PART II.

It was still the gray of the morning, when, in the upper hall of Helsingborg^[20] Castle, young Duke Waldemar and his drost walked backwards and forwards on the bare paved floor. Their mantles, soaked with sea-water, lay upon a bench.

"It was a stiff breeze, gracious sir," observed Sir Abildgaard, rubbing his hands; "and it was fortunate we had the algrev with us: drunk as he was, however, he has set us on dry land, like a brave fellow."

"The rude, wild sea-bear!" exclaimed the duke: "he had nearly ruined everything. At sea, he is invaluable; but he shall never more set foot on land by my side. It seems, however, that he was sober when we landed, and understood my meaning."

"He offered no objections, and he owned that he rued his folly. It is well we did not break with him: he is a fellow that may still be put to use."

"Was the daring Niels Breakpeace with him? for, at present, it is as well to have him also as a reserve; but we must not have the fellow here with us."

"Not a soul landed your highness. I strictly repeated your injunction, that they should sail immediately. I assisted the algrev to spell the marsk's letter, as well as that of the Norwegian king, and he has sworn to be at Stockholm within eight days, with thirty transports to convey troops."

"Good--very good!" said the duke, thoughtfully. "Were we only well over the Scanian border, if need there be, it shall and must succeed. When King Magnus hears our weighty plans, he must concur with them, and afford us his aid. This betrothment of children, and all their other miserable arts, shall not save them. But why, do they tarry?"

The morning light began to increase; and as the large hall, on the western side of the castle, looked out upon the sea, they saw, from the balcony, the Count of Tönsberg's rover, in which they had arrived, run out of the haven with a brisk side-wind.

"See, there goes the algrev," said Sir Abildgaard: "he must certainly feel it hard to run from a Danish coast without booty. But how is this? A sloop, with blue sails, lies at the jetty. We saw it not when we landed; and it is not a Scanian."

"Gudsdöd!" exclaimed the duke, "it is a royal sloop, from Orekrog. But it cannot have come in pursuit of us, unless Sir Lavé has been frightened, and allowed that infernal drost to slip loose. Where is the castellan? Did you instruct him not to say who we are, and that he should straightway send us an escort as royal ambassadors?"

"Yes, sir; and there is no obstacle in the way. When the guards and servants heard your name, they made the utmost haste. The castellan had not risen, but he will be here instantly."

"There is no time to lose," said the duke, with uneasiness. "If we have not the escort immediately, we must set off without it. Are the horses ready, and at hand?"

"They stand saddled by the castle-stairs, sir. But, list! They are coming!"

They now heard a bustle in the castle, and the sound of armed men running to and fro. The large hall, on the eastern side, looked over the castle-yard. There, too, they heard a noise, and went anxiously to the window.

"They are closing the castle-gates!" exclaimed Sir Abildgaard; "and the court-yard is full of armed men."

"Gudsdöd! What means this? Are we betrayed?" exclaimed the duke. "Come, Tuko: there must be an outlet here. We must away."

Four large doors opened from the hall. Two of these they found barred. They went to the third, which was not locked, and hastily opened it; but on the outside stood six armed men, with the Danish arms upon their helmets.

"No one can pass out here!" exclaimed a gruff voice.

Astonished, they hastened to the fourth door; but, before they reached it, it was opened, and Drost Peter stood before them, along with Sir Rimaardson and Sir Thorstenson, and accompanied by a middle-aged gentleman, in the dress of a Danish knight, with a baton in his hand. This was the governor of Helsingborg. Twelve men-at-arms followed him.

"Your arms, gentlemen, in the king's name," said Drost Peter, calmly: "you are our prisoners."

"What! How is this?" cried the duke, stamping on the paved floor. "Who dares to take Duke Waldemar prisoner?"

"I, Drost Peter Hessel, and these Danish knights, in the name of our king and master."

"I know you not. You have no power over a duke of the royal blood, and a free royal vassal."

"You know the king's hand and seal, illustrious sir," replied Drost Peter, handing him his warrant.

The duke perused it, with anger-flashing eyes. "This is illegal," he cried: "it is contrary to the laws and statutes of the kingdom. I have not been accused at any Herred-Ting or Land-Ting,^[21] and I formally protest against this proceeding, as arbitrary and unjust. You are my witness, governor, that I declare this warrant null and void, and I shall answer to my country for destroying it." So saying, he tore the royal warrant, and cast it on the ground. "As the king's kinsman, and Duke of South Jutland, I now command you," he continued, in a lordly tone of authority, "that you immediately take prisoners these audacious persons, who dare to misuse the royal authority in this lawless manner."

The castellan looked doubtfully, now at the duke, now at Drost Peter, as if uncertain how to act. Thorstenson struck his sword angrily against the pavement, and Rimaardson was on the point of speaking, when Drost Peter anticipated him.

"Whether this proceeding be just or not," he commenced, "and whether the king is warranted in ordering this illustrious gentleman to be made prisoner, before he has been accused at a Land-Ting, is not now the question: that, the king must himself answer. My authority is the royal warrant you have seen: it cannot be destroyed; and, in virtue thereof, I demand that the king's will may be obeyed without delay or hesitation. If you will not deliver up your weapons willingly, gentlemen, I shall be obliged to resort to force."

Drost Peter's calm and decided manner embarrassed the duke, and overcame every doubt of the castellan.

"For the present, you must submit to necessity, illustrious duke," said this grave personage, courteously, at the same time stooping, and picking up the royal warrant. "Perhaps this is a mistake; in which case you must be set at liberty, and will have your grounds of prosecution against this gentleman for his abuse of the royal authority. At this moment he is fully empowered, and must be obeyed."

The duke clenched his teeth, and, with averted eyes, handed Drost Peter his sword. Sir Abildgaard followed his lord's example; and not another word was uttered by the exasperated state-prisoners. To the castellan's polite inquiry, whether they wished to take any refreshment, the duke indignantly shook his head. A strong guard of soldiers having surrounded the captives, Drost Peter and his companions courteously saluted the governor, who returned to the drost the torn warrant, and accompanied them to the jetty.

Before the sun was yet up, Drost Peter had departed for Zealand with his important prisoners. The rebellious landsknechts from Flynderborg were handed over to the castellan of Helsingborg, who sent them, carefully bound, in another vessel to Orekrog.

Claus Skirmen had now enough to attend to; and, although he regarded his master with proud satisfaction, he carefully avoided any of those haughty airs by which the feelings of the duke and his drost might be wounded. As for Thorstenson and Rimaardson, the moment they found themselves alone with Drost Peter at the rudder, they shook him heartily by the hand, and extolled his good fortune.

"Yet, after all, it is provoking to be engaged on any hazardous adventure with you," grumbled Thorstenson; "for before I have had an opportunity of using my good sword, you have achieved all that is required by a few words, with your sword in its sheath."

"We may yet need your good sword quite soon enough," replied Drost Peter, in a suppressed voice: "we have ventured upon a greater piece of daring than any one perhaps may trow."

The discourse of the grave knights was extremely brief, and their princely captive deigned them not a word. With suppressed bitterness, he resigned himself to his fate; and, by the side of his fellow-prisoner, paced the deck as proudly as if he had been master of the ship. At length he appeared even gay and indifferent; but Drost Peter frequently noted in his countenance an expression of vindictive hope, which rendered him in the highest degree thoughtful and earnest.

The vigilant drost took the helm himself; and when he again saw the dark towers of Flynderborg, he cast a melancholy glance towards the little turret-window from which he had seen the light twinkling on the previous evening; but the window was now closed, and seemed to be screened inside by a dark tapestry. The entire mighty fortress, which at the present moment he did not care to visit, lay half enveloped in the mist of the calm spring morning, and seemed to him dark and enigmatical as his own future, and undefined as his unhappy country's fate.

It was soon known throughout the whole kingdom that Duke Waldemar and his drost had been sent prisoners to Sjöborg. This bold step on the part of the king and his active ministers struck the discontented nobles with astonishment, and it now seemed as if even the most daring vassals had lost courage to defy the kingly power, or to meditate dangerous enterprises against the crown and kingdom. A great number of the most powerful Danish nobles, as well as many foreign princes, sought to accommodate, in an amicable manner, the dangerous differences between the king and the duke, and to obtain the misguided nobleman's release from prison; but one month passed by after another, without any arrangement being effected.

The king, as usual, passed the summer in moving about the kingdom, and spent the winter at Ribehuus. The drost, it was said, was in high favour; but it was doubted whether the terms that he and the stern old Sir John deemed necessary for the security of the crown, in reference to the liberation of the duke, would be submitted to by the proud young prince, so long as he could depend upon his powerful connections, both within the kingdom and abroad.

It was one of the latter days of March, 1286. The captive duke and his knightly companion, Drost Tuko Abildgaard, sat opposite each other, at a chess-table, in a gloomy turret-chamber in Sjöborg Castle, where they had now spent three beautiful months of summer, and more than six of autumn and winter. They were strictly guarded, but without harshness, and with every respect and distinction that such notable state-prisoners could desire. They lacked none of the necessaries and comforts that could be obtained in this retired spot, or that could be granted them without danger of aiding them to escape, or enabling them to hold intercourse with their friends and adherents.

Each of the prisoners had his own apartment; but, as it was not forbidden them to be in each other's company, their apartments communicated by a door, which they used at pleasure. The narrow chambers were kept clean and airy, and as warm as the prisoners themselves desired. The rooms were, further, provided with all suitable furniture for their convenience, besides various kinds of chess-boards, and a few old manuscript chronicles. Some volumes of homilies, and other edifying writings, were also to be found; together with a lyre, a David's harp, and many similar things, to lighten their captivity and beguile the time. But lights and writing-materials were both denied them; and they saw not a soul except the deaf turnkey, (who never spoke a word when he waited upon them,) and the stern castellan, Poul Hvit himself.

The latter visited them daily, at uncertain hours, and never left their side during the time they were permitted to take exercise in the open air, under his charge, in the court-yard of the castle. Every day, well-cooked food was brought them, on silver dishes, and the rarest fruits of the season at all times graced their lonely board. To the handle of their silver wine-flagon, a fresh nosegay was very frequently attached, even in the severest winter months; but who it was that showed them this friendly mark of attention, they had never been able to discover.

Further, to give their uniform life a little variety, they feigned to be alternately each other's guests, and on this day Drost Tuko Abildgaard was host. The dinner-table was cleared, but the wine-flagon and two goblets still remained.

"Gaily, now, my noble guest," said the mannerly knight: "if you are tired of mating me, leave the stupid pieces alone, and let us rather drink a cup together. The wine is excellent. Had we only a couple of pretty lively little damsels to bear us company, our imprisonment would not seem to me, after all, so great a calamity. Who knows from what fair hand these lovely flowers are constantly brought us, and whether one of us may not have fallen on good fortune here, among the weaving-damsels and pantry-maids."

"Thou hast a happy mind, Tuko," replied the duke; "and I do not envy thee it. So long as thou lackest not wine and giddy girls, I believe thou couldst be happy in purgatory itself. But yet there was a time, Tuko, when thou sharedst my proud dreams," he continued, after a thoughtful pause, and pushing the chess-pieces to one side: "even in the midst of our most thoughtless follies, thou didst not forget that thou wert the friend of an injured prince, and labouredst with him for the attainment of the greatest object man can desire. Thou wert initiated into the great secret of my life: with me, thou proudly soaredst above the ignorant mass and the despicable puppets we played with, whenever thou thoughtest what thou, too, couldst perform when Duke Waldemar was in possession of his great ancestor's glorious crown."

"Think not that I have now forgotten it, noble sir," replied the knight. "But of what use is it to fret yourself pale and lean, between these thick walls, where we cannot take a single step towards our object?"

"We can do battle here, Tuko. In that narrow room I have, perhaps, already made a more important progress than if I had stood free, in the midst of a noisy and juggling court. Read, in the chronicles, of the greatest men, and thou shalt find that they buried themselves in deserts and lonely dens, to prove themselves and their own powers in secret, before they entered upon the career destined to astonish after generations, and be remembered through long centuries. When thou hast been sleeping here, dreaming of trifles and handsome maidens, many a night have I been awake in my den, there. The wide and mighty world of thought has been laid open before me in my prison, and the great spirits of departed times have been near me."

"The rood shield us, noble sir! If you have become a ghost-seer, I wonder not that you are so pale and thin. Reveries, and night-watchings of this kind, must lay waste your strength, and carry you even a step farther. What have you thought of, then? and what are the fruits of these perilous struggles? To me, you look as grave and solemn as a clerk spent with fasting; and, indeed, I scarcely know you."

"But thou and the world shall learn to know me," said the duke. "Now, for the first time, I know myself--now know I, that I have been a light-brained fool. Miserable, insolent boyishness it was, when I would deny my tyrant's right of guardianship, and quarrel with my powerful oppressor about petty islands and paltry mint privileges, when I had his crown in view. Stupid, immeasurably stupid, it was, when I suffered myself to be misled by thee and other thoughtless persons, into making a claim to the kingdom, before I was certain that I was the people's spiritual lord."

"I understand you not, noble sir. A spiritual dominion you cannot claim: that must be left to the pope and clergy. But you are right: to strike the sceptre from the hand of a tyrant, guarded by strong and blindfolded slaves, you certainly required a marshal's baton and an army. It was, undeniably, an error, to betray your aims unseasonably, and thus put arms into the hands of opponents before you were sufficiently accoutred yourself."

"That was my least mistake, Tuko, and that I have sufficiently atoned for within these walls. My greatest error was, that I fancied actual dominion was to be obtained over a people, ere they had freely chosen and done homage to me as their lord; and that a crown could be won, like a castle or a piece of land, by daring heroism and foreign armies, so long as the people I desired to rule had yet a spark of strength and spirit; and I did not first conquer the souls whose lord and king I should wish, in reality, to be."

"These are vagaries, noble sir, the consequences of prison air, unseasonable night-watchings, and want of exercise. What think you the great ignorant masses of the people care about their ruler's inner worth and being? He who has the power and authority, is obeyed by the crowd: the ruler who has the largest army, and can swing the longest sword over the heads of the people, they readily acknowledge as their king and heart-beloved father, if only he does not impose higher taxes than his predecessors, and maintains something like law and justice in the country."

"Nay, Tuko, nay," resumed the pale and earnest duke, with warmth; "this imprudent contempt for the lives and spirit of a people has misled the greatest ruling spirits in the world. The mere external dominion, which has not its roots in the deepest heart of the people, and is not bound up with the popular mind and true renown, is worthless and despicable, did it even extend over the whole universe. It is a throne raised on the breath of pride, on the mists and vapours of a miserable vanity. It is dissipated by a blast of wind; and the first free and energetic spirit who stands up among a people so oppressed, and misgoverned by mere rude brute force, has might enough to overthrow such a monarch and his soulless hosts."

"You surprise me, noble sir. Whence have you all this new wisdom? I should almost fancy you have had revelations in your wisdom-den, and have been used to converse with spirits; or some similar folly."

"Come, thou shalt see my spirits," said the duke, rising: "I shall show thee that I am not the first who has thought earnestly, within these walls, on the condition of a people and their ruler."

"Sjöborg has held many statesmen of importance," said the knight; "but I doubt whether any of them has imparted a new thought to you. The most notable I remember, that occupied this state-prison, was the mad Bishop Waldemar, who struggled for the sixth Canute and Waldemar Seier's life and crown, and finished his days, a crazy saint, in Lockum Cloister."

"It is possible that he became crazy at last," replied the duke; "but what made others crazy, may perhaps make us wise. You have guessed aright, Tuko. I have my sleeping-chamber in the prison-cell where that unfortunate bishop, of royal descent and royal mind, sat chained to a block, and gave vent to his indignation by cursing the world and mankind. But that he also had his lucid moments, and saw clearer into the world and its blind rulers than perhaps any one dreamt of, I shall show you memorials that perhaps no human eye save mine has before seen."

They had now entered the duke's narrow prison-cell, which looked upon the castle-yard by a grated window, eighteen ells from the ground. Here was still a block, with a rusty iron ring and a heavy chain, made fast to the wall. By the side of the chain lay a large, torn-up paving stone, which appeared to have been used for barricading the door from within. The castellan would have removed these painful relics of former occupants of the cell; but the duke had expressly desired to retain them, when he heard of what powerful kinsman they were memorials.

On the dingy walls were many scratches, like runes and oriental characters. To these the duke pointed; but it was beginning to grow dark, and it was impossible to discern any of the words distinctly: the interpretation of the inscriptions appeared also to demand a degree of learning which neither Sir Abildgaard nor his princely master was possessed of.

"If this is the book of wisdom you have read in of a night, noble sir," said the gay young knight, "you must have become profoundly learned in a hurry, and must certainly have borrowed a pair of eyes from some of the friendly owls or cats that now and then pay you their dutiful respects through the grating. In this nook, even in broad daylight, I should not be able to tell an X from a U, were I ever so clear-eyed."

"You have guessed better than you imagine, Tuko. The bird of wisdom himself has, with his fire-eyes, been a light to my bewildered path." So saying, the duke opened a chest, which, otherwise, served him to keep shoes in. "Look here," he said, taking out a large tame owl, with beautiful flaxen-coloured feathers, and a pair of uncommonly bright eyes.

"Fie, sir!" cried the knight, springing back. "It is the dismal screech-owl, which people call the dead man's bird. What do you with it? It is not worth having for a guest, and the devil may have touched it. Have you never heard that there is always sure to be a death in the house where it perches?"

"The pest may come to Sjöborg for me, as soon as we are well out of it," said the duke; "but, as you perceive, the dead man's bird and I are at present good friends. One night, as I lay awake with troubled thoughts, I saw these eyes glaring upon me from the ledge on the wall. I started, and it seemed to me as if the fiend were standing, staring me through the soul with glowing eyes, in the silent, mysterious night. I sprang up, and discovered my mistake. But while I approached to seize my unbidden night-guest, he turned his shining eyes towards the wall: a gleam of moonshine entered at the same instant; and, whether it was the light of the bird's eyes, or the moonshine, that illumined the wall, I know not, but I perceived there a dim inscription, which I could not then read. I took care to mark the spot; and, having placed my prisoner in the box here, I went to sleep. Next morning, however, betimes I examined the wall and the writing. When the morning sun shines in, it can be easily read. It is in Latin, and it cost me much trouble to understand it. You know we did not make great progress with the complaisant clerk who was to make us book-learned."

"What made you of the characters, then, illustrious sir?" inquired Tuko. "But do throw that hideous death-bird out of the grating. It glares upon us, as if it would burn our eyes out, in exchange for the wisdom it has taught you."

"Nay: this wise bird shall now be my companion in weal or woe," said the duke, patting the bird kindly, and replacing it in the box. "If it forebodes death, it must be the death of our enemies."

"But what did you read, sir?" inquired Sir Abildgaard, eagerly.

"I read many horrible words I shall not repeat, but which have often made my hair stand on end. A sentence, however, stood there, which has told me why I am come hither, and what I have to do in this miserable world. 'Thou who dreamedst of a crown and awokest in chains,' it runs, 'lay hold of that sceptre which constrains spirits, and thy crown shall be bright as the sun!"

"This is the nimbus which already played in the brain of the crazy bishop," observed Sir Abildgaard; "or it is the black art and magical incantations he brooded over. Be not thus disquieted, noble sir, and suffer not the madness of becoming a saint to infect you. I dare be sworn that neither you nor I carry it to this extremity."

"I do not so understand it," replied the duke, whilst his eyes glistened. "I interpret these words in a secular sense, and as containing no folly, but, on the contrary, deep and sound policy. I do not abandon my bold life's-plan: that I shall never relinquish, so long as there is a drop of Waldemar Seier's blood in my heart. How? is the only question. The means and power I no longer seek for in foreign princes and armies, nor in an unworthy conspiracy with rebellious subjects. They would fail as much in their loyalty to me afterwards, as they had failed towards my predecessor. I shall not hinder or oppose an enterprise which may probably be advantageous to me; but I have learned to despise it. The hand that would bear a sceptre without trembling, must be unstained with the blood of kindred. The forehead which the crown would not burn, must not bear a secret Cain's-mark under its splendour."

"There we have it!" interrupted Tuko. "You will be a saint, then. Good: but there is a medium in all things, gracious sir. On the other hand, if you are at all aware of what is to be undertaken, and what you already know--"

"I shall know nothing that I need have the slightest occasion to blush for before the knights and princes of Europe," continued the duke; "and what I do know, Tuko--yes, that I shall forget, and bury in my deepest heart as a phrenzied dream. I shall not bear the crown as my unfortunate, bewildered grandfather bore it, to be murdered by rebellious subjects, after a brief period of splendour. If conspirators will play into my hands, let them. I did not invoke the storm. Our only concern now is, to allow time, and gain confidence. I shall renounce Alsen--yea, even my ducal crown: more they cannot well demand for my freedom. The undermined throne may yet fall without me; but none shall again raise it, save a Waldemar. I shall show the people that I do not bear the name of Waldemar in vain, and that I can vanquish myself. By submitting to injustice, I shall win hearts like castles. First, I shall seize the invisible sceptre that constrains spirits; and then the crown will be offered me, by a fortunate change in the Ting. Therefore, Tuko, 'tis not an ærial crown, nor a saint's halo, but a crown that shall sit fast on this brow, and shine through centuries, like that of the great Waldemars'."

"Now, indeed, I begin to understand you, gracious sir," replied Sir Abildgaard, opening his eyes. "The storm that breaks down the rotten stem, bears with it the boughs and shoots, you think, and without you needing to risk your neck for it. I, too, begin to get clear-eyed, and to entertain a respect for your good friend in the box. Come, noble sir, let us drink a rousing cup, like our old heathen ancestors, to this noble conclusion. Hail to your wisdom-bird, my prince and master! When you come to your kingdom, we shall take the lion from your shield, and put the sagacious bird in its stead."

The duke followed his lively friend to the festive board, and was, once more, the jovial-spirited youth. His pale cheeks became flushed, and his somewhat sunken eyes sparkled with lofty and daring expectations. In the meantime it had become dark; but, ere long, the moon shone through the iron grating, and lighted their little drinking-table. Sir Abildgaard sang merry songs, in which the duke joined with wild glee, frequently emptying his goblet the meanwhile. In the midst of their merriment, the door was opened, and a grave, stalwart man, in a pelt doublet and shaggy cap, entered, with a light in his hand.

"Heyday, Poul Hvit! our acute friend, deep skilled in knowledge of mankind--our cautious host. Your health!" cried Sir Abildgaard, in frolicsome mood: "everything is in the best order, you see."

"Your health, my good friend," said the duke; and the half-intoxicated prisoners gaily emptied their goblets to the health of the castellan.

"I thank you for the honour you show me, my illustrious young gentlemen," said the quiet and serious Poul Hvit, bowing politely, at the same time doffing his cap, and examining them closely, with a self-satisfied look. "I am glad you relish the wine, and do not take the world, with its unstable fortunes, more to heart than is worth. I know the world and men," he added, nodding with self-assurance: "it is always a good sign when state-prisoners are merry. I am, besides, the bearer of a message which I think will be welcome to you," he continued, letting the light fall on their flushed faces, and seeming to study their appearance carefully. "To-morrow, betimes, when you are less merry, and more disposed for serious business, a person will have the honour of bringing you a proposal for an agreement with the king, my master. If, as I hope, you accede to it, I may soon have the pleasure of opening this door for you altogether. Meantime, I wish you a good night, and quietness."

He then bowed, and departed: the heavy door was closed with a loud noise, and the prisoners again sat alone in the moonlight. The castellan's announcement brought the young gentlemen at once to their senses, and they remained long in consultation as to what terms they could accept or refuse. At length they retired to rest, in anxious doubt whether the following morning would bring them freedom, or more rigorous and prolonged imprisonment.

The castellan returned to the ancient knights' hall, which, in his time, was furnished and in good condition, and the place where he received guests of distinction. A fire was burning cheerfully in the great chimney, and in the middle of the hall stood a richly spread supper-table, with a brazen candlestick of three branches. A young gentleman, apparently a knight, walked up and down the hall with rapid strides. It was Drost Peter Hessel. Claus Skirmen stood by the fireplace, enjoying the warmth.

"Now, my good Poul Hvit," said the drost, advancing towards the well-pleased castellan, "what say your prisoners? Will they see me to-night, or in the morning?"

"It is a pleasure to see the prisoners," replied the castellan: "they do not mope and moan like hapless criminals; and you may trow, sir drost, for all their bewilderment, that there are good honest hearts in them. They have made so merry with the wine flagon, noble sir, that it is out of the question to think of talking with them, to-night, on any subject of importance. In their present state they would, perhaps, subscribe to every proposal; but that, I know, neither you nor my master the king would wish to be done. Man is a finite being, let me tell you; and, when we men are not entirely sober, we cannot behave like free and rational creatures: so said my worthy schoolmaster of Horsens."

"We understand each other," replied the drost; "only when they have recovered their senses, shall they hear my proposition: for this is a grave matter, which they shall have time and opportunity to consider. In the morning, then. Can I sleep in the castle here, to-night?"

"Of course, sir drost: I have already made arrangements for that. We are all mortal; and, whilst the soul is active in good deeds, the body must not lack rest and refreshment. Be seated, then; and, if you will permit it, there is also room for your squire here. The ploughing ox should not be muzzled, and the man--yes, a man is still a man," he added, hastily, as no more profound observation occurred to him.

Drost Peter smiled at the castellan's awkwardly finished sentence, and sat down to table. Skirmen stationed himself discreetly behind his chair, and blushed when the courteous castellan directed him to take a vacant seat by the drost's side.

"Be seated, Skirmen," said Drost Peter, kindly: "we are not at court here."

Skirmen obeyed, and seated himself on a corner of the chair. He maintained, as he was wont, a modest silence when his elders were speaking, and gave close heed to his master's wants and wishes.

"So, your important prisoners, my good Poul Hvit, submit to their fate without rage or bitterness?" said the drost. "I am glad to hear it; for, notwithstanding their sad infatuation, there are excellent, ay, almost great qualities, in both of them. It is from painful necessity that we have been obliged to deprive them so long of their freedom; but I know you have not made their imprisonment harsher than is necessary."

"I have punctually followed your orders, sir drost; and--I think I know a little bit of the world, and of man kind. Prisoners that are well treated, seldom even dream of making their escape. We shall see now if loneliness has brought them to reflection: if they are stubborn, and you wish them to be treated with greater severity, it shall be done. I am only an humble servant, and what is commanded me, I perform, without respect of persons. 'Man,'--said the never-to-be-forgotten schoolmaster of Horsens--God bless his soul!--'man cannot always endure prosperous days.'"

A stout, double-chinned cook now entered, and placed a dish upon the table. Drost Peter observed him, and started, but was silent until he had left the room.

"Have you had this cook any considerable time, my good Poul Hvit?" he then inquired; "and are you sure of his fidelity?"

"He has served me since the end of May, last year," replied the castellan; "and I should be a bad judge of mankind if I could doubt his fidelity: he does his business, and troubles himself about nothing else in the world. He is always chatting and singing in the kitchen, and never says a serious word. If I had only such people about me, I could sleep soundly, even had I kings and kaisers to take charge of. I trow, as I have said, I know a little of the world and mankind, sir drost. But have you any grounds for doubting my cook's fidelity, noble sir?"

"Not exactly so," answered the drost; "but have an eye upon him. It was, perhaps, an accident; but I saw him, shortly before the Dane-court, in Henner Friser's inn at Melfert, in a company of travellers that did not quite consist of the best friends of the crown and realm."

"It must have been a mere accident, noble sir," replied the castellan, with calm self-satisfaction. "I know my men, and nobody shall so easily palm a wax-nose upon me. Cook Morten cares little about state affairs, I know; and he is a merry, good-natured carl, in whom I find much amusement. He is also gardener to the castle; and I have availed myself of him to prove the disposition of the prisoners, and to augment my knowledge of mankind. I gave him private orders to supply the prisoners with flowers. They are not aware from whom the civility comes, and I have observed that it serves to amuse the young gentlemen, and put love-whimsies into their heads. Folks who can think on such fooleries arc not likely to be dangerous to the crown and kingdom, I fancy. The plump Morten never sees them; but he is ready to laugh himself to death when he hears them singing amorous ditties to the fair hand that binds up their nosegays."

Drost Peter smiled, but shook his head, and would have dissuaded the castellan from this mode of studying the characters of his prisoners.

In the meanwhile, cook Morten had again entered the hall; and immediately afterwards the door-keeper announced the arrival of an ecclesiastic, with greetings and a message from the Abbot of Esrom.

"Let him come in," said the castellan. "Have you any objection, sir drost? It is probably one of the abbot's friends, who wishes to transact business with me respecting some lands. But it is a singular time o'night to come at," he added, doubtfully.

Drost Peter replied by a polite bow, and appeared to be thinking of other matters. The door was opened, and a respectable clerical personage entered. They rose to greet him; but he retreated a step, in surprise, on recognising Drost Peter. The drost was equally astonished; but the castellan did not notice their mutual surprise, and received his new guest with polite attention, and an interest that betrayed the importance of the business this visit concerned.

"A friend, probably, of the worthy Abbot Magnus," said he. "Be pleased to come nearer. What we have to treat of, this true friend of the king, Drost Peter Hessel, will bear witness to, more especially as, at this late hour, I dare not receive any stranger into the castle. There are people present who know the world and mankind, let me say; and stringent regulations here are necessary. May I presume to ask my worthy sir his name?"

"Sir Drost Peter Hessel knows me," answered the ecclesiastic, with a haughty air, and drawing nearer. "To the learned world, the name of Magister Janus Roskildensis is enough; to laymen, I am known by the name of Dean Jens Grand. Are you the castellan, Poul Hvit?"

"At your service, worthy sir."

"Good. What I have to say to you every one may hear. I have come from Esrom Cloister; and, as I was to pass this way, I have undertaken, in the name of the abbot and convent, to bring you the deed of conveyance for certain lands in Grimstop, and to settle the matter to your wishes; but if you have any doubts or objections about receiving me, the business can be deferred, and I immediately set off again on my journey."

"God forbid! Do not so far wrong me, sir. You are heartily welcome," exclaimed Poul Hvit, hastily. "Think not ill of my cautiousness. We are all men, and one must look to himself in these times. It often happens that wolves come here in sheep's clothing, and I ought to know whom I receive. Since the drost knows you, I may bid you welcome without the least hesitation. I should be but a poor discerner of mankind, if I did not see that you are a learned servant of the Lord's, and a trusty friend of the worthy Abbot Magnus. If you have the deed with you, we can arrange the matter to-morrow. Be my guest in the meantime, worthy sir, and embrace the present opportunity. Be pleased to take a seat with us." So saying, he brought a seat for this addition to the company.

Drost Peter was reserved, and sparing of words, and the dean did not find himself altogether in his element. Skirmen, on his entrance, had arisen, and taken his place behind his master's chair. The castellan alone was exceedingly good-humoured, and strove industriously to animate the conversation. He touched upon every affair and circumstance which, at that period, engaged the public attention. The Norse war, and the piracies of Count Mindre-Alf of Tönsberg on the Danish coast, he discoursed of with a zeal that proved him a man of a true and patriotic mind. He had a family in Horsens, and related minutely what this town had suffered from the remorseless freebooter's attacks.

"The Count of Tönsberg is certainly our foe," commenced Master Grand; "but he is a brave and famous foe, whom no one should accuse of being a rover and freebooter. He is certainly not one of your dainty lords, who take the eyes of ladies at a tournament; but at the present day we have not a doughtier knight: he is the greatest sea-hero of our times, and may soon expect to be elevated to a jarl."

"But when, on his own account, he ravages and plunders our coasts with barbarity, and the greatest lust of rapine," replied Drost Peter, "he does little honour to chivalry. He is a common vulgar riever, however bold and powerful he may be, even though he be of royal descent, and aspires to the name of jarl. We Danish laymen, far less our teachers of Christianity, have no reason to honour him with a nobler name."

Master Grand was silent, and endeavoured to conceal his anger; and the castellan again resumed the conversation. He strongly censured Count Jacob of Halland for having received the honour of knighthood from the Norwegian king, in a time of war. Drost Peter supported him, and thought highly of the honest castellan; but Master Grand could no longer suppress his indignation.

"It is well," said he, jeeringly, "that the merits of the deserving men of Denmark are recognised by a foreign prince, when they are suspected and wronged at home. It is magnanimous of the Norwegian king thus to distinguish an esteemed enemy; and I cannot blame the noble Count Jacob for accepting an honour so well merited."

"Pardon me, sir dean," said Drost Peter, calmly: "a true Dane never receives a mark of honour from the enemy of his country. It is impossible, however, as a friend of your country, that you can seriously defend such conduct."

"To be a reasonable and Christian friend of my country," said Master Grand, bitterly, "I have no occasion to turn my cloak to the court-wind, like a favoured courtier. In my station, thank God, no one need conceal the truth, or defend baseness, to fulfil the duties of his office. With God's holy word and the canon-law before my eyes, I am not afraid to say plainly, before the mightiest favourite of the king and queen, that I only love and esteem my earthly country in so far as the divine laws of my heavenly country are esteemed and maintained in it. If you would have proof of this, sir drost, obtain me permission to preach a single fast-sermon before the king and queen, with all their courtly flatterers; and you shall then hear that I am the man to hold up the mirror of truth before the mighty of this world, in such wise that many a cheek shall crimson if there is yet a remnant of honour or conscience in the court of Denmark."

"Such a corrective sermon, reverend sir," answered Drost Peter, with energy, "might certainly be preached often enough among lay persons, as well as learned. I could wish, however, that you would, with the same impartiality, introduce such conversation wherever, on your pious way, you meet with princely personages and royal vassals, who, in the sins and errors of their liege lord, seek justification for their own crimes."

Master Grand was again silent. The castellan looked at his discordant guests with surprise, and hastily broke off a conversation, whose bitter issue he could see no grounds for. He then abruptly inquired whether either of the honoured gentlemen, in the course of their journey, had seen the newly-rebuilt church? and, as this was answered with a brief "nay," he inquired if either of them knew where the deposed Swedish king was residing, and whether it was true that he had deserted his queen for a certain famous Lady Kristine?

"It is but too true," replied the dean, zealously, appearing to seize upon the occasion to give vent to his anger: "there, again, we have a proof of the ungodliness of our times, and of the sin-pest that is spread abroad from our great ones. It is no wonder the Lord visits such princes in anger, and shows the mighty rulers of the world that there is a Judge over us all, who is not to be mocked, and who, from the skies, laughs in derision when the lofty ones of the earth swell and burst with pride. It is a comforting and elevating thought," he added, with an air of pride, "that the Mighty One, who holds the universe in his hand, can as easily cast down kings and princes, and their favourites, as he can raise the poor and meek of spirit."

The castellan had devoutly folded his hands, as at a sermon. "Ah, indeed!" he sighed, "we are all mortal: might and rank are indeed transitory."

"Many of the misfortunes of our times are certainly well-merited, reverend sir," remarked Drost Peter, with considerable warmth, and a keen look at the dean, "when sinful men presume to call down and carry out the chastisements of the Lord. The unfortunate king you have mentioned I shall not defend; but if people can justly dethrone their kings because they are not what they ought to be, then can no throne and no kingdom exist, until pure angels are sent from heaven to govern us."

"That is not requisite," replied the dean, swelling with the air and authority of a pope. "So long as the Lord's vicegerent sits in St. Peter's holy chair, and as long as he and the servants of the word are regarded as the messengers of the truth among the people, so long no nation need be doubtful how great a worldly burden they may bear with patience, or how great a sinner the Lord will endure among his anointed. Unless you are an arch-heretic, sir drost, you cannot possibly deny this."

Drost Peter did not answer; and cook Morten, who had just set a choice dish before the ecclesiastic, appeared, by his roguish smile, to enjoy the manner in which the bold dean had silenced the drost.

Without betraying the slightest anger, Drost Peter turned again to the triumphant dignitary. "As a knight, I have sworn to offer my life for the faith, as well as for my lawful king," he said, with an expression of deep earnestness; "and I am not afraid of being doomed, as a heretic, to stake and brand, if even I am of opinion that a lawfully-crowned and anointed sovereign cannot be hurled from his throne by the mightiest anathemas of the Vatican and of Lund. That our Danish kings, at least, have been of the same mind, your own kinsman, Archbishop Erlandsen, among others, experienced. I would not advise any prelate in Denmark to follow so dangerous an example. This prison, reverend sir, might at least remind you that even an archbishop's crook is unable to undo these doors, when they have been locked by command of a king of Denmark."

So saying, Drost Peter arose, and begged of the astonished castellan that he might be shown to his sleeping apartment. Master Grand, with a haughty mien, also arose, and expressed the same wish.

They saluted each other, coldly and silently; and the castellan himself, with a three-branched candlestick, conducted Drost Peter. Skirmen followed his master, with his mantle and sword.

Cook Morten, on a sign from the castellan, led the ecclesiastic to a chamber, by the side of the knights' hall. It was narrow and gloomy, and the door, which was standing ajar, opened only outwards. A strong gust of wind had nearly extinguished the light. A reclining chair, a stool and table, composed the whole of the furniture, and iron bars were fixed in the walls, across the small window.

When Master Grand entered this chamber, he started, and looked anxiously around him. "What means this?" he inquired; "do you show me to a prison-cell for a bed-chamber?"

"For that you must give us absolution, your reverence," replied Morten, at the same time placing the flickering light on the stone table, and, with a long pole, closing the shutter of the little, round, grated window, which was placed high in the wall. "There, now it is rather more snug," he continued. "Nobody, in general, passes the night here, except a bewildered owl. There is only one guest-apartment in the castle, where the inmate is master of the door; and that room the drost occupies. For unexpected guests, we have only this little mean apartment. It is said to have been a torture-room in former days; and here must have hung all kinds of horrid instruments, to torture obstinate criminals into an acknowledgment of their guilt. It is still dismal-looking enough, you perceive. But it is a pity I cannot show you the ingenious old machines for torturing. I know you are a great admirer of suchlike learned trumpery."

The proud dean became pale, and an involuntary shudder crept over him. "My good friend," said he to the cook, "methinks we should be known to each other. Cook Morten, from Ry? Is it not so?"

"At your service, reverend sir. That you could have room in your learned brain for the image of my poor but tolerably ample person, I should not have expected; but so long as my head has leave to sit between my shoulders, and my throat is not tightened so that I cannot drink and sing a merry song with it, so long shall I not forget your brave and learned reverence."

"Speak seriously, Morten. What mean you by this conversation?"

"We are quite snug here," continued the fat cook; "and you are just the man of God to whom I can, without danger, confide my sins. I may tell you, then, that when you saved my flask-case from being thrown overboard, on crossing the Little Belt, you freed me, at the same time, from a confounded itching about the neck, on account of certain letters that lay concealed under the flasks. I had consented to take them, out of pure obligingness and virtue, for a good friend, who, I am afraid, the devil will some day get hold of. What these love-letters contained, I know not, and it does not concern me; but this I know, that had they been fished up, or seen by any mother's son, I had been certain of an elevation that would have been confoundedly unsuited to my health. Hence I have vowed to the blessed Virgin and the holy Martin, to serve you in turn, whenever I can; and now, if you have anything to command, I shall stand on tiptoe for you with all my heart and strength."

Master Grand started. "So, so, my son," said he boldly, and calmly drawing breath again; "have you been employed as a letter-pigeon in these disturbed times? Your cheerfulness bears witness that, otherwise, you have a good conscience; and, for the sake of your honest countenance, I give you absolution for what you sinned in at that time. To whom brought you the letters, my son?"

"To one of your shrivelings and good friends, your reverence," replied Morten, with a smile; "but I do not exactly feel the necessity of confessing to you yet: therefore, if you will impose any penance on me in consequence, say it."

"Good, my son--good. I wish not to know; but it was an illegal transaction, and might have cost you dear. To atone for it, you can perhaps convey a word of comfort, in mine and the Church's service, to a bewildered soul, that needs my counsels, within these walls; or, what I would prefer, help me to a private interview."

"My heart! readily, your reverence. But are you jesting? You do not look upon me in the same light as do the weak children of the world?"

"That is not in my nature, Morten. I have renounced the vain follies that thou in thy worldliness thinkest of. In my sacred station, pure Christian love alone should guide our most secret as well as our most open steps. The young duke, who lies imprisoned here, is inexperienced, thou knowest; and has been misguided into foolish conduct, that may make him in the highest degree miserable, if he does not turn and repent. Regard for his soul's salvation has moved me to come hither, to speak with him, if possible, or to have conveyed to him a good counsel in writing."

"If you would converse with him, pious sir, you must change yourself into an owl or a flitter-mouse."

"But if a conversation is impossible, can you get me merely two words with him, before he speaks with Drost Hessel to-morrow?"

"If you mean two words, but no more, I think it can be managed," replied the cook, with a crafty air, after a moment's consideration; "but I must see the two words, and even give them voice and wings. If you cannot trust me, your reverence, then can neither I nor the holy Martin help you. If you are afraid the walls may hear, just whisper the words in my ear. Who knows but that they may also turn and save my sinful soul; and thus you would be killing two birds with one stone, pious sir."

"Hair-brained mocker that thou art!" said the dean, gravely, and regarding him with a searching look; after which, he bent himself leisurely, and whispered a few words in his ear.

"Good," exclaimed Morten. "Ah, by St. Martin! I can fancy that I am made pious on the instant, and that I already begin to entertain scruples. Had it been a paction with the Evil One that the talk had been about, what then, your reverence? But you are a pious man of God: I know it well; and your high-born penitent shall certainly receive your good counsel tomorrow, on a fasting heart."

"Once more--if the young duke is not free by sunset to-morrow, I must speak with him."

"That will be difficult, your reverence. How many nights do you intend doing us the honour of studying antiquity's barbarities in this torture-room?"

Master Grand once more looked uneasily around him. "Lay the stool across the threshold, my son, and let the door stand ajar," he said: "locked in I shall not be. I remain no longer here than is necessary; but I must contrive to protract my stay until the day after to-morrow."

"Ah, then, in that case we may hit upon a plan," observed the cook, moving the stool. "I know you do not lack courage. If you only mean to preach a penitential sermon to the illustrious prisoner, one or other of the saints must point your way. An angel in your form, on a celestial ladder, or, for want of that, on a fire-ladder, would certainly be highly edifying to a bewildered soul. Now, good night, your reverence. Tomorrow, betimes, I shall bring your ale-posset. There is no joke in that; and so you may sleep soundly. I must hasten away, and sing in the kitchen, or the castellan will begin to doubt me."

With these words, the jolly cook was already out of the door, and sang so lustily, that the knights' hall rang again:--

"O, it was lanky Berner Rise, Grew so tall that none could find him: He was mad, and never wise; Not a man could hold or bind him.

But the wood stands all in flowers."

Next morning, when Duke Waldemar awoke, a silver cup of warm ale was already on the table by his bedside. He arose hastily, and dressed himself. As soon as he had done so, he raised the silver cup to his lips, as usual, by the handle; but set it down again with surprise, on observing in his hand a summer-fool^[22] that had come off, and which appeared to have been loosely attached to the handle.

"Who wants to make a fool of me here?" said he, angrily, throwing the flower on the table; but, at the same instant, he perceived a little slip of parchment, which stuck out from its beautiful chalice. He seized the tiny flower-letter, and read the single word, "Subscribe." He gazed for some time on the mysterious billet, and fell into deep thought.

"What means this?" he exclaimed, at length, as if awoke from a dream. "Who sends me this mysterious advice? Is it friend or foe? Subscribe! That is easily said: but if it concerns my honour--if it concerns my heart and soul, and the great aim of my life, I would rather subscribe my own death-warrant than the terms I may expect to-day." He gazed, once more, upon the slip, and sank into a reverie.

"Already in the council-chamber, noble sir?" exclaimed his lively fellow-prisoner, who now entered. "If I am not mistaken, you have had a morning visit from your wise and entertaining spirit. Methinks you were just now talking with some one--perhaps with your good friend in the chest?"

"Nay, Tuko," replied the duke; "but watchful spirits are near us. It is not the dead bishop alone who speaks to me from these walls: living beings also take an interest in my fate, and would control my will ere I know it myself. See what I found in this flower." He handed him the flower and the scrap of parchment.

"A summer-fool! That you must beware of, noble sir, if it comes not from a pretty little hand, who will only joke in disguise, to make its winter-fool happy in earnest. Subscribe! Short and good advice, i'faith, in the tone of a dominant mistress. Had it been in German, I know whom I should have guessed."

"So, so! think you my unseen protecting spirit is German? Say, whom mean you?"

"Eh! whom other should I mean than the Duke of Saxony's little saintly daughter, who was more concerned about your faith and salvation than your ducal crown and all your proud expectations. You still wear, in secret, her invisible chains."

"Sophia--the good, pious child?" exclaimed the duke, raising his hands to his brow. "Do you believe she still thinks of me and my fate? Nay, Tuko; that I cannot desire: it would unpleasantly vex me. The last half year has erased that wonderful image from my heart: I have had more important matter to think of than the little daughter of a duke, and her pious, circumscribed religion. I have, happily, torn myself from that foolishness. I cannot now suffer myself to be dazzled or impeded by a pair of loving saintly eyes, that have their home in a convent or on an altar-table. Speak no more of her, Tuko. You know it only serves to grieve me; and, truth to say, since our plans drew us to the high Dane-court, I have blushed for myself when I thought of her. But you are right," he continued, with emotion: "these chaste and lovely flowers, that for almost an entire year have so kindly and gently reminded us of spring and summer, and of life's calm joys, in our prison--they might well have reminded me of her; and this white and innocent spring-flower, that has now found a voice, and begs of me to accede and subscribe----Ha! subscribe an agreement that may perhaps render me a pious slave to my own conscience, to the day of my death--and then----There was a time when such thraldom appeared to me real liberty." He was silent, and again relapsed into deep thought.

"That was a sad time, sir," resumed Tuko, hastily: "they had nearly converted you into a hang-the-head. I also say, subscribe, whatever the deuce it may be. Freedom cannot be purchased too dearly. But be not therefore the slave of a pen's stroke. The pretty little enthusiast will, at last, transform you into a quiet complaisant duke of South Jutland, who, in this life, will never think of being anything more, but, renouncing all his daring schemes, take to himself a quiet and pious wife, say good-night to this world's fleeting dreams of sovereignty, and sleep soundly in a Sleswick castle, like a true and loyal Danish vassal. That must be a charming life, sir! What we have here suffered, we shall not think of taking revenge for. Fie! that were ignoble and unchristian: we must kiss the rod like good children, and be gentle and amiable. And what a beautifully peaceful life! Your highest office will be to protect the goslings from the fox, or to strike down, with your own illustrious hand, a savoury roe for the frugal ducal table, where the pious house-mother sits, with folded hands, while the well-behaved amiable children say grace."

"Ha, nay, Tuko!" exclaimed the duke, vehemently, waking up as from a dream: "I shall show thee that Waldemar Seier was mine ancestor. He, too, sat once in prison; but he forgot not vengeance until he was old and gray; and, in misfortune, he forgot not his crown and his royal dignity!"

At that instant, a knocking was heard at the prison-door, and the conversation was broken off. In obedience to their request, the polite castellan now entered, and inquired whether it was convenient for the illustrious duke to receive Drost Hessel?

"Drost Hessel?" repeated the duke, with bitter indignation--"well, let him enter;" and he seated himself, proudly and calmly, by the table, whilst Sir Abildgaard took upon himself the office of a respectful servant, and stationed himself, with a cunning smile, behind the chair of his princely master.

The castellan bowed respectfully, and retired; and immediately after, Drost Peter entered. He made his salutation courteously and gravely.

The duke half rose from his seat, and sat down again. "What has Drost Hessel to submit to the Duke of South Jutland?" said he, in a calm voice, but with suppressed indignation.

"Illustrious sir," began Drost Peter, "my master, the king, listening to the representations of your friends, has resolved to offer you reconciliation and freedom, if you will subscribe and confirm the terms which I have, in the king's name, to lay before you." So saying, he drew forth a large parchment-deed, and, with a polite inclination, handed it to the duke.

"Read it for me, my drost," said the duke, carelessly handing the deed to Sir Abildgaard, and leaning back on his chair with an air of indifference.

Sir Abildgaard stepped firmly before his lord, and read. The deed had been prepared by the chancellor in Danish, and in the usual stiff and pedantic style of such documents. Drost Peter remained standing at a respectful distance, and closely observing the duke's manner. The duke did not appear to notice him, but gazed, gloomily and thoughtfully, on the dingy prison-wall, covered with writing.

The introduction to the agreement recited the names of the duke's friends who had procured it, and among these he seemed particularly interested to find the Duke of Saxony, of whose daughter he had just been talking. The name of the good-natured Count Gerhard of Holstein seemed also to surprise him; the more so, perhaps, as he remembered that he had endeavoured to turn this brave gentleman into ridicule, at the Dane-court of Nyborg. The introduction ran as follows:--

"To all who see or hear read the present letter: Herman, by the grace of God, Bishop of Schwerin; Johannes, Duke of Saxony; Gerhard, Johannes, and Adolph, Counts of Holstein; Helmold, Claus, Counts of Schwerin; Geert, Count of Hoya; Johannes and Henrik, Counts of Meeklinburg; eternal health with God. That all may be witness, that on account of Duke Waldemar of Sleswick, it was humbly desired by us, that we might be permitted to promise for him, that he should hold to the articles of the under-written letter, which is a deed of agreement between King Erik of Denmark and him."

"Who has requested these good lords to promise, on my behalf, that which I do not yet know?" asked the duke. "But this may be merely the usual form. To the point, then."

Sir Abildgaard now read the agreement itself, which, in the duke's name, began as follows:--

"Waldemar, by God's grace, Duke of South Jutland, eternal health with God. It is the glory and honour of princes, that they hear and grant the prayers of their petitioners; and thus, by augmenting the loyalty and affection of their subjects, they augment and strengthen the ruler's name, honour, and title--"

"This is Drost Hessel's pretty thought, and Master Martin's pretty style," said the duke, interrupting the reading, with an air of mockery. "But continue, drost."

"Therefore shall it be made manifest to all," continued Sir Abildgaard, with a suppressed smile, and in an humble tone, "that we were led, by youthful inexperience and childish counsel, to claim that, respecting Alsen, which belongs to the crown, contrary to the injunction of our lord, King Erik; wherein we acknowledge to have done wrong, as it appeared to us, and others our friends, that the laws of our country were too stringent and severe: wherefore, the before-mentioned king, after our humble supplication, his prelates' and other trusty men's counsel, hath remitted us all blame and crime, which we have imprudently committed against him."

Then followed everything relating to the dispute concerning Alsen, the mint privileges, and the king's right to wage war for South Jutland: at all which the duke smiled carelessly, and seemed to think it scarcely worth his attention; although, at the same time, he gave the closest heed to every word. But his assumed indifference was changed into evident uneasiness, as Sir Abildgaard read--"We promise, therefore, that we shall never plot or contrive the king's death or imprisonment, nor counsel or demand that he should be deprived of his lands, towns, cities, or fortresses; nor league, conspire, or practise aught against him or the kingdom; nor instigate, or take part with, any one in crimen læsæ majestatis; but shall show him all honour, subjection, reverence, and fealty. And if we do anything against him, or if it can be proved against us, according to the laws and usages of the country, that we have secretly done so, then shall all our fief and estates thereby become forfeited, so that our lord and king, of his own authority, may seize them for the use of the crown, and do therewith, as a lasting possession, as to his grace may seem fit; also, that he may punish us in the body, or spare us, as his grace may pronounce."

Here Sir Abildgaard paused, and regarded his master with astonishment. But the duke's uneasiness had disappeared, and a proud defiance sparkled in his eyes, whilst he raised his head haughtily and boldly.

"Now know I both your word and spirit, Drost Hessel," he said. "To this extent you gladly carry the point, when a blinded king gives you authority."

Drost Peter gravely shook his head, and was silent.

"Continue," said the duke; and Sir Abildgaard proceeded:--

"We consent, moreover, that the prelates of Denmark may proclaim the ban of the Church against us, without previous warning, if it so happens, (which God forbid,) that we do anything contrary to the tenor of the foregoing." Sir Abildgaard again paused, and observed his lord with an inquiring look.

"Exactly so," said the duke; "do not forget the holy letters of excommunication: they may be required. Is there anything further?"

Sir Abildgaard now read a few articles relating to the obligations of the duke to stand by the king in his wars, and to attend the assemblies of the estates; which he appeared to care little about. But it farther recited--"We shall not maintain outlawed people. Item, for this our imprisonment we shall not wage war against the king, his sons, or any one, within or without the kingdom, or cause any evil, on account thereof, to any person, but hold them free and blameless. We shall not make any covenant or alliance with any person whatsoever, from whom his majesty and the realm may suffer damage; and if we have already made any such alliance, shall renounce the same."

Lastly, to the duke's great astonishment, it thus proceeded--"And, that there should not be any doubt concerning what is now promised, we have, by a solemn oath upon the holy Gospels, sworn and pledged ourselves that we shall adhere to all that is above written, without fraud or guile; renouncing every exception, device, force, threat, aid of secular or spiritual jurisdiction, law, or custom, whereby the foresaid letter may be infringed."

The duke became pale. He did not hear the conclusion, which contained the names of the bishops and princes who had witnessed the articles, and had attached their seals thereto; and he appeared to regain his self-possession only as he heard the last words--"And we shall seal this at the first opportunity."

"Yes, truly, as soon as the opportunity occurs," exclaimed he, with the utmost bitterness, and rising from his seat. "And such is the agreement you dare to bring me, Drost Hessel? And you fancied that I was coward and fool enough to sign and seal it? You have a worthy pattern for this precious document, in black Count Henry's devilish paction with the captured King Waldemar. But I shall not tread in my great ancestor's footsteps, and purchase my freedom so dearly. If you think to compel me, try. If you have chains with you, out with them! Call your hangman, and see if I shall shrink, or debase myself."

"You mistake me grievously, highborn sir," said Drost Peter, with wounded feelings. "Think not that I am pleased to see a noble-born gentleman, like yourself, in this prison. Believe, least of all, that I am so base-hearted that I would see your free will constrained by unworthy means. Not from hatred or revenge, but for the security of the crown and kingdom, are you bereft of freedom. The moment you give up the unwarrantable and sufficiently evident objects that have rendered your imprisonment here necessary, you again stand free, in the exalted station whereto you were born and bred. You will retain, without abatement, all your legal privileges as Duke of South Jutland, and, all will be forgotten. The moment you subscribe this covenant, the castellan has orders to open these prison-doors, and to conduct you, with safe escort, to my master the king; and, as soon as you have publicly acknowledged your subscription, before the estates of the realm, and confirmed it with your seal and oath, you can retire, unmolested, to your dukedom; and neither my master the king, nor any other right-minded man in Denmark, will in future doubt your fidelity towards your king and country."

So saying, Drost Peter laid his silver style upon the table, together with the parchment, which Sir Abildgaard had delivered back to him.

The duke, however, stood unmoved, and gazed upon the wall, without deigning the king's messenger a word or look.

"My lord," continued Drost Peter, "take counsel, now, with the all-knowing God and your own conscience. I leave the agreement in your hands: you may destroy or subscribe it, as you think best. Till the sun goes down, I may await your determination; and, in twenty-four hours, the doors of your prison stand open on these terms. The moment you have subscribed, pull the bell-string there, and your prison will be opened. Meantime I leave you, with the hope that you will consider your temporal, as you would your eternal welfare. Mistake not, in this matter, either my master the king, or myself. The all-knowing God and all holy men are my witnesses, that nothing is here done out of hatred of yourself. I dare witness before God, at the last day, that I have only dealt towards you according to my oath, and my duty to the crown and kingdom." So saying, Drost Peter bowed, and hastily left the turret-chamber, not without emotion, and a strong feeling of melancholy interest in the imprisoned duke.

The prison-door was again closed and locked. On the table lay the important parchment, and by its side the silver style, which Drost Peter had left for the purpose of signing.

Sir Abildgaard regarded his master with a disturbed and inquiring look. The duke was pacing the floor with agitated steps: his eyes rolled wildly, and his cheeks were flashed with anger.

"Never, never shall I subscribe this hellish paction!" he exclaimed, "if I must sit here till the day of my death. If I subscribe, with a solemn oath, what stands here, I must either renounce the great object of my life, or become a perjurer and a nidding to all the world. Nay, nay, never shall this be so! I will show them that Duke Waldemar does not value his miserable dukedom higher than his honour and free unconstrained will. I will not foully and basely sell them my soul and my will's freedom, to breathe the air in a larger prison, like a debased, mean-spirited slave. Now, Tuko, now is the time to think seriously of escape, and to burst these walls by craft or violence, or any other possible mode. Let me once stand free, beyond this infernal prison--beyond the bounds of Denmark, and I shall no longer hesitate about what, in my sickly humour, I was well nigh on the point of relinquishing. I shall then shake the dust from my feet, and never more place them on Danish ground until I stand here at the head of an army that shall overthrow the tyrant's throne, crushing beneath it him and all his wretched advisers."

"Were only the first step taken," replied the knight, with a shrug--"were we once our own masters, I should heartily admire your lofty thoughts and brave conclusions; but so long as your great adviser can only speak to you from these walls, and cannot, as a potent spirit should, blow them away like cobwebs, so long, gracious sir, are all your heroic schemes but castles in the air--mere beautiful dreams, which but poorly compensate the loss of a free joyous life and Sleswick's ducal crown."

"How, Tuko! Wouldst thou not despise me were I to subscribe this agreement?"

"Far be such a thought from me, sir. It is a foolish bird that will not fly when the cage is open. See: there lies the crowbar, that, without witchcraft, can break these walls. The good drost has left you here his silver style: a single stroke on the parchment with this enchanter's wand, and our prison is open; the fair, wide world lies before us; we withdraw from this unfortunate country, till we can say thanks to the King of Denmark for this last good turn. We shall find a welcome with the Duke of Saxony, and how will not the fair Princess Sophia be rejoiced--"

"Hold, tempter, hold!" exclaimed the duke, advancing towards him. "Is this thy constancy, Tuko? this thy inspiration for my lofty, distant aim? What matters it that the bird is free, when its wings are clipped for life? If thou art weary of sharing my lot, I can easily set thee free. Swear thyself to the foul fiend, and go! I shall remain."

"You mistake me, my noble duke," replied Tuko, seriously. "I have shared your captivity, and been happy, even to this hour. I shall furthermore share it, without complaining, as long as you please. The main point I have not lost sight of. You have yourself discovered how you can reach it without moving a hand; and your conscience can be easily reconciled to your freedom. Will you hear me?"

"Nay, nay--not one word will I hear. Leave me now, Tuko: to-morrow thou shalt know my determination. This concerns myself, and my whole future life, and I will myself cast the die that is to decide it. Neither thou nor any other man shall guide my will in this matter."

Sir Abildgaard was silent, and retired to his own cell. The duke closed the intermediate door, and barred it with the stone. He then threw himself upon his chair, and indulged in gloomy thought. Thus he sat, motionless, the whole day, and without allowing any one to enter, or partaking of any refreshment. In the fortress, all was quiet as usual. Before the sun went down, his cogitations were disturbed for a moment by the sound of horses' feet in the castle-court. It was Drost Peter and his squire leaving the castle. The duke rose, and went to the grating. His hand was clenched convulsively, when he saw, in the rays of the setting sun, the young drost, free and vigorous, managing his brown steed. The princely prisoner heaved a deep sigh, closed the shutter before the grating, and, turning into the darkest nook of his cell, he threw himself upon his unmade bed.

The inside shutter of the iron grating, which the prisoner could open or shut at pleasure, was provided with a thin plate of horn, through which the daylight could scarcely penetrate. This shutter he usually allowed to remain open, unless the night was very cold, and the wind blew in that direction; for it had frequently happened to him, when it was closed, that he had started at midnight from a dreamy sleep, and fancied himself buried alive in the old chapel of his ancestors. But, now, life and every gleam of light and cheerfulness had become hateful to him; and, with a sort of spiteful pleasure, he had deprived himself of the scanty glimmer of daylight that still remained.

"Come forth, my brother in misfortune, and teach me to look into the night of my futurity with thy glowing eyes," he muttered. "Let them call thee death's-bird, and corpse-bird, as they will: thou still seest clearly, when we and others are blind; and if thou shouldst now screech of death and misfortune, so much the better! that song now pleaseth me best."

Whilst, with subdued voice, he thus gave expression to his gloomy thoughts, he opened the box, and took out the great night-bird, which perched itself familiarly upon his arm, and allowed itself to be caressed. The duke leant back on his pallet, and continued absorbed in moody reveries. The stillness of death reigned throughout the castle.

By the faint light through the pane of horn, the prisoner was aware that the moon was shining. He at length closed his eyes, and fell into a slumber, without having first, as usual, shut up the owl. He wist not that he had been asleep, when the same fearful idea, that had before awoke him at midnight, again overwhelmed him: he fancied that he lay in his coffin, in the tomb of his fathers, and, in a kind of agony, half rose on his couch. He was not yet fully awake, when a frightful screech completely aroused him from his dream: he opened his eyes, and, in a ledge of the wall, near the mysterious inscriptions, he again saw the glowing eyes of the corpse-bird. It again screamed, and far more hideously than it was wont, at the same time staring at the dim light through the horn of the closed shutter. The duke looked in the same direction, and, to his astonishment, fancied he caught a glimpse of a face, half concealed in a hat, before the grating. A singular terror seized him, and he remained motionless, half erect, in bed. He now heard a gentle tap on the shutter, and sprang up.

"Who is there?" he cried. "If you are human, speak!"

The knocking at the shutter became a little louder, and a low, mysterious voice whispered--"Open, Duke Waldemar: a good friend would speak with you."

"Is it possible?" he exclaimed: "a man? a good friend? Ha! be thou the Evil One himself, I fear not."

He hastily opened the shutter. A human countenance, sufficiently palpable, met his eyes at the grating, but so thoroughly shaded, the moon falling only on the outlines, that it was impossible for him to perceive a single feature.

"You know me not, Duke Waldemar?" said the unexpected night-guest. "I risk my life, perhaps, to speak with you. You must subscribe, or all is lost."

"Grand! Master Grand!" exclaimed the duke, astonished. "Are you a wizard, and can fly? What stand you on?"

"A storming-ladder," replied the daring ecclesiastic. "Cook Morten steadies it, and keeps watch. The time is precious, fair duke--subscribe!"

"From you, then, pious sir, came the good advice this morning. But I do not thus, even were both heaven and hell to shout--subscribe! Shall I forswear every thought of my high vocation--shall I forswear even vengeance? For what, then, have I dared so much? For what have I sustained so much? I will not subscribe. If you would free me, let it be by craft or force, and I am yours: I will then place myself openly at the head of the conspiracy, and it shall succeed or perish."

"In this way all would be lost, sir. Nothing can be undertaken until you are legally free and secure. Your imprisonment binds up every hand; but subscribe, and all are as free as your own. If you do not wish to abide by your oath, the holy father can relieve you from it, as he did your ancestor. If you wish to keep it, it is well: you can stand aloof, and still be the head. The marsk and his friends will act alone--of that you need know nothing--and the vacant place becomes yours. You understand, sir? You can keep your oath, and, with a sound conscience, come forward when the time arrives. Then, with law and justice, you can seize the minor's sceptre; and when you have won the people's hearts, and shown that you are worthy of the crown, it will fall of its own accord upon your head; whilst you will have broken neither oath nor bond."

"Ha! is it you, yourself, sagacious Master Grand? or is it the dead bishop, who has lent you voice and form to teach me wisdom? You are right: thus may I grasp the sceptre that constrains spirits, and win the crown that shines pure as the sun. Now, know I what I will. You are not the first who has taught me this. You have only told me how. Good: I subscribe. From the hour I have subscribed, I know nothing, and will know nothing, of your projects. Do what you will and defend it as best you can. I go my own way; and when we meet at the goal--then--then first I know you, and dare name you my friend. You understand me, Grand?"

"I understand you, sir. It is certain, then, that you subscribe, and withdraw from this place to-morrow. At the Dane-court of Nyborg, you can confirm the agreement, and calmly await what shall come to pass."

This secret conversation was here interrupted by a sudden uproar in the court-yard of the castle.

"I have him, master--I have him, the crafty clerk!" cried the voice of cook Morten; "he shall not escape now. I guessed at once what he bore on his shield, and helped him up the storming-ladder myself. Shall I now pull it down, and let him break his neck? or will you have him alive?"

"I am betrayed!" exclaimed Master Grand, with alarm: "the infernal cook has betrayed me. Now for it." He descended the ladder, and was immediately surrounded by ten house-carls bearing torches, in the midst of whom stood the castellan, half-dressed, with a large sword in his hand.

"Can I believe my own eyes, sir dean?" cried the honest Poul Hvit. "Have you come hither to baffle my vigilance, and to assist an important state-prisoner to escape?"

"Hear me, worthy Poul Hvit," replied Master Grand, with a bold, authoritative voice, "and you shall not mistake a servant of the Lord, who, in this secret and unusual way, has been on the service of his Heavenly King. That it was not my intention to liberate your prisoner, contrary to the laws of the country, you can satisfy yourself by searching my clothes and the prison. I have neither file nor other tool about me, with which it were possible to open the grating or assist the prisoner to escape."

The castellan seemed perplexed and undecided.

"I demand this search for my own honour's sake," continued Master Grand, throwing aside his cloak, and turning out his pockets. "If you are now convinced of my innocence in this respect, you may with reason demand to know my intentions in making this night visit. I was aware that admission to the prisoner was denied me; but I knew, at the same time, that a powerful word from God, spoken at the right time, might effect much in a bewildered sinner's heart. The haughty young duke, as you know, would not subscribe the agreement with the king, and relinquish his rebellious projects; but I have now so spoken to him, with the mighty power of God's word, that he has repented, and has penitently acknowledged his great sin. He has consented to subscribe the agreement, and will henceforth become the king's faithful subject. This have I done, and this is my offence. If you see reason to make me answerable for this Christian undertaking, I am then your prisoner. But if, as I presume, you are a god-fearing man, uniting respect for my station and sacred office with strict fidelity to your king, you will only suffer me to remain guarded here, until you have searched the prison, and satisfied yourself of the truth of my statement; when you will allow me to depart, in the peace of the Lord, within an hour."

"Guard him!" said the castellan, as he went hastily to the tower with a light. He opened the prison-door, and found all right in the first apartment, occupied by Sir Abildgaard. At his request, the duke opened his barred door. The castellan entered, and, without saying a word, examined the grating narrowly. He then placed the light on the table, and observed the duke attentively. "Tell me, highborn sir," he inquired, "is it truth, that Dean Grand has spoken with you, and that you have considered, and will subscribe the agreement?"

"It is the truth," replied the duke, taking up the silver style: "it shall be done instantly. See, here stands my name." He handed the castellan the document, and threw himself, thoughtfully, on his chair.

"Now I congratulate you on your restoration to freedom, and your country in having a true man restored to it," said the castellan, gladly. "I did not deceive myself, then: I know the world and mankind; and I well saw, from your nature and manner, that you were a noble young gentleman, who had only transgressed from the thoughtlessness of youth. Rest now, if it so please you, on your good and pious resolution, until it is day; and then, noble sir, I shall bring you with honour from your prison, and conduct you myself to my king and master."

"Good," said the duke. "But go now, and do not suffer the worthy Master Grand to experience any inconvenience. He only preached me a night-sermon, which, as you have seen, has converted me."

The castellan bowed, and retired. Sir Abildgaard, who had overheard what had just taken place, hastened to his master with lively satisfaction, to receive a full explanation of the reasons which had so unexpectedly decided him to subscribe.

In the meanwhile, Master Grand stood amidst the wondering house-carls, who, agreeably to the castellan's orders, guarded him closely, but with a reverence that, by his authoritative air, he knew how to obtain. Cook Morten stood, smiling, by the storming-ladder, and seemed to find amusement in the night's adventure. Master Grand directed towards him an upbraiding and disdainful look, without saying a word.

"I thought at least he would have slipped down," said the cook to the house-carls. "I had never before seen a worthy dean upon a storming-ladder, and could not resist the temptation; but I would have shunned the dangerous joke, had I not known that you and the castellan were in the neighbourhood. It will now be seen whether I have done the pious gentleman an ill turn. Nobody can find fault with me, for having taken him for a crafty cheat. Who else in the world is so zealous in the cure of souls, that he puts his neck in jeopardy to save a single couple? It was fortunate for the learned clerk that you came; for I was just on the point of drawing the ladder from under him, and then his reverence might have hung suspended by his hands on the iron bars, like a cat on a bird-cage, till I had brought you."

"Wretched, faithless soul!" exclaimed Master Grand, vehemently. "I told you that my intentions were pious and god-fearing, and yet you could conceive the idea of depriving a servant of the Lord of his life!"

"I shall answer for that to my master, and his grace our most precious king," replied Morten: "here, we have no respect of persons. We lock up princes and great lords, when we have instructions to regard them as rascals. I place the most guilty on the spit, when I have orders to regard them as capons; and, if even the pope or kaiser wills to creep through the window to them, I shall answer for it before all Christendom, if I suffer them to break their high and holy necks."

Cook Morten was becoming noisy, and the castellan, who had now returned from the prison, on hearing these insolent words, ordered him to moderate his zeal, and to talk with more reverence to the pious worthy sir dean, who was entirely innocent, and had, at the same time, done a deed for which every brave Dane ought to thank him.

"I believe I know the world and mankind tolerably well," said he, with a self-satisfied air, to Master Grand; "and I am rejoiced, your reverence, that I was not mistaken in my good opinion of you. That your intentions towards the king and country are good, I am now satisfied, albeit you spoke hard words, yesterday evening, against the sins and errors of the great. As a faithful man of God, you had a right to do so; but, Herregud! we are all human, and even the most virtuous among us may be suspected, and have appearances against him. That I have myself just experienced, pious sir. You are now free to depart, at what instant you please, but I shall be delighted if you will be my guest until it is day. Night is no man's friend; and, though you are a pious servant of the Lord, you might still go astray."

"I fear not that," replied Master Grand: "I have nothing further to do here, if you are satisfied with the deed of conveyance, my good, honest Poul Hvit?"

"Entirely so, pious sir. Bear Abbot Magnus my respectful salutations; and, since it must be so, God be with you!"

At the castellan's order, Master Grand's palfrey was immediately led out. The lofty ecclesiastic saluted the castellan with calm dignity, and gave the token of benediction, with three fingers, to the respectful house-carls; whereupon, attended by a lay-brother who acted in the capacity of his groom, he quitted Sjöborg in the quiet moonlight night.

A few hours after, and when the sun had risen, Duke Waldemar and his drost, accompanied by Poul Hvit and twelve armed troopers, rode from the castle-gates of Sjöborg, and took the road to Korsöer, in order to cross over to Nyborg, where the king and his Best Men were residing, and where the agreement, under seal and oath, was required to be ratified by the Dane-court, before the duke and his drost could obtain their full liberty.

After an unusually severe winter, during which the Baltic had been frozen over, spring once more, with rapid steps, extended her lovely and flowery reign over the favoured plains of Denmark. In the middle of May, the beech-woods were in leaf; and, notwithstanding the miserable condition of the people, and the private discords that divided so many hearts, to those who were unacquainted with its disjointed internal condition, the country seemed a peaceful and happy paradise.

On one of the finest days of spring, a company of travellers on horseback, consisting of two distinguished knights and two ladies, together with an ecclesiastic of eminence, and accompanied by a young squire, two grooms, and two waiting-maids, rode in through the gate of Flynderborg Castle, near Orekrog. On the castle-stairs stood the commandant, Sir Lavé Little, uncovered, to receive his honoured guests with due respect. The tall Lady Ingé stood by her father's side.

Whilst the knights assisted their ladies to dismount, and conducted them up the stairs, the corpulent ecclesiastic remained quietly seated on his palfrey, reading a Latin inscription over the doorway: he was the chancellor of the kingdom, the learned Master Martinus de Dacia. The short, gray-haired, but still hale and nimble knight, who first ascended the castle-stairs, with a tall, middle-aged lady upon his arm, was Counsellor Sir John Little, with his wife, Fru Ingefried. His daughter Cecilia was accompanied by a young, knightly gentleman, in whose tall form Jomfru^[23] Ingé, with blushing cheeks, immediately recognised Drost Peter Hessel.

Not without a certain degree of embarrassment and secret uneasiness did Sir Lavé receive his guests. Despite his extreme politeness, he appeared to scan, with much anxiety, his old kinsman's looks. Having saluted Drost Peter with repulsive coldness, Sir Lavé seemed to regard the learned chancellor, who had at length reached the top of the stairs with a shy, suspicious glance; but when the learned gentleman at once commenced his inquiries respecting the age of the castle and its antiquities, Sir Lavé appeared somewhat more at ease, and referred him to his daughter, who, as he said, knew better about such odd kind of things than any one else in the castle.

"You must live here like a little king, my good Lavé," observed Sir John, looking round the large arched hall, which occupied the whole breadth of the wing, and from which two large doors opened into the castle-garden, commanding a most beautiful view over the Sound.

"Yes, indeed, sir counsellor: the castle is royal enough, and your presence gives it its proper lustre," replied Sir Lavé, in a submissive tone, which showed at once the dependent relation in which he stood to his renowned kinsman, whose preponderance, both in rank and intellect, he only too oppressively felt.

"You are too polite, cousin," replied Sir John. "Lustre, you know well enough, is not my affair. But if the castle is as strong as it is fair and pleasant, I should like to be governor of it in time of war. Have you been here before, Drost Peter?"

"In my childhood I was often in these halls, and I here regain the memory of my dearest, fairest years," replied Drost Peter, with a glance at Jomfra Ingé, whom he had yet only silently saluted, and who appeared to be entirely busied with Fru Ingefried and Lady Cecilia. Her eyes now met his, and he observed, with pleasure, that this remembrance did not appear indifferent to her.

"Have you not been here since?" inquired Sir John; but Drost Peter did not hear him.