Part 7

"From the hour in which, by God's grace, I received the bishop's mitre and the holy crosier," resumed the abbot, with the air of a prince of the church, but with stooping head, and a kind of studied rhetorical tone, "be it said without all vain self-commendation, and to the honour of the Most High!--from the time St. Peter and his holy heir set me a ruler over these souls, and over this asylum of the pious and oppressed, I have striven according to my poor ability in the spirit of St. Benedict of Nurcia, and with the pious will of St. Benedict of Anianes before mine eyes, to give succour and protection to all travellers and pilgrims, and all outlawed and persecuted persons, against the wild turbulence of nature, as well as against human ferocity and the violence and persecution of an ungodly world. You just now interrupted me in a godly discourse, my guests! I spoke of the Church's might and authority, which is now so scandalously assaulted by the blind children of this world in our ungodly times. I was inculcating the duties of our holy order on the children, and for the edification of my dependents, on occasion of the crying deeds of violence and injustice we daily hear of and see before our eyes. You have also surely heard how shamelessly and treacherously the king's men have dealt with the outlawed Count Jacob's men in Halland, and what an outrageous and arbitrary act the royal vassal, Jonas Fries, hath lately perpetrated here, on the boundary of my abbey's consecrated ground and territory?"

"What I have heard is almost past belief, pious Father Abbot," answered Brock; "but the matter is related very differently by the friends of freedom and those of despotism. Rumour hath indeed possibly exaggerated the stern vassal's despotic act."

"My fugitive guest, who sits there, can bear testimony to the truth," said the abbot. "The unhappy victim to the lawlessness and barbarity of that royal vassal was his good friend and comrade."

"It is as true as that I stand here," began the warrior-like personage in the monk's cloak, and rose from his seat. His accent sounded half-Norwegian; the combed-down hair slipped aside for an instant from his brow, and over his wild fiery eye a pair of bristly meeting eye-brows and a large red scar were visible. "Thus are law and justice now upheld in Denmark," he continued. "I had come down hither in reliance on truce and treaty, but truth and justice are no longer recognised, where the friends of freedom are outlawed. My comrade had saved my life, and freed me from a degrading captivity; he was, like myself, in the service of the Norwegian king. Three days since he was taken captive at my side in broad day-light, by Sir Jonas Fries himself, and dragged to his castle.--I escaped to the sanctuary of the abbey; but when I yesterday, with the pious abbot's men, would have liberated my unhappy comrade, we found him hanged, without law or sentence, on Jonas Fries's closed castle gate."

"Ha, indeed! the more madly they act the sooner they will have to account for it," exclaimed Brock, in a powerful martial tone, and striking his large battle sword against the flagged floor. "The master who hath such zealous servants may fare badly at last--that deed of violence shall prove a firebrand----"

"We meddle not here with worldly matters," interrupted the abbot hastily, with an admonitory wink, and a side glance at the attentive and startled monks, who all, however, sat silent with humbly drooping heads, and appeared to fear, rather than love, their despotic and mighty superior. "Worldly matters are to me and my dependents, but vehicles for spiritual things," continued the prelate with a devout air, "and I only permit any discourse concerning them when it may serve us for holy and edifying meditation, according to St. Benedict of Anianes' pious will and injunction. I now forbid all further talk on such subjects here. Refresh yourselves, my stranger guests! Pray a silent prayer, brother bed-maker, and discharge thy duty towards the strangers! Pray in silence, and retire to rest, children! Let every brother set about his evening work! You must not suppose, my unknown guests," he added, "that the conversers and lay brothers you have seen here, alone perform the bodily labour which is incumbent on us all--it is precisely in order to gain bodily strength for the performance of the stern duties of our order that I give, as you see, occasional dispensations with respect to the nourishment of the frail body with substantial meat."

The brethren of the order and the monkishly clad children now folded their hands, and muttered a prayer; they then departed, after they had all, with a deep and submissive inclination of the head, kissed the abbot's hand, which lay extended for the purpose on the arm of his chair, in which he remained sitting, and gazed on his guests with an attentive and searching glance. "You are welcome. Sir Niels Brock and Sir Johan Papae," now commenced the abbot, in a confidential and condescending tone, with a side look at Sir Palle. "This knight I know not, but I presume you bring none with you but your most confidential friends."

"The high-born Junker Christopher's gentleman of the bed-chamber, Sir Palle, accompanies us to Wordingborg by his lord's command," said Brock, hastily, "although we cannot boast of knowing him intimately."

"Ay, indeed! You are welcome also, Sir Palle," resumed the abbot, in a tone of haughty condescension, once more assuming the dignified mien of a prelate. "Your master, the junker, is now said deeply to repent his sin and cruelty against our most learned and God-fearing archbishop, and to feel a longing after peace and reconciliation with the holy church? With all his errors, he seems still, however, to be of a more tractable and pious mind than his hardened brother, and it may one day, perhaps, stand him in good stead, for God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace to the humble."

"Yes, my lord junker will now assuredly be converted, pious Sir Abbot," answered Palle, thrusting a large piece of meat into his mouth, by which he was hindered from continuing his speech.

"To judge from the build of Sir Palle's person, _he_ stands most in need of refreshment and rest," said Brock, with significance. "According to his assurance, there is now the best understanding between the junker and his brother."

"Ay, indeed! hum! well, then! It is good assuredly that brothers should be united, provided it be in that which is right," said the prelate, and broke off the conversation. Little was now said, and that only on indifferent topics. Sir Palle's gormandising appetite perceptibly decreased at the cautious pause in the conversation, and at the sight of the fugitive in the monk's cloak, who had remained silently sitting at that end of the table which was least lighted up, and who kept his scrutinising eyes fixed upon him. As no one either ate or drank any more, the abbot folded his hands and muttered a Latin prayer; after which he rang a little silver hand-bell, and Pater master-of-the-household entered.

"This knight desires instantly to retire to rest," said the abbot, pointing to Palle; "perhaps you will go with him as his contubernalis over yonder." As he said this, he winked at Sir Papae, and the taciturn knight immediately accompanied Sir Palle and the master of the household across the court yard of the monastery to the guesthouse, which was situated apart.

As soon as the abbot was alone with Brock and the disguised fugitive, he gave them a mysterious nod and arose. He took the lamp in his hand, and opened a private door in the refectory which led to a long vaulted passage. He went on before, and they followed him in silence through the passage, and up a winding stair to the library of the monastery and the prelate's private chamber; he opened all the doors himself, and locked them carefully behind him. Sir Palle's indolence and love of good cheer seemed to be contending with curiosity and repressed alarm. "Whom take you yon sharp-eyed fugitive to be, Sir Papae?" he asked his silent travelling companion, as soon as the monk had shown them to their sleeping apartment and departed.

"I care not who he is," said the knight sullenly, and took off his vest.

"It is assuredly one of the outlaws," continued Palle, anxiously. "Truly it is strange to have sat at table, and now to sleep under the same roof with such a fellow. It might get wind one day, and waken suspicion."

"I will give you good counsel, Sir Palle," answered the sullen knight. "Take your horse out of the stable again, and ride off at full speed, despite night and storm! Our company may also seem suspicious to you. A man like you, who holds his own peace and safety dearer than aught beside, should never devote himself to the service of any master in these troublous times. As far as I can judge you are as little fit for the junker's as the king's service, and least of all to be your own master, like me and other free men."

"The devil! Sir Papae! what do you take me for?" said Palle, bridling up and highly affronted; "think ye I am afraid for my skin? I would fain see the man who hath oftener risked life and blood in the service of my master, than I have, and yet as a free man dare snap my fingers at the world's rulers and tyrants. What my master, the junker, is about, he must know best himself, and answer for--it concerns not me--_his_ head truly is placed too high to be imperilled. When it comes to the push, all falls on those beneath; yet when he calls you and Sir Niels his friends, and sends you greeting and courteous invitation, as his servant, I surely run no risk by companionship with you;--but an _outlaw!_ think! perhaps even one of the regicides!--to have sat at table with him may cost us all dear."

"You are in a very unpleasant position, Sir Palle." said the haughty partizan, with a contemptuous smile. "With the king, you stand not well, they say; and though you have already settled yourself comfortably in the junker's service, it may end badly enough, after all. If he gets but a hint how you keep the seal of his private letters----"

"It is a shameful falsehood, I deny it positively," answered Palle, glowing crimson. "But for the Lord's and our dear lady's sake, excellent Sir Papae! bring me not into trouble by such talk, and beseech Sir Niels also to be silent about it. I am in truth innocent as an unborn babe. I know not in the least what either you or the junker have in hand, and there was not a word about it in the letter; that is what you say yourself; for what know _I_ of it?" he added hastily. "But whatever it may be," he continued, "I pray you only to consider that, after all, the king is a mighty man, and not to be jested with when he is wroth. Even my own master, the high-born junker, I would in all confidence here between us two, counsel ye to deal somewhat cautiously with. Too much confidence in the great answers not, either;--in our times one should in troth know how to obey the commands of one's master, and nevertheless use one's own understanding,--do you see? To speak plainly. Sir Papae! since the commandant at Kallundborg was forced to lose his head, I have often had uneasy dreams."

"Now good night, my dear Palle!" said the knight, clapping him compassionately on the shoulder. "I would not for a great deal be in your place. It must be grievous for an honest knight adventurer like you, who so faithfully strives to serve the great, not to be able to fathom his master's mind, any more than his own stomach." The knight then strode into his sleeping apartment and shut the door after him with a scornful laugh.

"Another awkward scrape!" muttered Sir Palle, striking his forehead. He threw himself into a chair and yawned. It seemed as though his body and soul were at war. He appeared to feel a desire to sleep, but could not rest. He threw himself once or twice on the couch, but soon rose again, panting and puffing with uneasiness. All was now quiet at the monastery; nothing was to be heard but the howling of the storm through the chimney and around the high gable ends of the roof. After some deliberation, Palle wrapped himself in his mantle, and stole softly out of the door. He found the anti-chamber of the guest-house open, and slipped out into the court-yard of the monastery. He looked around him on all sides. It was dark and gloomy; there was not a light to be seen in any of the twelve cells; but, from the second story of the principal building a solitary lamp shone through the creaking boughs of the lime trees. The light came from an apartment which Pater, head-cook, had pointed out to him as the abbot's private chamber. Before it stood a remarkably tall, thick, lime tree, which was not yet in leaf. Sir Palle stole forward under the tree, and endeavoured to climb up its trunk; the build of his figure rendered this very difficult for him to do; but he succeeded at last by dint of much exertion, in getting so high up in the tree, that at some distance he could peep in through the small lit-up window panes. He beheld the abbot and Sir Niels Brock very singularly occupied. A tall warlike form stood before them in ancient knightly armour. The abbot was in full costume; he placed a helmet (over which he appeared to be pronouncing a benedicite) upon the warrior's head. Brock seemed to be rubbing the eye-brows and beard of the armour-clad personage with an ointment. Palle listened in vain, the storm prevented his hearing a single word of what was said; but he now saw that the abbot opened a cupboard, and produced a black book with silver clasps, which looked to him like a Testament. Sir Niels Brock, as well as the steel-clad warrior, laid their hands on the book and knelt. They remained in this position while the abbot fetched a silver chalice from the cupboard, and went through the same ceremonies as on the performance of low mass. He took a silver wine-flagon, filled the chalice, signed a benediction over it, and drank himself. He then opened a silver box, signed a cross, and a blessing likewise over it, and seemed to administer the sacrament to each of the kneeling knights.

"Gracious Heaven! He is surely giving them the sacrament!" whispered Palle to himself, "what can all this mean?"

The abbot now stepped back, and appeared to be speaking with great emphasis and energetic enthusiasm. At last the knights arose and kissed the bishop's hand, and the dismayed spy recognised the powerful tones of Niels Brock, who clapped the steel clad warrior on the shoulder and said, in a loud tone, "Now, then! in the name of all the saints, have you courage, Kagge! The devil himself could not know ye now, or injure a hair of your consecrated head."

On hearing the name of Kagge, Sir Palle became so alarmed, that he lost his balance. The branch broke on which he had placed his foot, and he was forced to let himself slide down the trunk of the lime-tree without being able to save the skin of his hands or his rich attire, in which great rents were torn. He fell with violence to the ground, and stunned by fear and pain, stole back again in this pitiable plight to his chamber.

Abbot Johan did not appear to his guests on the following morning, and when Brock and Papae, during mattins, rode forth from the monastery with the worn-out and hapless Sir Palle, the party had received an addition in the person of a stranger, mounted on a large well-fed horse from the abbot's stable, and clad in an old-fashioned suit of armour. His hair and brow were hidden by an ample helmet, fastened under the chin with a silver clasp. His meeting eye-brows and broad beard were shining, and coal-black; over his coat of mail he wore a large silver chain, in token of a knight's sacred vow. Sir Palle hardly dared to turn his eyes on him. It was, indeed, impossible for him to recognize in this figure the fugitive guest at the monastery; but he was nevertheless convinced it was he, whom he now knew to be the outlawed regicide, Kagge himself. Palle looked as though he already felt the rope round his neck, at the thought of the dangerous company into which he was thrown. This new and mysterious travelling companion rode in silence between his two powerful friends. His glance was wild and restless; at first setting out he often looked behind on all sides, as if he feared to be recognised and pursued; but he soon, however, nodded confidentially to his companions, and presently fell into a deep reverie. His dark imaginings were occasionally interrupted by a wild and half-smothered laugh.

"I have met with a good friend and kinsman here in the monastery," said Brock, in a careless tone, to Palle. "He is a merry fellow, as you doubtless perceive; and laughs at his own thoughts when there is a lack of mirth and wit in his companions. He hath a true love at Wordingborg whom he would surprise; but therefore he would rather be unknown, and you can surely be silent where one ill-timed word might prove dangerous to yourself."

"Yes, doubtless," answered Palle, "silence is a virtue necessity teaches every wise man in our times; and here it is easy for me to be silent, since I know not even the name of your honourable friend and kinsman."

"That I will confide to you: he is called Johan Limbek, but gives himself out to be Ako Krummedige, or Blackbeard, going on a pilgrimage to the holy land," continued Brock in a lowered tone; "but keep this to yourself. My kinsman is not to be jested with, do you see, and if you disturb his love adventure by unseasonable talk you must be prepared to break a sharp lance with him. He fights better than the devil himself. I would only just mention to you,--he hath broken the neck of many a doughty knight, ere this, in love adventures."

"He will scarcely find a rival in me," answered Palle, "although I am reputed to stand high in the favour of the fair."

"Assuredly," replied Sir Niels, and laughed. "Who knows not that rare ballad of Sir Palle's wooing fair Gundelille's driver lad?"

"Would that all dainty maidens and wooing were at the devil!" returned Palle, angrily. "That dainty maiden will never more make a fool of any honest man, as surely as Marsk Stig's vagabond brood are caged for life at Wordingborg."

At these words the steel-clad traveller became attentive, and measured Sir Palle with a scornful and angry look.

"See you," whispered Sir Niels, "my enamoured friend cannot even hear maidens and rivals spoken of without the blood instantly boiling within him. Beware, as I said before, Sir Palle, that you do not meddle with his concerns." So saying, he turned, with a contemptuous look, from the perplexed gentleman of the bedchamber, and joined his two other companions, who seemed as little in a communicative mood as himself. Absorbed in gloomy reverie, and almost without another word being spoken, the travellers pursued the journey to Wordingborg.

CHAP. VIII.

When the two powerful and well-known knights, Niels Brock and Johan Papae, with their outlawed friend between them, and the anxious Sir Palle at their side, rode with their train through the gates of Wordingborg, there was so much bustle among the gathering crowd in the town that they were scarcely noticed. The king had arrived with his brother the junker and his numerous train of knights--Drost Aage, Marsk Oluffsen, Count Henrik of Mecklenborg, and nearly all his most important councillors were with him. The castle was filled with princely guests and their splendid trains. Duke Valdemar of Slesvig, and his brother the gigantic Duke Eric of Langeland, had just made their entry into the castle, and there was much talk among the populace of the long legs of Duke Eric, of which none had ever seen the like.

"'Tis a devil of a fellow, yon long-shanks," said the sentinel at the castle gate to his comrade. "'Twas surely he who slew Drost Skelm in Nyborg just under the king's nose."

"No, comrade, he slew him in his bed; I know that better," answered the other man-at-arms. "I was myself among the king's spear-men at the Danish court: it will be just four years come next Lady-day; the heat was great, and they drank hard at court--the long-legged lord is fierce when he is hot in the head or drunk; and at that time, sure enough, he sided with the outlaws. Had the king been present, long-shanks would scarcely have ventured on so rough a jest--he was forced to flee from Nyborg the same night, and for three years he durst not show his face before the king. For all that he is a very able fellow," continued the man-at-arms; "and since he got a dressing at Gronsund he hath learned to take off his hat to our king. However fierce and mad he may be, he is nevertheless a hundred times honester than his wizened brother, the yellow scarecrow from Slesvig."

The talk now turned upon this generally unpopular prince. It was known that the ambitious and wily Duke Valdemar had aspired to the Danish crown, and been suspected of a secret understanding with Marsk Stig and the outlaws. Since the great sea-fight at Gronsund, his proud spirit had drooped, however; his last conspiracy and contumacy against his liege sovereign resembled the flaring up of a burnt-out and exhausted volcano. The duke's sallow, withered visage and long nose were the subjects of the coarse jests and biting comments of the populace, although his well-known acuteness, and sagacious state-policy still appeared to be dreaded.

The king's step-father. Count Gerhard of Holstein, or the one-eyed count, as he was called by the people, was, on the contrary, much lauded. Since his marriage with Queen Agnes he often sojourned at the castle of Nykioeping. He had on this day arrived from Falster, to act as counsellor and mediator in the treaty with the Dukes. Much reliance was placed on his uprightness and wisdom, and his frank and joyous deportment gained him general favour.

Every hour brought new arrivals to the town and castle, and among them were seen many venerable prelates and bishops known to be devoted to the king. Among others, the Bishops of Aarhuus and Ribe, and the provincial Prior of the Dominicans, the venerable Master Olaus, who stood at the head of the Danish clergy's appeal to the pope against the enforcement of the interdict according to the constitution of Veile. This estimable and truly patriotic prelate, with his mild, calm, aged face, and snowy ring of hair around his tonsure, was almost worshipped by the people, and wherever he appeared it was whispered that it was he who would deliver the country from ban and interdict.