Читать книгу The Childhood of King Erik Menved - Bernhard Severin Ingemann - Страница 4

"But how came you by the wine?" inquired Master Grand: "it is indeed converted into nectar."

"The preparation is a secret, my most worthy sir," answered the cook, "the knowledge of which I shall keep to myself, until I make my will: then shall I enrich after generations with my invention, if the world prove worthy of it. I have named this divine beverage bishop: I hope it deserves its title, and that it will hereafter render the name of Morten Fynbo immortal, among both learned and simple."

"Call it archbishop: it deserves the name better than the carlin we have now in Lund," roared Count Jacob. "Such a bishop is fitted to mediate an eternal peace between the temporal and spiritual lords of the kingdom; and, at this time, it is much needed. We have made a beginning with you, very learned Master Grand," he continued: "when you come hereafter to be archbishop, perhaps it will fare better with justice in the land. You are the man to lend me a letter of excommunication, when my own sword is too short to recover my feudal rents, withheld by a tyrant."

Master Grand made no reply, but gave the loud-voiced count a familiar and significant look.

"To our noble dean, the pride and honour of Roskild!" resumed Count Jacob: "long life to our very learned Master Jens Grand! A rogue is he who does not pledge the toast to the bottom; and confusion to all the vermin and king's thralls in the country!" With these words, he touched the ecclesiastic's cup with his own. His example was followed by Duke Waldemar and the knights; the whole bursting out into a simultaneous shout of applause, in which the cook heartily joined.

"I thank you, my high-born Count Jacob; you, too, my noble duke; and you, my valiant lords and knights," said Master Grand, agreeably surprised, while he rose, and regarded all around him with an air of seriousness and significance. "The time may come when my deeds shall prove to you that it is my highest wish to effect a friendly union between the knightly sword and the bishop's staff. Earthly and heavenly power must be truly united, when there is anything great to be done in the world. But more of this at another time and place," he said, suddenly interrupting himself. "Latet anguis in herbâ--there is a snake in the grass, as the saying goes: Satan has his imps everywhere."

So saying, the dean's sharp looks fell on the figure of the tall, mailed knight, who sat in the corner, by the door. All eyes were turned in the same direction, and a mysterious whispering arose among the uneasy guests. The sturdy warlike figure then arose, and advanced with firm strides towards the light at the end of the table. He moved his head, as if he would observe the guests more narrowly, raised his mailed arm, struck the grating of his helmet upwards for a moment, and then allowed it to fall. The hasty view thus obtained of the strongly-illumined, iron features of the warrior, and the stern glance that shot like lightning from beneath his dark bushy eyebrows, struck every one with astonishment. They had all risen to bid him welcome; but he laid his finger upon the opening of his helmet, and they remained standing, as mute as statues, and regarding him with earnest expectation.

"Remember your oaths and vows! Prudence is still our safeguard," said the mailed knight, in a deep, hollow voice. "There is no security, or room for insolent bravado, where traitors may go in and out, and every door stands open. The tyrant is near at hand. Drost Peter Hessel was among you on the Belt, and you knew him not."

"Drost Peter!" they repeated, with astonishment.

"Damnation!" exclaimed the young duke, stamping: "it was reported otherwise. But how came he there? I did not see him. Where did he land?"

"Spite of the devil, I should think it would have been known if the drost had been on board," said Count Jacob. "Two boatmen and a youth excepted, there was not a cat on board I did not know."

"Who was the man who sprang from the mast, and seized the rudder, when the steersman's arm was wounded?" demanded the stern knight.

"He--the daring young fellow," said Count Jacob--"he who, at the very nick of time, came as if he had dropped from the clouds, and saved our lives--was he not a boatman?"

"It was Drost Peter Hessel," said the black knight; "and the lad who waited upon him was his squire--a youth with ears in his head."

"The fiend!" exclaimed one after another.

"In the noise and confusion I was both deaf and blind," began Master Grand; "otherwise, I should have seen whether we had Philistines on board. On the skiff I saw no one: but who was the knight in the scarlet mantle, who followed us from the quay, and rode off in pursuit of rievers or virgins, or on some such sort of carnal, hair-brained exploit?"

"That was Drost Peter," answered the mailed knight. "Where were your keen eyes, Master Grand? Our deadly foe sat to-day by the rudder, and you knew him not; to-morrow he sits at the helm of the state, and will know you."

"Death and perdition! All is lost? We are betrayed!" exclaimed one after the other; and the commotion became general.

"Not yet," said the mailed knight, quietly, and raised his voice. "Until the Dane-court is brought to a close, the law protects you. This law only protects me," and he struck his large, rattling sword. "The moment the Danish court is terminated, separate. In half an hour, I am again on board. Yet three words in private with your and my future lord."

The young duke hastened anxiously forward, and fervently seized the knight's mailed hand. They retired a few steps, and the mysterious knight whispered some words into his ear, which he only heard, but at which the bold duke's cheeks changed colour. The knight regarded him with a keen look, laid his hand encouragingly upon his shoulder, and nodded. The duke regained his composure, and, with a haughty look, made a hasty motion with his sword. Without adding a single word more, the tall, iron-clad knight saluted the company, and quietly strode out at the door.

A general silence ensued, while the young duke appeared struggling to overcome some anxious, disquieting thought. Hastily seizing his cup, "Long life to our trusty, watchful friend!" he said: "may he return safe: he has done much for our sakes to-day."

Scarcely had he uttered the words, and put the goblet to his lips, ere the door was opened, and Drost Peter Hessel, with old Henner Friser, entered, accompanied by a crowd of burghers and seamen, carrying with them the bound Swain Rané. Old Henner led his daughter by the hand. She cast back a kindly look towards the door, where the squire, Claus Skirmen, was standing, with his master's scarlet cloak upon his arm, and surprised apparently at the sight of so many strangers; whilst his eyes speedily forsook the fair, dark-eyed damsel, and rested, with earnest attention, upon his master's every look and motion.

As the young drost entered, Duke Waldemar and the knights hastily replaced their uplifted goblets on the table, and looked at one another with amazement.

Drost Peter did not appear to notice the general confusion which his entrance had occasioned. Having saluted the company with knightly politeness, "I perceive," he said, in a lively, unaffected tone, "I am yet in time, my lords, to greet you in my own doublet, and to thank you for your excellent travelling society. I had my reasons for appearing as a boatman: that scarcely any of my noble lords will doubt. It gladdens me that I was fortunate steersman enough, and had the opportunity, of bringing so many important patriots safe to land. I would have thanked you for your confidence immediately upon our landing, my lords; but I have been delayed by a little unpleasant adventure, which is now happily finished."

The young duke recovered his self-possession. He returned the drost's salutation with a princely air, and answered, in the same courteous tone, "It was handsome to return to us, Drost Hessel, and not to withdraw yourself from our thankful acknowledgments. But a minute ago, we learned that we were fortunate enough to have had you on board, without knowing you, and that you were the brave boatman who so opportunely caught hold of the rudder in our danger. That chance or necessity, and no deceitful intention, made us fellow-voyagers to-day, notwithstanding our difference of opinion in various matters, I am willing to believe. Accept, therefore, the acknowledgments of myself and friends; and permit us, as we were just proposing, to drain this cup to your welfare."

At the duke's signal, the active cook handed the drost a goblet of wine; and, with forced politeness, Count Jacob made room for him on the duke's right hand, and begged him to be seated.

In the meanwhile, no one evinced any disposition to do honour to the proposed toast.

Drost Peter observed this, and said, hastily: "I thank you, my lords, for the intended honour; but permit me, as the reward of my pilotage, merely to beg the favour, that I may quaff this first goblet on Funen ground, with Duke Waldemar, Count Jacob, and these worthy gentlemen, to a peaceful and happy issue to the Dane-court, and to the welfare of our country, and of our lawful king's house."

With these words, he emptied his goblet, and replaced it on the table.

"Every friend of his country who participates in my wish," he added, "will certainly not hesitate on doing justice to my toast."

All eyes were turned upon Duke Waldemar and Count Jacob; and as both these lords, although with secret indignation, emptied their cups, and set them on the table, the other knights followed their example.

The fat cook smiled knavishly. "A bitter addition to my magnificent liquor," he whispered to Master Grand.

The ecclesiastic burned with indignation. He had not yet raised the goblet to his lips; and, grasping it in his hand, with the wine dripping upon his fingers, he now dashed it violently upon the stone floor. "I drink no slavish token of homage by constraint," he exclaimed, in a rage. "On what footing I, as Dean of Roskild, stand with King Erik Christopherson, is known to every man in the country who knows that St. Michael's Church, in Slagelse, belongs to the deanery of Roskild, and has been taken from me with shameful injustice. If I have not been afraid to protest openly against the king's illegal encroachments on my rights of office, neither am I now afraid to declare openly to his drost, that I will suffer thirst till doomsday, rather than, like a miserable hypocrite, drink a single drop to worldly arrogance and injustice."

"And I hold to that, with our very learned sir dean," said Count Jacob, with a loud voice, and striking his long sword vehemently against the floor. "Every man here has his freedom; and no one shall compel us to drink any other toast than we please. I only drank, because I was thirsty, and the wine was good. I regard myself, then, so little as a wretch or a hypocrite, that no one with impunity shall call me a traitor to the country."

"It were far from me to upbraid any man with hypocrisy, or to accuse any of these gentlemen of so horrible a crime as treason," said Drost Peter, quietly. "In Denmark, God be praised, thoughts, and their rudest expression, are still free, when the law of the land is not transgressed; and I regard no Dane as the enemy of his country because, perhaps, he does not join in our common wish for its welfare, and in personal attachment to the royal house, with the same warmth as myself. In such unsettled and unhappy times as the present, we must, alas! experience that the opinions of the best Danish men differ on many important matters. But, my brave lords and countrymen," he continued, with warmth, "excuse me that I do not see any place or opportunity too unsuitable to say an earnest word in a matter that concerns every Dane. If variance and discord are not soon to rend asunder all, even the best of Danish hearts, and if the people are not to rebel and sink into ruin by such devastating strife, we must necessarily be united in one object; and that is, in lawful obedience to the majesty and divinity of the crown, upon whatever head it may legally and by justice rest. Mournful, certainly, it will be, if we, as men, as knights, or as servants of God's word, do not, at all times, love and do homage to the personality which is inseparable from majesty. But, as we would be true to our country, we are bound, heart and hand, to defend the king to the last drop of our blood."

"I may respect your manner of thinking, Drost Hessel, though it is not mine," replied young Duke Waldemar, with warmth, and approaching him a step or two, with great haughtiness, whilst he appeared to regard the embarrassment of his friends with indignation. "I do not misunderstand the zeal that permits you to forget where you are, and to whom you are speaking. But I may beg you to remember, that we are here in a public tavern; and that I, and the highborn Count Jacob of Halland, are present. As the king's kinsmen, we were most justified in holding discourse against sedition and lese-majesty, had we found it convenient or necessary. If you have anything to complain of against us, bring it before the king and people, in the Dane-court, where you shall find us all assembled, and where I hope to settle amicably the points in dispute between us and our royal kinsman. But, here, we order and command you, in virtue of our rank and dignity, to be silent, and not approach me or my friends, with an audacity that becomes you not, and with ill-timed admonitions respecting our duty to the Danish crown. And now, my lords, to horse. Here we shall no longer tarry, to give occasion for uproar, which this king and queen's zealous friend should have been the very first to have avoided."

The latter words were spoken in a bitter tone of ridicule, which called up a disdainful smile on the countenance of the young knight.

"Very good," said Count Jacob, in a rude tone of derision. "We shall yield the battle-field to the amorous young sir drost, since it is in a tavern, where one only cares to fight with words, or, at most, with fists and empty pitchers. If we contend, hereafter, upon a more worthy arena, sir drost, perhaps you may find it convenient to be the first to withdraw."

With these words, both the princely lords left the room; the ecclesiastic, with the cook, and all the knights, accompanying them. The horses had already, for some time, been standing saddled before the door; the squires hastened to hold the stirrups for their masters; and, in a minute after, the numerous train departed, laughing and talking aloud, through the streets of Middelfert.

The young drost stood, silent and thoughtful, in the guests' room, and appeared to be considering whether he had not been too precipitate. Old Henner, quietly, and with the greatest interest, had given heed to every one of his words, and to his whole conduct. The burghers and fishermen, after their president's example, remained silent witnesses of the contest between the distinguished lords. Claus Skirmen stood by the door, without losing sight of his master's face, although, at times, he cast a sidelong glance at the little dark-haired Aasé, who, with curious and playful eyes, watched the illustrious stranger.

The artful chamberlain had, in the meantime, profited by the general attention given to the clamorous lords. He had given jovial cook Morten, who pretended to know him, the wink, and, with the help of the carving-knife which hung at the cook's girdle, the cords that bound him were cut without it being observed. He could not, however, immediately avail himself of this freedom, while so many stood around him, but remained quietly, with his hands behind his back, as if he had been still bound. But, now that the door was open, he suddenly sprang under the arms of his guards, and was gone in an instant.

"What the fiend! is he loose?" exclaimed the astonished fishermen, springing after him.

"Stay, let him run!" cried Drost Peter, stopping them. "If he escape, it will please me better, as he would soon have been set free. He will scarcely venture into the net so soon again, however; and we have a traitor the less among us."

The fishermen stood on the alert, ready to bring back the fugitive.

"Ay, ay: let him run to Satan, as the knight says," growled old Henner Friser. "The lanky youth may soon be settled: he shall frighten nobody. Another time that we lay our fingers upon him, let us crack his neck on the instant. Now, let him grease his houghs."

This speech the fishermen seemed to comprehend, and they remained accordingly.

"Now shall you have thanks for your assistance and interest in this matter, my nimble countrymen," continued Drost Peter. "Every one betake himself to his home, and keep himself easy. From robbers you have nothing to fear; and the safety of your brave alderman I will provide for."

"Nobody shall touch a hair of his head, so long as there is a porpoise-hunter in Melfert Sound," replied a young fisherman.

"And should he get into any trouble concerning the royal squire we pitched into the dung-pit," said Troels the armourer, "we brethren of the guild will stand by him. Twelve of us keep watch here to-night; and, if he wishes to make his escape, there are six men at the yawl, with a boat and all that is needful."

"Good, my children, good," replied old Henner. "But go, now: I will consider the matter, and tell you, perhaps, my intentions before morning."

At his beck, the burghers and fishermen left the room. The old man fervently seized Drost Peter's hand. "God and St. Christian bless you, my wellborn young gentleman, for what you have this night done for me and my little Aasé!" he said, with emotion. "If ever I forget it, I am a scoundrel. Neither shall I readily forget the words you addressed to these distinguished rascals: they have stirred up my sinful old soul more than I could have thought."

The restrained but violent emotions which the tones of his voice betrayed appeared to surprise the little Aasé, as somewhat unusual. Her grandfather, observing this, suddenly relaxed his hold of the knight's hand.

"Go, now, to bed, my child," he said gently, turning to her: "go to bed, and sleep securely until I call you. Dream neither of rievers nor big demons. This hand already has punished the doughtiest; but it is not so nimble now--it begins to feel the rascals. But the world is wide: if we cannot be in peace any longer here, I have other plans. Now, good night, child. Pray to our Lord, and our good patron St. Christian, to afford us their protection, and not to lead us into temptation. Now, quick, to bed."

"Allow me first to look to your wound, dear grandfather," replied the little Aasé, entreatingly, while she took hold of his hand and kissed it tenderly.

"Certainly not, child: I will not hear a word about the gnat-bite. Did you not hear what I said?"

From the old man's stern tone, and the silence with which she prepared, though reluctantly, to obey him, it might be seen that the old grandfather was not accustomed to opposition. She still lingered, however; and, as he looked at her more attentively, he observed the furtive, sidelong glances of her eyes towards the door, where the young squire was still standing. "That is true--the youth by the door--he has had no supper, and well deserves one. Without him, we had not got hold of you. Now run, then, Aasé, and take care of him in the kitchen."

"Come, Claus Skirmen," said Aasé, cheerfully, and as familiarly as if she had known him for a long time; while she sprang to the door where he stood, took him by the hand, and drew him merrily along with her to the kitchen.

"Singular child!" muttered the old man to himself: "now she is the little wild cat again, and a single word can make her glad or sorrowful. But when the strong dreaming spirit comes over her, not a sinner would willingly look into her eyes. Well, well: it is a sad thing for our strength."

Drost Peter stood in deep thought, and unobservant of what was passing. He had taken a sheet of parchment from his breast pocket, and on this he gazed intently, without appearing to know what he was reading.

"Have you received disastrous tidings, noble sir?" at length inquired old Henner, regarding him with sympathy; "or is it your evening prayer you are reading? If your soul is in converse with the Lord, I shall not disturb you; but, then, you should look happier. You are young, and can scarcely have any grievous sins upon your conscience. You may well read your ave and paternoster, without looking whether the evil one stands grinning behind you."

"What said you, brave old man?" inquired the knight, recovering himself, and hastily folding the parchment. "It is late, and I stand in need of rest: the noise and journey have wearied me."

"Come, refresh yourself first, noble sir. My best apartment is ready for you. But I have now a word to say to you, for God knows when I may see you again. You are wearied, and I perceive you have important matters in your head. Come, sir drost, you will not refuse a stoup of good Danish pors-ale? What the fiend! have their lordships transformed my ale into wine? Well, that was indeed handsome of them."

They then both set themselves down to cook Morten's half-emptied bowl of spiced wine; and when a cup of the potent beverage had enlivened them, old Henner resumed:

"You spake an earnest word this evening, noble sir. My illustrious guests considered it ill-timed, and perhaps you now may think that you were over hasty; but it was a word at the right time, to me and many more. Yes, you are right, noble sir. The crown is holy, whoever bears it: for the king is the Lord's anointed; and no one shall with impunity raise his hand against him, were it the foul fiend himself whom God has set over us for a season."

"That I did not say exactly, old man," said the drost, interrupting him; "yet it is not far from my meaning. But how came you now upon this matter? Did you know these lords?"

"Who does not know the haughty Duke Waldemar and the crabbed Count Jacob?" answered Henner. "I knew their good friends, too. What these good people carry in their bosoms is no secret. This dean from Roskild is a learned, dangerous man; and the Lord preserve us from him! Thought and thew, he is the old Archbishop Jacob to a hair--he that was imprisoned by the king's father, and brought the whole kingdom under the ban. The long, big-nosed dean comes of the same brood. People dare not say it openly; but you and everybody else know, nevertheless, that this Satan's archbishop had a finger in the pie when King Christopher was poisoned with our Lord's holy body."

"Thou art right, old man; and so much the worse," said Drost Peter: "this audacious Master Grand is Jacob Erlandsen's kinsman, both by descent and in spirit. He is the most crafty of them all, however hot-headed and open-mouthed he may be in his insolent moods." He again drew forth the parchment, and examined it. "Do you know Sir Tuko Abildgaard, the duke's drost?"

"Yes, indeed: that was the proud, smooth-faced gentleman, who sat so stiff where you are now sitting, with the light green cloak and doublet. I knew every one of them."

"Sir Lavé Little was not here--God be praised!" said Drost Peter, with a suppressed sigh. "They are a noble race, these Littles: would that they all took after the old Knight John! A truer man there is not in Denmark, although he has almost as much injustice to complain of as have his kinsmen."

"We must not judge them too severely, noble sir," resumed Henner. "Sir Lavé came over the Belt yesterday. It was sad to look upon the man. He had visited his kinsman for some purpose: that might well be seen in him. Shame is a hard cross. Old Pallé has certainly lost his wits about it; and the bold, proud Stig Andersen himself--I cannot think of him without feeling my heart ready to burst my bosom. A greater leader has Denmark never seen since the days of Count Albert of Northalbing and King Waldemar Seier. Even the mighty King Ladislaus of Sweden has him to thank for his crown. Oh, noble sir drost! when I fancy myself in this man's situation, dark thoughts arise within me. I could not say that the crown was holy, if I saw it borne by the destroyer of my wife's honour."

"And yet, brave Henner, you might say so, even were you in his place, if your fatherland were dearer to you than yourself, and your soul's salvation more precious than revenge."

"Salvation!" said Henner, gloomily; "talk not so decidedly about a man's salvation, sir drost. A bishop would not so readily undertake to do so. Believe you, then, of a truth, that the man shall be for ever damned who lifts his hand against a crowned nidding?"^[11]

"Let us condemn no one, that we be not ourselves condemned," said the knight, with deep seriousness; "least of all, let us condemn him whom none human can condemn, but who has his Judge above the stars."

"Awell, you may be right, sir, when that is spoken of a righteous king, who has been chosen by the free-will of his people, and who has not acquired his crown by perjury and the murder of a brother, like King Abel. If, now, you were to see the man who shot the arrow into King Abel's breast, noble sir, would you be able to look him in the face, and say that he was a godless traitor and a regicide, who must be for ever doomed to perdition?"

"What brings this into your head, old man?" inquired the knight, astonished: "I have, indeed, said I dare condemn no one, and, truly, least of all dare I condemn the man whom the Righteous Judge chose to raise up to vindicate the pious King Erik Waldemarson, and to hurl a fratricide from the throne of Denmark."

"That man stands now before you, sir drost!" said Henner Friser, rising: "with this hand I shot the arrow that entered King Abel's false heart; there hangs the steel bow that carried the doom of death and eternal punishment to the fratricide."

The knight looked up, and regarded with a degree of dread the tall, powerful old man, who, pale and frightful as the ghost of a hero, now stood before him in the dimly-lighted apartment.

"Did you that deed, old man?" he said, with an effort. "Then let me be the last man you entrust with the dreadful secret. And have a care of yourself. Had Duke Waldemar known what this bow has done, there is not a man in the country who could save you."

"That gives me but little uneasiness," answered the old man. "You, I know, will not betray me; and, saving yourself, there is not a soul in the world knows what old Henner thinks in the midnight storm, when the wild hunter rides over his roof with his howling hounds. Fancy not that I rue the best act of my life. Nay, God and St. Christian be praised! I dread not the hour when I shall stand, with King Abel, before our Lord's judgment-seat. And yet, sir knight, it gives rise to strange thoughts, to have withdrawn a soul from mercy, and dispatched a sinner to everlasting punishment before his time. But it is the weakness of old age: I know it well. It is, besides, at night only that such thoughts come upon me. By day, when I look upon the bow, I feel proud that this hand once rescued Denmark from destruction. As I have said, it is only at night that my heart softens, and that I feel compassion for the sinner whom I slew."

"Pray the God of mercy for his soul!" said the knight, with a feeling of uneasiness.

"Nay, that can I not, sir drost--and it but little matters. What I could do for him, by the aid of a nervous arm, that I have done; but it is in vain--he is doomed to eternal misery. I drove a six-ells stake, of good charred oak, through his rotten carcase in the bog of Gottorp; but what availed that? The proud devil will not rest in the swamp, nor will he suffer others to sleep in peace. You have heard, no doubt, what is told about his night-hunts? Constantly, at midnight, he rides out, raven-black, on his courser, over Gottorp heath, with three fiery hell-hounds at his heels. God be praised! I have not seen it myself; but every midnight, be my sleep ever so sound, it whines and howls in my ears till I awake. Perhaps it is mere rumour and superstition, and perhaps it is but the blood which rushes to my head when I recline; but now, for three and thirty years, I have never been able to close an eye until two hours after the accursed midnight. And--hear you aught? Lord! how it howls and whines again!" He held both hands before his eyes, and shook his gray head in an uneasy and anxious manner.

"Unhappy old man!" said the knight, "mayhap it is neither the blood nor the dead that disquiets you. I rather believe that there is a secret doubt in your honest heart of the justice of the deed, or that it was well-pleasing to God. Shrive yourself, in this matter, to a God-fearing clerk; and seek to make your peace with the Lord, (who, in truth, can alone give and take it away,) not only for the sake of the past, but also for what has happened to-day. It was not the Chamberlain Rané, but a greater man, that we both saw well, who had fixed upon your Aasé for his victim. I knew him, and so much the worse. Me, perhaps, he will spare, for prudential reasons; but he will not relinquish his object because he has once miscarried. It will be a serious matter with you, too, on account of the squire who lies in the dung-pit. I know but one course, old Henner: you must over the Belt with the maiden before it is day. Your house and goods may be sold afterwards. But proceed, without delay, to my warden at Harrestrup. I shall provide you with a letter to him, and he will direct you to my vacant hunting-lodge near Finnerup. There, both you and the little Aasé are safe. The wind is favourable. Take not too long to think of it."

The old man had seated himself upon a bench: he leant with his elbows on the table, and his wrinkled forehead rested in his giant hands.

"Well, I shall follow your advice, and accept your offer with respect and thanks, my illustrious young sir," said he at last, with decision, as he arose. "It is not for the sake of this gray head: were it doomed to fall beneath the axe, I should not take flight, in my old days, to escape the blow. But the maiden must be saved: she is the apple of my eye and my soul's joy--she is good and innocent. She does not yet understand her strange dreams. God grant they may never be fulfilled! She must be saved; and you are right--time presses. You have also pointed my way to peace, sir drost, and I will follow it. I shall bid good night to my worldly calling, and, in your hunting-lodge, reconcile myself to my God and Judge as best I can."

With these words, he shook the knight's hand fervently, and went out, to make the necessary preparations for his departure.

The drost hastily drew forth the sheet of parchment that he had been reading, tore off a portion on which there was no writing, and, with a silver style which he carried about him, wrote upon it a few words to his warden at Harrestrup-Gaard, near Viborg. Scarcely had he finished the brief epistle, before long-withstood weariness overpowered him. The style fell from his hand; his long, dark-haired eyelids closed in spite of him; and he leant back on the bench, until he rested against the wall. Seated in this manner, in a few minutes he was fast asleep, and was busied, apparently, in his dreams, with some dear and familiar object. The soft gleam of the nearly-expiring light fell on his youthful but strong and almost stern countenance, which now, however, was lit up with a kindly smile; while, in his right hand, he held a rosary of rubies, which he wore concealed about his neck, and to which was attached a solitary amber jewel, which had seemingly belonged to a lady's necklace. His left hand still rested firmly, and with a half-conscious carefulness, upon the parchment that lay open before him on the table.

He was still securely slumbering in this position, when the door was gently opened, and a face peered in, which, though half concealed beneath a fisherman's shaggy cap, yet, with its thin, sandy beard and crafty features, betrayed the Chamberlain Rané. He was dressed entirely like a fisherman. He allowed the door to stand ajar, and, gliding noiselessly into the apartment, advanced on tiptoe to the table, where the knight's left hand still rested on the documents. After a scrutinising glance at the sleeper, his small gray eyes rested with curiosity upon the letter. He paused, and was about to slip it away; but the knight just then making a motion with his right hand, the artful spy hastily stepped back. He again approached carefully, looked upon the letter with strained attention, and turned pale when he saw his own name among a long list of others, in the open document, headed "Conspirators." He groped with one hand for a dagger, whose bright silver hilt projected from his breast-pocket; but appeared suddenly to restrain himself, as his eye fell upon the small slip addressed to the warden of Harrestrup. He seemed surprised on reading it, and, with a smile of triumph, went out as gently and cautiously as he had entered.

Shortly after, Drost Peter awoke, completely refreshed by his short slumber, and heard, in the apartment, loud noise and laughter, the jingling of bells, and the tread of iron-heeled boots with clattering spurs. He opened his eyes, and beheld a strong, heavy, and somewhat corpulent personage, whose round, jovial countenance, and strong brown beard, bespoke him to be in the prime of life. With a pair of large gold spurs on his heels, he trod the paved apartment firmly, and, casting his mantle aside with a gentle motion of his arm, exposed a knight's magnificent dress, and a pair of glittering gold chains. He paced the apartment backwards and forwards, in lively conversation with two less elegantly attired knights, and a lanky, awkwardly-built personage, whose short jingling jacket, and peaked cap with a long fox's tail behind, denoted his rank as a jester.

Surprised, the young drost seized the parchment document, which still lay open before him, and placed it hastily in his bosom. Thereupon he arose, and saluted the strangers with polite apologies that he had not sooner taken notice of them.

"Do I see aright?" he said: "is it the highborn Count Gerhard of Holstein I have the honour to salute?"

"Quite right, sir knight," answered the bluff, merry gentleman; "and, if I am not mistaken, you were my fortunate rival at the Swedish coronation tourney, last year--Sir Peter Hessel. Is it not so? and now, quite a drost, I hear?"

The knight gave an affirmative, by modestly bowing.

"You here behold a fortunate youth, my lords," continued Count Gerhard, turning to his companions: "this young gentleman can already boast of standing in higher favour at the Danish court than myself and some princely vassals of the blood. He wears the fair Queen Agnes' colours, and, as you perceive, watches over kingdom and country, like a true drost."

The strange knights smiled, and the lanky jester made up a droll face, while he set his bells a-jingling, and bowed before the drost until his nose almost touched the ground, the fox's tail flying over his cap, and striking the knight on the hand.

Drost Peter cast a careless look at the buffoon, and, with quiet self-possession, turned towards the princely lord. "The brave and wise Count Gerhard does not envy me the colours I wear," he began; "and, if you think I am not worthy of them, sir count, it is still open to you to settle the dispute; but only with sword and lance, and not with jeers and empty jinglings, or flaps from the fox-tail of your jester. Weariness, after unusual exertions, surprised me here for a moment. If, on this account, you think I am not so vigilant a servant of the king and country as beseems a drost, I nevertheless feel confident that I can vie in vigilance with you, or any gentleman of princely blood who calls himself a friend of the royal house of Denmark."

"You understand a jest, then, fair Drost Hessel?" answered the count, with a good-natured smile. "It was far from my wish to offend such a man as you. Only, you must not be angry with me, that, with a sincere heart, I hate your good fortune with a certain lady, and envy your last prize at the tourney. I accept with pleasure your invitation to break a lance with you upon occasion, and will most heartily settle your disputed rank as the fairest lady's knight: not at all in enmity, sir drost, but in all friendliness, cheerfully and pleasantly, as it becomes brave and honourable knights to contend. Do not be offended with my long-legged old man there," he continued, pointing to the jester: "he has, at present, a privilege with me and my friends, and intended nothing amiss. With every respect for honour, I do not think it sits so loosely on either me or others, that a privileged fool can shake it off with a fox's tail. You might even stand in need of such a fellow. In these very serious times, it is certainly highly necessary that one should keep a fool to jest for him, when he can no longer jest himself. It is, besides, both comely and christian-like, I think, to remind us that we are all as fools before our Lord. Now peace and good understanding."

As he concluded, he held forth his hand in a friendly manner, and the young knight accepted this token of reconciliation with joy. He now learned that Count Gerhard had just come over the Belt with his followers, on his way to Nyborg, to participate in the festivities at the Dane-court about to be held there. As Drost Peter was proceeding in the same direction, they soon agreed to travel in each other's company, and to start as soon as the count's followers had refreshed themselves.

While the newly-arrived guests sat merrily down to the table, which was still abundantly furnished with what they required, Drost Peter left the apartment. He proceeded to the kitchen, where he found Henner Friser and his granddaughter, prepared for their journey; and, having given the old man his brief dispatch to the warden of Harrestrup, he hastened their flight.

Old Henner had now his weapons and armour brought him, and quietly and thoughtfully equipped himself. With the long spear in his hand, the Frisian hempen mail on his breast, and the old rusty steel bow in a leather thong upon his back, he then took the young knight by the hand, to bid him adieu, and pressed it fervently, without saying a word. With tears in her dark eyes, the little Aasé seized the drost's hand, and pressed it to her lips, unable to say more than, "Thanks, sir knight. Farewell!" He patted her kindly on the cheek, and now first perceived the maiden's singular beauty, and that blending of dignity and childlike simplicity, which caused her countenance to beam with so much intelligence.

Claus Skirmen, also, seemed to expect a tender parting with Aasé. He had assumed a fearless air, not to appear moved, or to betray what was secretly passing in his heart; but she drove him, with her mantle, playfully towards his master, while she dried her eyes, and skipped out of the kitchen.

Before sunrise, Drost Peter, with Count Gerhard and his followers, rode merrily away through the streets of Middelfert. Claus Skirmen followed on his norback, along with the count's most grave jester. The bold young squire looked once more in the direction of the quay. There stood the armourer Troels, among a number of burghers and porpoise-hunters, all silently and earnestly regarding a little skiff, which was making way, with a favourable wind, across the Belt, and from which Henner Friser and his granddaughter still beckoned them a friendly farewell.

It was a beautiful spring morning. A light mist hovered upon the meadows. Bright dew-pearls trembled glitteringly in the dawn, on the slender cobwebs, amidst the newly-sprung bushes by the road-side. The knights had arrived at a height just beyond Middelfert. The sun now arose directly before them, enlivening the magnificent landscape, while a thousand larks poured forth their lively songs overhead.

As the travellers rode leisurely along, the better to enjoy the charming scene, a tall, lanky horseman galloped swiftly past them: he was dressed as a fisherman, with a large hairy cap drawn over his eyes. The knights had not taken much notice of him; but Claus Skirmen rode hastily up to his master. "That was Chamberlain Rané, sir drost!" he said, eagerly: "his sharp fox's nose stuck out beneath his cap. Shall I after him?"

"It is not requisite," answered Drost Peter, knitting his brows. "If he travels this way, we shall meet him, time enough, at Nyborg."

"But, should he speak first with the king, sir, you know well how it will go."

"That I know very well," answered the drost: "let him ride on."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For some time they rode along in silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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