Читать книгу The Childhood of King Erik Menved - Bernhard Severin Ingemann - Страница 6

The most considerable lay and ecclesiastical lords in the country were present at this parliament. Here were now to be seen the Archbishop John Dros of Lund, and Bishop Tygé of Aarhaus, as well as the bishops of Viborg, Rypen, Roskild, Odense, and Börglum. These spiritual lords had already, on Sunday, in conjunction and with the consent of the feudal lords and knights, or, as it was called, according to the Best Council, come to the determination, that they should appoint twelve intelligent men of Denmark, to form a Worthel, or council of jurors, who should say and swear to whom the lands and estates in dispute between the king and duke of right belonged. The stern old Sir John had been chosen one of these jurors. Before judgment was delivered, the jurors daily assembled in the counsellor's house, where they considered the subject in quietness, with locked doors.

Sir John kept an hospitable house, and received them all with the greatest politeness. He possessed one of the largest mansions in Nyborg, where his wife and daughter resided with him during the Dane-court. Every evening, great numbers of both lay and spiritual lords were here assembled; and one might observe that Duke Waldemar and his adherents were here to be found as often as Drost Peter, David Thorstenson, and others attached to the royal house. At times, the queen, with her ladies, and the young princes, might be seen at these evening assemblies. On such occasions, the old lord was particularly merry and cheerful; but, if any one ventured to speak a word to him on state affairs, he would become suddenly silent, or punish the unmannerly busybody with a biting jest. From the time that the council of jurors began to sit, Sir John would receive no one except at a time when there was company with him; and he would not talk alone with any one, not even with Drost Peter, who, at other times, had daily and familiar access to him. He had also declared, that, until the Dane-court was closed, he could not, and would not, converse alone, even with the king himself.

The day before the termination of the Dane-court, Sir John sat, in the forenoon, for the last time, in the council of jurors, with locked doors. His house-steward was strictly forbidden to admit any one whatever. Meanwhile, admission was authoritatively demanded by a tall, powerful man, in a hooded cap, who either did not know, or did not trouble himself, about this necessary precaution. In his vehemence, the cap slipped on one side, and the house-steward suddenly became so terrified that he lost both speech and self-possession, and, notwithstanding the strict order to the contrary, hastily withdrew the bar from the closed door. But, at the same instant, a bolt was secured inside.

"All twelve are here," shouted old Sir John: "we have no room for a thirteenth, if even he bore the crown and sceptre!"

The tall man in the hooded cap stamped wrathfully on the floor, and, with hasty strides, left the knight's house, without saying a word. Before evening, this occurrence was known all over Nyborg, with various explanatory additions; and Sir John was highly commended for his hardihood by Duke Waldemar and his adherents, who drew from it conclusions favourable to their case.

In the evening, as usual, there was a numerous assemblage at Sir John's. The queen and the young princes were also expected. Drost Peter was invited, together with his guests. When Count Gerhard heard that the queen was to be there, he sprang from the reclining chair, for which he had now exchanged his bed, and swore, loud and deeply, that he would go, if he should have to keep his bed for it a whole month afterwards.

"A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush," he said. "If I have not permission to-morrow, or the day after, to attend the court festivities, and if I should die of tedium in the meanwhile, I shall lie with a long nose in my grave. This surgeon is a tiresome fellow. He makes as much ado about this scratch as if I were a maiden, and wraps me up like a suckling. And you, fortune's favourite, whose head, nevertheless, I almost hewed off--you strut there, bold and nimble enough: I trow, indeed, you have had your head linked to your neck with chains of honour."

"I have a good skin for healing," replied Drost Peter; "and, this time, the sword did not penetrate far into it. In one sense, however, you are right," he added: "my head has not sat looser upon me for a long time; and this chain has certainly somewhat secured it. But leave the junketings alone, noble count. The skin is but thin upon your wound, and, to-night, you might easily be thrown into excitement."

"Excitement! that is just what I am intent upon," interrupted the count. "A person must still draw breath, however thin-skinned he may be. I cannot live in this fashion, like a mummy, much longer. I know I am master of my body: pity it is that we should let clerks and ghostly fathers be masters of our sinful souls! Give me my court-doublet and new mantle, Longlegs. Somewhat clumsy I may be in these wrappings, but I shall leave them on to please you."

Farther objections were vain. He donned his bright red lawn doublet, placed his feathered hat on his head, and cast a stiff, gold-fringed, purple mantle over his broad shoulders.

"So, so!" he said; "I know now that I look whole and sound enough. Henceforth, I resign Dorothy Brushbroom to you, Longlegs: you, also, shall know what it is to be taken care of."

"I trust you may find the distinguished ladies as interested about your person as she has been, my gracious master," replied the jester; "but, since you seldom go so near them that they can see you, you should take my jingling-jacket, that they may hear you in the distance."

"There! you hear, Drost Peter, what I must digest, and give the clown food and wages for, merely to exercise me in Christian humbleness and patience. You are right, Longlegs. I am a little too sheepish on certain occasions; but that is a virtue your losel should respect, and apply himself to. To-night you shall see otherwise, and that I shall do you honour, Longlegs," continued the count, gaily: "I have not had such courage to talk with the ladies for a long time. Your nurse can bear witness, sir drost, that it is a falsehood and a slander, when foul tongues say I lose heart and speech with the ladies."

"No one shall say so of you any longer, gracious sir. I was shamefully unjust," replied Longlegs, bowing. "If I could not hear you snore, for some nights past, as I would have given much to have done, I had, nevertheless, at times, the pleasure of hearing your most gracious growlings; and, for these, I thanked the Holy Virgin. They are, at all times, a sure sign of life. Now, therefore, if you should like to cudgel me for your amusement, gracious master, you must stop at home."

Without listening farther to his jester, the count set out with his knight and Drost Peter. In his impatience to reach old Sir John's abode, he hurried on so fast, that his attentive host held him back, to remind him that such haste was dangerous to him. But the count suddenly slackened his pace, as soon as he perceived the magnificently illuminated building, where, under the linden trees, at the foot of the grand staircase, stood two rows of the royal household servants, with lighted torches.

"I am also to see the young princes to-night," he said. "Your pupil, the young heir to the throne, should be like his mother. You are a happy man, Drost Peter, who can train and bring up such a noble shoot."

"I fully acknowledge it," replied Drost Peter, with ardour. "I hope he shall become a worthy descendant of Waldemar Seier, his illustrious ancestor, whose chivalrous manner of thinking, and regard for truth and justice, I believe he already inherits. With God's help, he will do honour to his race."

"But is the mother really there, too, in the house of a simple knight?"

"A simple knight!" repeated Drost Peter, somewhat offended. "Old Sir John is a son's son of Esbern Snaré's daughter: he numbers the great Absalom in his race. But were he even a simple knight, without distinguished birth, he is still a man of such merit, that the king and queen need not be ashamed of being his guests. Both his wife and daughter are the queen's dearest friends."

"Sooth to say, my good friend," observed Count Gerhard, in a half whisper, and drawing Drost Peter aside, "you give quality a good day; but I am almost ashamed to show myself before the queen. I only saw her at that devil's tourney at Helsingborg, where you took the prize from me, and I could not say a single word to her from sheer bashfulness. Among men, I have not the reputation of sheepishness; and, when I walk before the eyes of kings and emperors, I feel myself to be as good as they: but, plague on it! all my confidence vanishes when I want to express myself gracefully before the fair ones."

"Notwithstanding your backwardness, you are not unknown to the queen, noble count," replied Drost Peter. "Tour valour and discretion in the lists were not unobserved; and I were a fool should I brag of the superiority of which you were deprived by a mere casual accident."

"She has spoken of me, say you, without dwelling on my awkward homage, when I made the attempt to salute her during the tilting?"

"If she has smiled at that, noble count, I can still assure you that neither mockery nor contempt--"

"Mockery and contempt!" interrupted the count, proudly: "by Satan! who thinks of that? Had the most amiable lady in Christendom contemned Count Gerhard, she must have sent her knight into the field to make me reparation. I am not quite so bashful as to be afraid of that. But tell me frankly," continued he, "am I not too stout and stiff, in these frightful swaddling bands, to show myself becomingly in such company?"

"You are not at all amiss," answered Drost Peter, smiling. "A bandage over the breast never disfigures a knightly gentleman: in my eyes, it even makes you somewhat majestic in your bearing."

"Very good, my brave friend. I have you to thank for the majestic bearing. But you are right: if a knight has only his fame whole and sound, his body may be in what condition it may; he, at least, must be esteemed as most valiant by every noble and high-souled lady."

Count Gerhard now boldly ascended the steps of Sir John's dwelling, attended by Drost Peter and the two knights. In the ante-room servants received their hats and mantles, and opened the large oaken door leading into a magnificent vaulted apartment, which was illumined by wax-lights, on tall candelabra, borne by brazen wolves. Ladies and knights stood, here and there, in groups, on the polished oaken floor, engaged in lively conversation; while others sat, playing at chess, and similar amusements. From another saloon, still larger, the door of which stood open, came the music of flutes and violins. A kæmpevise^[14] was played, accompanied by the voices of a number of maidens and an elegantly performed dance. A knight, in magnificent attire, was seen in stately motion with a majestic lady in a scarlet kirtle, glittering with gold and precious stones.

"The queen!" whispered Count Gerhard into the drost's ear, and remained standing, astonished, at the first door.

"And Duke Waldemar!" added Drost Peter, who also stood surprised, but not at the beauty and noble bearing of the queen, which he had so often admired: the young duke's haughty, self-complacent countenance first struck his eyes. A distressing thought flashed suddenly as a thunderbolt through his soul, and, involuntarily, he grasped Count Gerhard by the arm.

"What is the matter with you, my good friend?" whispered Count Gerhard: "have you, too, become giddy at the sight? I have had enough already. By our Lady! it is a beauty unapproachable."

Sir John, as soon as he was made aware of the entrance of the newly-arrived guests, advanced gaily and courteously towards them. "Welcome, my lords," said the old knight. "I am rejoiced that the noble Count Gerhard can contradict, in person, the rumour that is current respecting a dangerous wound."

"A false rumour, sir counsellor; which has, nevertheless, induced me to keep my room for a few days," replied the count, in a jocular tone. "Here are life and merriment, I see; and one may be given up for death, if he do not find himself well here. Be pleased to present me to your noble lady and daughter; and, when the dance is over, to her grace the queen." The latter words he added in a subdued tone, and drew a long breath after having uttered them, his eyes again turning towards the dancing saloon.

"As you command," replied the lively old knight, with a sportive smile. "It is easily to be seen what portion of the human family Count Gerhard sets the highest value upon. My daughter, I perceive, is now standing up for the dance; but I can present you to my wife immediately, if you please."

Count Gerhard had not heard a single word. He stared, like one in a dream, into the dancing-saloon, where the fair queen had, just at that instant, curtsied with noble dignity to her princely partner, and, on his arm, moved down the room to her seat, amidst the dazzling young daughters of the chivalrous guests, and eclipsing them all with her loveliness.

A new piece of music and song was commenced, and a new couple were in motion on the floor. The lady was Sir John's daughter, Cecilia. She could not vie with the queen in dazzling beauty and majesty, but quite equalled her in the spirit and grace of her motions. With an earnestness that better suited the song than her partner's smiling mien, she regarded, with her dark, lustrous eyes, the knight who extended his hand to her, and who, in gracefulness and courtesy, seemed to vie with Duke Waldemar. This polite cavalier was the duke's drost, Sir Tuko Abildgaard, a bold and ambitious gentleman, celebrated for his influence over the duke, and as famed for his good fortune with the fair sex as for his fickleness in love, and his haughty, soaring claims to distinction. He appeared intent on distinguishing the Lady Cecilia among all the ladies at court. He seemed to give but little heed to the song to which they danced: it was a sweet and melancholy air, to the ballad of Sir Sverkel's unfortunate love to his unknown sister. Drost Peter listened to it with much interest; and even the otherwise merry Count Gerhard stood silent and serious, while the young damsels sang:--

"Pray thou, hart, and pray thou, hind,

That I may forget the little Kirstine;

Pray thou, hart, and pray thou, roe,

That I may forget my true love so."

"The foul fiend!" muttered Count Gerhard to himself; and, to his own astonishment, his eyes almost overflowed as the young damsels continued:

"He prayed the hart, and prayed the hind,

But never was the maiden from his mind;

He prayed the hart, and prayed the roe,

But could not forget his true love so."

Count Gerhard's absent gaze into the dancing-saloon caused old Sir John to cast an attentive look in the same direction, and the sight of his daughter's undisguised interest in Sir Abildgaard did not seem to please him. His cheerful countenance suddenly assumed an air of deep seriousness, while the damsels now sang:--

"The knight he from his land was driven,

And the lady to a cloister given."

Both the old and the younger knight appeared absorbed in the same dreamy mood which the melancholy song was calculated to produce, but each in a different manner, according to the ideas they associated therewith. Yet, in the midst of the general merriment and splendour of the festivity, there were, apparently, but few who gave heed to the tenor of the song. Its conclusion, in particular, affected Drost Peter to melancholy. He involuntarily laid hold of the ruby rosary on his breast, that served to remind him of his half-forgotten child-bride, while the damsels sang:--

"A bird so small from the white strand flew,

And she sang, Where is my heart's love true?

A bird so small o'er the sea flew wide,

And he sang, O where is my own true bride?

For chastest maiden I dree."

"It is allowed that you are a lover of the dance and song, illustrious Count Gerhard," said old Sir John, in his usual social tone, and turning, with a cheerful countenance, to his abstracted guest. "If you wish, now I shall conduct you to the queen and the young ladies."

Count Gerhard bowed stiffly, and followed the old knight, without observing the breach of propriety of which he had been guilty, in not greeting the noble and matronly Lady Ingefried, who went round among the guests, and received their salutations, accompanied by a waiting-maid, bearing a silver salver with filled wine-cups.

While Drost Peter, as a well-known and daily guest, saluted the worthy house-mother, old Sir John and his distinguished attendant, before they reached the dancing-saloon, were stopped by two handsomely attired youths in scarlet jackets, with gold chains about their fine linen collars. They were both flushed with anger, and had come from the dice-table, where they had had a dispute. The one was the eleven years' old Prince Erik, who, from his second year, had taken the name of king, and the other, his brother, Junker Christopher, two years his junior, and half a head shorter, but apparently his superior in strength, though not in sprightliness and beauty.

"You shall decide between us, Sir John: you know what right is," said the little king, warmly. "Suppose the gold dice are islands and countries, and the counters knights and swains: have I, as eldest, the privilege of taking first? And suppose, further, that I, with my knights and swains, surround and conquer all Christopher's islands and countries, are they, by right, mine? If he will merely admit that, he shall readily have them back again. What care I for the dice!"

"'That depends upon the laws of your game, my little hasty gentlemen," replied the old knight. "Besides, the eldest ought not only to take first, but also to be the first in good sense and magnanimity. The game, moreover, is good for nothing," he added, gravely. "Has not Drost Hessel taught you yet, my little king, that we do not play dice with islands and countries, and do not convert knights and swains into counters?"

Prince Erik went away, silent, and blushing with shame. Christopher followed him, jeeringly. Drost Peter had been attracted by the dispute of the princes, and had drawn near when he heard his name mentioned.

"See now, sir counsellor," whispered he: "our little king surrenders the whole table to his brother, with chivalrous magnanimity."

"Yes, indeed, but with wounded pride," said the old man, softly. "Could we only get the pride and thoughtlessness eradicated from him, the country might, in time, expect much of him."

Drost Peter was silent, and sank into deep thought.

"Excuse me, Count Gerhard. You wish to be presented to the queen," said old Sir John, aloud, and turning to the count. "Permit me to conduct you." He strode nimbly forward, and Count Gerhard followed him to the polished threshold of the dancing-saloon. There the count remained, standing with his back to the door-post, and bowed stiffly to the queen from that extreme distance, without troubling himself about Sir John, who, with active steps, had entered the saloon.

"The noble Count Gerhard of Holstein desires to salute your grace," said the old knight, who had approached the queen, and fancied he had still the count by his side.

"Count Gerhard!" repeated the queen, with much interest. "Where is he, then? I do not see him."

"What! has he disappeared?" exclaimed Sir John, looking behind him with surprise.

"By the door yonder, your grace," observed the duke, with a derisive smile, and a proud sense of superiority. "The noble count makes great efforts to testify his devotion to your grace at a respectful distance. I certainly think he would beg the favour to be honoured with your hand in the dance, but seemingly wants words to express his wishes."

"Inform him, sir counsellor, that I shall willingly tread a measure with him," said the queen to the old knight. "Bid him approach. I have long wished to speak with so gallant and esteemed a gentleman."

Sir John bowed, and carried to Count Gerhard the surprising message of condescension.

"The holy St. George stand by me!" exclaimed the count, terrified. "I never danced in all my born days, and, in this devil's swathing, I can scarcely stir; but, if the queen commands it, I should be able to fly. Holy Virgin!" he muttered to himself, "if I escape from this with life, it is a miracle."

He hastily recovered himself, and, not to appear embarrassed, assumed as brave an air as if he were on the point of taking a fortress by storm. With long strides and a stiff carriage, he walked up to the queen and bowed. Duke Waldemar turned to one side, and only half concealed his laughter. But the familiar manner in which the queen conversed with Count Gerhard soon restored his self-possession, and brought back his even, good-tempered simplicity of character. He spoke of his mischance at the tournament at Helsingborg, when he ventured to contend for the queen's colours, without being able to honour them with victory; and the humorous manner in which he complained of himself in the affair, and jested at his own awkwardness, greatly amused the queen.

"You may well jest at the vile mischance," she observed, with undisguised goodwill and respect: "your knightly honour you have established on more important and more serious occasions. You look well, I perceive," she added, remarking his round figure, and the difficult movements of his arm: "the world does not consume you, sir count."

"I ought, certainly, as a young widower, to look lean and dismal," replied Count Gerhard, colouring; "but you must kindly excuse me, your grace. The happiness whose loss cannot be seen in me, I have not been so fortunate as to possess rightly. It is, certainly, one of my greatest mishaps in life; but I have the singular fate to thrive by mishaps. This I have just recently experienced. But appearances are deceitful, your grace; and I hope, in about eight days, to be much thinner, if your grace commands."

"How?" inquired the queen, laughing: "can you become thin at pleasure? I am glad that, in such a case, you can preserve your cheerfulness."

Without, however, entering farther into the frank Count Gerhard's heart affairs, and the inappropriate theme of his personal appearance, the queen suddenly broke off the conversation by a few indifferent questions, to which he replied somewhat in confusion, fearing that he had said something improper.

Knight Abildgaard and the Lady Cecilia had already, for some time, stepped out of the dance, and were standing in the recess of a window, in pleasing conversation. The flutes and violins now struck up a quick, lively air, and the young maidens sang the queen's favourite ballad, about King Didrik and the Lion's fight with the Dragon.

"I like this ballad very well," said the queen, "Every age has its dragons, I fancy; but, against the paction of king and lion, there is small chance for the dragon."

"That is a true saying, noble queen," replied the count, with much interest, in reference to the allusion. "There are still lions by the side of the Danish throne; but, in these chivalrous times, they would rather serve the queen than the king, I trow."

"If you please, we will tread a dance to the song," added the queen, interrupting him.

Count Gerhard's embarrassment returned with painful force; but he took refuge in his usual expedient, and, holding the queen by the hand, he advanced, with martial strides, to the middle of the floor. He had not the slightest knowledge of dancing; but he moved about as well as he could, in the same manner as the queen, imitating her turnings, on the contrary side, with the utmost attention. Fortunately, the dance was itself a simple one, and he had naturally a good ear for time. Notwithstanding his stiffness, and although he trod the floor with his spurred heels until it thundered again, he did not behave himself amiss; indeed, he even looked noble and majestic. Before the first measure was over, the constraint in his deportment had disappeared. The cheerful song, and the queen's benignant smile, enlivened him; his good-natured countenance beamed with courage and heartfelt glee, and he swung his arm lustily as the damsels sang:--

"It was Master King Didrik

Would prove what his sword could dow,

He hewed into the hard rock

Till the hill was all in a low."

He continued dancing, with the happiest face in the world, till the maidens sang the thirty-third verse of the ballad:

"The lion roared, and King Didrik hewed,

Till the hill stood all in flame;

And had the lion not helped him out,

The king had died with shame."

But now he suddenly beheld the queen turn pale, and then heard her exclaim--"My God, he bleeds!" and, for the first time, he perceived that the wound in his breast had again opened, and that the blood ran from it in streams.

"Pardon me, your grace," said he, hastily, and concealing the streaming blood with his arm: "I ought certainly to have remained quiet a few days longer, in consequence of a slight wound I received; but, in that case, I should not have been invited to the present festival. This is the first time in my life I have ever danced: but your grace makes everything possible; and perhaps this is the only mode in which it may be permitted me to pour out my blood for the fairest and noblest of ladies."

He made an attempt to take his leave, but his legs tottered under him, and he became deadly pale. Drost Peter, and the count's own knights, hastened to his assistance, and led him from the saloon. He cast a respectful look towards the queen, who was in the greatest uneasiness; and, without further consciousness of what had happened to him, he was carried back to Drost Peter's residence, where the sympathising jester received him with a terrified scream, and where he was immediately waited upon by the surgeon and his alarmed friends with the greatest tenderness.

This mishap broke up the entertainment at Sir John's. The queen had shortly after left the company. Betimes in the morning, she sent to inquire after Count Gerhard's health. The surgeon pronounced him out of danger, although he would not, for some time, be able to leave his bed, and had not yet recovered his consciousness.

The last day of the sittings of the Dane-court had now arrived. On this day, according to ancient custom, the proceedings were to take place in the open air, in the large green space before the palace. Here were admitted not only the vassals of noble extraction, the prelates and bishops of the kingdom, but also the peasants and burghers, more especially the wealthy merchants, who insisted upon the maintenance of their ancient privileges, though, within the last few years, their influence had greatly diminished. The place was surrounded with royal landsknechts; but, within the area, no one was permitted to bear a weapon. Around a raised seat, beneath a canopy of red velvet, fringed with gold, stood on the right, in the form of a semicircle, a long row of bishops and prelates, in their ecclesiastical orders, with the old archbishop of Lund, John Dros, at their head.

Next to him stood Master Martinus de Dacia. This learned individual had arrived from Antvorskov, of which he was prior, eight days previously. He had had a long private conversation with the king immediately after, and, for the second time, had been appointed chancellor of the kingdom and keeper of the royal seal. He was a man above fifty, of a notable appearance, although without much clerical dignity in mien and carriage. He quite filled his ample Dominican dress, generally concealing his hands, as if they were cold, in the sleeves of his tunic. Sometimes he would suddenly stoop, and stare vacantly before him, as if in deep thought; and then as suddenly look up with surprise, and quit his place, to talk with some of the more learned of the bishops and prelates on some particular theological or philosophical subject, without waiting for an introduction. His tonsure, augmented by a natural want of hair, extended to the whole of his head, which was covered with an octagonal cap of black velvet. He wore his shoes with white heels, in the manner of the clerks of Paris; and appeared, on the whole, to affect elegance and punctilio in his dress, although everything sat stiff and awkwardly upon him.

Among the ecclesiastics might also be seen Duke Waldemar's travelling companion, the notable dean of Roskild, Master Jens Grand, who disdainfully regarded the still vacant royal seat, with a jeering side-glance at the learned chancellor.

On the left side of the throne stood a semicircle of princely vassals, counts, knights, and noble governors. In the uppermost place among these was the young Duke Waldemar, in a knight's brilliant suit of red lawn, and a purple velvet mantle, adorned with the Sleswick lions in gold. Over his brown curls he wore a Russian hat, decked with rubies and ostrich feathers. He spoke softly, and with a sagacious, crafty air, to his brother, Count Erik of Langeland, who had newly arrived at court.

Next to these gentlemen stood the plump Count Jacob of Halland, in his general's uniform, and haughtily enveloped in his blue mantle; whilst the person by his side, the fastidious Sir Abildgaard, seemed to be amusing him with satirical or mischievous jokes on some of the ecclesiastics.

Chief, in the rank of knights, stood eight of the king's counsellors, among whom Drost Hessel and old John Little were still missing. Among the knights who had arrived with the duke were to be seen many proud and daring countenances: Jacob Blaafod, and Count Jacob's brother, Niels Hallandfar, seemed, in particular, by their appearance, to betray considerable anxiety as to the issue of the day's transactions.

Behind these two semicircles of lay and spiritual lords stood a number of respectable peasants, in their short blue Sunday smocks, with clear silver buttons, and mostly with their cowl-caps in their hands; whilst the wealthy merchant-burghers, in their long civic gaberdines, pressed before them, among many curious spectators of all classes.

A gentle murmur was heard in the assembly, the eyes of which were turned impatiently towards the palace-stairs. At length the large oaken doors were opened, and a royal herald, bearing a white wand, came forth, making way for the king and his train. In his royal purple mantle, and wearing his crown and sceptre, the tall and stately king slowly descended the steps, between the two princes, attended by Drost Hessel, his marshal and under-marshal, the chief chamberlain, Ové Dyré, Chamberlain Rané, and a number of pages, among whom the fair Aagé Jonsen walked first. The people stood respectfully on one side, and the knights' semicircle opened, whilst the king and his followers ascended to the throne. He bowed, unsteadily, on all sides, and cast a transient look over the assemblage.

As soon as he had taken his seat on the throne, with Prince Erik on his right and Junker Christopherson on his left hand, three trumpet-blasts announced that the Dane-court was seated. After a moment of expectant silence, the king arose, and, taking the crown from his head, laid it on a red velvet cushion, which was handed by the marshal to the archbishop. In like manner, the sceptre was handed to the learned Chancellor Martinus, who placed it, with great care and reverence, on a velvet cushion, making an evident effort to avoid falling into other thoughts, or losing sight of it.

"To-day I am not judge here," began the king: "I am myself a party in the cause whereupon you have to decide, and which concerns the rights of the crown and kingdom. Herald, let the jurors come forward!"

"In the name of the Dane-court," shouted the herald, "come forward, ye sworn men!"

There now stepped forth, into the middle of the circle, old John Little and nine grave and distinguished individuals. The jurors were all well-known and esteemed men, from various provinces of the kingdom. They bared their heads before the throne and the assembly, and their gray hairs showed that they were among the oldest of all assembled.

Sir John stood forward as their foreman and spokesman. Having bowed to the throne and to both sides of the court, he then said, with an audible voice, "Proclaim the cause before the people and the Dane-court, sir drost."

Drost Peter, having bowed in like manner, advanced, with his high-feathered hat under his left arm, and, unfolding a sheet of parchment, read from it, slowly and distinctly, the matter in dispute between the king and Duke Waldemar, respecting the possession of Als Island. Having finished, he returned to his place among the counsellors of the kingdom.

Old Sir John again spoke. "It is known to us all," he began, in a calm and firm voice, "that the illustrious Duke Waldemar of South Jutland, two years since, when he was still under the guardianship of the Danish king, Erik Christopherson, believed himself entitled to make certain demands, which were refused by the king and council, as opposed to the constitution of the kingdom and the privileges of the crown. Notwithstanding, King Erik has not refused to his illustrious kinsman, now of full age, the privilege of laying before this Dane-court the claims he believes he is still entitled to make; and the settlement of the question is confided, by both the illustrious parties, to the present parliament. By the National Council of Best Men, was I, Counsellor Sir John Little, with eleven Danish men, under oath and duty, authorised to pronounce sentence in this matter. Two of these men have withdrawn from the council of jurors, and have refused to witness and decide in the cause, as not being perfectly known to them; but, after mature consideration, have we ten other men, who stand here, on oath and conscience pronounced sentence, as we mean to answer for it before God and man. If any one wishes to make protestation against the sentence, on account of the withdrawal of these two jurors, let him say so now, before it is made known, and then the final settlement of the matter must be deferred until a new Worthel has been chosen by the next Dane-court; otherwise, the present parliament declares the sentence of the ten jurors to be valid and just."

The old man paused, and regarded the assembly with an earnest, penetrating look. A general silence ensued, and the straining countenances of all announced the deep interest and anxious expectations that were felt. The king made an uneasy gesture, but was also silent. Duke Waldemar, Count Jacob, and Master Grand regarded the king attentively; they also looked meaningly at each other, but said nothing.

"We proceed, then, to announce the sentence," resumed Sir John; and, at his signal, the eldest of the jurors handed him a large parchment-deed, from which were suspended seventeen seals, with green silk ribbons. The old counsellor unfolded the document, and read aloud and distinctly:--

"We, the undersigned sworn Danish men, Mogens Peterson, Niels Dué, Turé Menersson of Jutland, John Bartson of Fyen, Niels, formerly governor of Lund, John Little, Mogens Corvigson of Skaane, Anders Nielson, Oluf Tygeson of Zealand, and Jacob Flep of Laalund, say and swear, of our full knowledge and counsel, that dominion over the whole of Alseland, with the fortresses, palace, and inhabitants thereof, belongs of right to the crown and kingdom of Denmark; the peasants belong to the king on the crown's account, the paternal estate of the king's children excepted, which was recognised and conceded to them after the death of King Waldemar. The said estate is known to us by means of a patent instrument, by which it was formerly granted to Duke Erik of South Jutland, Duke Waldemar's father. If the whole country had belonged to them, this estate would not have been specially given. Therefore, to the king and crown do we adjudge dominion, with full right and jurisdiction, over the whole of Alsen. In testimony whereof, we have sworn this upon the holy sacrament, in presence of the archbishop and six bishops, who, in further confirmation thereof, have attached their seals hereto, along with ours." He then recited the names of the subscribers.

When he ceased, he calmly surveyed the various expressions on the countenances of those around him. On the king's features, although he blinked uneasily, might be seen a triumphant smile, as he cast a suspicious glance towards Duke Waldemar and Count Jacob, whose cheeks glowed with rage, while their hands were rigidly clenched in the folds of their mantles.

Drost Peter's eyes did not forsake the duke's countenance, which quickly changed into a smile, as he gave a shrug to denote that he despised his loss. All were silent, however.

But now stepped forth, from the rank of ecclesiastics, the insolent Master Grand. "The sentence is invalid," said he, with a loud voice: "two of the jurors' names are wanting; the Worthel is not perfect. This requires an express ecclesiastical confirmation."

"This protest is of no avail," replied Sir John, calmly. "The court was silent on my timely summons, and thereby recognised the sentence as valid. Please to add the ecclesiastical confirmation, worthy Archbishop Johannes."

At this summons, the aged archbishop came forward, and, with a calm assurance of his authority, raised his crook, and said--"In the name of the Holy Church, I hereby declare what I shall add, in writing, to the present document, under my own and the Church's seal, by which all shall know that the aforesaid estate, within the dukedom of South Jutland, with moneys of the mint, and other privileges in the said dukedom, is legally pronounced and adjudged, by this royal court, to the king of Denmark, for ever to possess; and we forbid, under pain of excommunication, that any one should meddle with the jurisdiction over Als, or with the forenamed estate in anywise, except with the consent and knowledge of King Erik or his successors."

Notwithstanding that the old archbishop appeared inconsiderable and indistinct by the side of Master Grand, he pronounced these words with a quiet dignity that did not mar their effect. He then stepped back. Master Grand bit his lips with rage, and walked silently to his place.

The stillness of death for a moment pervaded the assembly; when the king suddenly arose, and declared the Dane-court at an end, his words being accompanied by three loud trumpet-blasts. The archbishop and chancellor thereupon came forward with the crown and sceptre. The king pressed the crown firmly on his head, grasped the sceptre, and hastily descended from the throne. The row of knights opened, the people fell back, and the king, with the princes and his train, returned to the palace.

The assembly broke up in the greatest order; but the knights of the various parties regarded each other with a silence at once unusual and painful. From Count Jacob and Master Grand alone were heard a few loud words, the involuntary outbreak of subdued wrath. Duke Waldemar, however, preserved a better appearance: his sagacious eye ran over the rank of his attached knights, and then, making a rapid gesture with his forefinger to his mouth, he departed, with his lively drost by his side, to that part of the palace where he had his apartments.

In the evening, after these important transactions, a magnificent entertainment was given at the palace, wherein the queen, with the little Princess Mereté and their ladies, participated, and where the king was also present, with both the young princes, in full court state. Both the palace and the town were brilliantly illuminated. Flutes and violins resounded from the knights' saloon, and the serious business of the morning appeared to be wholly forgotten in social enjoyments, and in the varied display of wit and gravity, chivalrous courtesies and disguised passions, in which a thousand hidden qualities of the heart were concerned. Love and jealousy, hope and fear, pride and vanity, combined as powerfully to set the unstable, youthful soul into lively motion, as did the music and dancing to bring into action the feet of knights and ladies on the polished floor.

As at the previous evening's entertainment at Sir John's, Duke Waldemar was here, in an extremely good humour. Not a trace of discontent was visible in his countenance, and he attracted general attention, as much by his cheerfulness and affability as by his princely bearing and dazzling grandeur. His variance with the king was the reason that he had not yet received the honour of knighthood, which he could not accept from any meaner hand. He dressed, notwithstanding, in the style of the most elegant knight, and, to conceal his want of the gold spurs, wore silver ones, thickly studded with gems. He suffered no opportunity to pass of showing himself attentive and devoted to the queen; his bold and artful drost, Sir Abildgaard, attaching himself, in a similar way, to Counselor John's fair daughter, Lady Cecilia.

Drost Peter, to the surprise of all, was extremely reserved and silent. He was wont, on festive occasions at court, to be the soul of the company, and, in particular, to entertain the queen and her ladies by an ingenious blending of the grave and gay, with a freedom and liveliness which could only be derived from a consciousness of the favour in which he stood. Since the first morning of the Dane-court, when it was reported that he was ruined and in disgrace, and yet was seen, shortly after, leaving the king's closet as the most favoured of favourites, it was observed by every one, that a remarkable alteration had taken place in his demeanour. He had become grave and taciturn, as people fancied, from pride. He appeared to avoid with care, almost with anxiety, every approach to the queen; whilst, at the same time, he often watched her, and closely observed Duke Waldemar's efforts to please her. In this behaviour, the queen's sharp-sighted ladies fancied that they perceived the jealous favourite, who kept back from wounded vanity, and esteemed himself too highly to vie with Duke Waldemar in knightly civilities. He himself believed that he had far more important grounds for his altered conduct. The experience of the last few days had taught him how hazardous it was, in a court like this, to allow his frank and lively nature to be displayed without disguise, and, like a courteous knight, to worship beauty without reservation, even where he honoured it in combination with true innate greatness.

The only occasion on which he had spoken to the queen, since his arrival at the present court, was at an unusual time, and with a degree of agitation that might have been easily misinterpreted: it was on the evening of his arrival, when he had in vain sought an audience of the king, and when recourse to this step was necessary in order to save his unfortunate foster-mother. He had, as usual, found the amiable and virtuous queen extremely gracious, and favourably disposed towards him and his business. By immediately granting his request, and effecting his nurse's release from prison, she had given him a new proof of her goodwill. The danger he had subsequently incurred, and his fortunate escape, which she learnt on the following day, filled her with the liveliest interest; but the grounds of his danger were only half known, and what the attendants fancied they did know, no one thought it becoming to inform her of. She had not spoken a single word to him since. The evident care with which he appeared to avoid her, surprised and displeased her; and, as he had neglected several favourable opportunities of approaching her, she appeared no longer to notice his presence, but confined her conversation to Duke Waldemar, Count Jacob, and the other princely gentlemen in the company.

Late in the evening, the king quietly left the saloon, attended by Chamberlain Rané. Drost Peter observed his sudden departure; and as it took place on a signal from the crafty chamberlain, he concluded that it had reference to some private understanding, and to one of those frequent but discreditable assignations wherein Rané was at all times the king's familiar and agent.

Drost Peter dared not follow, to warn him of Rané, who had already vindicated himself, and regained the king's favour. The young drost stood, alone and dejected, by one of the windows, during a wild and merry dance. He felt, with some disquietude, his peculiar position at court, where it was his first duty to guard from temptation the young heir to the throne. It was nearly impossible to watch over the security of a king who so continually exposed himself to insult and danger by his debaucheries, and by honouring with his confidence men who only flattered his inclinations to promote their own ends and lead him into temptation.

"His better part I cannot save," said the drost, mentally. "I can only think of the crown's security." He stood armed with full royal authority to seize the duke the moment he should display the least intention to quit the kingdom. Information had been received of sufficient importance to justify such a step, were it needful. Should the duke be permitted to withdraw, unmolested, into Sweden, there was little doubt that he would return at the head of a hostile army, in conjunction with Marsk Andersen, to lay waste the country, and overturn the throne. The probability that this was the plan of the conspirators now bordered upon certainty, although full and legal proof was still wanting. The drost, in conjunction with Knight Thorstenson, had orders to watch all the motions of the duke. Their horses stood saddled within the palace-gates, and a light sloop lay in the harbour, ready to sail at whatever time they chose to cross the Great Belt.

Many doubts occupied the drost's mind. At this moment he possessed I the king's highest favour and confidence; and it was not improbable that the fate of the monarch depended on the important and difficult business with which he was entrusted. In his absence, however, it might be easy for the crafty Rané, and his kinsman, the chief chamberlain, Ové Dyré, to ruin him with the unstable king, and destroy the fruits of his dangerous undertaking. Still, so long as Master Martinus and Sir John were in the king's council, he believed this fear unfounded.

His eye now fell on the young Prince Erik, who danced lightly and gaily past him. For the security of this highly important individual, he had also reason to be apprehensive; and he was only consoled by reflecting that, in his absence, old Sir John would fulfil the duties of drost to the heir to the throne.

Lighthearted, and free from care, the prince danced, hand in hand, with his sister Mereté. She was only twelve years old, and was already looked upon as betrothed to the Swedish Prince Berger. By this arrangement, the differences between the new royal house of Sweden and that of Denmark had been accommodated, after the vacillating King Erik Christopherson had in vain endeavoured to reinstate the dethroned Swedish King Waldemar, whom he had himself assisted to overturn. Still, it was scarcely believed that peace with the powerful King Ladislaus could be depended upon, and haste had accordingly been made to obtain the pope's dispensation for this union, on account of the consanguinity of the parties.

"Another victim to our wavering policy," whispered a deep, well-known voice into Drost Peter's ear. It was the grave Sir Thorstenson, who had approached him unobserved, and who had been regarding the little lively princess with a look of compassion.

"Sir Thorstenson!" said Drost Peter, recalled from his serious musings: "are you, too, an idle observer of the world's vanities to-night? Perhaps you may be somewhat mistaken in what you disapprove of so absolutely." As he spoke, he drew him aside into the next apartment, where the tables were unoccupied, and where they could converse without observation. "You pity our princess," continued he: "for her I am the least concerned: Sweden hopes as much for its heir-apparent as we do for ours. This betrothing of children is now the custom of the age, in knightly as well as in princely families. As you are aware, I was myself betrothed in the same fashion, from my cradle, and I have not felt myself unhappy in consequence. I am now released from the engagement, yet do I not feel myself happier. Children have their ministering angels before the sight of God, says Master Martin. God only knows what is best for us, and He can dispose of events accordingly. It may not be long, perhaps, before we hear of a similar betrothal of our young heir-apparent to the beautiful royal maid of Sweden, whom we saw at the tournament. The king appears to desire it ardently, and I dare offer no objections."

"Barbarous--atrocious!" murmured the knight. "But I have something else to tell you. Are you prepared to travel?"

"It is not yet time. As long as the handsome gentleman glitters and dances within, he can hardly think of leaving the kingdom."

"You know, then, that he has taken leave of the king? He departs tonight for Sleswick, it is reported; but I know that two highly distinguished gentlemen are to pass over to Korsöer to-night. These are certainly he and his drost. The ship they have hired is said to be Swedish; but I believe it is Norse, and, in fact, a pirate-vessel."

"I know it," answered Drost Peter. "Our little sloop is ready to sail. It is all in good hands, and I am fully authorised in this matter. Sir Benedict Rimaardson, of Tornborg, follows us in Zealand. As soon as the bird takes wing, we fly after him; but on this side the Sound he has his freedom. If he think proper to visit Zealand, it is no one's business."

"We understand one another," replied Thorstenson, nodding. "We, too, are only making a pleasant excursion, to visit our good friends. With Sir Lavé Little, at Flynderborg we can best guard the passage of the Sound."

Drost Peter hesitated, as if half embarrassed by the proposition. "Very good: we can determine on that tomorrow," he said, hastily. "But we must be at our post. Remain you here till the moment this cunning gentleman leaves the palace. I shall send my squire to the quay, to keep an eye upon the strange skiff. Before midnight, I shall be at the palace-gates, with our horses." He pressed Thorstenson's hand, went hastily past the dancers in the saloon, and, as he approached the queen, paused for a moment, to give her a respectful salutation.

"A word, Drost Hessel," said the quean, in an unusually authoritative tone, and seating herself upon a chair, at some distance from the dancers.

Drost Peter stopped, and approached her attentively.

"How do you find your wounded guest?" she inquired. "I regret that I was, in some measure, the cause of his relapse."

"His life is out of danger, your grace. I am at this moment going to visit him."

"Tell him that I am concerned for his mishap," she continued; "so much the more, as I hear it occurred in a chivalrous onset respecting a lady's honour."

Drost Peter blushed deeply. "How, gracious queen?" he stammered: "who has said--"

"That this was the case?" interrupted the queen. "It has just been told me that he had a dispute, on his journey from Middelfert, with a certain conceited young knight, who boasted too loudly and indiscreetly of his good fortune with a lady whose colours he wears, but one who can never consent to be the object of any other favour from a knight than true and discreet service."

"He who told you so, noble queen," replied Drost Peter, with a deep feeling of wounded honour, "I must pronounce a base slanderer, did he even wear a princely crown; and I will make good my assertion by honourable combat for life and death. This much only is true, that our common admiration of the exalted lady whose colours I wear was, undoubtedly, the cause of our untoward strife. But, by my knightly honour, the noble Count Gerhard himself can bear witness that his antagonist was guilty of no indiscretion."

"Your word of honour, brave Drost Hessel, is ample surety to me for the truth of what you state," said the queen, mildly; "but it is my express wish that not a word more be said about this matter, and that you carefully avoid every dispute with which my name may, in the slightest degree, be associated. From henceforth, neither you nor any other knight shall wear my colours with my consent. I shall see you only when it is highly needful, and when I call you. This conduct, I know, you will not misunderstand. Go, now, to your sick guest, noble knight, and be assured of my unchanged goodwill."

With bitter feelings, Drost Peter unfastened a rose-coloured silken rosette, which he wore upon his doublet, and, handing it to the queen with a suppressed sigh, he bowed silently and respectfully, and withdrew.

It was almost midnight. Count Gerhard lay impatiently in bed, unable to sleep. He seemed to hear, from the palace, the flutes and violins, and had conceived such a desire for dancing, since his first essay in the art on the preceding evening, that his legs were in constant motion, though the surgeon had enjoined him to be still, and to allow himself to be bound, if he could not restrain this singular fancy, which he thought must be a result of the fever produced by his wound. His adventure with Sir John, in the early part of the evening, occurred to him almost like a dream, and he would not ask any one how it had happened. All society and amusement were strictly forbidden him, and he saw no one but the surgeon and old Dorothy, who watched quietly by his couch. Still, when he could not sleep, she told him a variety of ghost-stories, and tales of trolds and nixes, the truth of which she piously believed and affirmed. The count would only answer with a growl, and a brief exclamation of "Nonsense! confounded nonsense, carlin!" but in the best-tempered tone in the world.

Dorothy was not at all disconcerted by such objections. She saw plainly that her stories amused the sick man, and therefore regarded his discontented expressions merely as a peculiar mode of speaking, and a well-meant sign that he was listening. She sat quietly by his pillow, with her lean, wrinkled visage opposite to the lamp, and had almost finished a long story about a nix who had his quarters in Our Lady's steeple, and played people all sorts of pranks--sometimes in the form of a horse, at a ford, where he took travellers upon his back, and, laughing, threw them off in the middle of a bog--sometimes as a beautiful princess, or fairy queen, who would dance with vain gallants in her palace of mist, and become changed into a wisp of straw when they attempted to embrace her.

"Nonsense! cursed nonsense!" again growled the count. "But you are right, carlin. The fools were properly served, if there are such nixes. Are not you, yourself, a confounded witch, who will plague and play cantrips with me?"

The old woman crossed herself. The door was gently opened, and Drost Peter put in his head to inquire after the sick man. The simple gray dress of a burgher was the attire in which he had disguised himself for his secret journey, and, in place of his feathered hat, he wore a red cloth travelling-cap over his fair locks. When Dorothy saw him in this dress, she started up, terrified.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How many were there, then?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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