Part 6

"Well, well, either before or behind, or courteously in the middle--or fighting? These, are indeed four pleasant alternatives," answered Palle. "With your permission, I choose the third, as the happy medium, and purpose, in all peace and courtesy, to remain in such fair company. I have hardly seen the ladies as yet;" so saying, he rode up between the sisters, whom he greeted with a bold and scrutinizing stare. "What in all the world is this?" he suddenly exclaimed, in the greatest astonishment, as he looked at the youngest sister; "Gundelille! do I see _you_ here? Mean you to befool the Drost also? Would you now give yourself out to be Marsk Stig's daughter? The other day you were but the farmer's daughter at Hedegaard."

"Yes, I was so _then_," answered Ulrica, laughing; "Gundelille is my name still in the ballad of 'Sir Palle wooing the driver.' Perhaps you have not heard it, Sir Palle? I will gladly sing it you; it is vastly entertaining."

If any part of Sir Palle's visage was before wanting in a crimson hue, the deficiency was now fully remedied; he seemed highly enraged; but the sight of Ulrica's arch little face appeared to produce such an effect upon him that he could not give vent to his anger. He spurred his horse, and had nearly pushed the ladies into the ditch, as he suddenly dashed past them.

"Know ye this knight, noble lady?" asked Aage, in surprise.

"Oh yes! tolerably well," answered Ulrica, laughing. "I once played off a little joke upon him."

"It was indeed a daring frolic of my sister's, Sir Knight!" interrupted Margaretha. "Sir Palle had long plagued her, and she thought she could not in any other way get rid of his importunity; but it was wrong, no doubt; he became a laughing stock, and an object of general ridicule in consequence; and if you do not now prevent it, he bids fair to avenge himself."

"But what was it you did?" asked Aage. Ulrica laughed, and would have told the story, but her sister laid hold of her arm. "Silence, dear Ulrica! here we have him again," she whispered, and Ulrica was silent. Sir Palle had checked his horse, and joined them again. He seemed perfectly to have recovered his self-possession. He assured Drost Aage that he was so far from desiring such captives should be harshly treated, that he even wished it were possible entirely to free them from imprisonment. "I have seen them before," he added, "and had I known who they were, they should not now have been on their way to prison." Shortly afterwards he again rode in between the maidens.

"Pitiless Gundelille," he whispered, "speak no more of that cruel story. I meant not to wrong you; had I known you were the daughter of a noble knight, I would have proffered hand and heart, in all reverence and honour, and even now were I so fortunate as to find favour in your lovely eyes----"

Without looking at him, Ulrica began to sing,

"List ye then, Sir Palle! No wrong do ye to me, When mass is sung and ended, In my car shall ye seated be."

"Sing not that accursed song, fairest of maidens!" interrupted Sir Palle; "I will not offend you; but believe me, loveliest of the lovely----"

Without heeding him, she now sang aloud,

"And then she clad her driver lad In purple robe so rare; In the driver's suit was quickly clad Gundelill', that maiden fair."

"Hush! I will not say a word more," interrupted Sir Palle again. "But if you knew how greatly I love and honour you----"

The sportive maiden set up a loud laugh, and continued to sing,

"Sir Palle then, the wealthy knight, Enters the car full bold, Salutes the driver with delight And in his arms doth fold.

"It was the lady Gundelille Who drove into the yard; She laughed, I tell ye, heartily At the jest he deemed so hard."

"Ha!~ that jest you shall dearly rue," whispered Palle, in a rage. "You sing sweetly," he said aloud; "remember you the whole ballad, fair lady? If you sing another verse," he whispered, "it shall cost you dear."

"Hush, dearest sister!" said Margaretha, in a tone of earnest entreaty; and Ulrica was silent.

Sir Palle now rode round to Drost Aage's side, and did not again address himself to the captive maiden. He was silent and gloomy. He had observed with great wrath a repressed smile on the Drost's countenance; and the huntsmen who followed them laughed, and whispered together in a manner which too plainly indicated that Sir Palle and his unfortunate love adventure were the subject of their ridicule. The two younger huntsmen were strongly, attached to Aage; they had remarked how little acceptable Sir Palle's company was to him; and they now, as if to beguile the time, began to hum the well-known ballad of the brave knight Helmer Blaa. In one of the many scenes of violence which were the consequences of the proscription of the outlawed regicides, Helmer Blaa had slain Sir Palle's uncle. On this account he had for a long time been barbarously persecuted by Sir Palle and his six brothers, until he at last vanquished all the six in honourable self-defence, and compelled Palle to give him his sister in marriage, who, before this feud, had been betrothed to the gallant knight. This occurrence (so derogatory to Sir Palle's reputation) had attracted general attention, and almost every young fellow in the country could repeat a ballad in honour of the bold Helmer Blaa, who had not only been acquitted by the king and whole body of knighthood, but stood also high in favour with Eric. The burden of the song,--

"In the saddle he rides so free,"

fell on Sir Palle's ear.

He looked back towards the huntsmen, with a face glowing with rage, but they appeared not to notice it; and one of them sang aloud,--

"Better I cannot counsel thee, That thou tarry not, but hence should'st flee, In the saddle he rides so free."

"Your huntsmen, Sir Drost, would drive me hence with vile songs, I perceive," said Sir Palle, turning to Aage. "Is it you, or yonder pretty maiden, who have inspired them with this pleasant conceit?"

"You are perhaps not a lover of song, Sir Palle?" answered Aage; "that is unfortunate: the merry fellows wish to beguile the time for us on the road."

"If I hear aright," growled Palle, "that song may perhaps shorten the road to heaven for both of them if it is not presently ended."

"Think you so?" answered Aage carelessly. "If you will give us your company you must reconcile yourself to our merriment. Haste to sing the song to the end," he called to the huntsmen, "or Sir Palle will be wroth;" and the huntsmen sang gaily,--

"In the town my true love shall ne'er hear it said That I before her brothers have fled.

"Full boldly rode Helmer her brothers to meet, His courage was equal to every feat.

"First Ove, then Lang, his eye did survey, And then did his sword come quick into play."

"S'death!" shouted Sir Palle, and his sword flew from the scabbard. "If ye _will_ have the sword come into play, you shall feel it too." So saying, he turned his horse, and rushed like a madman upon the huntsmen, who had not time to prepare for defence, ere his sword had cut through their jerkins, and inflicted one or two wounds. But the huntsmen, enraged at this sudden onset, drew their long hunting-knives, and threatened a bloody revenge. Ulrica shrieked on hearing the affray, and the elder sister turned pale. "Stop, knaves!" cried Aage, riding in between Palle and his antagonists: "two against one is not fair play. I will decide this matter alone with Sir Palle." The Drost had drawn his sword, and was expecting his opponent to turn towards him, but Sir Palle's horse seemed to have become suddenly skittish and unruly: it galloped off, on the road to Esrom, with its enraged master, whose spurs stuck in its sides, while he swore and brandished his sword over his head. The huntsmen laughed loudly at this sight. Ulrica joined in the laugh; and as soon as the slight wounds of the huntsmen had been bound up, the party pursued their journey, though in a different direction from that in which they had set out.

"I must have been mistaken," said Drost Aage to the huntsmen. "It could hardly have been to Kallundborg, but rather to Vordingborg, that the king commanded me to accompany these ladies; there he, and not Prince Christopher, is ruler. If there was other meaning in his words, I will be answerable for it." As they turned into a bye road, a tall man in a peasant's dress, mounted on a small peasant's horse, without a saddle, started out of the thicket by the road side, and suddenly disappeared again among the bushes. "Kagge!" exclaimed Ulrica, with involuntary delight, and seized her sister's arm. Margaretha gave her a significant look, and she was silent, but often gazed restlessly around.

Drost Aage had heard the exclamation, and started. The name of Kagge was but too familiar to him. A squire of noble birth of this name had been among Eric Glipping's murderers at Finnerup; he had fled with the other outlaws to Norway, and was prohibited, on pain of death, from setting foot on Danish ground; had he, notwithstanding, been in the train of the captive maidens, their connection with so dangerous a traitor might operate greatly against them. This incident obliged the Drost to be on the watch over the security of his captives. Silent and anxious he pursued the journey.

CHAP. V.

Prince Christopher and his train meanwhile pursued their way to Sjoeborg. They rode at a slow pace, to suit the convenience of the foreign prelate. The mysterious importance which Cardinal Isarnus knew how to assume as the pope's legate, and the reserve with which he evaded every close question, had worked up the prince to a pitch of anxious expectation, which he vainly endeavoured to hide. Isarnus appeared with a splendour corresponding to his high rank as a dignitary of the church; his richly attired attendants followed him at a respectful distance, together with his famulus and secretary; near him rode the Abbot of Esrom and two foreign ecclesiastics. Isarnus conversed with his countrymen and with the abbot by turns, in the Italian and Latin tongue: his converse with the prince and the margrave was short and abrupt, and carried on in almost unintelligible German. He appeared, indeed, to avail himself of the want of a common language, by leaving every query unanswered to which he considered it might be impolitic to reply. In important negociations he made use of his famulus as an interpreter. Wherever this powerful prelate appeared in the country, he was the object of superstitious awe. The unusual spectacle of the cardinal's red hat worked upon the imagination of the people like the appearance of a comet, and was considered to be as ominous of evil, as that dreaded phenomenon of the heavens. Some of the most ignorant among the lower orders even believed it was the pope himself who had arrived in Denmark to dethrone the king and excommunicate the kingdom; and it was not alone from reverence, but as much from fear, that the wonder-stricken peasants and old women especially, knelt down whenever they encountered the cardinal. His long, sallow, and imperturbable visage, with its expression of cool menace, and foreign aspect, combined with the preconceived notion of a supernatural and mysterious power, seemed endowed with the petrifying influence of Medusa's head.

"Dear Sir Pope! harm us not!" frequently whimpered forth the sick and crippled who knelt in his path. He understood them not, and no word proceeded from his thin compressed lips, but he extended his arm, with a cold unchanging mien, and with his three fingers, which sparkled with costly rings, signed over their uncovered heads the silent token of a blessing, which they feared would soon be changed into a curse, for the threats with which he had last left the king and the country, were generally made known through the fears of the clergy themselves, and their zealous exhortations to repentance.

Accompanied by this ecclesiastical scarecrow. Prince Christopher now approached Sjoeborg. After several fruitless attempts to gain the confidence of the mysterious legate, the prince withdrew, leaving his place by the cardinal's side to the Abbot of Esrom and the other ecclesiastics, who conversed with him, in Latin, upon philosophical and theological subjects. The bold and joyous margrave rode by the side of Sir Helmer Blaa, and talked eagerly of campaigns and tournaments. The prince allowed them to pass him, and remained alone behind with the Swedish statesman, Drost Bruncke, to whom he appeared desirous of communicating something of importance ere they reached Sjoeborg.

"You will now probably delay your homeward journey, Sir Drost!" said the prince, in a confidential tone. "That which yon mysterious guest brings with him may prove as important to your sovereign and to the Swedish council as to us."

"Perhaps it may alter the state of things here rather more than your royal house would wish," answered Bruncke, ambiguously; "what else can your highness mean?"

"Yonder red cloud is doubtless charged with holy lightnings," continued the prince, pointing to the cardinal, whose red hat flared through the trees in the moonlight. "If my stiff-necked brother does not now give in, misfortune stands at his door; such is ever the result of all half measures. An important state prisoner should be either timely buried, or else let loose. Was not that your opinion also, Sir Drost?"

"It is often the wisest policy," answered Bruncke. "The dead _cannot_ tell tales; and the generous, once restored to freedom, _will not_."

"You know the individual I allude to," continued the prince; "he will now either be let loose, and become perhaps more dangerous than ever, or the storm will burst which he hath conjured over us hither from Rome. He was as good as buried--that was my doing, but I got sorry thanks for it. Out of mistimed compassion he was brought up once more from the grave;--to spare a sick priest, they had the folly to let loose the bishop's understrapper, so that he was able to flee, and stir up heaven and earth to work our ruin. I then counselled a timely reconciliation; but when sternness should have been used they were weak and mild, and when reconciliation became the wisest policy they were stern and pertinacious. My counsel was never heeded; hate and disfavour were my thanks. The people will now have their eyes opened, and perhaps your young king also, provided he will be guided by his wisest counsellor."

"Very possibly, noble prince!" answered Bruncke, with a crafty smile; "but as yet I see not the danger, and even were I so fortunate as to perceive it, and to understand you, so long as Thorkild Knudson is at the head of state affairs, and in such high honour and favour"--he paused, and shrugged his shoulders.

"He rises but to fall," continued the prince, "should he even win my brother's favour also. By his friendship with your dangerous dukes, and the high alliance which is spoken of, he is sealing his own doom."

"That is very possible, your highness," answered Bruncke, with a malicious smile; "his vaunted wisdom is not infallible; with time cometh experience. Were but your royal brother only not so ardent a lover, and our fair princess somewhat less devoted to him"--

"Childish fancies!" interrupted the prince. "State policy alone, not childish folly, should counsel here. Your young king hastes not so with his marriage, and therein he acts wisely. Between ourselves, Bruncke,"--here he whispered confidentially, while he nearly drew bridle,--"my sister Merete is little suited to your king, but his soft-hearted sister is still less so to my brother. This double alliance will be ruinous for both kingdoms. You may easily come to share our unhappy position with regard to the papal see; and if enmity breaks out betwixt your king and his ambitious brother, there is no doubt against whom Princess Ingeborg, as queen, will arm Denmark and my enamoured brother. That she holds the haughty warlike duke, Eric, far dearer than his crowned brother, you know yourself much better than I."

"Truly, I cannot but admire your highness's policy," replied Bruncke, in a fawning tone, while his wily glance seemed to penetrate the prince's most secret thoughts. "You are as wise as generous; prizing Denmark and Sweden's happiness higher than your own sister's and brother's domestic felicity! Here I recognise the lofty, princely spirit, which soars above the petty interests of private life. But, to speak truly, I see not how this double alliance can be prevented or broken off, without a breach of peace, while your royal brother sways here, and follows nought but his own inclinations."

"We must have time, Bruncke" whispered the prince; "the guest we bring him to-night will soon change the aspect of affairs in Denmark. I shudder myself to think of what may happen, but things cannot remain as they are; your young king will always need a wise counsellor, who can rule people and kingdom in his name. For this office no one is so fit as yourself. Set your head to work, sage Bruncke; if it should be endangered, you may count on me."

"Let us reserve these matters for your private chamber, noble prince," whispered Bruncke, looking cautiously around. "Woods have ears, and plains have eyes, they say. It were, perhaps, good policy that I should henceforth be apparently somewhat out of favour with your highness."

"Right, Bruncke; contradict me tomorrow at table, in the king's hearing, and I will reply in a manner which you must only _feign_ to take amiss."

"Every ungracious word spoken to me by your highness in public, I shall take to be a proof of your secret favour. All that I can promise you," he added in a whisper, raising his hand so as to screen his face on the other side, "is the delay of both marriages as long as possible; as to what concerns me personally, I depend upon your princely word."

"I give you my hand upon it, sage Bruncke" answered the prince, extending to him his hand. "Now let us be off; the cardinal hath reached the lake already."

They spurred their horses, and overtook the rest of their party by the shore of the lake, where a floating bridge had been contrived for the convenience of this unusual throng of passengers. While they halted here, Sir Palle returned at full gallop, and told the prince, almost panting for breath, that he had been murderously attacked by Drost Aage and both his huntsmen at once.

"Indeed, I am glad of it," answered the prince, in a tone of satisfaction. "The Drost shall dearly rue such unchivalrous conduct. You can of course swear to what you say, Palle! else no one will credit it."

"Swear to it!" repeated Palle, with glowing cheeks, and endeavouring to hide his confusion; "those who will not believe me, by my troth may let it alone; ungodly oaths I have forsworn."

"Then the devil take your chatter," muttered the prince, in displeasure, and turned from him.

CHAP. VI.

On his return to Sjoeborg Castle, King Eric had shut himself up in his private chamber, engrossed in serious reflections on the imminent peril he had just escaped; it seemed to him as if St. Cecilia's eve was destined to bring with it misfortune and danger to him and to his race. This was the second time he had encountered traitors and robbers in the neighbourhood of Sjoeborg. The conviction, however, that he possessed the love and devotion of his subjects, soon dissipated the young king's gloomy mood. He had summoned the Swedish Marsk, Thorkild Knudson, to a private audience, and now conversed calmly and frankly with this noble knight on the happy alliance between Denmark and Sweden, which at the present time was the chief subject of the king's thoughts, and in which his heart so ardently shared.

Thorkild Knudson was a handsome man, of a thoughtful and dignified aspect, rather more than forty years of age; his dark hair seemed to have grown untimely grey. His powerful influence as regent had gained him a high reputation, as well in his own country as in foreign courts. An honest aspiration after power and rank was manifest in his fiery glance, and the noble commanding expression of his countenance bespoke a dauntless confidence in his own powers, and a species of proud contempt for all the petty arts by which less highly gifted statesmen often seek to supply the want of sound political wisdom. As he sat opposite the young king, attired in his blue knight's dress, with the large chain of the order around his neck, and conversed with him, with freedom and sympathy, he might have been taken for a fatherly friend or relative of King Eric, had he not, by strict observance of the respect due to Eric's exalted station, but without a tinge of flattery, known how to receive the confidence reposed in him by royalty with an appearance of homage which detracted not from his own dignity as the ambassador of a foreign monarch.

Although Thorkild Knudson, as Swedish regent, was authorized on the part of King Birger and the state council to accede to the king's desire of having the celebration of his marriage fixed for the ensuing spring, yet it was only on the condition that the pope's dispensation should be obtained before that time. But because of the vehemence with which the king always rejected the idea of every obstacle, Thorkild Knudson had hitherto propounded this condition in as mild terms as possible. He now touched upon it again, and took the opportunity of bringing the case of the captive archbishop to Eric's remembrance.

The colour mounted to the young king's cheek; he became suddenly silent, and a secret struggle seemed passing within his breast. He looked around him once or twice, as if he missed some one; at last, however, his eye rested with evident pleasure and satisfaction on Thorkild's intelligent and noble countenance. "I esteem my future brother-in-law fortunate," he said, "in possessing a man like you for his friend and counsellor. You are now to him what my aged counsellor Jon and my well-beloved Drost Hessel have been to me from my childhood upwards. The misunderstanding with the papal court has long deprived me of my best and most experienced counsellors. My faithful Drost Aage is not older and more experienced than myself. I feel confidence in you, Sir Thorkild. Were I your liege and sovereign, what would you counsel me in this weighty matter?"

"To see the prisoner, and hear his defence--_dispassionately_, noble King Eric," answered the Swedish statesman. "As far as I know, he hath not only _done_ wrong, but _suffered_ wrong; for a long and severe imprisonment is a suffering and punishment, which can only be called just, when it is inflicted according to a lawfully pronounced sentence."

"Was it then unjust in me to imprison a state criminal, who was an accomplice in the murder of my father--an accursed regicide?" said Eric, with vehemence, and rising from his seat. "Should I have given him time to escape, or stir up the people against me, because he was not condemned by the pope and the bishops? Can I acknowledge ecclesiastical law when it would acquit a rebel and regicide?"

"It was perhaps necessary for your grace to hinder his flight and treasonable designs," answered Thorkild Knudson, who had risen from his seat at the same time with the king, "were it not possible previously to obtain papal authority for the step; but, by your grace's leave, as your counsellor, I would have freely and openly pronounced all unnecessary severity to be as dangerous as unjust."