Chapter IV: Part I (3)

The young squire was silent, and discreetly returned to his former station, behind his master and his distinguished companions.

"A magnificent country!" exclaimed Count Gerhard, surveying, with delight, the shining, fragrant meadows, which, gilded by the morning sun, lay beautifully extended before his happy, cheerful eyes.

"Truly so," answered Drost Peter, with a melancholy seriousness. "Were the people as happy as the land is fair and pleasant to behold, Denmark were still a terrestrial paradise. But we have come into the world a few generations too late, noble count. It was quite other times to those who lived in the youthful days of Waldemar Seier, or in the days of his exalted father."

"Not only is the land the same, sir drost," said the count, "but the people, at bottom, are also the same. Let only a great Waldemar once more arise among you, and you will have the renowned old days again. The glory you now deplore made many eyes overflow, in the time of my brave ancestors; and we counts of Holstein have no great reason to desire a renewal of their splendour. Yet I were but an indifferent knight, if I did not admire these glorious times; and I do not blame any Dane who regrets them. But what say you of our young Prince Erik--the little king, as we may already call him? I know he has you for his instructor in the art of arms, and he ought to be half a knight already."

"On him now repose my hopes, and those of every Danish heart," replied the drost; "and, if it please God, we shall not be ashamed of it. Allow time for the bud to expand, and I promise you, at least, that none in the land shall do a cowardly or unrighteous deed with impunity: and that is much. Denmark, to be happy, requires at all times a great man upon the throne. The glorious days that it would be imperishable honour to win, I do not expect to be brought about in our times. A hundred years hence, and perhaps no one will remember the names we now hear most frequently at the court of Denmark; but the pillars that support a tottering throne stand not there in vain, though they may be hidden beneath its ruins, and forgotten."

"Whom do you reckon among the pillars, then, sir drost, besides yourself?" inquired Count Gerhard, in a half-jocular tone, and as if unwilling to enter too deeply into a conversation so serious, that did not comport with his habitual careless gaiety.

"I regret that I cannot yet number myself among the meritorious men of the country, and deserving adherents of the royal house," replied the young drost, modestly; "but, should I live to become as old and sagacious as our brave John Little, as stout and bold as David Thorstenson or Benedict Rimaardson, and as wise as the prior of Antvorskov, our learned Master Martin, I should hope to earn a name that, in our times, at least, no friend of Denmark and the Danish monarchy should forget."

"In troth, four brave and able men are those," replied the count. "And yet, I have heard say that old Sir John is a stern, hard-hearted taskmaster."

"He is a strict and upright man, and must, therefore, in such lax and lawless times, hear of much wickedness," said the drost, zealously. "He holds by law and justice, and makes no distinction between the peasant and the prelate. But whilst he is stern and bold, he is also sagacious and prudent: he effected the reconciliation with Archbishop Jacob, and relieved the country from ban and interdict--he was umpire in the dispute for the Swedish crown, and told King Magnus some hard truths--and he was not afraid to take part against his own king when, last year, he was judge respecting the inheritance of the princesses. A more upright and able man you cannot show me in Denmark."

"Now, indeed, I know that he is your pattern of a statesman," replied the count, with a smile; "and I have a great regard for the man. But the learned gentleman you mention, you must admit, with all his piety and wisdom, to be a great fool, nevertheless. I can readily believe that he is a great theologian and philosopher; but when he comes with his antiquities and his logicorum, or whatever it is called, he does not concern himself about those he may be talking to, and, with his learning, almost drives laymen crazy. Come hither, Daddy Longlegs: thou canst show us how the learned gentleman behaves himself--him we saw with the Count of Hennegau last year--he who had come straight from Paris, and who had made the learned discovery--Master Morten Mogesen."

"Magister Martinus de Dacia, surnamed Magni Filius, which signifies 'Son of the Great,'" said the half-learned jester, pedantically. "No learned man would condescend to call himself Master Morten Mogesen, after having once passed to the other side of the isthmus." Here he suddenly assumed the grave demeanour of a schoolman, drew himself up, and spoke in a kind of mysterious whisper.

"Capital! there we have the man exactly!" exclaimed the count, laughing.

Maintaining the same posture, the jester began a discourse, full of logical terms, on the importance of adequately understanding the Martinian modi significandi in logica.[12]

The complete caricature of the famous Master Martin's entire mode and manner, as well as of his voice and countenance, amused Count Gerhard exceedingly: he held his sides, and laughed until tears ran from his eyes. The two young knights belonging to his train also laughed immoderately; and Drost Peter smiled in spite of himself, notwithstanding that the jest highly displeased and vexed him.

"I must confess, sir count," he said, gravely, as soon as the general laughter permitted him to speak, "your jester perfectly understands how to make sensible people ridiculous, by imitating and exaggerating their personal defects and foibles, excluding, however, whatever is worthy and honourable in their character, which grimacing cannot counterfeit. In my young days, this was called making faces at people, and, as a malicious kind of waggery, was rewarded with a switch and a sound drubbing. The famous Master Martin is my preceptor and confessor; and those who, after this explanation, continue to jeer or find fault with him, were it even yourself, illustrious count, shall have to do with me, as long as I can move an arm or raise my knightly sword."

"Now, you must permit me to indulge my humour at your own expense, sir drost," replied the count, still laughing. "Are people in Denmark such barbarians, that they have neither sense to enjoy the frank mimic art themselves, nor allow others to be amused with it? What signify to me your learned confessor's virtues, when I require only his follies to promote my health and exercise my lungs in an innocent, good-natured manner? If, indeed, we must fall out about that, sir knight, at the proper time and place it will afford me an excellent joke; but as I never fight for trifles in the morning, or upon an empty stomach, we can, if it please you, defer it until we have had dinner at Odense. In the meanwhile, let me assure you that I have a great esteem for your learned Master Martin, and heartily believe him to be a worthy and distinguished man."

"Whom I honour and esteem, I can never make a jest of," replied Drost Peter, zealously. "It may, perhaps, be the fashion in other countries; but, praise to God, we Danes do not yet understand it."

"That is, indeed, a fault with all of you," replied the count; "and therefore you are often, with injustice, regarded as simple-minded, although, in fact, it is only the want of a gay, light humour. You are, in consequence, as much one-sided in your praise as in your blame. Human nature is not yet perfect. It promotes truth, and nourishes humility, when one has an eye for the defective as well as for the excellent, as they lie in heaps in this fair, comical world. I know no one who has not his folly and his ridiculous side: with the most distinguished men, this is the more perceptible; and my best friends may perceive that I laugh at what is ridiculous in them, while I respect their virtues as they deserve. The same freedom I allow to every one who knows me; and, should you ever feel disposed to laugh at my expense, you will see that it does not annoy me. Come, Daddy Longlegs, show this gentleman how I behave myself when seriousness turns me crazy."

The jester bowed upon his horse in a respectful manner, and then assumed a comical expression of great good humour, which speedily passed from laughter to the deepest earnestness, and, from that, to the most uncontrollable fury. To carry out this farce in a fitting manner, he drew his wooden sword, and attacked the company, without distinction, like a madman.

"Hold, hold! Enough, Longlegs! You will drive our horses wild, and that will be confoundedly bad," shouted the count, reining in his steed with difficulty, while he laughed, and rubbed his left arm, upon which the jester had dealt him a blow.

"If this be the way in which people divert themselves at your court, sir count, I have not more to complain of than yourself," said Drost Peter, laughing; "but still, you have not convinced me of the propriety of your singular amusement."

Jesting in this friendly manner, they continued their journey to Odense, where Count Gerhard and the knights were to dine. When they recommenced their journey towards Nyborg, in the afternoon, their little difference appeared to be altogether forgotten. The count and Drost Peter had now become such good friends, that they had sent their followers in advance, to be able to discourse together more freely, and without interruption. Their conversation was of the Dane-court, which was to be held on the following day at Nyborg, and respecting the unhappy dispute with Duke Waldemar, who had laid claim to the entire kingdom, and insisted upon his heirship to Alsen and many of the crown possessions.

"For my part, they may decide the matter to-morrow as they please," said Count Gerhard, with apparent indifference; "but, if you would know my opinion, sir drost, I must honestly confess that I consider the young duke to be in the right, so long as he only demands his ancestorial fief intact, and does not aim at higher objects. The son can never forget what his father, the unfortunate Duke Erik, was obliged to undergo. His right of succession to the dukedom was unquestionable; but he was feasted with empty promises, until, at length, he became maddened, and appealed to the umpire which every prince and knight carries by his side. I do not blame him for that; but, that he became a pious hang-the-head when that miscarried, and died of vexation in a cloister, was stupid. The manner in which they have since treated the son, you cannot defend; for it is unnecessary. Had you been well advised in time, it would never have happened."

"But you must, nevertheless, confess that it was in the highest degree unjust, and a matchless piece of foolhardiness," interrupted Drost Peter, warmly.

"I know what you would say," continued the count; "but the one injustice has now taken the other by the tail. Duke Waldemar, as the king's ward by compulsion, might have grown old and gray before he could obtain a foot of land of his ancestor's fief, had he not, while a youth, taken the bull by the horns, and manfully insisted upon his rights. He managed the matter bravely, and it might now be amicably settled. But why do they continue, so meanly and pitifully, to irritate him, and withhold the beggarly islets from him? Hence the entire misfortune. But for this injustice, he would scarcely have opened his mouth so wide, and threatened to swallow the whole of Denmark. Now he is of age, and has become too strong for you: he is haughty and unmanageable, and you must beware how you hold out the rod to him. These are troublous times, sir drost. The discontent of the nobles happens opportunely for the duke. But do not let us any longer think on these perplexing matters. I do not mix myself up in state affairs, so long as I am left in peace. I am going, as I said, to the Dane-court, to amuse myself, and to see the charming Queen Agnes; and that, you must confess, is a fair and legitimate object for my journey."

At the last turn which the count gave to the conversation, Drost Peter blushed, and appeared to hesitate. "The homage you would pay our noble queen, sir count," he began, gravely, "she most truly deserves, and no one can blame you that you do not yield in courtesy to any of our Danish chivalry; but, that you travel to the Danish court for that purpose alone, I cannot credit. If you intend to support Duke Waldemar's audacious demands, consider it well. The independence of the crown and kingdom is at stake. If they do not allow the matter to be legally settled by umpires, and if both sides are not contented with such an arrangement, a sanguinary civil war is to be apprehended."

"As I have already told you, sir drost, I do not in any way mix myself up in these state affairs. Is it certain, then, that the whole court, with the fair and lovely queen, is at Nyborg?"

"That, at least, was the determination," replied Drost Peter, coldly, feeling much annoyed by the count's frankness, which he appeared to consider as injurious to the queen's person and the royal house. "I think it singular, sir count," he continued, with suppressed indignation, "that you should express so unreservedly what every discreet knight and admirer of beauty is wont only to display in his colours or on his shield; especially in a case like this, where knightly homage has its narrow and prescribed limits. I cannot reconcile this extreme admiration for the fair with your affliction as a widower."

"I have, in general, a quiet and contented mind, sir drost," replied the count, carelessly; "and that accounts for it, you may be assured. I contract my narrow world more than is consistent with my health and happiness. What pleases or displeases me I can make no secret of, least of all before friends; and if you find any singularity or amusement in that, you are welcome. I am glad when I can reconcile my pleasures with those of others."

"But this candour and amusement of your's, sir count, I consider as offensive to the exalted lady whose colours I bear with profound respect, as well as to my master and king himself; and you must excuse me, if I venture to disturb your calm and happy humour."

"So, so!" interrupted the count, suddenly changing his air of indifference for one of the utmost sternness. "Is that the case? Now I know what I have to expect, and shall be at your service immediately, as I promised you in the morning. But, first, I will make my candour intelligible, sir drost. If you come in harness against me, for my undisguised attachment to your exalted mistress, I shall only see established the truth of certain unintelligible rumours, which you are probably as well acquainted with as I am."

"Rumours?" rejoined the young drost, becoming fiery red: "if they are rumours that sully my own honour, or that of a more exalted personage, they are liars and slanderers who utter them, and shameless niddings who credit them."

"What respects the exalted lady who suffers most from these rumours," returned the count, with a look of fire, "I am far from believing. But, as regards you, my young high-flying gentleman, I have reason now to believe that the height to which fortune has carried you has made you somewhat giddy, and that the eagle on your crest spreads his wings so wide that they stand in need of clipping."

Drost Peter became pale with indignation, and grasped his sword.

"I might choose other means to bring you back to reflection, and to awake you from a mad and perilous dream," continued the enraged count: "you walk, with closed eyes, upon a precipice. I need only mention your name, at the proper time and place, to see you fall headlong; but I dream, in a manner, the same dream myself. I readily admit that, in me, it is a folly, leading only to a bedlam: but that is my affair. My madness is still, at least, disinterested; and I do not use it as a degrading means of soaring aloft by a woman's favour. I have not yet, like you, brought our noble mistress into evil repute, by improper familiarities before the eyes of others. As her true knight and defender, I intend now to chastise your insolence. My sword is drawn, sir drost--defend yourself!"

Like two flashing beams, the swords of both knights descended and met. They fought long, with the greatest ardour, but with about equal skill, without either being able to inflict on the other any considerable wound. After a time, Drost Peter recovered his self-possession, and his blows did not fall so fast, but were better directed. On the other hand, Count Gerhard's arm and shoulder bled; and, becoming furious, he struck so wildly about him, in all directions, that the most skilful swordsman could not reckon on parrying all his blows. Drost Peter was already bleeding from several wounds, and his strength began to fail him; but now his infuriated antagonist, meaning to inflict a mortal wound in his neck, laid himself entirely open. The wounded knight dexterously availed himself of this critical moment, and suddenly disarmed the count, at the same time wounding him deeply in the breast, when Gerhard fell back on his horse, and the sword dropped from his hand. Scarcely had the decisive stroke been given, ere Drost Peter, springing from his horse, came to his antagonist's assistance; but, before he could reach him, the count sank, fainting, from the saddle.

Like a practised chirurgeon, Drost Peter immediately sought for the wound, and found it deep, but not mortal. He took the necessary bandages, and a healing salve, which he usually carried at his saddle-bow, and, when the count again opened his eyes, he found himself bound up most carefully. His rage had disappeared, and his countenance again assumed its gay good humour.

"It was, in truth, a warm tussle, that had not much fun in it," he said. "I have besmeared you vilely, drost. Your wounds bleed freely, and yet you have bound mine first. That is more than I could have expected from a rival. Suffer me now to do you a similar service: or can you do it yourself? I am a bad hand at it." He would have risen, but fell back with faintness.

"Your wound is tolerably deep, but not dangerous, noble count," said Drost Peter: "when you have somewhat recovered your strength, I shall assist you to your saddle. I think, indeed, we may reach Nyborg, if we travel gently. You have so hacked and hewed me, right and left, contrary to all rule, that I shall have enough to do to patch all the slits. But they are nothing to signify. The chink in the neck incommodes me the most: I believe you had a special wish to behead me."

"Naturally enough," replied the count; "unless, indeed, the head had not supplanted me with the fair lady, in whose honour we shall now present ourselves, like live hashed-meat, at the Dane-court. I have not, however, cut you so deep in the neck, but that your head can sit steadily. And, now that I think of it, it was but an absurd, confounded rumour we quarrelled about. You have hewed me altogether so bravely, that I cannot longer believe any ill of you."

Drost Peter had, in the meantime, bound a linen cloth about his bleeding neck, and, for this purpose, had been obliged to unloose the ruby rosary to which the amber bead was attached. With a quiet smile, he held out the trinket to his wounded antagonist.

"In my own justification, I shall inform you, excellent Count Gerhard, that this pearl is a love-token from my future wife. I have not seen her, indeed, since she played with dolls, and I myself rode a cock-horse; but still she is my destined bride: I promised this, with childish thoughtlessness, to my dying father. She now only presents herself to my mind as an innocent, angelic child--a half-forgotten vision. Perhaps I shall not be able to love her when I again see her. Nevertheless, to none other shall I give my hand; and, by my knightly honour, I am not conscious of any faithlessness to her. What I feel towards our common exalted mistress is only admiration and chivalrous respect, which neither love nor hate shall deprive me of."

"Here is my hand!" exclaimed Count Gerhard, heartily. "We two are trusty friends in life and in death. He who, from this day forward, says an evil word of Drost Peter Hessel, shall have his nose and ears hacked off by me, as sure as my name is Count Gerhard."

Drost Peter heartily reciprocated his warm grasp, and assisted him upon his horse. He then sprang quickly into his own saddle, and, with friendly interchange of confidence, the wounded knights leisurely continued their journey.

It was late in the evening as they approached Nyborg. They were riding northward, between Helletoft and Sprotoft, where the road leads to the town, which, however, could not yet be seen, on account of the great wood of oak and beech which concealed it from the land side. It was a fine, clear, spring evening. The waning moon had just risen, and lighted up the knotted oaks, with their still naked branches; while the newly-blossomed beeches formed, as it were, over the travellers, the arches of a peaceful temple. The warm combat and its consequences, as well as the friendly relations that had since been established between the knights, rendered them thoughtful, and they now rode in silence through the wood, busied, seemingly, with their own reflections, while, from the adjacent copse, the thrilling notes of the nightingale fell upon their ears.

"But how far are we now from the town? I thought we had been in its vicinity," said Count Gerhard, at length, a little impatiently, under the smarting of his wound. "Another time, perhaps, you may put a better edge upon your sword, Drost Peter: it will tear the flesh less, and go a little deeper. I cannot bear to be scratched to death."

"Had it gone a finger's-breadth deeper, noble count, we had not heard the nightingales together this evening," replied Drost Peter. "But, God and our lady be praised! there is no danger, and the wound will not trouble you long, if you be only a little careful. I know my salve: it is from Henrik Harpestræng's prescription."

"May your words prove true," returned the count. "He certainly spread the plaster for Waldemar Seier's eye. But how shall I manage in this plight?" he continued, somewhat annoyed: "I shall not be able to show myself at the palace in this figure, like a ruffled cock, and I am not much acquainted with the town. Is there an ordinary inn?"

"Of inns there is no lack, noble sir. Since the Dane-court has been held here so frequently, the little town has been wonderfully extended. But, since you cannot go wounded to the palace, to frighten all the queen's fair maids, accept of a lodging and attendance with me."

"With you, drost bachelor? When, then, did you turn citizen, and become a Nyborg housekeeper?"

"Last year, if you will, though on a small scale. In my position, you know, I have scarcely a home anywhere. My ancestral seat, at Harrestrup, I rare see once a year. When the court is at Rypen, I reside with the prince in the palace; but that is seldom long. When here, I lodge alone. The palace can scarcely accommodate the numerous princely lords who here assemble for the Dane-court. I have, therefore, followed the example of the last drost, and, like Knight John, built for myself a good stone house, by the Nordre-Dam. There, I am near the court and palace, in the midst of the counsellors and king's tenants, and yet my own master."

"Ay, that is well. I am your guest, then, without farther ceremony. And since, after the good old fashion, you understand how to heal as well as how to break the skin, it could not have happened better."

"It is certainly the last time this hand shall perform such a piece of surgery on you," replied Drost Peter, holding out a friendly hand to his companion. "Meantime, you must accept of a bachelor's accommodation. I am not much versed in housekeeping; but my old foster-mother, Dorothy, is well skilled in it. I intended, previously, to be your host to-night, and my squire has taken care to provide an entertainment."

"A goblet of potent wine," said the count, "is needful after such a bloodletting."

"That is not exactly in accordance with old Master Henrik's receipt-book; but, still, with your strong constitution, I think you may venture it."

"A fig for your receipt-book and old Master Henrik! He was only a clerk: what should he understand of the constitution of a count of Holstein? Wine I can bear, were I even lying in extreme unction, like my blessed father--God rest his soul! I shall not die, as long as I can swallow a good draught of wine, nor shall a heart-sore of any kind ever overcome me. There are not, indeed, many people who get fat upon unfortunate love," he added, with a light sigh; "but still, with wine and a jester, one may succeed. I may not be able to boast of my success in love, yet, as you may perceive, I am in good condition."

"You still sorrow, then, over the death of your young wife," said Drost Peter, sympathisingly; "that I could well see."

"Sorrow! Who dares to say that I sorrow?" interrupted the count. "When any one grieves at my court, I give my fool permission to bang him with cats'-tails. Now, since you are my trusty friend," he continued, "I shall tell you how matters stand with me. Had I seen the Danish queen before last year, I had still been a bachelor perhaps, not a widower--and I had never wooed a Swedish princess. It is accursed state policy that makes almost every prince a fool; but I had the reward I merited. The princess found the Holstein count too poor to live with, and so she died; and all the honour I have gained is that of being son-in-law to a fool of an ex-king, whom any Danish knight could tear into shreds, and who is now running about from land to land, like a madman, along with a bastard woman."

For some time they rode along in silence.

"No one can have great respect for your unfortunate father-in-law," said Drost Peter, thoughtfully, as he dwelt, in imagination, on the Swedish King Waldemar's dethronement. "He did no honour to his great name, it is true; but, still, he was king of Sweden, by law and right. To me, it is a sad thought, that the unfortunate example has been set to other nations, of a crowned and anointed king being so overthrown. It was one of our proud Stig Andersen's doings; and therein he exceeded the king's mandate and authority. The Swedish people will not better themselves by the bargain: for a weak and sensual, but a good-natured, and, at times, even a devout king, they have taken a strong and prudent, but a fierce and sanguinary tyrant. For the despised log, they have taken a hydra. King Magnus has now taught them, with his headsman's axe, that no Swedish knight carries his head so high, that he may not strike it off."

"An able king is the Swedish Magnus--that you must, nevertheless, admit," replied the count. "I do not boast of him because he is my brother-in-law; but this I know, that he is not called Magnus, or Ladislaus, in vain. If he does, at times, strike off the heads of some of the haughty great ones, still the small have reason to extol him: he has put locks upon their doors in earnest, and suffers not petty tyrants to rule where he sways the sceptre."

"There you are right, Count Gerhard. He thinks that one great tyrant is quite enough for Sweden, and, with your and Queen Hedwig's permission, that he himself should be the man. Matters are not yet come to this extremity in Denmark, however bad they may be; but if Stig Andersen and his friends were at liberty to dethrone and set up kings at their pleasure, you would soon see in what a sea of blood we should swim."

With such conversation, they arrived at the town-gate, where they were stopped by an armed burgher, who, in the governor's name, sternly, demanded, who they were, and whither they were going. As soon as Drost Peter had announced his own name and that of Count Gerhard of Holstein, the stern officer made a profound bow, but still reminded the distinguished travellers of the seventh article in the civic law of Nyborg.

"Good," replied the drost: "it is right to remind us thereof." And they rode on without hindrance.

"They must be very strict here," said the count, "when the drost himself must be reminded of the law. What have their tiresome bye-laws to do with us?"

"It was in his orders," answered Drost Peter. "No stranger must here carry his weapon farther than to his inn; and every traveller must be apprised of this. The presence of the king, and of the numerous strangers, render such a precaution necessary. Of what use are strict laws, unless they are enforced? The man did not know me; but he knew that I do not suffer myself to be made an exception in these matters."

"The plague! Are we prisoners of war here, in the midst of peace? This is ridiculous!" exclaimed the count. "Is the monstrous Riben bye-law in force here? God preserve us from the Ribe-Ret! as we say in Kiel."

"Let us not talk too loud about this, noble count," replied Drost Peter, riding closer up to him, while he continued, in a subdued tone: "it is truly a great misfortune, when the law itself renders its transgression necessary. What has made the Ribe-Ret to be so decried there, has here, in part, fallen into disuse. In some points, however, the bye-laws here are too severe, and almost cruel. If it please God, in due time it shall be otherwise."

They now rode past the old Lady Kirk, which, with its lofty spire, stood in a green space, called Helletoft, where also stood several separate buildings, in the same Gothic style as the church, with pointed gables and small round windows.

"Who lives here?" inquired the count: "it looks as still and dreary as a convent."

"Here abide the clerks and vergers of Our Lady's Kirk," answered Drost Peter. "If you yearn after life and merriment, they will not be wanting here, when we pass to the palace. There are twice as many people in the town now as there are at other times, and, on such occasions, the mead and strong ale are not stinted. Fighting and disorder follow as a consequence; but these are, perhaps, looked after with greater vigilance, and punished with more severity, than is requisite. Those armed fellows you see there are the governor's people: they, too, will probably stop us."

It happened as Drost Peter had surmised: the travellers found their horses seized by six armed burghers, who demanded whether they did not know the bye-law, that they rode armed. Upon the drost's explanation, that they had just entered the town, and were riding to their dwelling, they were allowed to proceed; followed, however, by three of the strict officials, to watch their motions.

"Here the king should be secure enough," whispered the count, much annoyed. "The fellows look upon us as if they suspected a traitor in every stranger."

"Unfortunately, there is reason for it, noble count; but here we are accustomed to it. It disturbs no burgher's merriment. Hear you, now, how they are singing there, by the old stone house with the pointed gable? It is the burgher-watch of the Town-hall. Now they are drinking the king's health."

"There are not a few. Has Nyborg so many burghers?"

"These are only a third part of them. The rest are on guard at the palace. The king has not more devoted subjects. He has also done much for the town, and specially favours it. Were he not in greater security here than elsewhere, the Dane-court would be removed to some other town, and then there would be an end to Nyborg's prosperity."

They now rode past the palace. It was a strong building, of considerable extent, with four wings, built of free-stone and burnt bricks, and protected by a massive wall, a deep moat, and four lofty turrets. From the small round windows streamed the light of numerous torches, and the music of flutes and violins was audible. A promiscuous crowd was in motion outside the walls, but without much noise, and with an order and gentleness amounting almost to anxiety, whilst the armed officials went to and fro, frequently exhorting them to quietness.

"What is to be seen here?" inquired the count.

"Over the wall there may be seen the dancing in the knights' saloon," replied Drost Peter.

Count Gerhard became attentive: he observed a tall, majestic female figure flit past the middle window, and he stopped his horse.

"The queen!--see, the queen!" he heard the curious spectators whisper to one another.

"It is the duke she is dancing with," said one.

"Nay, that it is not: it is the handsome young Drost Hessel. Look, how proud he dances! Lofty thoughts he has, you may trow," exclaimed another.

"Come, noble count," said Drost Peter, hastily, "let us not get into the crowd, with our unruly horses. We are now close to my dwelling."

They rode on a little way, and stopped at a dark-looking house, where, on the high stone steps, stood a squire, bearing a torch.

"You are arrived at last, sir," cried Claus Skirmen, springing towards him with the torch. "Has any mischance befallen you? I ventured not to disobey your commands by leaving the house myself; but I have sent all the servants out in search of you."

"We have had a little encounter with a pair of hasty young knights on our way," said Drost Peter, "and my noble guest has been somewhat severely wounded. Assist him carefully from his horse. Is all in order?"

"As you have commanded, sir. But are you not also wounded? Shall I bring a surgeon?"

"That is unnecessary, so long as you and I are here. We would have no talk about the matter. Attend only to the count."

Not without wincing and sundry oaths did the wounded Count Gerhard dismount from his horse, and ascend the high stone steps, where his two knights and the lanky jester received him with sympathising attentions.

"A truce with condolences," said the count. "I am both bound and salved. Let me only get to table, and have something to live on."

Claus Skirmen went hastily forwards, and conducted the count, through an ante-room, into a spacious vaulted apartment, where stood a covered table, with tall wax-lights, and well garnished with provisions and bright silver wine-flagons.

Count Gerhard regarded these preparations with satisfaction, and immediately threw himself into a chair; and, the better to seat himself, he released his sword from its belt. As he held it in his hand, he recollected the intimation he had received at the city-gate.

"'Sdeath!" he said, "if we must behave as you say, sir drost, we must now, like prisoners of war, hand you over our weapons, since you are host."

"Now, indeed," replied Drost Peter, "it is well you recollected it; for, truth to say, I had forgotten it; and, if I had not, I should have been forced to request you to do so."

"But if now I should not obey the mandate," inquired the count, "what are the consequences?"

"If you were ignorant of the law, and by a solemn oath could pledge yourself to that effect, the penalty is only a mark-penny to the governor, and one to the town. The same penalty is inflicted on the housekeeper who does not inform his guest of the law."

"But, now that I know this stupid ordinance, and yet will not allow myself to be disarmed, what great misfortune follows?"

"Without being displeased, allow me to answer you in the words of the law itself, Count Gerhard. 'If the guest is reminded, and wears his weapon nevertheless,' it says, 'then, with the same spear, sword, or knife, shall he be run through.'"

"Oh, what a mischance! Not through the heart or gizzard?"

"Through the hand, noble count. There hangs the table of the law: you can read it yourself."

"The devil take such stupidities! There lies my sword. You do the same, gentlemen." With these words Count Gerhard cast his sword into a corner. His knights followed his example.

Drost Peter took his own sword, and placed it by the side of the others. "I must submit to the same law," he said, with a courteous bow; "and I hope, my honoured guests, that you will not think ill of me, on account of its strictness here. Be seated, gentlemen, and let us be merry."

This invitation to merriment was supported by the jester, who had already seated himself, and now arose with a look of the most grave importance. He approached Drost Peter with solemn step, and, with a deep bow, handed him his wooden sword. "Take care of that, honoured sir host," he said: "it is the famous sword Tyrfing, which cannot be unsheathed without shedding blood. Look to it, that it does no mischief in this excellent city."

Drost Peter handed him his sword back again, as a mark of honour, at which they all laughed heartily, and took their places in the heavy, high-backed oaken chairs. The articles of silver, and the costly table appointments, testified that they were in the house of a person of opulence. Of male attendants, and supple pages, there was no lack; and yet it appeared extraordinary, that the polished floor was not swept, and that the dust lay thick on the backs of the chairs, and upon the window-sills.

"Where is old Dorothy?" asked Drost Peter of the squire, whilst Count Gerhard and the strangers were engaged with the viands. "She was wont to keep the house as bright as a shield."

"Alas, that is true, sir," answered Skirmen; "but poor Dorothy Brushbroom has gone quite crazy. She took a little bit of lead from a window of Our Lady's Kirk, to cure a girl who was bewitched. She has been thrown into the thieves' hole, and, it is said, will be sentenced to-morrow."

"God pity her!" exclaimed Drost Peter, warmly, rising from the table. "The unfortunate creature!"

"What is the matter, my worthy host?" inquired Count Gerhard. "Has anything disastrous happened in the house? With wife and child I know you are not embarrassed. What household sorrow, then, can thus trouble a bachelor?"

"A greater affliction than any one trows," answered Drost Peter. "I have an old trusty nurse: she has loved and been with me since I was quite a child. She is a true affectionate soul, who would readily die for me. She is the best wife in the world, and has kept house for me with the greatest order and trustworthiness; but her head is filled with stories of goblins, witches, and dwarfs; and, as soon as any one is taken ill, she believes, in the simplicity of her heart, that they have seen the elfin-king, or have been bewitched by Nixes, and then will she have a remedy of holy church lead, or such-like singular means. Now she is taken and imprisoned for a bit of metal that cannot be worth a doit. The poor creature!"

Some of the gentlemen smiled, and the jester made one of his droll faces.

"Now, what great misfortune is there in this?" inquired Count Gerhard. "The bit of lead you can outweigh with a silver penny. The old soul will be released in a day or two, and, in the meantime, another may sweep your floor."

"It is death to her, Count Gerhard, even if it had not happened in the church. You are not aware of the laws of Nyborg. Every man who is guilty of theft is hanged; but a woman is buried alive."

"And are you all mad, then?" demanded Count Gerhard. "Shall a woman be thus inhumanly punished? Is the crime more atrocious in her than in a man? You jest, sir drost."

"If you do not believe me, noble sir, read for yourself. There are the bye-laws affixed to the door-post. Read but the twenty-ninth article, and you will see that, unfortunately, I am not jesting."

"Read it, Longlegs!" cried out the count to his jester: "I have some difficulty in rising; and, truly, such confounded laws are not worth rising for."

"The twenty-ninth article," commenced the jester, taking up a candle, which threw a light upon the large table of laws on the door-post. "Here I have it. Give ear, my masters: it is the golden word of justice, and a sufficient reason is alleged." He then began to read, in a grave judicial manner: "'_What woman soever shall be guilty of theft, and deserves to be hanged, with the stolen goods by her side, shall, for her womanly honour's sake, be buried alive_.' Now, in truth, this is an honour that one takes straightways with him to eternity. It is no transient honour, my masters; and, therefore, it has been reserved for the fair and more fortunate sex."

"Are you, then, insane?" exclaimed the count. "What honour is there in being buried alive?"

"Where is your wisdom, my wellborn sir?" replied the jester: "for a woman, it is manifestly a far more honourable and becoming way of dying, than if she were to be hanged, like a man--like a male thief, on a gallows. Think of the scandal it would occasion her father confessor."

"It is, nevertheless, a madness," exclaimed the count. "Is it out of mere strait-laced modesty that they are so cruel here? May the foul fiend take all clerks and hang-the-heads who give out such laws and regulations! Are you alike scrupulous, Drost Peter? And will you suffer your good old nurse to be buried alive, merely that your wise king's law may not be transgressed?"

"She shall--she must be saved!" exclaimed the young drost, who had hitherto stood silent and thoughtful, with his hand on the document in his breast. "Excuse me, gentlemen: I must to the king." With these words, he left the room.

The seriousness which this circumstance had for a moment called forth was soon dispelled by the efforts of the jester, who, with comic gravity, began a legal discourse on the stern Ribe-Ret, wherein he dwelt more particularly on a certain notorious and scandalous punishment, setting it forth circumstantially, and not exactly in the most becoming manner. He concluded with the well-known Jutlandic joke: "Thank God you are out of the way of the Ribe-Ret, my child; as the old woman said when she saw her son hanging on the gibbet."

Count Gerhard laughed till his eyes ran over, and screamed with pain from the wound in his breast, which his violent laughter had caused to open. He became suddenly pale, and fell back on his chair, without consciousness.

The greatest grief and trouble took the place of the previous mirthfulness. Message after message was dispatched for the surgeon and physician, and all present were seriously alarmed for the count's life. He was carried to bed, and Claus Skirmen undertook, in his master's absence, to tighten the bandages, and stanch the bleeding with wine.

Half an hour passed away: the count still lay insensible, and no physician had arrived. The knights were impatient, and the lanky jester behaved like one out of his wits. He tore his hair, and accused himself of having killed his master with his accursed jokes. The door at length opened, and Drost Peter hurried in. He had been already advised of the critical condition of his guest, and had hastened to his aid. He found the wound properly bound up by his expert squire and pupil. By means of a burnt feather, he at length succeeded in restoring the count to a state of consciousness; and, as soon as he had opened his eyes, the drost's mind was at ease, and he declared him out of danger. For the greater satisfaction of the stranger knights, and of his afflicted, inconsolable jester, Drost Peter sent his squire to the palace, to bring the king's surgeon. In the meanwhile, he desired that they should all leave the apartment, and remained alone with the sick man.

As soon as Count Gerhard had completely recovered his senses, and saw Drost Peter by his bed, he held forth his hand, and nodded. "It was the fault of your cursed Ribe-Ret," he said; "but I must not think more about it, or I shall laugh myself ill again."

"This is not right: you talk too much," said the knightly leech, examining his pulse with satisfaction.

"Ay, but it is right. Although you did not exactly dub me a knight today, you certainly did not dub me a speechless animal. But how got you on with the king and the carlin? Is she to be hanged, or buried alive for her womanly honour's sake?" He was on the point of renewing his laughter, but repressed his desire on feeling the smart of his wound.

"God be praised, she is saved this time!" said Drost Peter; "but with some difficulty: the king was not to be spoken with."

"Then you took her out of prison yourself? That was settling the matter in the right way."

"Nay, Count Gerhard. Rather than I should have dealt so contumaciously with the laws, the unfortunate woman had been left to her fate."

"What the deuce have you done, then?"

"I went to the queen--"

"Aha! I can understand. Happy knight! But why did you not allow me to crave a boon for the poor old creature? I have still a heart in my body, I know; and I should not have risen from the queen's feet, nor taken her hand from my burning lips, till the carlin had been saved, even had it been till gray in the morning."

"You talk too much for your wound, noble count; and you think on matters that do not tend to calm your blood. I shall now send my liberated nurse to watch over you; and, if you must still talk enthusiastically of beauty, talk so, in God's name, only before her: and sleep well."

So saying, Drost Peter left his merry, sick guest, and immediately afterwards a wrinkled old woman hobbled into the apartment, and sat down by the count's pillow; but he closed his eyes in vexation, and would not notice her.

It was midnight, and Drost Peter walked restlessly up and down his chamber. He had reassured his knightly guests, and left them to repose. But the royal surgeon had not arrived, and the jester would not believe that his master was out of danger. In a closet, by the side of the count's bed-chamber, sat the grave joker, listening at the door, to be at hand at the slightest disturbance he might hear. Drost Peter could not think of going to sleep. He was not, indeed, alarmed for his wounded guest, but still wished to be ready, at any moment, to go to his aid, should he be called by the nurse. His thoughts, besides, were in a tumult, that forbade him to think of repose. His adventure with Henner Friser and little Aasé, and his strong suspicion of the king's participation in the affair, disquieted him. The crafty Chamberlain Rané's escape, and the revenge he might, with reason, apprehend from this royal favourite, ran likewise in his thoughts. Deep suspicions of a conspiracy, of which he had in vain endeavoured to apprise the king, appeared to him now, in the night's loneliness, of greater importance, the more he dwelt upon it. His strife with Count Gerhard, and its occasion, also caused him the greatest uneasiness. The report, so injurious to his own and the queen's honour, which he had first learnt upon this occasion, troubled him more particularly; and he examined with scrupulous care the whole of the last year of his life, from the day he first held conversation with Queen Agnes, at Helsingborg tournament. He could not deny that her beauty and noble feminine graces, as well as her bold and resolute character, exercised a wonderful power over him. He owed, undeniably, to the queen's favour, his rapid rise from a simple knight to be drost of the kingdom; and, though it vexed him much, that he should, in consequence, be blamed as a fortunate adventurer, who had been raised to eminence through a woman's favour, these usual whisperings of envy were not of a nature to drown the voice of bold self-consciousness in his bosom. He was himself fully assured that he was perfectly competent for the high situation he filled, and that the royal house had not a more efficient servant in these dangerous times. Besides, his important vocation as tutor to the young Prince Erik, and as his master in the use of arms, gave to his life an activity, and a degree of importance both to himself and to the kingdom, that he could not regard without a degree of pride; and he entertained a confident expectation that, indirectly, the whole fate of a coming generation, and of Denmark, was in his hands. He stood on a lofty but dangerous eminence, near a tottering throne, and must take heed that he did not become giddy and fall. It was only necessary for some malicious foe to whisper in the king's ear what rumour said concerning the drost and Queen Agnes, to see him carried, within four and twenty hours, a prisoner for life, to the dungeons of Sjöberg, or, indeed, without law or trial, to the rack and wheel.

While these and similar distracting thoughts occupied his mind, a loud knocking was heard at the entrance of the apartment. He started involuntarily, but recovered himself, and opened the door. Astonished, he beheld his young squire, Claus Skirmen, standing, pale and breathless, on the threshold, with a parchment roll and two swords in his hands.

"What is this? What want you so late with me?" demanded the drost, hastily. "You are pale: has anything happened amiss? Say, youth, what is it?"

"Read, sir--read, and take your sword!" replied the squire, handing him the parchment and one of the swords.

He hastily seized both, and, going to the light, he turned pale on recognising the Gothic characters, and the king's well-known seal and signature.

"Deposed!" he said; "and not only so--condemned to secret imprisonment, without law or justice; and this to be carried into execution before the Dane-court commences! How came this unfortunate document into your hands, Skirmen? It is a royal private warrant. Carry it back, or it may cost thy life."

"It concerns your life still more, sir. When you are safe in prison, you are to be secretly murdered. I know it all: I have heard it with my own ears."

"Are you mad? Is it possible? Rané, then--"

"Right, sir. Chamberlain Rané procured this prison-warrant; the rest was hatched by himself and his good friends. He sat triumphantly, with this letter in his hand, in a company of topers at the palace, along with Duke Waldemar, Master Grand, Count Jacob, and all the gay company with whom we crossed the Belt. I was inquiring, by your command, for the king's own surgeon for Count Gerhard, when I was directed to the western wing of the palace. I had to go along the dark passage that leads to the duke's apartments. The door stood ajar, with only a tapestry hanging before it. I heard your name mentioned: I concealed myself behind the tapestry, and--"

"And you listened: come, out with it! Fair and honourable it was not altogether. And so you heard--"

"What I have told you, sir. Not, indeed, in clear and distinct words; but, by putting one with the other, I could plainly guess their meaning. You must be got rid of, it was said, and in such a way as that you could not come to light again, in case the king's humour should change. Above all, you are not to receive the least intimation of this, nor to be allowed to have any conversation with the king; and tomorrow betimes, or even to-night, you are to be seized, and secretly imprisoned."