CHAP. VII.
Towards midnight, Count Henrik stood in his apartment, next theking's chamber, in the upper story of the castle. He had extinguishedhis light, in order to retire to rest, but remained standinghalf-undressed, at the high arched-window, which looked towards theeast, and from which he gazed out in the moonlight upon the Sound,watching the distant vessels gliding away over the glittering mirror ofthe waters. Since his visit to St. George's hospital, he had beensilent and pensive. At the evening repast he had constantly drained hiscup, for the purpose of raising his spirits. His pulse beat hard;recollections of the past, and hopes for the future, passed rapidlythrough his mind, in fair and vivid imagery. At the sight of the oceanand the distant prospect, he gave himself up to visionary longingsafter his distant fatherland, and a beloved form seemed to flit beforehim, as he pressed the blue shoulder-scarf to his lips, and hung itcarefully over a high-backed chair. He took a gold chain, which theking had lately given him, from his breast, and laid his sword aside."Deeds, achievements, honour, first!" he said to himself, "and thenlove will surely also twine me a wreath. Now that _his_ life andhappiness are at stake, he shall not have called me his friend in vain.Let him become a Waldemar the Victorious! and Henrik of Mecklenborg'sname shall be famed like that of Albert of Orlamund[oe]. But anothersort of fellow, and a right merry one, will _I_ be." He now heard theweapons of the bodyguard clashing in the antechamber, where a younghalberdier kept guard, with twelve spearmen. It was not, however, usualfor the king to be surrounded by a guard, when he made a progressthrough the country, and passed the night at any of the royal mansions;but here, where the banished archbishop and the outlaws still had theirnumerous friends, and where the ecclesiastical rulers of the town wereon doubtful terms with the king, Count Henrik had counselled thisprecaution as in some degree necessary, after so recent aninsurrection, and where the king's mediation had not been able tosatisfy all the discontented. While Count Henrik was undressinghimself, the Drost's letter dropped from his vest, and he ponderedthoughtfully over the solemn warnings it contained. "Hum! The junker,"he said to himself "his own brother--and yet surely a traitor--nevershall I forget his countenance that night at Kallundborg--the blood ofthe unhappy commandant was surely upon his head--_he_ will be no joyouswedding guest--he would assuredly rather stand by the bridegroom'sgrave;--then might a crown yet fall upon his raven's head. Hum! Theyare murky, these Danish royal castles," he continued, looking aroundthe dark gothic chamber, with its arched roof and walls, a fathomthick, "Is he safe here among his guests? The little spying bishop wasGrand's good friend. I like him not; the haughty, gloomy abbot stillless--they are dangerous people, those holy men of God, when they willhave a finger in state affairs. Here he sleeps under the same roof withhis enemies to-night; and yonder, in the hospital, lies a disguisedregicide; perhaps he was only deadly sick for appearance sake, and mycompassion was ill bestowed." As Count Henrik was revolving thesethoughts, and delayed retiring to rest, there was a low knocking at thedoor. It opened, and an ecclesiastic entered; he was a quiet, seriousold man. The moonlight fell on a pale and somewhat melancholy face, andthe Count recognised the general-superior of the Copenhagen chapter. "Aword in confidence, noble knight," he whispered mysteriously; "I comelike Nicodemus; yet it is not spiritual things, but temporal, whichhave disturbed my night's rest. Your liege the king hath this daygenerously saved my life and the lives of my colleagues, although hedoes not regard us all as his friends, and with some reason: perhaps Imay now be able to requite him."
"How?" exclaimed Count Henrik: "say on, venerable sir! What have you toconfide to me?"
"When we fled from Axelhuus at break of day," continued theecclesiastic, "I was well nigh sick of fear and alarm, and gave butlittle heed to what passed around me. A half-dead man had been found onthe beach, and out of compassion taken into the boat. I saw not hisface, and his voice was strange to me; of that I can take my oath. Hewas afterwards carried to St. George's Hospital here, close by theking's meadows. While we lay hidden under the thwarts in the boat, forfear of the insurgents, the sick man had come to himself: and exchangedmany strange, enigmatical words with my colleague, the abbot of theForest Monastery. What it was I heard but half, and cannot remember;but there must be some mystery about that person which makes meapprehensive; deadly sick he seemed to me in no wise to be, andappeared least of all prepared for his _own_ departure from this world.My lord, the bishop seemed neither to know him nor his dark projects;but as I said, the abbot knew him, and had assuredly beforeadministered to him the most holy Sacrament. More have I not to say;but I felt compelled to seek you out, however late it was: I could notsleep for disquiet thoughts. The guard without, here, I found in a deepslumber, I know not whether it is with your knowledge."
"How? Impossible!" exclaimed Count Henrik, in great consternation,hastily stepping into the antechamber, where he found all the twelvespearmen lying asleep on the floor. On the table stood an empty wineflask and some goblets. The young halberdier, who had the command ofthe guard, sat likewise asleep in a corner. Count Henrik shook them;but they were all in a deep sleep. "Treachery!" he exclaimed, indismay, and hastily snatched a lance from one of the sleeping guards."Haste to the knights' story, venerable sir! Wake all the king's men,and call them instantly hither! I cannot now myself quit the king'sdoor. I will fasten the door after you: knock three soft strokes whenyou return! For the Lord's sake, haste!"
The ecclesiastic nodded in silence, and departed. Count Henrik lockedthe door of the upper story after him, and barricadoed it with tablesand benches--he strove again to waken the sleeping guards, but it wasin vain: they seemed not intoxicated by ordinary wine; their sleeprather resembled that caused by a soporific draught.
Count Henrik stood alone among the sleepers, and waited long in a stateof painful anxiety; there was a deathlike stillness around him: heheard but the deep-drawn breathings of the sleepers; but the king's menfrom the knights' story did not arrive, and the ecclesiastic returnednot either. He stood for full an hour, listening with lance in hand.All was still. At last he thought he heard a noise, as if some one wasscraping the wall, or creeping to the window over the projectingbattlements near the staircase of the upper story. He cast a hastyglance at the window, and saw a horrible and deadly pale face, which hecould not recognise, pressed flat to one of the window panes. He rushedforward with raised lance, but when he reached the window the face haddisappeared. Count Henrik stepped back, thrilled by a feeling of horrorwhich he had never before experienced. It seemed as if the prostratewarriors around him mocked his growing uneasiness by the profoundindifference of their slumbers. He felt as if secret doors were aboutto open in all the old panels, and the outlawed regicides of Finnerupwere ready to rush forth masked from every corner to renew the bloodyscenes of St. Cecilia's eve, and avenge Marsk Stig and their slainkinsmen. He kept his lance in the one hand and held his knight's swordunsheathed in the other. Thus armed, he stationed himself without theking's door, and just before the open door between his own chamber andthe landing of the upper story, every moment expecting an attack fromthe foe, who were probably many in number. It was useless to give analarm; the wing containing the knights' story, where all the king's menslept, was at too great a distance for his voice to reach thither, andif the traitors were nigh, a shout of distress might embolden them. Hethought of waking the king; but all as yet was quiet, and he wasashamed of showing fear in Eric's presence, where there was no enemyeither to be seen or heard. To the king's sleeping chamber there was noother entrance than through the antechamber of the upper story and thecount's apartment. The windows of the king's chamber were furnishedwith iron bars: but in the antechamber the high arched windows werewithout any defence, and they looked out on the other side to the openfield. From this quarter he expected the attack would be made, and hefeared, with reason, that some mishap must have chanced to theecclesiastic on the way to the knights' story. The longer he ponderedover his situation, the more alarming it appeared. An idea now sudde
nlystruck him, which he instantly hastened to put into execution. Afterhe had once more unsuccessfully attempted to arouse the slumberingmen-at-arms he raised them up one by one from the floor and bound themtight by their shoulder-scarfs, in an almost upright position, to thestrong iron hooks in the window pillars, which were used for hangingweapons upon. In this attitude they turned their backs towards thewindows looking upon the fields, and would, therefore, appear to thosewithout to be awake and at their posts. Hardly had he completed thislaborious task ere he heard whispering voices, and a low clashing ofarms under the windows. He sprang suddenly forward with raised lanceand sword, to that window, which was most strongly lighted up by themoonshine, and shouted in a loud triumphant voice, "Now's the time,guard! Here we have them in the field."
"Fly! fly! We are betrayed!--they are all on their legs!" said a hoarsevoice without; and Count Henrik saw in the clear moonshine a wholetroop of masked persons, in the mantles of Dominican monks, take flightover the meadow. "St. George be praised!" he exclaimed, once morebreathing freely. "I should hardly have been able to master so many."
The spearmen and the young halberdier still slept soundly in theirhanging position. Count Henrik bound them yet faster, and left themin this attitude. When the king stepped forth from his chamber atsun-rise, he beheld, to his surprise. Count Henrik pacing up and down,half-dressed, on the landing, with weapons in both hands, while theguard hung snoring in their shoulder-scarfs among the untenanted suitsof armour on the window pillars. At this sight he burst into a heartylaugh, and on hearing the strange adventure shook his head and smiled."You have dreamed, my good Count Henrik; or, to speak plainly, you havehad a goblet of wine too much in your head," he said, gaily. "I noticedthat last night, indeed; but compared with these fellows you haveassuredly been sober: you have made rare game of them in yourmerriment."
"As I live, my liege, it was no joke," began Count Henrik eagerly; butthe lancers now began, one after another, to gape and to stretchthemselves. When they found, however, how they were bound to thearmour-hooks, and beheld the king with Count Henrik just opposite them,they demeaned themselves most strangely, betwixt fear and bashfulness.The king turned away to repress his laughter, as he was now compelledto be stern; but Count Henrik was indignant at his incredulity and gayhumour.
"Throw the whole of that dormouse guard into the tower," commanded theking; "they can sleep themselves sober, and so be better able to keeptheir eyes open another time. You yourself shall get off by putting upwith my laughter," he added, and went with the count into anotherapartment. "Henceforth I can believe neither what you nor my dear DrostAage see and hear in the moonshine. Out of pure love to me you spytraitors in every corner, and vie with each other in playing madpranks. Hath any one ever known the like of the halberdier guard!" Whenthe door of the guard-room was shut, the king gave vent to hislaughter; his opinion of the real state of the case was strengthened byobserving that Count Henrik was only half-dressed, and by his disturbedlooks.
"You wound me by your doubts, my liege," resumed Count Henrik, withsubdued vehemence, and casting his mantle around him; "but so long asyou can make laughing-stocks of your true servants; thank God, it is aproof at least that you are of good cheer, my liege, and that shouldvex no loyal subject. You can witness, fellows," he continued eagerly,again opening the door of the guard-chamber upon the dismayed spearmen."No! That is true; you saw nothing of it, ye drowsy pates!" he cried inwrath. "To the tower with you instantly! and you besides, vigilant Sirhalberdier! You never more deserve to be trusted with the guarding ofthe king's person."
The young halberdier, who had awoke in fear and dismay, and had nowextricated himself from his humiliating position, related in his excusehow he had lost his consciousness in an unaccountable manner, afterhaving only drunk a single cup of the evening draught which had beenbrought to them. They had all fared in the same manner. The king atlast became serious, and caused the matter to be strictly inquiredinto. It could not be discovered who had brought the soporific draught.None of the kin's attendants knew any thing of it. No one had beenroused in the knights' story. The old general-superior must have beencarried off by the traitors: he was nowhere to be found. When thebishop and the abbot of the Forest Monastery heard what had been donethey appeared to be in the greatest consternation. The bishop loudlyexpressed it as his opinion that it must have been the discontentedguild-brethren from the town, and that the attack, in all probability,had concerned him. Since his last conversation with theseecclesiastical dignitaries the king had altered the plan of hisjourney, and determined instantly to repair to Helsingborg, there toexpedite his marriage, and prepare every thing for the reception of hisbride.
He excused himself with cold courtesy from all further companionshipwith bishop Johan and the abbot, who, silent and thoughtful, set out onthe road to Roskild; but the aged provincial prior Olaus accompaniedthe king, by his desire, to supply the place of the absent chancellor,in conducting correspondence and matters of a similar nature.
When the king, a few hours after sunrise, was about to leaveSorretslov, and traversed the ante-chamber where Count Henrik had kepthis singular night-watch, he took the count's hand and pressed it withwarmth, "If you have been able to put my enemies to flight, here, withsnoring fellows on hooks, you must be able to crush them with wakingmen in coats of mail. From this hour you are my Marsk, Count Henrik ofMecklenborg, with the same authority in peace and war as MarskOlufsen," So saying, the king handed him a roll of parchment, with signand seal of this high dignity. "When I laugh another time at yourheroic deeds, brave count, and call them dreams and visions, you maycall me an unbelieving Thomas," he continued. "From my childhoodupwards I have had as many deadly foes as my father had murderers," headded, solemnly, and with a tremulous voice; "yet truly, I thank theLord and our holy Lady for my foes; they teach me almost daily to knowmy true friends."
Count Henrik's eyes beamed with joy; he heartily thanked the king, andfollowed him down the staircase to the court of the castle, whereEric's numerous train already awaited his coming, on horseback. CountHenrik sprang gaily into the saddle, with his new commission in hishand, and instantly issued, as Marsk, the necessary orders for pursuingand tracking the traitors.
As they rode out of the court-yard, the king missed his two favouritetournament steeds, and became highly displeased. "Truly this is worsethan all the rest," he said, looking around him with so stern a glanceand so clouded a countenance that the young knights looked at eachother in surprise; and a word of soothing or admonition seemed to hoveron the lips of the aged provincial prior.
"The handsome, spirited prancers, they should have danced beforePrincess Ingeborg's car on our bridal day," continued the king, turningto Master Olaus. "This is no good omen for me. They might sooner haveburned the castle over my head than robbed me of those noble animals."
It was now discovered that the horses were already missing in themorning of the day preceding, together with both the grooms who had thecharge of them, and that they had been sought for everywhere in vain.
"They shall and must be found; I will answer for that," said CountHenrik, and instantly despatched a couple of his own grooms to look forthem. The party rode on; but the king's good humour was disturbed forsome time. "I shall never be able to find such another pair," he saidat last, in a milder tone, looking out across the Sound on thepicturesque road to Elsinore, while the larks carolled gaily above hishead, and his long fair locks floated on the spring breeze. "I alwaysfancied them dancing before her car every time I thought on her bridalday; eager wishes may make us superstitious and childish, I believe.Had we but the bride in the car we should assuredly get it drawn tochurch."
"You would have twice as many hands to draw it as there are hearts inDenmark's kingdom," said Count Henrik, placing a green sprig of beechin his hat. "We bring summer with us to Helsingborg, my sovereign--Look!Denmark's forests already arch themselves into a vast Gothic church andbridal hall."
"_That_ church and bridal hall they shall at any rate leave
wide opento me," exclaimed the king, with some bitterness, as he raised hisglance above the woods to the clear heavens. "Yon eternal church ofGod, besides," he continued, "however matters may stand with her imagehere in the dust. Is it not so, Master Olaus?"
"The true temple of God's spirit is a pious and loving heart, myliege," answered the mild, calm, provincial prior. "Where there is loveand living faith, with the Lord's help, there will be no lack ofblessing."
The king nodded kindly to them both, and they now rode briskly forwardon the road to Elsinore.