The Childhood of King Erik Menved Part 17

"There is no time now for stretching and lounging," said he, in an imperious, commanding tone. "Give heed, fellows! To-day, I am both count of Tonsberg and Niels Breakpeace; and he who dares to disobey me, I shall cut down on the spot."

The fellows seemed to understand this discourse, without being at all intimidated. They appeared to expect such a speech; and only half rising from their rec.u.mbent position, regarded him with silence and attention.

"Over this bridge," he continued, "not a living soul from Korsoer crosses to-day, were he even king of Denmark. Whoever sets foot upon the bridge is our prisoner. If he resists, we cut him down, or pitch him into the river, without more ado. I remain at this side, with my Norwegian bears; you, Morten Longknife, with your own men, shall guard the other end. If you budge a foot when it comes to the pinch, it costs you your neck. To Korsoer may travel who will; but not a cat to Slagelse. Do you understand?"

A tall, red-bearded fellow, with a knife an ell long in his belt, had sprung up, with ten others, st.u.r.dy and dirty-looking enough. "That is easy to be understood, stern knight," said he, in the dialect of a Jutland peasant, and nodding his head. "You and the northmen break backs to-day, and we Jutes cleave brainpans. For that I can be depended upon: it is a token that you know us."

"You are to lie quiet in yonder thicket until I whistle, when you shall spring up, and close the bridge in three ranks. As soon as I call out, 'Hack away!' cleave to the foot whoever comes. Now, off to your post!"

Morten Longknife nodded a.s.sent. With his ten men, he went immediately over the bridge, and disappeared in the thicket on the opposite bank of the river.

Drost Peter, in the meantime, rode between Sir Thorstenson and Bent Rimaardson, at a brisk trot, along the road towards Vemmelov and Vaarby. They were silent, and seemed to be considering the most prudent way of accomplis.h.i.+ng their difficult undertaking.

Squire Skirmen followed upon a lean hunter, and sorely grieved for the loss of his norback. But he soon got into a lively conversation with Sir Rimaardson's four huntsmen. They related to him many of their master's daring exploits, when he allowed freebooters to land, that he might catch and hang them. In return, Skirmen told them of his master's feats in the Sleswick war, and at tilts and jousts, and gave them a description of the magnificent tournament at Helsingborg, which he had himself seen. Thereupon, he struck up a lively tourney song, and jigged on his saddle as he sang:--

"There s.h.i.+nes upon the fourth s.h.i.+eld An eagle, and he is red; And it is borne by Holger Danske; Who killed the giant dead."

"My master bears an eagle on his seal," he added. "Were I in his place, I would set the eagle in the s.h.i.+eld, instead of the red bend. Do you know what I shall have on my s.h.i.+eld, when once I am a knight? It shall be Folker Fiddler's mark. But there must be more than that: of my s.h.i.+eld it will be hereafter sung:--

"There stands a maiden in the s.h.i.+eld, And a sword, and fiddle, and bow; And it is borne by bold Skirmen, Who will sing, not sleep, I trow."

While the young squire thus gave expression to his pleasing expectations, they had pa.s.sed Vemmelov, and were approaching Vaarby Bridge. The neighing, as of a foal, was presently heard from the copse by the river-side, and Skirmen exclaimed, with surprise--"My little norback!" In a moment he was by his master's side, and communicated to him his discovery.

Drost Peter stopped his horse. All was still. "If my squire has heard aright," said the drost, "we shall, without doubt, meet our horse-stealers here. They have probably riders with them, who will oppose our progress. If they have ascertained who we are, and the errand on which we ride, it was not imprudent of them to occupy this important post."

Both knights paused, and regarded the long, narrow bridge with an air of thoughtfulness.

"With twelve men, I could defend the bridge against a whole army," said Sir Rimaardson. "We have two choices: either we must proceed at a gallop, and endeavour to cut our way through; or we must ride hastily down, and see if our horses can swim across. To ride back, and delay ourselves by bringing aid, I will not propose to such valiant gentlemen. Besides, at this moment, I have not a single able horseman at home."

"Let us cut our way through at a gallop," said Sir Thorstenson. "But there is not a soul to be seen."

"If Skirmen is right, we shall soon see more than we may care for,"

replied Drost Peter. "Swim your horses well, Sir Rimaardson?"

"The two that you and your squire ride I will answer for, if it be not too muddy," replied the knight; "mine and Sir Thorstenson's are too heavy: they will stick fast where there is the least mud."

"There is no choice, then," said Drost Peter: "we must onwards, and, in G.o.d's name, may cut our way through. Follow close after us, huntsmen."

"Off!" cried Thorstenson, already spurring his horse.

"Stay a moment!" exclaimed Drost Peter: "whether we may get over the bridge alive, is uncertain; but our warrant must be secured. My bold squire's dexterity I can depend upon; and it will not be difficult for him to swim over, whilst we give the robbers something more to do than to think of stopping him. If you agree with me, good sirs, we shall entrust him with the king's letter and warrant: if we receive any hindrance, he takes it to the governor of Haraldsborg, or destroys the letter if he cannot escape."

"You are cautious, n.o.ble knight," said Sir Rimaardson; "but I grant you are right: we must be provided against every accident."

"Good!" exclaimed Thorstenson. "If we must make our wills, let it be done speedily. My fingers itch to get at the hounds."

"There, my trusty Skirmen," said Drost Peter, giving to his squire the carefully wrapt-up letter. "You perfectly understand us? This concerns the security of the crown and royal house. If I demand not this letter from you on the other side of the bridge, account to me for it beyond the greatest bridge." He pointed gravely towards the heavens, and was silent.

The blood mounted into the brave squire's cheeks. "I must flee, then, like a frightened wild goose, and not fight my way, gaily, by your side? It is a hard command, sir drost; but you will it so, and I obey.

G.o.d be with you! We shall certainly meet beyond _that_ bridge." Again came a neighing from the thicket. "My norback!" cried Skirmen, joyfully; and, spurring his horse, he rode hastily down a little by-path that led into the thicket near the river.

At the same instant the three knights started, at a rapid gallop, and with drawn swords, towards the bridge.

"One at a time, or we shall throw one another into the river," cried Thorstenson, taking the lead.

They had almost reached the bridge, and not a soul was to be seen.

"A false alarm!" cried Thorstenson: "there is no one here."

"On, on!" shouted Drost Peter, riding past him.

"That was not my meaning," grumbled Thorstenson; angrily, endeavouring to regain the lead.

But the first horse-shoe already clattered upon the narrow bridge, and Sir Thorstenson was obliged to rein in his steed, lest he should plunge his friend into the river. To their surprise, no one opposed them: the seventh horse had already his forelegs on the bridge; and Drost Peter, having arrived within a few paces of the opposite bank, began to think their suspicions were groundless, when the shrill blast of a whistle was heard in the rear. A gleam came suddenly from the thicket, and a threefold impenetrable wall of gigantic, bearded men, with uplifted halberds, stood at the end of the bridge, and barred the pa.s.sage. At the same instant, a similar barrier of Norwegian pirates was formed behind them, and a powerful voice shouted--"Hold! or you are dead men!"

Drost Peter's horse reared before the bright halberds, and was nearly falling backwards into the river.

"On, on!" cried Thorstenson, getting to his left side, and seizing the rearing horse by the bridle: the animal plunged to the very brink of the bridge, and appeared in imminent danger of falling into the gulph.

"On, on!" still shouted Thorstenson; but both he and Drost Peter vainly sought to urge on their shy and strange steeds. This sudden stoppage brought all the horses in the rear close together, and in the greatest disorder, so that none of them could now stir without the certainty of forcing another over the bridge.

"Lay down your arms!" shouted the voice behind them, "or we pitch you over, one and all!"

Presently, Drost Peter's sword rang among the halberds, and Morten Longknife fell, as his long blade whistled past Drost Peter's ear.

"Throw them over, the dogs! hack away!" cried the young robber chief, behind.

With a wild shout, they commenced a furious onslaught from both sides at once. Drost Peter and Thorstenson fought a dubious fight on the brink of the bridge, in which their plunging horses were severely wounded in the chest by the long halberds. A frightful battle raged behind: the pirates pressed on, and the four huntsmen in the rear were hurled, with their backs broken, together with their horses, into the deep.

Rimaardson could now, for the first time, stir; and he dexterously turned his horse about, to avoid the same fate as his unhappy jagers.

He was on the point of rus.h.i.+ng upon the wild, shouting freebooters, when his eye fell on the young robber chief, who wore the knight's hat.

The sword fell from his hand, and both grew pale.

"Hold, fellows! give place for them!" cried the leader of the pirates: "in Satan's name, let them ride on!"

In an instant, not a single rover was to be seen on the bridge. Drost Peter and Sir Thorstenson were relieved as by a miracle, and rode hastily over the suddenly vacated bridge. Sir Rimaardson followed them silently, and as pale as a ghost. They rode up the height above the thicket, and there drew up their tired and bleeding horses. Presently they saw the ten rovers take flight, with their dead comrade's body, and disappear in the thicket at the opposite end of the bridge.

"How was this?" asked Drost Peter: "did the angel of death fight on our side, and strike the murderers with terror? Are you also safe, Sir Rimaardson?"

"Safe?" he repeated, gloomily: "yes, in Satan's name, I am safe. Better for me that I were lying, crushed and mangled, with my huntsmen."

"What has happened to you? Are you wounded?" inquired Thorstenson.

"There is not a drop of blood in your cheek, and you are not the man to grow pale in danger."

"I have received no wound in my body," replied the knight; "but a two-edged sword has entered my soul. The unhappy robber chief, with the knight's hat, was my outlawed brother, Lave. G.o.d be gracious to his sinful soul! If he fall into the hands of my coast-guards, I myself must doom him to the rack and wheel."