Chapter VII: Part I (6)

"St. Gertrude and all saints save us!" she cried, "here he comes!"

"Who?" growled the count: "has Satan got you, carlin? Who is it?"

"If you are not asleep, noble count," said Drost Peter, entering, "I shall merely wish you a speedy recovery, and bid you farewell. I must travel tonight, and have fortified myself against the night air."

"Ah, my gracious young master, it is you!" cried Dorothy. "I thought, by the Lord's truth, it was the gray nix with the red cap, who had changed himself into a handsome young gentleman to make a fool of me."

"Your nurse is crazy, and is well nigh making me crazy too," said Count Gerhard, recognising Drost Peter, and extending his hand. "You are for travelling--and I lying here. Well, then, set out in God's name. I require nothing, as you may see, and have entertaining company. But were you at the palace entertainment? How gets it on? With whom does the queen dance?"

"With dukes and princes of the blood. She inquired after you, and bade me inform you that she is concerned for your mischance. Leave us for a moment, Dorothy."

Dorothy left the room, casting back a look of curiosity, and allowing the door to stand ajar. Drost Peter, who knew her failing, closed the door, and took a chair by the count's pillow.

"Did she really inquire after me?" asked the count. "There is nothing of the nix in your nature, my good friend; therefore you cannot see whether I am one of your nurse's vain gallants, who have a fancy for dancing with a bundle of straw."

Drost Peter looked at him with surprise, and thought he was delirious.

"It is nonsense--stupid nursery jargon, I know very well," continued the count. "But as I have nothing to do but lie here and dream, it almost crazes me. But let that pass. What said you concerning the queen?"

"She has been inaccurately informed of the occasion of our dispute," replied Drost Peter. "I have not mentioned the circumstance to any one; so that you must yourself--"

"Only in confidence, to my dear Longlegs, and then in a highly figurative manner. But what said she to that?"

"It is the queen's wish that nothing more be said about the matter," continued Drost Peter. "She no longer permits any knight to wear her colours, and, as you may perceive, my red rosette is gone."

"I have nothing to say against that," exclaimed the count, with undisguised pleasure: "it did not well become you. You are about to travel, then, and do not accompany the court?"

"Not at present. But, before taking my departure, a serious word, in confidence. I know well that you cannot be greatly attached to the royal house of Denmark, and you may greatly disapprove of what has taken place here; but you hate all knavery, and mean well and honourably with everybody.

"Good: on that point you may rest satisfied. But if you require me to show you as much by deeds, say on."

"These are bewildering and deceiving times, noble Count Gerhard, and even the best are liable to be misled. The king's friends are few, and I dare not reckon you among them. Has enemies are numerous and powerful; but the noble Queen Agnes is not less prized in your eyes than in mine. Promise me, for her sake, however much you may condemn the measures of the Danish government, that you will not enter into any secret league against the crown and kingdom; but, like a faithful vassal, make common cause with me, to preserve the legitimate order of affairs in Denmark."

"I have not, as yet, had the least thought of doing mischief," replied the count, smiling; "and, seeing the condition in which I now am, have you not taken care that I shall not be a dangerous neighbour in a hurry? I am, to speak frankly, no great admirer either of your policy or your king, and should have nothing to complain of if there happened a regular insurrection, like that which he himself supported in Sweden. It gave people something to do, and one had not time to lie dreaming about nixes and enchanted princesses. But you are right: for the queen's sake alone, it were a sin and a shame to desire an insurrection. I am well aware that the great men and vassals are dissatisfied; but I have hitherto kept myself aloof, and I will not belong to their councils, if they have not reference to an open and orderly feud, which, besides, is both just and lawful in itself."

"More than this I cannot desire, noble count. Give me your knightly hand upon it."

"There it is. I have no objection to people fighting, when they cannot agree; but with conspiracies and mutinies I shall have nothing to do: you have my word for it."

"That word is worth more to me than the most formal treaty," replied Drost Peter, pressing his hand with glad confidence. "Farewell, now, noble count, and a speedy recovery. Make my house your home as long as you please, and bear me in friendly remembrance, in whatever way fickle fortune may be disposed to play ball with me. However much we may differ on many points, on one we are agreed. The illustrious fair one who, against her wish, brought us to contend against each other, shall hereafter, like a spirit of peace and reconciliation, unite our hands and hearts in that gloomy warfare wherein friends and foes know not each other. God be with you! Farewell."

So saying, he once more ardently pressed the count's hand, and hastily left him. The count nodded, and fell into deep thought.

Old Dorothy shortly afterwards again hobbled into the apartment, and took her master's place by the count's bed; but finding him so completely abstracted, she did not venture again to disturb him with more adventures.

* * *

It was two hours after midnight. The streets of Nyborg were still and deserted. There was no moon in the heavens; but the sky was clear, and, in the faint starlight, two tall individuals, wrapped in hooded cloaks, issued from the outer gates of the palace. They walked silently and hastily towards the quay.

Immediately afterwards, two horsemen, in gray cloaks, rode out of the palace-gate, and speedily disappeared in the same direction, without the slightest noise, as if their horses were shod with list.

At the extremity of the quay lay a skiff, with red sails, upon which a number of silent figures were in motion. The quay was quiet and solitary. At length, a few rapid footsteps and the clank of spurs were heard, and, under the outer plank of the bulwark, a little, peeping, curly head concealed itself. The two tall persons in hooded cloaks now paused: one of them coughed, and, in a subdued voice, pronounced a name or pass-word, which was answered from the ship by a whistle; upon which they went on board. In a moment the red sails were set. A steady breeze blew from the south-west, and the skiff passed rapidly by the eastern point, out of the haven.

As soon as the vessel was in motion, the little black curly head of the spy once more appeared from beneath the bulwark. At one bound, Claus Skirmen stood in a boat, and, with a few hasty strokes of the oars, came alongside a small yacht lying in the inner part of the haven, and in which his master and Sir Thorstenson already expected him. Scarcely had the red-sailed skiff passed Canute's Head, the extreme eastern point of coast, before the smaller and quicker yacht ran out from Nyborg haven. It bore away, at first with some difficulty, as near as possible to the wood-covered west coast of the firth, to avoid drifting too far northwards, and to be able to steer in a direct line south of Sporgoe, towards Zealand.

Drost Peter seated himself silently by the rudder, and looked grave. Sir Thorstenson and Skirmen also preserved a deep silence; and, during the whole passage, the usual and necessary words of command to the boatmen only were heard. The skiff with the red sails had just disappeared from sight, and was steering to the north of Sporgoe. As the morning dawned, they were close by Korsöer. Drost Peter gazed incessantly, and somewhat uneasily, towards the north. At length he caught a glimpse of the red sail, and saw that the strange skiff was bearing down the Belt. He now ordered the yacht to be run in to Korsöer harbour.

The two knights landed unrecognised. They stood in their gray cloaks, like travelling merchants, and silently bowed before a large crucifix, which, surrounded by a gilt circle or halo, stood on the quay-head. Skirmen hastily brought the horses on shore; and, in an instant, the knights had mounted them, and the squire leaped on his hardy norback, when, without delay, the three horsemen proceeded through the slumbering town. Over almost every door there stood a cross, in a ring, as upon the quay. This holy symbol, at once the ancient arms of the town and the origin of its name, was not wanting on any craftsman's sign. Although there was not awaking soul to be seen in the place, the knights saluted almost every second house, mindful, even in their haste, of this customary token of reverence. They rode through the town-gate, and along the frith to the left or northwards, where the road wound near Tornborg. In the wood, close by Tornborg, they ceased their hard gallop, and allowed their horses to breathe.

Now, for the first time, Drost Peter broke the long silence. "You are perfectly sure it was them, Skirmen?" he said to his squire.

"As sure as I am that it is yourself and Sir Thorstenson who are riding here," replied the squire. "The duke and his drost stood on the beam right over my head, at the quay, and I could count every soul on board the skiff."

"How many were there, then?"

"I counted nine and twenty, including soldiers and boatmen. They looked a most atrocious pack of rievers. One could hardly see their faces, for their black and red beards; and those who did not sit on the rowing-benches, had large knives in their girdles, and battle-axes in their hands. He who whistled appeared the worst of them all: he was a huge, sturdy fellow, with a face like a bear. I could only see him indistinctly, on account of the red sail that flapped about his ears; but I dare stake my head that it was no one else than Niels Breakpeace himself, the captain of the Jutland rievers, who escaped from us last year."

"Niels Breakpeace!" repeated both knights, in astonishment. "But was not the vessel Norwegian, then?" inquired Drost Peter.

"The boatmen were Norsemen, sir--audacious-looking fellows, with large cleavers and shaggy caps. He who sat by the rudder was also a Norseman--a little sturdy fellow, dressed like a knight, with a gilded dagger-hilt in his belt. They called him Count Alf."

"The algrev--Mindre-Alf!" exclaimed both knights, regarding each other with renewed astonishment; while Sir Thorstenson, repeating the name, became pale with indignation, and grasped the hilt of his sword in his powerful hand.

"Stand!" he exclaimed, stopping his horse: "could I but break the algrev's neck, I would give half my life for it. But who has said they are coming in this direction?"

Drost Peter held the skirt of his cloak to the wind. "Do you see?" he said: "the wind has gone round to the north. They must have already landed on the coast here. That they will to Sweden, we know very well; and that they were steering down the Belt, we saw. They will certainly land either here or at Skjelskjoer, to cross the Sound by Orekrog. If we are rightly informed, the duke must first to Zealand; he and the marsk have powerful friends here."

"They will certainly not land at Skjelskjoer," said Thorstenson; "the algrev was too well known there last year."

"We shall soon see them here, then," said Drost Peter. "These Norse vikings[15] will hardly venture far from the vessel. The duke will also bethink him well of passing through the country openly, with a gang of rievers at his heels. He will scarcely come with a large train; but, in any case, we can surprise the whole band, if requisite."

"That we can, with half a score of Sir Rimaardson's coast-jagers," said Thorstenson. "Yonder lies Tornborg. I think we should take our post by the road here, and send your squire to the castle."

Drost Peter nodded assent, and immediately dispatched Claus Skirmen to Tornborg with a verbal message; whilst he and Sir Thorstenson, leaving the horses to graze in a little green spot in the wood, close to the road, ascended an eminence, from which they had an extensive view over the Belt. From this spot they saw the red sail of the freebooter, under a woody shelter, near the coast, and were now satisfied that they were upon the right track.

Tornborg lay scarcely three hundred yards from the eminence where the knights stood. The nimble Skirmen was soon back, and brought intelligence that Sir Rimaardson had gone out hunting for the day, and would not return home before evening.

"We must assist ourselves, then, as we best can," said Drost Peter. "We can stay here until the duke has passed. Although every royal castellan will stand by us, yet the fewer we are the better: we must avoid publicity."

"But, should the pirates impede our progress, we must cut our way through the pack," remarked Thorstenson. "I take upon me to crack the algrev's neck, and perhaps those of a couple of his scoundrels. Yet, however, we are only two-men-and-a-half strong."

"You may safely reckon us as three whole men, and a little more, stern sir knight," said Skirmen, strutting bravely: "what I want in length, I can make up for, perhaps, in another shape. At any rate, you and my master alone may well pass for three doughty men."

"No bragging, Skirmen," said Drost Peter, interrupting his squire. "Off now, and get under the stone trough, by the roadside yonder, and bring us word, as soon as you see them. They cannot do otherwise than cross the brook."

Skirmen leapt from his norback, and left it to graze in the wood. He then ran to the post indicated, and the two knights took their seats on the hillock.

"Ah, could we only catch the algrev!" broke out Sir Thorstenson, vehemently.

"That is a matter of secondary importance, my noble knight," observed Drost Peter. "In our anxiety to secure a freebooter, let us not forget the far more important object for which we are here."

"You are right," said Thorstenson: "in thinking of the infernal viking, I had almost forgotten everything else. Respecting the duke, it is rather a dangerous undertaking. If we allow him to cross the Sound, we may chance to have him in our power; but, if it so happen, it is then extremely doubtful whether we are not doing exactly that which the king and the friends of the country would prevent. Think you not that such apparent violence, towards so powerful a vassal, would give a vent for the general dissatisfaction, and arm every traitor in the country?"

"It is a hazardous but necessary step," replied Drost Peter; "and, after what we have now seen, is nowise unjust. Besides, if this exalted personage is in league with the country's open enemies, and even with outlawed criminals, like Niels Breakpeace, we should be quite justified were we to seize him on the spot. Were that possible, we shall not exceed our authority one single step."

"Could we but lay hold of the algrev at the same time, it would not so much matter," began Sir Thorstenson, after a pause, his eyes flashing with passion. "Since the cursed sea-hound is so saucy as to risk himself on land, before our very eyes, I can scarcely refrain from giving him chase, even before we deal with the other. It were shame and a scandal should the notorious algrev be permitted to pass through Zealand, instead of being hanged on a gallows by the way. There is scarcely a sea-town in Denmark that he has not plundered: he has committed more atrocities in the world than he has hairs on his curly head."

"Do you know anything of him beyond report?" inquired Drost Peter. "Craft and courage he should not lack."

"I know him better than any clerk or bishop knows the foul fiend," replied the enraged knight. "He passes for a hero and a great man, both in Norway and Sweden; but here he passes, with good reason, for a vile sea-rover, an incendiary, and a ravisher. And yet such a fellow brags of his princely descent, and scorns an honest and irreproachable knight! Know you not that it is he who, with Justice Algot of West Gothland, and his powerful sons, is guardian to Prince Svantopolk's daughter, and the cause of all my misfortunes?"

"I know you speak reluctantly about this affair, my noble knight. You were inclined towards the prince's fair daughter, and she gave you her troth against her kinsman's wish; but, as far as I am aware, it was not the algrev, but Justice Algot's son, who carried off the Lady Ingrid."

"It was by the algrev's help, then; and not at all from true affection, but from pride and a love of rapine. The whole of this haughty race are in conspiracy against us. Chancellor Peter and Bishop Brynjalf of Sweden wished to force her into a convent; but the algrev would give her to Sir Algotson, that half her fief and estates might remain in his riever claws. My only hope now is in the bold Swedish king, and in seeing this algrev on a gibbet."

"But, my dear, brave Thorstenson, do not you make too large claims on kings and princes, when you set your eyes so seriously on a prince's daughter?"

"I am as doughty and wellborn a knight as Algotson," replied Thorstenson: "but, were I even the meanest scullion, and loved an emperor's daughter, by Him who lives above! I would show the world I was worthy of her, and lay my life on winning her, spite of the world and all its rulers."

"You cannot, however, entirely despise the limits that birth and station oppose to our wishes," continued Drost Peter, with friendly interest. "However highly you may esteem a free and independent nature, my valiant friend, you must still admit, that there is something higher and greater than in blindly following its instincts to happiness. You cannot be ignorant of the great law of self-denial: that law, the powerful ones of the earth ought most of all to obey. Those who stand nearest to kings, part with heart and fortune, my friend; yea, the heart must be silent, where a higher voice speaks."

"The fiend take your higher voice and law of self-denial!" replied Thorstenson. "That law may do for reigning princes. They are bred and born to be the victims of state policy, and of their people. For that, they bear the crown and sceptre; for that, they rule over us, and hide their miseries in purple; but free, noble-born knights cannot recognise a necessity at variance with the ordinances of God and of nature. I well know what has possessed you with this fancy, my brave friend: it is respect for a deceased father's last foolishness. Such respect is, no doubt, very proper; but the usurpations of fathers and kinsmen over our childhood can never constitute a sacred obligation to sacrifice our own freedom and happiness, and stifle the best feelings of our nature. You may be glad that your foolish juvenile betrothment is at an end; it now behoves you no longer to befool yourself with fancies."

"I was not thinking of myself at the moment," replied Drost Peter, with calm animation, lying back on the green height, his clear blue eye resting on the deep vault of the spring-heaven over his head. "I was thinking of our young heir to the throne, and the little Princess Ingeborg of Sweden. They are already, one may say, bride and bridegroom, although they are yet both children. They played together at that tourney festival where the proud Ingrid gave you her troth, and you, with grave self-confidence, believed you could determine your fortune. It was to me a wonderful thought, when I saw the children playing together, that I knew what neither of them yet could dream of--that these two innocent beings were already secretly destined for one another, and chosen to become the bond of union between two kingdoms and people. It did not in any manner move me: it occurred to me, not as an audacious interference with the designs of Providence by a cold, calculating state policy, or as an unnatural usurpation, as you term it, by short-sighted men; it appeared to me as a mysterious carrying out of God's will, and as if these children had been destined for each other before any of the individuals were in being by whose plans and counsels it should be accomplished. I will not defend these views: I know you will call them fanatical, or even superstitious and foolish; but in the same manner has my own dim destination hitherto come before my eyes. This fanaticism, as you may readily term it, has, thanks to God! preserved me from a bewilderment of heart, that might have driven me mad, or, what were worse, have lost me my peace of mind, here and hereafter."

"I believe I guess what you mean, my brave friend," said Sir Thorstenson, heartily shaking his hand. "I will not enter into argument with your pious fancies. Your heart has the least share in your aristocratic bigotry; for, fortunately, your fancies have juggled the heart into a slumber. But ask not that I should regard, in the same calm manner, the dull obstacles to my happiness as a wise ordination. I esteem you fortunate that you really do not experience that vehemence of passion you seem to dread, and which would destroy your world of fancy, quick as a stormblast destroys the glittering cobweb."

"All hearts are not alike," replied Drost Peter; and his manly voice trembled, from a deep, suppressed feeling. "When it boils and tosses in you, as in the mighty ocean, in my soul it burns deep and still. If, then, I could not fix my eye on the great, calm, eternal depth above, and find peace in its contemplation, I should waste in secret; whilst you find relief and consolation in wild outbreaks."

They continued to converse together for some time, in a familiar and friendly manner. They had long been friends, notwithstanding the great difference in their modes of thinking, as well as in their nature and dispositions. The zeal and fidelity with which they both served their king were grounded upon a far from common opinion of the sacredness of the crown and of the kingly power. A steady regard to this made Drost Peter what he was with respect to the crown and kingdom; and his earnest hope to be able to support a tottering throne, and to preserve the crown untarnished for its hopeful and legally chosen heir, gave him strength for every sacrifice.

With Sir Thorstenson, it was the idea of honour, and the inviolability of a knight's promise, which alone bound him to a king he could neither love nor respect. He shared, in many points, the contempt of the discontented noblemen for a kingly power, which, circumscribed as it was, was still so frequently perverted to unjust and arbitrary ends; but he hated, in almost an equally high degree, the pride of birth, and the imperious conduct of the aristocracy, as well as the efforts of the ecclesiastics to establish a spiritual tyranny. He was, consequently, disposed to justify the rebellious spirit of the oppressed commoners, and was an ardent admirer of the Swedish king, Magnus Ladislaus, who guarded the privileges of the commons, while he tamed the most powerful of the nobility with violence, and, at times, with cruelties. On this subject he had again entered into a warm controversy with Drost Peter, who, since the cruel execution of the Folkungar,[16] without form of law, had a strong aversion to the Swedish king, which he expressed without reserve, and considered Denmark, with all her miseries, fortunate in not having such a sanguinary tyrant and upstart monarch for a ruler.

"Nay, my good friend," cried Thorstenson, starting up: "rather an able tyrant, who treads every law under foot, than a vile turncoat, who gives laws every day and keeps no law himself. Rather an active, hardy warrior, who hacks off heads like cabbages from their stocks, than a mean craven, who can only run after women in the dark, and cannot look an honest man in the face in open day. Nay, nay," he continued, striking his sword on the ground: "I consider Sweden fortunate in her Magnus, even were he to lay one half of it waste in order that flowers and glory might spring up in the other. Rather a despotic ruler, with a determined will, who dares to wrest a crown from a crazy head, and defend it, than a legitimate madman, a dullard, without head or brains, and wrinkled like a clout under the symbol of majesty. We serve the vilest master in the world," continued he, with subdued vehemence: "that we cannot gainsay. You are true to him, Drost Peter; but, to defend him with a true word--that you leave alone. I must make free to say of him what I please, if even you are angry thereat; but he has once had my word, and he may rely on my fealty, though he is not worthy to have an honest dog in his service. Great honour no one earns here, either as knight or warrior: that you must yourself admit; but what honour I have, I shall take care to keep, notwithstanding. If, now, we have to make war on Sweden, as I respect my knightly word, I shall not sheathe my sword until I have washed the stain from the hand that gave it me, with the blood of heroes who now, with reason, despise us."

Drost Peter sprang up with warmth. "With reason, no one can despise us," he said; "and, without reason, no one shall dare to do so with impunity. The days of Denmark's glory are over, it is true; but honour even our worst foes shall leave us untouched. If we scorn the master we serve, we scorn ourselves," he continued. "The faults and errors of the king I cannot defend: it were despicable to respect them; but, as faithful servants, we should cover them with the cloak of charity when we can, and not place our glory in revealing his shame."

"To you, and between ourselves, I can state my mind without disguise," replied Thorstenson. "On this subject, you know, I am silent before strangers; and, were a stranger to venture to say to me what I have just been saying to you, I would break his neck on the spot, without a moment's hesitation.----But how is this? The wood is full of people!" He sprang hastily to his feet. "And where are our horses? They are not where we left them grazing."

Drost Peter looked round him in astonishment. They heard many voices, and the noise of hunters and hounds, on all sides; and now they perceived, beside them on the height, a tall gentleman, of knightly appearance, attired in a green doublet, and mounted on a light brown horse.

"Who are you?" shouted the huntsman, in a stern, commanding voice. "Rievers have landed hereabouts, and I have a right to make the demand: I am the king's captain at Tornborg."

"We have sought you in vain, Sir Benedict Rimaardson," replied Drost Peter, taking off his red cap, and at the same time handing him the king's authority. "Who we are, this will inform you, if you have not already recognised us."

"Drost Hessel! Sir Thorstenson!" exclaimed the knight, with surprise, and springing from his horse: "who would have expected you in this guise?" He extended a friendly hand to them, and cast a hasty glance over the document, while Drost Peter pointed it out, and laid his finger on his lips.

Although the huntsman had, apparently, some trouble in reading it, he quickly understood its meaning. "So, so! teeth before the tongue!" said he, in a tone of surprise, and handing back the parchment to Drost Peter. "I have something better to do, then, than to hunt after these horse-stealers. But still it was an accursed piece of impudence in them," continued he, enraged. "Did you not see a gang of long-bearded fellows, looking like shipwrecked seamen? A little while since they carried off all our horses, almost to the one I luckily sit upon. They did it in a twinkling, as my huntsmen were taking their morning's meal down by the moss."

"Our horses, also, have disappeared," said Sir Thorstenson. "Here there is no time to be lost. But, first, procure us three horses."

"Are you more than two, gentlemen?"

"My squire is on the outlook, down by the road," replied Drost Peter: "see, here he comes."

Squire Skirmen bounded forward like a hart. "They are coming!" he exclaimed: "there are four on horseback. I know the duke's red mantle, and the little Norse gentleman's burly beard."

"The algrev!" cried Thorstenson: "death and destruction! let us after him!"

"That illustrious individual is not to be stopped here, if I understand the pothooks rightly," said the huntsman; "but we must be certain whether it is him. How fall you upon the algrev? Follow me, gentlemen: I know the wood. They shall pass close by us without seeing us."

While Skirmen held the huntsman's horse, he led the nimble Drost Peter and Sir Thorstenson into a thicket of white thorns and young beeches, close by the roadside. By his advice, they laid themselves on the ground, having in sight, before them, a portion of the road from Korsöer. They had not waited long in this position, before they heard the trampling of horses close at hand. Drost Peter bent the boughs aside, and Sir Thorstenson made a hasty movement.

"Still! keep still, my good sirs!" said the hunter: "game of this sort must not be frightened. Here we have them. Bight: it is the duke and his drost. The pompous little gentleman, with the bullock head, I do not know; and yet--"

"The algrev! Mindre-Alf!" interrupted Thorstenson, in a low voice, as he was on the point of starting up.

"Remember the main business, and restrain your vehemence," whispered Drost Peter, holding him back.

"Let them only get in advance, and we are sure of them," whispered the hunter. "But who is that heavy fellow, in the squire's mantle, who rides behind? He does not look at all like a fine gentleman's attendant."

"Niels Breakpeace, the Jutland rover," answered Drost Peter, softly: "but let him pass on. In the duke's livery, he has now free convoy through Zealand."

The four important travellers passed, and the knights arose.

"It is hard enough," said Rimaardson, "that I, as chief of Tornborg, should see two such notorious robbers pass along, under my very nose as it were, and dare not stop and seize them. If it was their marauding band that took our horses, there is no more security in the country for the present. Permit me to ride on before you to Tornborg, gentlemen. Measures shall be taken instantly. We may still reach Slagelse before the duke has left it. We must keep at some distance, and be not too numerous, or he may apprehend mischief."

As he spoke he hastily mounted his horse, which Skirmen, at his sign, had brought him, and rode off at a gallop towards the castle. The knights and Skirmen followed him with rapid steps.

Sir Benedict or Bent Rimaardson was about forty years of age, with a brave huntsman's countenance, embrowned by exposure to the sun and open air. He was tall and spare, and exceedingly nimble in his movements. All his paternal ancestors were Danes; but, on the mother's side, he was related to the Margraves of Brandenburg and Queen Agnes. In consequence of his fidelity to the king, he was at variance with his younger brother, Sir Lavé Rimaardson, who had been deprived of his estates, and outlawed as a traitor and fomenter of rebellion among the peasants. These family cares severely depressed the otherwise bold and lively knight; for his wild, unruly brother was still dear to him, and it often wounded him deeply to hear the name of Rimaardson associated with those of the most audacious transgressors of the laws of the land. He lived, unmarried, with his brother John, as chief of Tornborg, where he watched over the security of the coast with great strictness, and constantly lay in wait for the Norwegian freebooters. He was a distinguished sea-warrior, and had often been successful in capturing pirates with his longboat. What sometimes interfered with his vigilance was his passion for the chase--his only recreation at this lonely castle.

That a Norwegian pirate-vessel had arrived at Korsöer, and landed rovers, whilst he thought the seas secure, and was diverting himself with the chase, provoked him highly; but this recent mission, with which the king had entrusted him, gave him something else to think of. In a few minutes he had reached the castle; and, when his guests arrived, they found the horses already saddled in the court-yard. They allowed themselves no time to inspect the famous castle, from which the place derived its name, or even to refresh themselves. The chief, having entrusted the care of the castle to his brother John, dispatched a troop of huntsmen into the wood in search of the rievers; and then, along with his guests, mounted his horse, without changing his green doublet. He ordered four jagers to follow them at a short distance, and started from Tornborg at a gallop, in the direction of Slagelse.

The road between Korsöer and Slagelse, in the western part of Zealand, is crossed, at Vaarby, by a rivulet, running between tolerably high banks, and was, anciently, broad and deep enough to be navigable for small vessels. Between Vaarby Banks the road gradually became narrower, and a wooden bridge led across the river where it was deepest. This bridge was not wider than what would allow a wain to drive over: it rested upon upright beams, taller than a ship's mast, and, as was usual, was unprovided with rails at the side. The river at this spot was very deep, though it did not rise nearly so high as it did when the bridge was built; from which it has been inferred that, from the bridge to the surface of the stream, there was a depth of more than six fathoms. Several large, almost rocklike stones, rose above the water on both sides, the remains, apparently, of a stone bridge, which had been swept away by the violence of the current: a proof that the river had formerly swollen into a mighty torrent. The steep banks were overgrown with brushwood, which almost concealed them.

Here, Niels Breakpeace's twelve daring robbers, with nine well-armed Norse freebooters from the pirate-vessel, together with the stolen horses, were concealed in a thicket. In order to deceive the huntsmen and coast-guards who had pursued them, a smaller number of the Norse pirates had fled, with much noise and clamour, in an opposite direction, and had gained their ship before their pursuers could come up with them; when they immediately hoisted sail, and bore away to the south, under Egholm and Aggersoe.

In the thicket near Vaarby Bridge, the shaggy-bearded fellows, stretched on the grass, held a short council, at the same time making good cheer from one of the huntsmen's wallets. A tall young man, with a knight's feathered hat over his handsome brown locks, but otherwise dressed as a seaman, in coarse pitched wadmel, alone stood up among them, and appeared to be their leader. He had an expression of daring in his features, which yet presented a fine noble outline, and a pair of dark eyes flashed audaciously from under his bushy eyebrows.

"There is no time now for stretching and lounging," said he, in an imperious, commanding tone. "Give heed, fellows! To-day, I am both count of Tönsberg and Niels Breakpeace; and he who dares to disobey me, I shall cut down on the spot."

The fellows seemed to understand this discourse, without being at all intimidated. They appeared to expect such a speech; and only half rising from their recumbent position, regarded him with silence and attention.

"Over this bridge," he continued, "not a living soul from Korsöer crosses to-day, were he even king of Denmark. Whoever sets foot upon the bridge is our prisoner. If he resists, we cut him down, or pitch him into the river, without more ado. I remain at this side, with my Norwegian bears; you, Morten Longknife, with your own men, shall guard the other end. If you budge a foot when it comes to the pinch, it costs you your neck. To Korsöer may travel who will; but not a cat to Slagelse. Do you understand?"

A tall, red-bearded fellow, with a knife an ell long in his belt, had sprung up, with ten others, sturdy and dirty-looking enough. "That is easy to be understood, stern knight," said he, in the dialect of a Jutland peasant, and nodding his head. "You and the northmen break backs to-day, and we Jutes cleave brainpans. For that I can be depended upon: it is a token that you know us."

"You are to lie quiet in yonder thicket until I whistle, when you shall spring up, and close the bridge in three ranks. As soon as I call out, 'Hack away!' cleave to the foot whoever comes. Now, off to your post!"

Morten Longknife nodded assent. With his ten men, he went immediately over the bridge, and disappeared in the thicket on the opposite bank of the river.

Drost Peter, in the meantime, rode between Sir Thorstenson and Bent Rimaardson, at a brisk trot, along the road towards Vemmelöv and Vaarby. They were silent, and seemed to be considering the most prudent way of accomplishing their difficult undertaking.

Squire Skirmen followed upon a lean hunter, and sorely grieved for the loss of his norback. But he soon got into a lively conversation with Sir Rimaardson's four huntsmen. They related to him many of their master's daring exploits, when he allowed freebooters to land, that he might catch and hang them. In return, Skirmen told them of his master's feats in the Sleswick war, and at tilts and jousts, and gave them a description of the magnificent tournament at Helsingborg, which he had himself seen. Thereupon, he struck up a lively tourney song, and jigged on his saddle as he sang:--

"There shines upon the fourth shield
An eagle, and he is red;
And it is borne by Holger Danske;
Who killed the giant dead."

"My master bears an eagle on his seal," he added. "Were I in his place, I would set the eagle in the shield, instead of the red bend. Do you know what I shall have on my shield, when once I am a knight? It shall be Folker Fiddler's mark. But there must be more than that: of my shield it will be hereafter sung:--

"There stands a maiden in the shield,
And a sword, and fiddle, and bow;
And it is borne by bold Skirmen,
Who will sing, not sleep, I trow."

While the young squire thus gave expression to his pleasing expectations, they had passed Vemmelöv, and were approaching Vaarby Bridge. The neighing, as of a foal, was presently heard from the copse by the river-side, and Skirmen exclaimed, with surprise--"My little norback!" In a moment he was by his master's side, and communicated to him his discovery.

Drost Peter stopped his horse. All was still. "If my squire has heard aright," said the drost, "we shall, without doubt, meet our horse-stealers here. They have probably riders with them, who will oppose our progress. If they have ascertained who we are, and the errand on which we ride, it was not imprudent of them to occupy this important post."

Both knights paused, and regarded the long, narrow bridge with an air of thoughtfulness.

"With twelve men, I could defend the bridge against a whole army," said Sir Rimaardson. "We have two choices: either we must proceed at a gallop, and endeavour to cut our way through; or we must ride hastily down, and see if our horses can swim across. To ride back, and delay ourselves by bringing aid, I will not propose to such valiant gentlemen. Besides, at this moment, I have not a single able horseman at home."

"Let us cut our way through at a gallop," said Sir Thorstenson. "But there is not a soul to be seen."

"If Skirmen is right, we shall soon see more than we may care for," replied Drost Peter. "Swim your horses well, Sir Rimaardson?"

"The two that you and your squire ride I will answer for, if it be not too muddy," replied the knight; "mine and Sir Thorstenson's are too heavy: they will stick fast where there is the least mud."

"There is no choice, then," said Drost Peter: "we must onwards, and, in God's name, may cut our way through. Follow close after us, huntsmen."

"Off!" cried Thorstenson, already spurring his horse.

"Stay a moment!" exclaimed Drost Peter: "whether we may get over the bridge alive, is uncertain; but our warrant must be secured. My bold squire's dexterity I can depend upon; and it will not be difficult for him to swim over, whilst we give the robbers something more to do than to think of stopping him. If you agree with me, good sirs, we shall entrust him with the king's letter and warrant: if we receive any hindrance, he takes it to the governor of Haraldsborg, or destroys the letter if he cannot escape."

"You are cautious, noble knight," said Sir Rimaardson; "but I grant you are right: we must be provided against every accident."

"Good!" exclaimed Thorstenson. "If we must make our wills, let it be done speedily. My fingers itch to get at the hounds."

"There, my trusty Skirmen," said Drost Peter, giving to his squire the carefully wrapt-up letter. "You perfectly understand us? This concerns the security of the crown and royal house. If I demand not this letter from you on the other side of the bridge, account to me for it beyond the greatest bridge." He pointed gravely towards the heavens, and was silent.

The blood mounted into the brave squire's cheeks. "I must flee, then, like a frightened wild goose, and not fight my way, gaily, by your side? It is a hard command, sir drost; but you will it so, and I obey. God be with you! We shall certainly meet beyond _that_ bridge." Again came a neighing from the thicket. "My norback!" cried Skirmen, joyfully; and, spurring his horse, he rode hastily down a little by-path that led into the thicket near the river.

At the same instant the three knights started, at a rapid gallop, and with drawn swords, towards the bridge.

"One at a time, or we shall throw one another into the river," cried Thorstenson, taking the lead.

They had almost reached the bridge, and not a soul was to be seen.

"A false alarm!" cried Thorstenson: "there is no one here."

"On, on!" shouted Drost Peter, riding past him.

"That was not my meaning," grumbled Thorstenson; angrily, endeavouring to regain the lead.

But the first horse-shoe already clattered upon the narrow bridge, and Sir Thorstenson was obliged to rein in his steed, lest he should plunge his friend into the river. To their surprise, no one opposed them: the seventh horse had already his forelegs on the bridge; and Drost Peter, having arrived within a few paces of the opposite bank, began to think their suspicions were groundless, when the shrill blast of a whistle was heard in the rear. A gleam came suddenly from the thicket, and a threefold impenetrable wall of gigantic, bearded men, with uplifted halberds, stood at the end of the bridge, and barred the passage. At the same instant, a similar barrier of Norwegian pirates was formed behind them, and a powerful voice shouted--"Hold! or you are dead men!"

Drost Peter's horse reared before the bright halberds, and was nearly falling backwards into the river.

"On, on!" cried Thorstenson, getting to his left side, and seizing the rearing horse by the bridle: the animal plunged to the very brink of the bridge, and appeared in imminent danger of falling into the gulph. "On, on!" still shouted Thorstenson; but both he and Drost Peter vainly sought to urge on their shy and strange steeds. This sudden stoppage brought all the horses in the rear close together, and in the greatest disorder, so that none of them could now stir without the certainty of forcing another over the bridge.

"Lay down your arms!" shouted the voice behind them, "or we pitch you over, one and all!"

Presently, Drost Peter's sword rang among the halberds, and Morten Longknife fell, as his long blade whistled past Drost Peter's ear.

"Throw them over, the dogs! hack away!" cried the young robber chief, behind.

With a wild shout, they commenced a furious onslaught from both sides at once. Drost Peter and Thorstenson fought a dubious fight on the brink of the bridge, in which their plunging horses were severely wounded in the chest by the long halberds. A frightful battle raged behind: the pirates pressed on, and the four huntsmen in the rear were hurled, with their backs broken, together with their horses, into the deep.

Rimaardson could now, for the first time, stir; and he dexterously turned his horse about, to avoid the same fate as his unhappy jagers. He was on the point of rushing upon the wild, shouting freebooters, when his eye fell on the young robber chief, who wore the knight's hat. The sword fell from his hand, and both grew pale.

"Hold, fellows! give place for them!" cried the leader of the pirates: "in Satan's name, let them ride on!"

In an instant, not a single rover was to be seen on the bridge. Drost Peter and Sir Thorstenson were relieved as by a miracle, and rode hastily over the suddenly vacated bridge. Sir Rimaardson followed them silently, and as pale as a ghost. They rode up the height above the thicket, and there drew up their tired and bleeding horses. Presently they saw the ten rovers take flight, with their dead comrade's body, and disappear in the thicket at the opposite end of the bridge.

"How was this?" asked Drost Peter: "did the angel of death fight on our side, and strike the murderers with terror? Are you also safe, Sir Rimaardson?"

"Safe?" he repeated, gloomily: "yes, in Satan's name, I am safe. Better for me that I were lying, crushed and mangled, with my huntsmen."

"What has happened to you? Are you wounded?" inquired Thorstenson. "There is not a drop of blood in your cheek, and you are not the man to grow pale in danger."

"I have received no wound in my body," replied the knight; "but a two-edged sword has entered my soul. The unhappy robber chief, with the knight's hat, was my outlawed brother, Lavé. God be gracious to his sinful soul! If he fall into the hands of my coast-guards, I myself must doom him to the rack and wheel."

Both the knights were amazed; and, whilst they could now comprehend the reason of their wonderful deliverance, they also felt, with horror, their fellow-traveller's bitterness of soul.

"Think no more of it, brave Sir Bent," said Thorstenson, at length, consolingly. "In these mad times, a young hot-head may easily go astray. If he was leader of these fellows, he deserves to stand at the head of an army of warriors. The ambush was craftily and boldly planned, if he knew us."

"If it was the sight of your loyal countenance that struck him with repentance and dread, noble knight," said Drost Peter, "there is still hope of his salvation. Our gracious queen's kinsman cannot be so deeply fallen but that, with God and the Holy Virgin's aid, he can rise again, if time be granted him."

Rimaardson shook his head, and was silent.

"Welcome, welcome to this side of the bridge, noble sirs," cried a cheerful, lively voice; and Squire Skirmen came along, waving his cap with joy. He was mounted on his little norback, and leading the horses of Drost Peter and Sir Thorstenson. In an instant he was on the height along with them. He dismounted, and returned his master the packet confided to him.

"Here is the king's letter, sir," he said, joyously: "not a drop of water has touched it, though there is not a dry thread on my body."

"My old dapplegray!" exclaimed Thorstenson, springing from his wounded horse, which he set at liberty. The tall, gray steed appeared delighted again to see his master, who patted and caressed him like a restored friend, as he swung himself gladly into his own saddle.

Drost Peter, having again taken possession of the king's warrant, extolled his trusty squire for his dexterity and management. He, too, had descended from his strange horse, which bled profusely, and could scarcely bear him any longer. He first examined the animal's wounds, and bound his scarf about its chest; then, turning him over to the care of his squire, he patted his own favourite brown steed, which pawed the ground impatiently. "It was skilfully done," he said to Skirmen, as he sprang into his saddle. "How did you get hold of the horses?"

"While you were all fighting, I did not wish to be idle," replied Skirmen. "I soon found my little norback: he nearly pawed me to death with joy, the dear fellow! The other two horses were also grazing by the river. Giving a smack to the hack I rode, I let him gallop home; and, had it not been for my little norback, I should have been sitting in the mud."

"Thou art a devil's imp!" said Thorstenson; "and, if it were not that thou art so stunted, there might be made a doughty wight of thee."

"You, too, were stunted once on a time," replied Skirmen, offended; "else Satan was the mother of you."

They were now all mounted, and Thorstenson was already several paces in advance.

"But my poor huntsmen!" exclaimed Sir Rimaardson, pausing: "might any of them yet be saved?"

"I saw them hurled over," replied Skirmen: "it was a shocking sight. I was already over the river, but I rode in again to save them. The black steed was nimble, and swam ashore; but the three Wallachians are in the mud."

"But the men--the unfortunate huntsmen?"

"Alas! that was the most lamentable part of the affair," replied Skirmen, with a light sigh: "they had neither life nor a whole limb. I had them drawn to land, and said, hastily, three paters and an ave for their souls. Their corpses an old female peasant promised me to care for."

"Brother, brother! this blood is upon thee!" sighed Rimaardson, with a choking voice, and giving his horse the spur.

They shortly overtook Sir Thorstenson, and pursued their journey in silence, and in earnest thought.

* * *

It was towards evening of the following day. In Flynderborg, which lay near Orekrog or Elsineur, and almost in the same spot as the present Cronberg, sat, in a large arched apartment, an elderly man in a brown house-suit. There was a chess-board before him, and, opposite, was a young and beautiful girl. It was Sir Lavé Little, and his daughter Ingé. She wore the then customary in-door black dress of ladies, with her rich, golden tresses bound with a fillet of pearls, worked in the form of lilies.

After his conversation with Drost Peter in the guard-chamber, and his short dispute with Chamberlain Rané, the anxious and wavering Sir Lavé had not had an hour's rest. In the face of his stern kinsman, old Sir John, he fancied he read that he was suspected of a private understanding with the rebellious noblemen. His conscience did not acquit him; and no sooner had he been relieved by Sir John from his post in the guard-room, at an unusual hour, than he hurried away from Nyborgand the Dane-court, that he might not be farther enticed into the dangerous projects there on foot. He was the royal governor of Flynderborg Castle, which, with huge wall-slings on its ramparts, protected the entrance of the Sound, and received the ancient Sound dues, as has since been more effectually done by the far more distinguished Cronberg.