bearing and knightly courtesies.

But the most distinguished on this occasion was Count Gerhard of Holstein, who good-naturedly unhorsed six knights without himself being shaken. With the black veil of the fair Queen Agnes, he felt himself invincible; whilst his watchword was the burthen of a song he had heard at Sir John's on the evening he first spoke with the queen. One word in it only he changed every time he thrust a knight from his saddle shouting delightedly:--

"For so chaste a dame I dree."

All competitors having withdrawn, he was declared victor in the tournament; and springing gaily from his saddle, he received, kneeling, the prize from the hands of the fair Queen Agnes.

The tilting appeared to be ended, when a strange knight, in bright gilt harness, with a crown upon his locked helmet, and mounted on a snorting war-steed, presented himself at the barrier. He flung his steel gauntlet at Count Gerhard's feet, and, without uttering a word, tore, with the sharp end of his lance, the black veil fastened to the count's breastplate.

Queen Agues became pale; for by this action he attacked the honour of the lady whose gage he had thus outrageously insulted. All eyes were instantly turned with surprise and amazement on the strange knight.

"'Tis the duke--Duke Waldemar!" whispered one to another; although none was sure that this surmise was well grounded.

Count Gerhard, burning with fury, sprang upon his charger, and resumed his place in the lists, having first taken up the stranger's gauntlet, to intimate that he accepted the challenge without farther explanation. The heralds then opened the barrier, and admitted the strange knight, who advanced, proudly man[oe]uvring his steed, and brandishing a sharp lance. Count Gerhard, too, armed himself with a similar deadly weapon, when the judges reminded them that the present was a festive tournament, where no serious fighting was permitted. But the exasperated count having demanded that the combat should be as serious as the insult, the objection was urged no further.

Like thunderbolts the knights rushed against each other, and in the shock Count Gerhard's lance was splintered against the gilded breastplate of his antagonist, from whose weapon he received a violent blow on the chest, but remained immoveable in his saddle.

The strange knight, who had been lifted slightly from his saddle by the violence of the shock, laughed scornfully behind his visor. He cast away his lance, and, following the example of the count, drew his sword. The blades met, and in the fierce combat that ensued, both exhibited great skill and courage. By one blow, Count Gerhard had struck the crown off the gilded helmet of his antagonist, who, however, lost no advantage offered by the unbridled ardour of the count; while the varying fortunes of either combatant were watched by all with the most intense interest.

"For the honour of my exalted lady!" shouted Count Gerhard, aiming what he intended as a finishing stroke, but by which he exposed himself to his antagonist; who, avoiding the blow, had raised his sword against the count's unprotected head, when suddenly he became motionless, gazing rigidly the while towards the barrier.

At the same instant a powerful voice cried out: "An infamous knight fights here!"

All looked in astonishment towards the spot whence the voice proceeded, where stood a tall and elegant knight, in steel-blue mail, with closed visor, and displaying a magnificent dagger in his outstretched hand.

"Knowest thou this witness, traitor?" he continued, in the same mighty voice, while in his hand he turned the dagger, on the hilt of which the golden lions gleamed in the bright sunshine.

"That dagger was drawn from the corse of King Erik Christopherson, on St. Cecilia's night," cried a loud voice among the people.

"That dagger armourer Troels of Melfert sold to Duke Waldemar," shouted another: "I can swear to it."

"It is the marsk's dagger--Marsk Stig's dagger!" cried a third.

The battle had ceased; for the knight in the gilded mail sat as if petrified, staring through the grating of his helmet at the blue knight and the dagger. The sword fell from his hand, and he was becoming faint and giddy, when, at a signal from the young Erik, the king-at-arms advanced and cried aloud--"No one shall interrupt the combatants by word or gesture, under the penalty of death!"

At this announcement the blue knight bowed respectfully, and placed the dagger in his bosom, but remained calmly gazing at Count Gerhard's antagonist.

"Hand him his weapon again!" cried the count to a pursuivant: "I know that I fight with a false and dishonoured knight; but one of us must here lose his life."

Whilst the pursuivant stooped to take up the sword, the golden knight suddenly gave the spur to his steed, and cleared the barrier at a bound. Every eye followed him with amazement, and a deathlike stillness prevailed until he was no longer visible; and when they then turned to look for the blue knight, he too had disappeared.

Count Gerhard therefore remained alone in the lists, and was declared victor in this conflict of honour; while the unusual occurrence caused many and various surmises among the spectators. The tournament was then declared to be ended, and the royal party returned to the palace, where, as old Sir John passed Lady Ingé, he whispered to her softly--"Drost Peter!"

She nodded in silence, while a deep crimson overspread her lovely cheeks. She had indeed perceived a rose-red pearl-band on the breast of the blue blight, and fancied she recognised in it her own fillet; but by what means her captive knight could have been present there was to her inexplicable.

* * *

Scarcely was the tournament at Helsingborg concluded, before an important message summoned the youthful Danish king, with all his knights, to Zealand. A Norwegian fleet had been seen in the Cattegat, and a landing was apprehended at Elsineur, where the fortress of Flynderborg, surrendered by the treachery of Sir Lavé Little, still remained in the hands of the rebels.

When Sir John took leave of the faithful Ingé, she whispered a few words to him, and placed in his hand a little parchment scroll, on which had been hastily sketched a building, and apparently an entrance to it, denoted by small crosses. He seemed astonished, but listened with attention to what she said. She repeated a few words, and pointed to the scroll, which he then, with a sign of well-pleased assent, carefully put up, and, imprinting a kiss on her forehead, hastened on board with the royal family.

They landed unmolested on the coast of Zealand, in the neighbourhood of Elsineur, whence Count Gerhard immediately conducted the queen and Junker Christopherson to Rypen House, which, in these unsettled times, was considered the most secure abode for the royal family. The young king, who could not be induced to accompany them, set out with Rimaardson for Tornborg, by Korsöer, for the purpose of inspecting that important fortress, and to hasten in person the equipment of the fleet; while Sir John prepared to defend North Zealand against any hostile attack.

The king ordered the cruizers lying at Korsöer to be manned, and stationed opposite the coast of North Jutland, ready to act in unison with Sir John. To all the operations connected with these movements the young monarch paid close attention, and found time also to examine the defences of the castle, which in many points he condemned as inefficient. Rimaardson, in acknowledging the correctness of his opinions, could not restrain admiration of his early knowledge of fortification, which he had acquired from Drost Peter.

Four days after the king's arrival at Tornborg, he was on the ramparts early in the morning, attended by Rimaardson, and a knight who had brought important tidings from Elsineur. The Norwegians, he informed the king, had effected a landing at Orekrog, and burnt the town to ashes; but the burghers had received succour from Sir John. Through a subterranean passage, to which he had led the way, they penetrated into Flynderborg, with the old knight at their head, and, overpowering the garrison, had from this strong point repulsed the enemy. The knight narrated circumstantially the whole occurrences, and informed the king that they had sought in vain for the letters from the outlaws, which Sir Lavé Little was accused of having received before the murder of the king.

"By all holy men, this pleases me well!" exclaimed young Erik. "The faithful Sir John has not wasted a word for his cousin's life; but now he has wiped out a portion of his crime. Let the chancellor announce to the prisoner at Kallundborg, that his doom is again deferred for a year, and this because his trusty cousin has retaken Flynderborg, and the proofs of his worst treachery have not been discovered."

Rimaardson eyed the king with a melancholy look. "Would to God and Our Lady," he exclaimed, "that every trusty knight you possess could so atone for the errors of his relations! There is now scarcely an honest man in the country some one of whose kindred is not in tower or on gibbet--and the end is not yet come."

The sorrowful knight was thinking of his brother Lavé's fate, and of his brother John, who then stood impeached with crimes affecting his life.

"The law is supreme over every man," observed the youthful monarch, with a sigh: "it was not by my own will that I became king so soon; yet, Heaven be praised, I have still many loyal and valiant men. Would only that Drost Peter were with me again!"

The king then returned to the castle, attended by the strange knight from Elsineur, and Rimaardson proceeded to examine the defences. Whilst thus engaged, he observed a short stout figure in the black mantle of a mass-boy, and a high cap drawn over his brows, waddling along the ramparts with a prayer-book in his hand, seemingly engaged in his morning devotions. The rolling boatman's gait of this individual struck the commandant, who observed him more narrowly, when, discovering traces of a badly-shorn beard, he recognised, to his astonishment, the rude Jarl Mindre-Alf.

"Good morning, my son," he exclaimed, approaching him. "Whither away so early?"

"To fetch wine for the priest, that he may pray for your soul," muttered the clumsy-looking mass-boy, in a deep gruff voice.

"Tarry a little," said Rimaardson, while he beckoned a couple of landsknechts to approach. "Methinks I should know thee. Did not we two once sit on the same bench in Lyse school-house? and didst thou not in those times play the tyrant over us all? Methinks thou shouldst be a count and jarl; and art thou only a poor mass-boy?" So saying, he raised the jarl's cap, and looked him full in the face.

"Betray me not, Bendix Rimaardson, for old acquaintance' sake," whispered the detected algrev. "We are relations, and I behaved to thee at school like a brother. I am now done with countship and jarldom. I am an outlawed man, and fain to seek protection with the pious. Be a good fellow, Bent. Pretend thou dost not know me, and let me run."

"Bind him, lads!" cried Rimaardson to the landsknechts: "he is a riever and an incendiary!"

The sturdy viking-chief threw aside his prayer-book and mass-boy's mantle, and stood in his knight's dress, prepared apparently to defend himself with desperation. The landsknechts, however, succeeded in disarming him, when he was instantly chained and fettered, and conducted forthwith, under a strong guard, to the criminal prison of Haraldsborg, having attempted in vain to bribe Rimaardson for his freedom.

The latter cared not to disturb the king with a report of this discovery, which might perhaps draw upon himself a reprimand for having allowed so dangerous a foe to find his way into the fortress. He considered, besides, that the castle was quite secure, and did not waste a thought on the insolent and sardonic laughter of the pirate-chief while he was dragged to prison. Rimaardson, amidst his pressing cares, had not observed that, on the previous night, a freebooter had run in close to Tornborg under Danish colours. Not only had the daring Jarl Mindre-Alf landed unnoticed, bat Marsk Stig himself, with a crew of bold pirates, had privately come on shore; and on the evening of that day, Mat Jute, disguised as one of the king's landsknechts, stood as sentinel outside the door of the royal apartment. The watch was set, and, in the confidence of security, the garrison retired to rest.

In the middle of the night the young king was awoke by a fearful noise. The whole castle was in flames around him, and the terrible cry--"The marsk! the marsk! the outlaws!" was shouted in every direction by the surprised and bewildered soldiers. Screams and the din of arms resounded from all quarters, while the youthful Erik stood alone, half dressed, in his chamber, which was already enveloped in smoke and flame.

"Merciful Heaven! must I now be burnt alive by my father's murderers!" he exclaimed, whilst he hurriedly threw his cloak around him, grasped his little sword, and prepared to rush through the flames.

He now distinguished the voice of his faithful Aagé Jonsen, mingled with the clash of weapons, outside his apartment; but the fire at that moment burst furiously forth, and the smoke so blinded him that it was with difficulty he could find the door. Suddenly he felt himself seized by a powerful mailed hand, and at the same instant he became unconscious. When he recovered, he found himself in a little open boat, speeding through cloud and storm with the rapidity of an arrow.

"Where am I?" he cried. "Am I among my father's murderers?"

"You are with faithful friends and subjects," replied a familiar voice by his side; while, through the darkness, he caught a glimpse of a knightly figure in full armour.

"Drost Peter! By all holy men, is it you?" he asked joyfully.

"Who I am I dare not say," replied the other; in whom the king now thought he recognised the blue knight of the tournament.

"A pledge of honour binds my tongue," continued the knight, "and I must hide my face from my king and the whole world. I shall convey you safely to Rypen House, but I must myself withdraw to a place of darkness. I entreat you, sir king, believe what you will, but tempt me not to break my knightly promise."

"Be silent, then, in God's name!" exclaimed the monarch, as he pressed the mailed hand of his companion. "Thou art assuredly Drost Peter. Thinkest thou I know not thy voice? Thou hast saved my life to-night; and if thou still remainest in the power of the duke, I shall set thee free, cost what it may."

"Proceed not violently against the duke," replied the knight, with a deep sigh: "his prisoner's life is in his hands."

The young king remained silent, while the skiff sped on, and quickly disappeared beyond Sporgoe, where the new tower of Marsk Stig stood gloomy and frowning in the night.

In a few days the news became generally known that the famous Jarl Mindre-Alf had been made prisoner; that Marsk Stig had captured and destroyed the castle of Tornborg, in defence of which the faithful Sir Rimaardson had been slain; and that the young Erik, mysteriously saved, was then in security at Rypen House.

The first important act of the king, after his arrival there, was his nomination of the bold commandant of the castle, Sir David Thorstenson, to fill the office of drost, so long as Drost Peter was in the duke's power. And it was soon known that, in accordance with the new drost's advice, the queen had subscribed the death-warrant of Jarl Mindre-Alf.

The duke was reported to be lying sick in Sleswick, to the great grief of his young wife. His mind, it was said, was affected, and the rumours of his connection with the world of spirits were again revived. Some time previously he had disappeared for a few days, and, on his return, after having visited his important prisoner, Drost Peter Hessel, at Nordborg, whom he found secure in his chains, he was seized by this singular malady, in the paroxysms of which he asserted that he had, with his bodily eyes, seen the accusing angel, and that his prisoner in Nordborg was in league with devils and mighty spirits against him.

* * *

The Norwegians and the outlaws long continued to disturb the repose of Denmark; and although the Norse king nowhere succeeded in effecting a landing, yet, in the then distracted condition of the kingdom, he was no contemptible foe. He had committed ravages at Amager and Hveen; made a descent on Aalborg, which, however, proved unsuccessful; and had not spared even the towns belonging to Duke Waldemar. The council seriously thought of entering into a treaty with him; but the negociation appeared beset with difficulties, as he had promised the outlaws, in a letter of protection, that he would never conclude peace with Denmark without the consent of the marsk.

One calm autumn evening, the vaadesang rose mournfully from the crypt under King Erik Christopherson's tomb, in Viborg Cathedral. When the wind blew from the cathedral across the lake, the deep tones of the vigil, which was thus to be chanted night after night until doomsday, for the soul of the murdered king, could, at times, be heard at the ferry-house on the opposite side. The road to the convent of Asmild lay near the ferry-house, where, upon an upturned boat, sat a tall, aged pilgrim, his head bent upon his breast in deep thought. By his side stood a young girl, also in a pilgrim's habit, and holding by the hand a gay-looking dark-haired youth, equipped as a squire, in a buff jerkin and steel cap, and bearing, besides the usual arms, a long, gilt, flame-shaped sword, apparently intended more for ornament than use.

"Shall we proceed to the convent and knock for admittance, father Henner?" asked the youth. "Neither thou nor Aasé can go farther to-night."

"Tarry here, Skirmen," replied the old man. "Here we can rest well; for many a night have we watched under God's open sky since last we met. Until I have seen the arrogant marsk, and have delivered him the warning that I have been entrusted with, my penance is not ended. Until I have done this, no roof shall cover my head. So have I sworn."

"But, dear father Henner," exclaimed Skirmen, "what, then, dost thou here at Viborg? If the marsk be not in either of his strongholds on Hielm or Spraa, he must he out on some marauding expedition against the king's towns and castles. At Stege he was frustrated," he continued, as the old man remained silent; "but Skielskioer and the fortress on Samsoe have experienced the fate of Tornborg. Ah, Heaven help us!" he added, dejectedly, crushing a reed he held in his hand--"since the powerful Ladislaus as dead and gone, there is not a king in the world of whom the marsk is afraid, and, least of all, of our young King Erik."

"There is one King, my son, that neither the marsk nor any man may defy with impunity; and if He is with the young king, the power of the marsk is not greater than the reed you have crushed." As he uttered these words, the old man pointed solemnly towards the sky. "I may soon encounter him," he continued, after a thoughtful pause: "he may be nearer us than thou seemest to imagine. He is not on Hielm, but on his way to Halland, with his good friend the new archbishop. They were to meet in Viborg, or in Asmild convent; where, perhaps, at this very moment, they are plotting the ruin of the country."

"Methinks thou knowest everything, father Henner!" exclaimed Skirmen, in astonishment. "But what brings the marsk to Halland? Does he carry succour to Count Jacob at Hunehal?"

"Canst guess no better than that, Skirmen? thou, who hast had a statesman for thy master! No. The council desire to conclude a treaty with the Norse king at Varberg; but it cannot be done without the marsk's consent; and the fate of two, perhaps of three kingdoms, is now in the hands of that incendiary. It is high time he had a message from the King of kings."

The old man again relapsed into deep thought; whilst Aasé and Skirmen exchanged some tender words, without disturbing him.

"It is odd, however, that we should have met, Skirmen," resumed old Henner, as he looked affectionately at the youthful pair. "Aasé and thou remain good friends, I perceive. But thou canst not greatly boast of fortune, Skirmen. Gold spurs grow not on trees; and a knight thou must be, before thou hast her. Yet, courage, my son! If St. George help thee not, perhaps St. Christian will. Thou hast my pilgrim-sword, with which thou shalt succeed: the holy Michael has borne it for a century on a church-steeple. It belongs more to a dancing-slipper than a pair of red shoes; but if the cat would catch fish, she must wet her paws. What hast thou been about at Harrestrup, whilst thy master is lying in chains at Nordborg?"

"Alas! dear father Henner," replied Skirmen, "there is no excuse so poor that people will not fly to it in their extremity. My master's trusty old nurse, who lies sick at Harrestrup, sent me word that she had something important to confide to me, and--"

"Hum! there is but little to be learned from an old woman's gabble," muttered old Henner.

"Well, but what said she to thee?" inquired Aasé, curiously. "It is plain that the old nurse made thee feel ashamed of thyself, since thou wilt not out with it. She has certainly cared better for thy master, than thou--"

"Upbraid me not, dearest Aasé!" replied Skirmen, dejectedly. "On the unhappy day that my master was taken prisoner at Skielskioer, he had sent me on a message to Rypen House; and, ever since, I have thought of little else besides the means of setting him free. Three times have I been on Alsen; but the infernal prison-tower is strongly guarded night and day. Twice I was caught, and should certainly have been hanged, had I not contrived to escape."