The Childhood of King Erik Menved Part 67

The sorrowful knight was thinking of his brother Lave's fate, and of his brother John, who then stood impeached with crimes affecting his life.

"The law is supreme over every man," observed the youthful monarch, with a sigh: "it was not by my own will that I became king so soon; yet, Heaven be praised, I have still many loyal and valiant men. Would only that Drost Peter were with me again!"

The king then returned to the castle, attended by the strange knight from Elsineur, and Rimaardson proceeded to examine the defences. Whilst thus engaged, he observed a short stout figure in the black mantle of a ma.s.s-boy, and a high cap drawn over his brows, waddling along the ramparts with a prayer-book in his hand, seemingly engaged in his morning devotions. The rolling boatman's gait of this individual struck the commandant, who observed him more narrowly, when, discovering traces of a badly-shorn beard, he recognised, to his astonishment, the rude Jarl Mindre-Alf.

"Good morning, my son," he exclaimed, approaching him. "Whither away so early?"

"To fetch wine for the priest, that he may pray for your soul,"

muttered the clumsy-looking ma.s.s-boy, in a deep gruff voice.

"Tarry a little," said Rimaardson, while he beckoned a couple of landsknechts to approach. "Methinks I should know thee. Did not we two once sit on the same bench in Lyse school-house? and didst thou not in those times play the tyrant over us all? Methinks thou shouldst be a count and jarl; and art thou only a poor ma.s.s-boy?" So saying, he raised the jarl's cap, and looked him full in the face.

"Betray me not, Bendix Rimaardson, for old acquaintance' sake,"

whispered the detected algrev. "We are relations, and I behaved to thee at school like a brother. I am now done with counts.h.i.+p and jarldom. I am an outlawed man, and fain to seek protection with the pious. Be a good fellow, Bent. Pretend thou dost not know me, and let me run."

"Bind him, lads!" cried Rimaardson to the landsknechts: "he is a riever and an incendiary!"

The st.u.r.dy viking-chief threw aside his prayer-book and ma.s.s-boy's mantle, and stood in his knight's dress, prepared apparently to defend himself with desperation. The landsknechts, however, succeeded in disarming him, when he was instantly chained and fettered, and conducted forthwith, under a strong guard, to the criminal prison of Haraldsborg, having attempted in vain to bribe Rimaardson for his freedom.

The latter cared not to disturb the king with a report of this discovery, which might perhaps draw upon himself a reprimand for having allowed so dangerous a foe to find his way into the fortress. He considered, besides, that the castle was quite secure, and did not waste a thought on the insolent and sardonic laughter of the pirate-chief while he was dragged to prison. Rimaardson, amidst his pressing cares, had not observed that, on the previous night, a freebooter had run in close to Tornborg under Danish colours. Not only had the daring Jarl Mindre-Alf landed unnoticed, bat Marsk Stig himself, with a crew of bold pirates, had privately come on sh.o.r.e; and on the evening of that day, Mat Jute, disguised as one of the king's landsknechts, stood as sentinel outside the door of the royal apartment. The watch was set, and, in the confidence of security, the garrison retired to rest.

In the middle of the night the young king was awoke by a fearful noise.

The whole castle was in flames around him, and the terrible cry--"The marsk! the marsk! the outlaws!" was shouted in every direction by the surprised and bewildered soldiers. Screams and the din of arms resounded from all quarters, while the youthful Erik stood alone, half dressed, in his chamber, which was already enveloped in smoke and flame.

"Merciful Heaven! must I now be burnt alive by my father's murderers!"

he exclaimed, whilst he hurriedly threw his cloak around him, grasped his little sword, and prepared to rush through the flames.

He now distinguished the voice of his faithful Aage Jonsen, mingled with the clash of weapons, outside his apartment; but the fire at that moment burst furiously forth, and the smoke so blinded him that it was with difficulty he could find the door. Suddenly he felt himself seized by a powerful mailed hand, and at the same instant he became unconscious. When he recovered, he found himself in a little open boat, speeding through cloud and storm with the rapidity of an arrow.

"Where am I?" he cried. "Am I among my father's murderers?"

"You are with faithful friends and subjects," replied a familiar voice by his side; while, through the darkness, he caught a glimpse of a knightly figure in full armour.

"Drost Peter! By all holy men, is it you?" he asked joyfully.

"Who I am I dare not say," replied the other; in whom the king now thought he recognised the blue knight of the tournament.

"A pledge of honour binds my tongue," continued the knight, "and I must hide my face from my king and the whole world. I shall convey you safely to Rypen House, but I must myself withdraw to a place of darkness. I entreat you, sir king, believe what you will, but tempt me not to break my knightly promise."

"Be silent, then, in G.o.d's name!" exclaimed the monarch, as he pressed the mailed hand of his companion. "Thou art a.s.suredly Drost Peter.

Thinkest thou I know not thy voice? Thou hast saved my life to-night; and if thou still remainest in the power of the duke, I shall set thee free, cost what it may."

"Proceed not violently against the duke," replied the knight, with a deep sigh: "his prisoner's life is in his hands."

The young king remained silent, while the skiff sped on, and quickly disappeared beyond Sporgoe, where the new tower of Marsk Stig stood gloomy and frowning in the night.

In a few days the news became generally known that the famous Jarl Mindre-Alf had been made prisoner; that Marsk Stig had captured and destroyed the castle of Tornborg, in defence of which the faithful Sir Rimaardson had been slain; and that the young Erik, mysteriously saved, was then in security at Rypen House.

The first important act of the king, after his arrival there, was his nomination of the bold commandant of the castle, Sir David Thorstenson, to fill the office of drost, so long as Drost Peter was in the duke's power. And it was soon known that, in accordance with the new drost's advice, the queen had subscribed the death-warrant of Jarl Mindre-Alf.

The duke was reported to be lying sick in Sleswick, to the great grief of his young wife. His mind, it was said, was affected, and the rumours of his connection with the world of spirits were again revived. Some time previously he had disappeared for a few days, and, on his return, after having visited his important prisoner, Drost Peter Hessel, at Nordborg, whom he found secure in his chains, he was seized by this singular malady, in the paroxysms of which he a.s.serted that he had, with his bodily eyes, seen the accusing angel, and that his prisoner in Nordborg was in league with devils and mighty spirits against him.

The Norwegians and the outlaws long continued to disturb the repose of Denmark; and although the Norse king nowhere succeeded in effecting a landing, yet, in the then distracted condition of the kingdom, he was no contemptible foe. He had committed ravages at Amager and Hveen; made a descent on Aalborg, which, however, proved unsuccessful; and had not spared even the towns belonging to Duke Waldemar. The council seriously thought of entering into a treaty with him; but the negociation appeared beset with difficulties, as he had promised the outlaws, in a letter of protection, that he would never conclude peace with Denmark without the consent of the marsk.

One calm autumn evening, the vaadesang rose mournfully from the crypt under King Erik Christopherson's tomb, in Viborg Cathedral. When the wind blew from the cathedral across the lake, the deep tones of the vigil, which was thus to be chanted night after night until doomsday, for the soul of the murdered king, could, at times, be heard at the ferry-house on the opposite side. The road to the convent of Asmild lay near the ferry-house, where, upon an upturned boat, sat a tall, aged pilgrim, his head bent upon his breast in deep thought. By his side stood a young girl, also in a pilgrim's habit, and holding by the hand a gay-looking dark-haired youth, equipped as a squire, in a buff jerkin and steel cap, and bearing, besides the usual arms, a long, gilt, flame-shaped sword, apparently intended more for ornament than use.

"Shall we proceed to the convent and knock for admittance, father Henner?" asked the youth. "Neither thou nor Aase can go farther to-night."

"Tarry here, Skirmen," replied the old man. "Here we can rest well; for many a night have we watched under G.o.d's open sky since last we met.

Until I have seen the arrogant marsk, and have delivered him the warning that I have been entrusted with, my penance is not ended. Until I have done this, no roof shall cover my head. So have I sworn."

"But, dear father Henner," exclaimed Skirmen, "what, then, dost thou here at Viborg? If the marsk be not in either of his strongholds on Hielm or Spraa, he must he out on some marauding expedition against the king's towns and castles. At Stege he was frustrated," he continued, as the old man remained silent; "but Skielskioer and the fortress on Samsoe have experienced the fate of Tornborg. Ah, Heaven help us!" he added, dejectedly, crus.h.i.+ng a reed he held in his hand--"since the powerful Ladislaus as dead and gone, there is not a king in the world of whom the marsk is afraid, and, least of all, of our young King Erik."

"There is one King, my son, that neither the marsk nor any man may defy with impunity; and if He is with the young king, the power of the marsk is not greater than the reed you have crushed." As he uttered these words, the old man pointed solemnly towards the sky. "I may soon encounter him," he continued, after a thoughtful pause: "he may be nearer us than thou seemest to imagine. He is not on Hielm, but on his way to Halland, with his good friend the new archbishop. They were to meet in Viborg, or in Asmild convent; where, perhaps, at this very moment, they are plotting the ruin of the country."

"Methinks thou knowest everything, father Henner!" exclaimed Skirmen, in astonishment. "But what brings the marsk to Halland? Does he carry succour to Count Jacob at Hunehal?"

"Canst guess no better than that, Skirmen? thou, who hast had a statesman for thy master! No. The council desire to conclude a treaty with the Norse king at Varberg; but it cannot be done without the marsk's consent; and the fate of two, perhaps of three kingdoms, is now in the hands of that incendiary. It is high time he had a message from the King of kings."

The old man again relapsed into deep thought; whilst Aase and Skirmen exchanged some tender words, without disturbing him.

"It is odd, however, that we should have met, Skirmen," resumed old Henner, as he looked affectionately at the youthful pair. "Aase and thou remain good friends, I perceive. But thou canst not greatly boast of fortune, Skirmen. Gold spurs grow not on trees; and a knight thou must be, before thou hast her. Yet, courage, my son! If St. George help thee not, perhaps St. Christian will. Thou hast my pilgrim-sword, with which thou shalt succeed: the holy Michael has borne it for a century on a church-steeple. It belongs more to a dancing-slipper than a pair of red shoes; but if the cat would catch fish, she must wet her paws.

What hast thou been about at Harrestrup, whilst thy master is lying in chains at Nordborg?"

"Alas! dear father Henner," replied Skirmen, "there is no excuse so poor that people will not fly to it in their extremity. My master's trusty old nurse, who lies sick at Harrestrup, sent me word that she had something important to confide to me, and--"

"Hum! there is but little to be learned from an old woman's gabble,"

muttered old Henner.

"Well, but what said she to thee?" inquired Aase, curiously. "It is plain that the old nurse made thee feel ashamed of thyself, since thou wilt not out with it. She has certainly cared better for thy master, than thou--"

"Upbraid me not, dearest Aase!" replied Skirmen, dejectedly. "On the unhappy day that my master was taken prisoner at Skielskioer, he had sent me on a message to Rypen House; and, ever since, I have thought of little else besides the means of setting him free. Three times have I been on Alsen; but the infernal prison-tower is strongly guarded night and day. Twice I was caught, and should certainly have been hanged, had I not contrived to escape."

"Thou dear, trusty Skirmen!" exclaimed Aase, throwing her arms around him. "That would have been a vile death for a squire who has been so long in a fair way of becoming a knight," she added, waggishly. "Yet be not angry, Skirmen. I like thee all the better for this; and, indeed, thy exploits are quite enchanting. But what said the old nurse?"

"Alas! she is in her dotage, poor creature, and her mind is filled with whims and extravagances. She would have me believe that she had lain for eight days in my master's prison, instead of him. On Alsen, she said, they took her for a witch, and the guard would not deny her access to the prison, which my master left, disguised in her clothes; having first sworn a solemn oath that he would return and release her within eight days, and that during that time he would not show his face nor discover himself to any one. The carlin must have been in a dream.

It could not possibly be as she says."

"Wherefore not, son?" asked old Henner, who had listened attentively: "it could easily be done. It is, at least, characteristic of thy true and chivalrous master, for the good woman I know not. Yet what purpose could it answer, since the faithful drost had to return, and, like a wizard, again creep into his prison-hole?"

"I know not: that is the most incredible part of the story, and makes me disbelieve it all. Besides, I know that Dorothy could not have remained quiet for eight days, nor help betraying herself by song and chatter. Yet it is surprising how much she knows concerning the prison.

She described the exterior exactly as I had seen it myself; and, moreover, she gave me this key, swearing deeply and solemnly that it would open the innermost prison-doors."

"Ah, then, Skirmen, if thou doubtest longer, thou art an incredulous fool!" cried Aase, joyfully. "If thou believest not that we women-folks can be silent to serve a good friend, thou little knowest us; and, if I mistake not, thy master could effect more in eight days, than many others could in a year. But, at any rate, he had one dear object to visit. Give me the key. I, too, can play the witch; and, since the good people on Alsen have so much respect for the weird sisterhood, we can easily hit on an expedient. We have been to St. Peter's prison, in Rome, thou must know, and have there received absolution of all our sins, and a dispensation from going to the holy sepulchre. I have not sinned greatly since, I believe; and if now our dear Holy Lady or St.

Christian will make use of me to open a prison, they may well do so, though I am not altogether an angel--"

"Be silent, children, and conceal yourselves," suddenly exclaimed old Henner. "I hear hors.e.m.e.n on the road from the convent. It may be the marsk."