King Eric and the Outlaws Volume I Part 4

"A stranger!" exclaimed Aage; "come hither; who art thou?"

"Would ye aught with me, good sirs?" said Morten, the cook, stepping forward. "I thought ye spoke to me. I am deaf, ye must know; if ye have any commands, ye must shout at the top of your lungs."

"Who art thou?" asked Aage, raising his voice, while he gazed on him with a searching look. "What wouldst thou here?"

"_Fear_?" said the cook, a.s.suming a simple look. "I will not deny I was somewhat afraid of your horses, and cared not to meet them on a fasting stomach."

"A poor crazy fellow," said the king, "let him go his way in peace, Aage; had he even heard what we spoke of, what would it signify?"

"Yes, by my troth, horses do signify something!" said Morten, looking at Eric with evident interest. "The white horse signifies victory and speedy judgment on the Lord's enemies--says Father Gregory."

"So much the better!" said the king, gaily, giving him a couple of gold pieces. "Go thy way in peace, I would fain hope thou hast spoken truth in thy simplicity. The white horse is mine."

"But the dark red signifies rebellion and the yellow pestilence,"

continued Morten, seemingly touched, as he received the king's gift, and kissed his hand. "Mark, it was therefore I got frighted, when I saw ye between those two beasts. I am otherwise a poor sinner, at your service. I am going a pilgrimage for my own and other folks' sins. I will now pray for a blessing on you, n.o.ble sir!"--so saying, he strode hastily across the road, and disappeared in the wood.

"How would he interpret the red and the yellow horse?" said the king, gravely. "Those pious men of the cloister fill our country and people full of superst.i.tion."

"The fellow perhaps was neither deaf nor half-witted," answered Aage; "to you he naturally said fair words, in order to escape. Our stern Marsk is not liked by vagrants; the bay horse he rides to-day is one he lately got in exchange from your brother Junker Christopher. My cream-coloured horse is well known, and since I fell under the church's ban the people look on me as the emblem of pestilence and misfortune by your side."

These serious comments on the cook's words were now interrupted by the sudden baying of the hounds, which dashed forward in couples towards a thick bush of white thorn, in full cry.

"Game! game!" shouted the huntsman; but, instead of the supposed deer, the two concealed wanderers sprang out of the bush: they had cast aside their peasants' mantles and their bundles, in order the more easily to save themselves by flight in their light cuira.s.ses, but by so doing they had betrayed themselves, and awakened suspicion. By order of the Marsk they were instantly seized, and brought before the party of hunters.

"What means this?" called the king in surprise: "we are not come hither to hunt men."

"A couple of deserters from your Lolland hors.e.m.e.n, my liege," answered Marsk Oluffsen. "I know them; we have long been on the look-out for them; it is they whom the Count of Lolland hath sought after as robbers and murderers."

"Then send them to Flynderborg[9] to await their doom!" commanded the king. "What would they here! they shall be strictly brought to account."

The captured deserters were instantly led off to be bound and conducted to the fortress. They had until now stood still and downcast, like convicted criminals; but, on finding they were to be bound, they suddenly started forward and defended themselves with all the desperation of despair. They wounded three of the king's huntsmen with their daggers, and, amid the confusion and tumult occasioned by their unexpected onset, contrived to tear themselves loose, and instantly plunged into the lake. Some hunters pursued them on horseback, and a couple of hounds, trained to hunt the wild-duck, were let loose after them; but the fugitives dived and swam with such skill and vigour that none could see them until they landed on the opposite sh.o.r.e of the lake, where they quickly disappeared in the brushwood.

The king and his train had gone down to the water's edge to look at this singular sight. Some hunters were ordered to ride round the lake, in order if possible to overtake the fugitives. Drost Aage would also have despatched some one after the pretended deaf man, whom he now believed to be in league with the deserters.

"No!" said the king, "he shall not be pursued. I use not to put gold into a man's hand one hour, and fasten iron round it the next."

The party now returned to partake of the repast which was spread for them. As soon as they had refreshed themselves they mounted their horses, and were about to proceed further, but the sound of hunting-horns was now heard on the road from Elsinore, and three riders in rich attire, with several knights and huntsmen, approached at full gallop. It was the king's brother, Junker Christopher, with the young Margrave Waldemar of Brandenborg, who was at this time the king's guest, and the brave Count Henrik of Mecklenborg, who had lately entered the king's service as commander of the army. They had been at Elsinore, where Prince Christopher had received a Swedish royal emba.s.sy on the part of the king. The margrave, it was said, had accompanied him for his amus.e.m.e.nt, and to enjoy the beautiful scenery of Elsinore, but had in reality joined the expedition at the request of Prince Christopher, who anxiously courted the young margrave's friendship. The prince seemed inseparable from him, and generally contrived to secure his companionship whenever he was charged with any important mission by the king, that it might give him opportunities, which he eagerly sought, of raising his consequence in the eyes of the people.

Prince Christopher, or the Junker, as he was generally called, was two years younger than the king. Though tall and strongly built, his figure was far from being so well proportioned as his brother's. His large features and long visage, shaded by coa.r.s.e long black hair, had a gloomy and sinister expression, which reminded the people but too much of his detested father. His brother, the king, on the contrary, bore a greater resemblance to his mother, the fair and talented Queen Agnes, who, during the king's minority, had been for the most part at the head of state affairs, but who now led a happy private life with her second consort, Count Gerhard of Holstein, at the castle of Nykjoping. The popularity which the chivalrous King Eric had enjoyed from his childhood appeared little pleasing to his brother, and many believed that the prince secretly exerted himself to form a powerful party of his own in the country. In the event of the throne becoming vacant, he was in fact the member of the royal house who might first expect to be called to the crown, but of this there was no reasonable prospect.

Notwithstanding that some differences had existed between the brothers on the affair of the archbishop's imprisonment, King Eric was so far from showing any mistrust of his brother, that he even promoted his consequence by investing him with considerable fiefs in the country.

But Drost Aage strongly suspected the prince of entertaining ambitious and treacherous projects, and the Drost's suspicions of Christopher were rather increased than diminished by the zeal with which, the prince seemed to enter into the negociations respecting the king's marriage. As well on this subject, of such moment to the king, as on that of the Swedish King Birger's marriage with the king's and Christopher's sister Merete, there were at this time frequent communications between the Swedish and Danish court. The young King of Sweden was only in his sixteenth year, and wholly dependent on his state council, which was composed of men of very opposite opinions, and Drost Aage feared that Prince Christopher's object in receiving the emba.s.sy was to increase if possible the obstacles to this double alliance. Aage was, however, deterred from imparting his doubts to the king by the fear of occasioning a dangerous misunderstanding between the brothers; and Eric was so far from suspecting his brother of any dishonourable design, that he considered his anxiety to meet the Swedish emba.s.sy as a proof of fraternal affection. The young king welcomed both Christopher and the margrave with much friendliness; and as soon as he had greeted them, and the gay Count Henrik, turned towards the Swedish amba.s.sadors, who, with some Danish knights, followed the princely comers. In the most dignified of the two Swedish n.o.bles Eric joyfully recognised King Birger's faithful counsellor, the Swedish regent and Marsk, Sir Thorkild Knudson, a tall middle-aged man, of a grave and n.o.ble countenance; but it was not without a feeling of uneasiness that the king beheld his companion, a withered shrunken figure, whose cold and wily countenance wore a perpetual smile, and whose grey, staring ostrich-like eye had an expression of sinister scrutiny. It was the Swedish statesman and Drost, Sir Johan Bruncke, who, next to Thorkild Knudson, was the most influential statesman in Sweden, and appeared to stand as high in favour with the weak King Birger as with his ambitious brothers, while he gained a knowledge of the individual foibles of each, and well knew how to work upon them for his own advantage.

When the king had greeted the strangers, he proceeded with his augmented train to Esrom monastery, where he conversed with the amba.s.sadors, and received letters from King Birger, Princess Ingeborg, and his sister Merete, who, according to an earlier agreement, had been brought up, as the future Queen of Sweden, at the Swedish court. Eric seemed unusually joyous and animated after he had perused these letters. His anxiety to hasten his marriage, and to have it fixed for the ensuing summer, had met with the entire approbation of the royal house of Sweden, and Princess Ingeborg's letter breathed the most tender and devoted affection.

The difficulties and objections stated by the amba.s.sador princ.i.p.ally regarded the misunderstanding with the court of Rome, and the dispensation which was yet withheld, to which the king, misled by the ardour of his feelings, did not attach the importance it deserved.

He invited the amba.s.sadors to be his guests for some weeks, as he hoped very shortly to remove all difficulties. The afternoon was spent pleasantly in hunting, and in the evening the king, with the whole of his train, repaired to Sjoborg, where several cars, conveying the cooks of the royal kitchen, and domestics of every description, had arrived during the day.

CHAP. III.

The ancient fortress soon presented a scene of splendid festivity. The s.p.a.cious halls glittered with regal pomp, and resounded with the stir and bustle which are the accompaniments of a court. With the exception of the tower, the whole of the castle had been recently fitted up as a royal residence. The king's princ.i.p.al counsellors had accompanied him, and though he occasionally hunted, he did not therefore neglect state affairs, which frequently occupied him until the night was well nigh spent.

The king never inquired after the captive archbishop, whom he appeared to have forgotten. A reconciliation, on suitable conditions, with this important personage, was, however, doubtless the secret object of the king's sojourn at Sjoborg. The adjustment of this vexatious affair was never of more consequence than at this juncture, as it was not only a present hindrance to his marriage, but threatened to prove dangerous both to state and kingdom. The king, however, was desirous that no one should know the real purport of his visit, least of all the captive archbishop, who would probably take occasion thereby to raise his demands to the uttermost. Besides, Eric himself appeared not to have decided what course to pursue in this matter. Although revenge had never been his failing, and on the contrary he had often manifested the most generous temper, the remembrance of his father's murder had rendered him stern and almost implacable towards everyone connected with the regicides, and he felt it was impossible for him to make the first advances towards a reconciliation with Archbishop Grand. He apparently expected the haughty captive would himself pet.i.tion for an interview, and pave the way to reconciliation by a humble acknowledgment of his guilt. One week after another, however, pa.s.sed away, without any thing of this kind taking place. The number of guests was daily increasing at Sjoborg. The presence of the Margrave of Brandenborg and the Swedish amba.s.sadors, as well as that of the hunting party and Prince Christopher's retinue, imparted an appearance of life and gaiety to this otherwise dreary castle, which almost painfully contrasted with its gloomy destination, and the many dark recollections connected with the place.

One day in November, a singular procession approached the castle of Sjoborg. From two Hanseatic merchant vessels, which had anch.o.r.ed off the fishing station, there landed a number of foreign seamen, who, carrying the Rostock flag, and with large broad swords at their sides, proceeded to the castle, amid the dissonant sound of pipes and trumpets. At the head of the procession marched a tall stout man, in a burgher's coat of fine cloth, trimmed with broad borders of costly fur.

It was the rich trader, Berner Kopmand of Rostock, well known at the great fairs of Skanor and Falsterbo, whither he was wont to bring rich cargoes of cloth and costly spices. He was notorious for his authoritative and overbearing deportment, and for the ostentatious pomp by which he sought to acquire the reputation of a merchant prince. By his side walked the almost equally noted Henrik Gullandsfar of Visbye, also one of the most influential Hanseatic merchants, and an adroit and politic negociator between the Hanse towns and the northern princes,[10] They announced themselves at the castle as Hanseatic amba.s.sadors, and were admitted into the upper hall, while their train was served with refreshments below.

A long conference took place between the king and the foreign merchants, in the presence of the Drost and council, during which Berner Kopmand was especially loud tongued, and the king preserved his patience for an unwonted length of time. The great privileges which had been granted by the king to the Hanseatic towns four years before, and which he had since augmented and confirmed at Nyborg, had not satisfied the expectations of the Rostockers; who demanded besides, the recognition of their self-a.s.sumed right, to p.r.o.nounce and execute sentence of death on board their own vessels upon every Danish subject who had injured them, and fallen into their hands. The Vandal towns, together with the merchants of Mecklenborg and Lubec, were unanimously agreed, on their own responsibility, and without distinction, to hang every knight and n.o.ble who should molest them on their journeyings through Germany.

"Enough," said the king, at last, breaking off the conference, and rising in wrath, "I wanted but to hear how far ye would push your impudent demands, and therefore let ye have your say. This is my answer. My former promise to the towns I have hitherto kept; if they content ye not, we Danes may easily learn to fetch what we want from foreign lands, and export what we want not. When guests and strangers are injured here they can complain; there is law and justice in the land; but they who take the law into their own hands on Danish ground or on the Danish seas shall be condemned as traitors and robbers, whether they be knight or burgher, whether they be native or stranger."

So saying, the king turned his back upon the merchant amba.s.sadors.

Without heeding their angry looks, he hastened to join his princely guests, and the Swedish lords who awaited his coming, to set out on a hunting expedition, and left the Hanseatic burghers to the care of the Drost.

The incensed merchants instantly quitted the castle with their followers, who had become intoxicated and unruly during their stay in the lower hall. The Marsk (to the merchants still greater annoyance) had taken upon himself to disarm them, as with bold presumption they had ventured on liberties which outraged both law and custom. Their weapons, however, were returned to them on reaching the sh.o.r.e, whither Drost Aage and some other knights accompanied them, with cold courtesy, partly to protect them from the a.s.sembled rabble, which had crowded round the intoxicated seamen, to gaze at and deride them. On their way to the strand the wrathful traders spoke not a word, but the blood appeared ready to start from Berner Kopmand's crimson visage, while there was a calm cold smile on the countenance of Henrik Gullandsfar.

When these important personages, with their reeling train, had entered the boat, and pushed off from the sh.o.r.e, in order to row to their ships, the portly Rostocker suddenly raised his voice, and shouted with unrestrained wrath and bitterness, "Bring King Eric Ericson our parting greeting, Sir Drost! Tell him from me, Berner Kopmand of Rostock, and from Henrik Gullandsfar of Visbye, in our own and in the name of the great and mighty Hanse towns, that we threaten him with deadly strife, as the enemy of our liberty and of all n.o.ble burghership!"

Henrik Gullandsfar nudged his colleague's elbow in alarm; but the proud choleric Rostocker continued, "Tell the King of Denmark, dearly shall he rue the scorn and contempt he hath this day shown us; he shall rue it, as surely as I am called the rich Berner Kopmand of Rostock! and as surely as I am the man to ask what is the price of this state and country, and how many pounds a king is worth, in our times, when the lightnings of excommunication play above his head!"

"Such greeting and defiance you may yourself bring my liege and sovereign," answered Aage, "if you fancy being sent back to Rostock with your hands tied behind you like a madman." So saying, he turned contemptuously on his heel, and returned with his knights to Sjoborg.

He afterwards joined the king and the hunting-party, but made no mention of this impudent defiance, which, though it seemed to him indeed to be paltry and powerless, he yet could not but regard as a striking instance of the insufferable pride of these monied aristocrats, and of the boldness with which the equivocal position of the king at the court of Rome had inspired the ill-affected and discontented.

After a hard chase the king rode back in the evening to Sjoborg, with Drost Aage by his side. It was already dark. The cold November blast whirled the fallen leaves around them as they rode through the forest.

The moon now rose behind the trees, shining with an unsteady light from out the flying clouds, through the leafless boughs of the forest.

Behind them rode Marsk Oluffsen between Henrik of Mecklenborg and the Swedish regent, whose return to Sweden was fixed for the following day.

Some hunters followed with the game caught in the chase. The rest of the train remained at Esrom monastery. The king, as well as Drost Aage, had been remarkably silent during the day. Since the arrival of the Swedish amba.s.sadors, tidings had been daily looked for, but in vain, from the Danish emba.s.sy at the papal court. The king had not as yet taken any step towards a reconciliation with the captive archbishop.

The journey of the Swedish amba.s.sadors could no longer be delayed, and the obstacles to the king's marriage were not in any measure removed.

The king and his faithful Aage now rode in silence by each other's side, apparently occupied with a presentiment which they could not banish from their minds, but to which neither liked to give utterance.

It was the unfortunate St. Cecilia's day, which yearly brought with it to the king bitter recollections of the dreadful murder of his father at Finnerup. Marsk Oluffsen appeared not to remember what day it was; he jested merrily, after his fashion, with the German and Swedish guests, and lauded the pious and frugal manner in which King Birger's tutor, a certain Carl Tydsker[11], had a few years since restored his young sovereign to health, namely, by making the same vow to three saints at once, and afterwards drawing lots to determine to which of the good saints the vow should be kept. "I have since wondered," said the Marsk, laughing, "whether the victory over the Kareles[12] was thrown into the bargain, and was one of St. Eric's miracles; if so, I must acknowledge that Carl Tydsker was worth his weight in gold." By this unlucky jest the Marsk wounded at the same time the national pride of both his German and Swedish companions, without appearing himself in the least to perceive it.

"When my countrymen as well as myself serve your king here in the north, Sir Marsk," answered the brave Count Henrik, "I feel we deserve thanks, and not mockery, whether we help him with prayer or with sword." As he said this he struck his hand with some violence on the hilt of his sword.

The Marsk looked astounded. He was silent; but his perplexity increased on Thorkild Knudson, also addressing him in a serious tone. "Deem ye my victory over the brave heathen to be a miracle, Sir Marsk?" said the Swedish knight, with a calm smile. "Every thing is a miracle, if ye will. Without heavenly aid no victory is won on earth; that even your victorious King Waldemar was forced to acknowledge, yet that detracts not from his glory. I reckon the victory of Wolmar with the heaven-sent banner, to be that which gained him his fairest laurels. Our times are more chary of laurels. Sir Marsk! we will not rob each other of those we win with honour."

"By all the martyrs!" exclaimed the Marsk, with wide oped eyes and crimson cheeks, "who ever thought of offending either you or the brave Count Henrik? By my soul! I understand ye not," he continued in an impatient tone; "were my brains as dull as those of other people, I should be badly off indeed."

Count Henrik could not suppress a good-natured laugh at the absurd contrast between the Marsk's words and his angry tone. The misunderstanding was soon set to rights, and the conversation turned on former and recent warlike expeditions.

Without thinking of what might awaken bitter recollections in the king's mind, especially on this day, the Marsk now talked in a loud voice of the feud, with Marsk Stig, and the taking of Hjelm, at which he himself had been present, under David Thorstensen's banner.

"Yet you took not the daring Marsk Stig, either dead or alive," said Count Henrik; "'tis a strange story they tell here of his disappearance."

"His death, as his life, is shrouded in darkness and mystery," observed the Swedish knight. "With us also he hath a dreaded name."