CHAP. III.
The ancient fortress soon presented a scene of splendid festivity. Thespacious halls glittered with regal pomp, and resounded with the stirand bustle which are the accompaniments of a court. With the exceptionof the tower, the whole of the castle had been recently fitted up as aroyal residence. The king's principal counsellors had accompanied him,and though he occasionally hunted, he did not therefore neglect stateaffairs, which frequently occupied him until the night was well nighspent.
The king never inquired after the captive archbishop, whom he appearedto have forgotten. A reconciliation, on suitable conditions, with thisimportant personage, was, however, doubtless the secret object of theking's sojourn at Sjoeborg. The adjustment of this vexatious affair wasnever of more consequence than at this juncture, as it was not only apresent hindrance to his marriage, but threatened to prove dangerousboth to state and kingdom. The king, however, was desirous that no oneshould know the real purport of his visit, least of all the captivearchbishop, who would probably take occasion thereby to raise hisdemands to the uttermost. Besides, Eric himself appeared not to havedecided what course to pursue in this matter. Although revenge hadnever been his failing, and on the contrary he had often manifested themost generous temper, the remembrance of his father's murder hadrendered him stern and almost implacable towards everyone connectedwith the regicides, and he felt it was impossible for him to make thefirst advances towards a reconciliation with Archbishop Grand. Heapparently expected the haughty captive would himself petition for aninterview, and pave the way to reconciliation by a humbleacknowledgment of his guilt. One week after another, however, passedaway, without any thing of this kind taking place. The number of guestswas daily increasing at Sjoeborg. The presence of the Margrave ofBrandenborg and the Swedish ambassadors, as well as that of the huntingparty and Prince Christopher's retinue, imparted an appearance of lifeand gaiety to this otherwise dreary castle, which almost painfullycontrasted with its gloomy destination, and the many dark recollectionsconnected with the place.
One day in November, a singular procession approached the castle ofSjoeborg. From two Hanseatic merchant vessels, which had anchored offthe fishing station, there landed a number of foreign seamen, who,carrying the Rostock flag, and with large broad swords at their sides,proceeded to the castle, amid the dissonant sound of pipes andtrumpets. At the head of the procession marched a tall stout man, in aburgher's coat of fine cloth, trimmed with broad borders of costly fur.It was the rich trader, Berner Kopmand of Rostock, well known at thegreat fairs of Skanoer and Falsterbo, whither he was wont to bring richcargoes of cloth and costly spices. He was notorious for hisauthoritative and overbearing deportment, and for the ostentatious pompby which he sought to acquire the reputation of a merchant prince. Byhis side walked the almost equally noted Henrik Gullandsfar of Visbye,also one of the most influential Hanseatic merchants, and an adroit andpolitic negociator between the Hanse towns and the northernprinces,[10] They announced themselves at the castle as Hanseaticambassadors, and were admitted into the upper hall, while their trainwas served with refreshments below.
A long conference took place between the king and the foreignmerchants, in the presence of the Drost and council, during whichBerner Kopmand was especially loud tongued, and the king preserved hispatience for an unwonted length of time. The great privileges which hadbeen granted by the king to the Hanseatic towns four years before, andwhich he had since augmented and confirmed at Nyborg, had not satisfiedthe expectations of the Rostockers; who demanded besides, therecognition of their self-assumed right, to pronounce and executesentence of death on board their own vessels upon every Danish subjectwho had injured them, and fallen into their hands. The Vandal towns,together with the merchants of Mecklenborg and Lubec, were unanimouslyagreed, on their own responsibility, and without distinction, to hangevery knight and noble who should molest them on their journeyingsthrough Germany.
"Enough," said the king, at last, breaking off the conference, andrising in wrath, "I wanted but to hear how far ye would push yourimpudent demands, and therefore let ye have your say. This is myanswer. My former promise to the towns I have hitherto kept; if theycontent ye not, we Danes may easily learn to fetch what we want fromforeign lands, and export what we want not. When guests and strangersare injured here they can complain; there is law and justice in theland; but they who take the law into their own hands on Danish groundor on the Danish seas shall be condemned as traitors and robbers,whether they be knight or burgher, whether they be native or stranger."So saying, the king turned his back upon the merchant ambassadors.Without heeding their angry looks, he hastened to join his princelyguests, and the Swedish lords who awaited his coming, to set out on ahunting expedition, and left the Hanseatic burghers to the care of theDrost.
The incensed merchants instantly quitted the castle with theirfollowers, who had become intoxicated and unruly during their stay inthe lower hall. The Marsk (to the merchants still greater annoyance)had taken upon himself to disarm them, as with bold presumption theyhad ventured on liberties which outraged both law and custom. Theirweapons, however, were returned to them on reaching the shore, whitherDrost Aage and some other knights accompanied them, with cold courtesy,partly to protect them from the assembled rabble, which had crowdedround the intoxicated seamen, to gaze at and deride them. On their wayto the strand the wrathful traders spoke not a word, but the bloodappeared ready to start from Berner Kopmand's crimson visage, whilethere was a calm cold smile on the countenance of Henrik Gullandsfar.
When these important personages, with their reeling train, had enteredthe boat, and pushed off from the shore, in order to row to theirships, the portly Rostocker suddenly raised his voice, and shouted withunrestrained wrath and bitterness, "Bring King Eric Ericson our partinggreeting, Sir Drost! Tell him from me, Berner Kopmand of Rostock, andfrom Henrik Gullandsfar of Visbye, in our own and in the name of thegreat and mighty Hanse towns, that we threaten him with deadly strife,as the enemy of our liberty and of all noble burghership!"
Henrik Gullandsfar nudged his colleague's elbow in alarm; but the proudcholeric Rostocker continued, "Tell the King of Denmark, dearly shallhe rue the scorn and contempt he hath this day shown us; he shall rueit, as surely as I am called the rich Berner Kopmand of Rostock! and assurely as I am the man to ask what is the price of this state andcountry, and how many pounds a king is worth, in our times, when thelightnings of excommunication play above his head!"
"Such greeting and defiance you may yourself bring my liege andsovereign," answered Aage, "if you fancy being sent back to Rostockwith your hands tied behind you like a madman." So saying, he turnedcontemptuously on his heel, and returned with his knights to Sjoeborg.He afterwards joined the king and the hunting-party, but made nomention of this impudent defiance, which, though it seemed to himindeed to be paltry and powerless, he yet could not but regard as astriking instance of the insufferable pride of these moniedaristocrats, and of the boldness with which the equivocal position ofthe king at the court of Rome had inspired the ill-affected anddiscontented.
After a hard chase the king rode back in the evening to Sjoeborg, withDrost Aage by his side. It was already dark. The cold November blastwhirled the fallen leaves around them as they rode through the forest.The moon now rose behind the trees, shining with an unsteady light fromout the flying clouds, through the leafless boughs of the forest.Behind them rode Marsk Oluffsen between Henrik of Mecklenborg and theSwedish regent, whose return to Sweden was fixed for the following day.Some hunters followed with the game caught in the chase. The rest ofthe train remained at Esrom monastery. The king, as well as Drost Aage,had been remarkably silent during the day. Since the arrival of theSwedish ambassadors, tidings had been daily looked for, but in vain,from the Danish embassy at the papal court. The king had not as yettaken any step towards a reconciliation with the captive archbishop.The journey of the Swedish ambassadors could no longer be delayed, andthe obstacles to the king's marriage were not in
any measure removed.The king and his faithful Aage now rode in silence by each other'sside, apparently occupied with a presentiment which they could notbanish from their minds, but to which neither liked to give utterance.It was the unfortunate St. Cecilia's day, which yearly brought with itto the king bitter recollections of the dreadful murder of his fatherat Finnerup. Marsk Oluffsen appeared not to remember what day it was;he jested merrily, after his fashion, with the German and Swedishguests, and lauded the pious and frugal manner in which King Birger'stutor, a certain Carl Tydsker[11], had a few years since restored hisyoung sovereign to health, namely, by making the same vow to threesaints at once, and afterwards drawing lots to determine to which ofthe good saints the vow should be kept. "I have since wondered," saidthe Marsk, laughing, "whether the victory over the Kareles[12] wasthrown into the bargain, and was one of St. Eric's miracles; if so, Imust acknowledge that Carl Tydsker was worth his weight in gold." Bythis unlucky jest the Marsk wounded at the same time the national prideof both his German and Swedish companions, without appearing himself inthe least to perceive it.
"When my countrymen as well as myself serve your king here in thenorth, Sir Marsk," answered the brave Count Henrik, "I feel we deservethanks, and not mockery, whether we help him with prayer or withsword." As he said this he struck his hand with some violence on thehilt of his sword.
The Marsk looked astounded. He was silent; but his perplexity increasedon Thorkild Knudson, also addressing him in a serious tone. "Deem ye myvictory over the brave heathen to be a miracle, Sir Marsk?" said theSwedish knight, with a calm smile. "Every thing is a miracle, if yewill. Without heavenly aid no victory is won on earth; that even yourvictorious King Waldemar was forced to acknowledge, yet that detractsnot from his glory. I reckon the victory of Wolmar with the heaven-sentbanner, to be that which gained him his fairest laurels. Our times aremore chary of laurels. Sir Marsk! we will not rob each other of thosewe win with honour."
"By all the martyrs!" exclaimed the Marsk, with wide oped eyes andcrimson cheeks, "who ever thought of offending either you or the braveCount Henrik? By my soul! I understand ye not," he continued in animpatient tone; "were my brains as dull as those of other people, Ishould be badly off indeed."
Count Henrik could not suppress a good-natured laugh at the absurdcontrast between the Marsk's words and his angry tone. Themisunderstanding was soon set to rights, and the conversation turned onformer and recent warlike expeditions.
Without thinking of what might awaken bitter recollections in theking's mind, especially on this day, the Marsk now talked in a loudvoice of the feud, with Marsk Stig, and the taking of Hjelm, at whichhe himself had been present, under David Thorstensen's banner.
"Yet you took not the daring Marsk Stig, either dead or alive," saidCount Henrik; "'tis a strange story they tell here of hisdisappearance."
"His death, as his life, is shrouded in darkness and mystery," observedthe Swedish knight. "With us also he hath a dreaded name."
"He was a great general, though," said Count Henrik. "I would havegiven much to have seen him. Was he as tall as Sir Niels Brock or theDuke of Langeland?"
"He had a finer presence than either Niels Brock or Duke Longshanks, ifhe measured not the same length. In that point, perhaps, both you and Imight have been his match; but he was a very devil of a fellow,--truly,I believe neither Germany nor Sweden could boast of one like him."
"It is true we cannot boast of so highly esteemed a regicide," saidCount Henrik, in an offended tone. "I desire not to rival his fame."
"But, by all the martyrs! what is the matter now?" exclaimed theastounded Marsk; "think ye I wished for aught better in the world thanto have knocked out his confounded brains? Therefore I may surely saywithout offence, that neither you nor Marsk Knudson have seen hismatch."
"For that both Count Henrik and I should thank the Lord," said theSwedish knight solemnly. "The country which gives birth to such heroesmay have to pay dearly for the boast. In our country we have stormsalso, at times; and alas! have to deplore the devastations they cause.It is the same case here probably? I suspect that Denmark hath dearlybought this sad experience, and learnt that one daring hand can make adeeper wound in a nation's heart than a whole century can heal."
A rather embarrassed silence ensued. The king had heard theconversation which had been carried on by the party behind him, andsighed deeply.
"It was on _this_ night, Aage," he said, in a low voice. "For nineyears have I now borne Denmark's crown, and as yet I have not fulfilledthat I vowed when I saw _him_ last."
"Whom, my liege?" asked Aage, absently.
"My murdered father!" said the king. "Rememberest thou not the hourthey lifted the lid from his coffin in Viborg cathedral, and laid thesacrament on his bloody breast? It was then I bade him my lastfarewell. What I vowed to him was heard only by the all-knowing God;but assuredly I will either keep that vow, or lose my life."
"At that time you were, as I was, a minor, my liege. If your vow to thedead was other than a pious and Christian vow, you ought not now, as aknight and sovereign, to keep it."
Eric was silent. The moon shone full on his noble form, and as he satcalm and erect on his fiery steed, with the white plume in his hat, andthe purple mantle over his shoulder, he almost resembled the chivalrousSt. George, about to strike his lance into the dragon's throat. Hismanly countenance was pale, and expressive of lofty indignation. "ThatI vowed to the dead I must perform," he said, after a thoughtful pause."A wise monarch should disperse the ungodly."
As the king uttered these words an arrow whistled past his breast, andstuck in Drost Aage's mantle.
"Murderers! traitors!" shouted the king, drawing his sword, while hereined in with difficulty his restless steed. Aage rushed with hisdrawn sword to that side of the king whence the arrow was sped; thethree other knights rode up in alarm. "An arrow! robbers! traitors!"was echoed from mouth to mouth. They looked around on all sides of themoon-lit road, but no living being was to be seen.
"Accursed traitors!" shouted Marsk Oluffsen, and dashed in suddenlyamong the bushes on the left side of the road, where he had perceivedsome white object moving. A shriek was heard, apparently from a femalevoice, and the Marsk's horse started aside. At the same moment twoyoung maidens, in the dress of peasant girls, with long plaits of fairhair hanging low over their shoulders, ran, hand in hand, across theroad, while a man of almost giant stature, in the dress of a Jutlandpeasant, with a large broad sword in his hand, sprang forward, andplaced himself between the Marsk and the fugitives.
"Keep ye to me!" shouted the man. "It was I--it was Mads Jyde who shot.I mean not to show a pair of clean heels: let the maidens flee, theyhave done no ill, but I am the man who dares tilt with ye all." Sosaying, he brandished his sword wildly around, and wounded the Marsk'shorse on the muzzle. The animal reared and snorted.
"Yield thee!" shouted Oluffsen, vainly aiming to strike his daring andgigantic foe; "Yield thee captive, or thou diest!"
On hearing this affray, the king would instantly have hastened to thespot, where he saw swords glittering among the bushes in the moonshine;but Aage and the Swedish knight sought to detain him, while CountHenrik immediately surrounded the copse with the huntsmen, anddispatched a party of them after the fugitives. The Marsk had sprungfrom his intractable steed, "Cast thy sword from thee, stupid devil!Seest thou not thou art caught?" shouted he to the tall Jutlander.
"By St. Michael will I not," retorted the man. "None shall take MarskStig's squire alive; keep but your ground, Sir Knight, and thou shaltfeel what Mads Jyde is worth." He now rushed frantically upon theMarsk, but the warlike chief was his superior in swordsmanship, andafter a short but desperate fight the Jutlander fell, with his skullcloven, to the ground. He half-raised himself again, and tried to liftboth his hands to his wounded head. "It was for thee, little Margaret,"he gasped forth; "let but my master's children flee, and you are freeto----" More he was unable to utter; his hands dropped from his head,and he fell back lifeless on the ground.
/> Meanwhile the king and his train had ridden to the spot. Some of thehunters had overtaken the fugitive maidens, and brought them captiveinto the circle of the king's train. All looked at them with surprise,for as they stood there in the moonshine they had the air of princessesin disguise. Their peasant's attire could not hide the delicatefairness of their complexions and their singular beauty. The taller ofthe two, who seemed also to be the elder, held the lesser and highlyagitated maiden by the hand, as if to protect her. She was herself calmand pale. She looked in deep sorrow on the dead body of the man atarms, and appeared not to heed the standers by. The younger maidenseemed to be both frightened and curious. Though she could not beconsidered a child--for she appeared to be about seventeen or eighteenyears of age--her deportment was quite childlike. She hid herself,weeping, behind her sister, from the sight of the king and his knights,while she nevertheless occasionally peeped, with looks of eagerobservation, at their splendid attire.
"Speak out--who are ye?" asked the king, riding up to them.
The younger maiden drew back, and seemed preparing for flight, but theelder held her fast by the hand, and turned to the king, with calmself-possession, looking him steadily in the face with her large darkblue eyes. "King Eric Ericson," she said, "thine enemy's children arein thine hand: we are fatherless and persecuted maidens; no one daresto give us shelter in our native land; and our last friend andprotector hath now been slain by thy men. Our father was the unhappyoutlawed Marsk Stig."
"Marsk Stig's daughters!--the regicide's children!" interrupted theking, casting on them a look of displeasure. "Ye meant then to havecompleted your father's crime? Are ye roaming the country round withrobbers and regicides?"
"We are innocent, King Eric!" answered the maiden, laying her hand uponher heart. "May the Lord as surely forgive thee our father's death, andthe blood which flows here! Vengeance belongeth to the Lord. We wishedbut to quit thy kingdom."
"And ye would also have me depart this world," interrupted the king."They must be taken to Kallundborg castle," said he to the huntsmen."The affair shall be inquired into; if they can clear themselves theymay leave the kingdom. Away with them; I will not look on them." Sosaying, the king turned his horse's head to avoid the sight of the fairunfortunate, who for an instant appeared to have softened his wrath.
No one had viewed the captive maidens with more compassion than DrostAage. "My liege," said he, in an under tone, "how could the innocentmaidens help----?"
"That the arrow slew none of us?" interrupted the king hastily. "I daresay they were not to blame for that. Wolf's cubs should never betrusted; they shall meet with their deserts. Away with them."
"Then permit me to escort them, my liege," resumed Drost Aage. "If aknight's daughters be led to prison, knightly protection is still owingthem on their way thither."
"Well, go with them, Drost," answered the king aloud, waving his handas he spoke. "They shall be treated with all chivalrous deference andhonour; ye will be answerable for them on your honour and fealty." Theking then put spurs into his impatient steed, and galloped off,followed by the Marsk, the Swedish knights, and the whole of the train,with the exception of Drost Aage and four huntsmen.
The elder of the captive maidens still held her sister's hand claspedin her own. She had approached the body of the slain squire, besidewhich she knelt, bending over his head. Drost Aage had dismounted fromhis horse, and stood close by with the bridle in his hand, and with hisarm on the saddle-bow. It seemed as though the sight of the kneelingmaiden had changed him into a statue.
The restless movements of the younger maiden did not attract hisattention; his gaze dwelt only on the kneeling form: she seemed in hiseyes as an angel of love and pity praying for the sinner's soul. Heobserved a tear trickle down her fair pale cheek, and could no longerrestrain the expression of his sympathy. "Be comforted, noble maiden!"he exclaimed, with emotion; "no evil shall befall you. The man youmourn for may perhaps have been true and faithful to you, but (were henot struck with sudden madness) he fell here as a great criminal. Carrythe dead man to Esrom," he said to two of the huntsmen; "entreat theabbot in my name to grant him Christian burial, and sing a mass for hissoul." They instantly obeyed, and bore away the body. The kneelingmaiden arose.
"Let me provide for your safety," continued Aage. "Ere your case hasbeen inquired into according to law, you cannot quit the kingdom; but Ipledge my word and honour King Eric will never permit your father'sguilt to make him forget what is due to your rank and sex."
"If we are really your prisoners. Sir Knight," said the elder sister,"then, in the name of our blessed Lady, lead us to our prison; promiseme only that you will not separate us, and that you will not be severeto my poor sister."
"Neither for yourself nor for your sister, noble maiden, need you fearaught like harsh treatment; and if you, as I hope and believe, canjustify yourselves, your captivity will assuredly not be a long one."
"Our life and freedom are in the Lord's hand--not in man's," said theeldest sister, in a tone of resignation. "In this world we have now nofriends. Our father's meanest squire sacrificed his life for us; hewhom he made a knight forsook us in the hour of need," she added in alow voice.
Drost Aage now gazed with increased sympathy on the calm pale maiden,and was cut to the heart by the expression of dignified sorrow in hercountenance, called forth by the consciousness of her desolatecondition.
"I will be your friend and protector so long as I live!" he exclaimedwith visible emotion. "That I pledge myself to be on my knightly wordand honour."
"The Lord and our dear blessed Lady reward you for that," answered thefair captive. "You seem to wish us well; but if you are King Eric'sfriend, you must certainly hate us for our father's sake."
"Assuredly I am King Eric's friend!" said Aage, the blood mounting tohis cheek as he spoke, "but I cannot therefore hate you. If you, as Ifully believe, are innocent of what hath just now happened, as a knightand as a Christian also I owe you and all the defenceless friendlyconsolation and protection."
The horses of the two huntsmen who had quitted the party had beenmeanwhile led forward, and had their saddles arranged so as to admit ofthe maidens riding without danger or difficulty. The younger sister wasfirst mounted. She had not as yet uttered a word, but had gazedrestlessly around, occupied apparently in forming conjectures of themost contradictory nature. At one moment she appeared dejected andready to weep, at another her bright eyes sparkled with animation, andshe seemed to meditate a venturous flight, while the next she lookedwith an air of queen-like authority at the courteous young knight andthe two huntsmen, as if she had but to command to be obeyed. It was notuntil she was firmly seated in the saddle, with the bridle in her hand,that she seemed fearless and at her ease. "Let us speed on then," shesaid with sportive gaiety.
"What though full small the palfreys be, 'Tis better to ride than on foot to flee."
"If this knight is our guardian and protector, it is of course his dutyto defend us. At a royal castle, besides, they must know how to give usroyal entertainment."
"We wend not to yon dark castle as honoured guests," replied hersister; "but keep up thy spirits, Ulrica, all the hairs of our head arenumbered." So saying, she allowed herself to be placed on horseback;and Drost Aage was presently riding between his two fair captivesthrough Esrom forest, followed by the two huntsmen.