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

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

One day in November, a singular procession approached the castle of SjÖborg. From two Hanseatic merchant vessels, which had anchored off the fishing station, there landed a number of foreign seamen, who, carrying the Rostock flag, and with large broad swords at their sides, proceeded to the castle, amid the dissonant sound of pipes and trumpets. At the head of the procession marched a tall stout man, in a burgher's coat of fine cloth, trimmed with broad borders of costly fur. It was the rich trader, Berner Kopmand of Rostock, well known at the great fairs of SkanÖr and Falsterbo, whither he was wont to bring rich cargoes of cloth and costly spices. He was notorious for his authoritative and overbearing deportment, and for the ostentatious pomp by which he sought to acquire the reputation of a merchant prince. By his side walked the almost equally noted Henrik Gullandsfar of Visbye, also one of the most influential Hanseatic merchants, and an adroit and politic negociator between the Hanse towns and the northern princes,^[10] They announced themselves at the castle as Hanseatic ambassadors, and were admitted into the upper hall, while their train was served with refreshments below.

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

"Enough," said the king, at last, breaking off the conference, and rising in wrath, "I wanted but to hear how far ye would push your impudent demands, and therefore let ye have your say. This is my answer. My former promise to the towns I have hitherto kept; if they content ye not, we Danes may easily learn to fetch what we want from foreign lands, and export what we want not. When guests and strangers are injured here they can complain; there is law and justice in the land; but they who take the law into their own hands on Danish ground or on the Danish seas shall be condemned as traitors and robbers, whether they be knight or burgher, whether they be native or stranger." So saying, the king turned his back upon the merchant ambassadors. Without heeding their angry looks, he hastened to join his princely guests, and the Swedish lords who awaited his coming, to set out on a hunting expedition, and left the Hanseatic burghers to the care of the Drost.

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

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

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

"Such greeting and defiance you may yourself bring my liege and sovereign," answered AagÉ, "if you fancy being sent back to Rostock with your hands tied behind you like a madman." So saying, he turned contemptuously on his heel, and returned with his knights to SjÖborg. He afterwards joined the king and the hunting-party, but made no mention of this impudent defiance, which, though it seemed to him indeed to be paltry and powerless, he yet could not but regard as a striking instance of the insufferable pride of these monied aristocrats, and of the boldness with which the equivocal position of the king at the court of Rome had inspired the ill-affected and discontented.

After a hard chase the king rode back in the evening to SjÖborg, with Drost AagÉ by his side. It was already dark. The cold November blast whirled the fallen leaves around them as they rode through the forest. The moon now rose behind the trees, shining with an unsteady light from out the flying clouds, through the leafless boughs of the forest. Behind them rode Marsk Oluffsen between Henrik of Mecklenborg and the Swedish regent, whose return to Sweden was fixed for the following day. Some hunters followed with the game caught in the chase. The rest of the train remained at Esrom monastery. The king, as well as Drost AagÉ, had been remarkably silent during the day. Since the arrival of the Swedish ambassadors, tidings had been daily looked for, but in vain, from the Danish embassy at the papal court. The king had not as yet taken any step towards a reconciliation with the captive archbishop. The journey of the Swedish ambassadors could no longer be delayed, and the obstacles to the king's marriage were not in any measure removed. The king and his faithful AagÉ now rode in silence by each other's side, apparently occupied with a presentiment which they could not banish from their minds, but to which neither liked to give utterance. It was the unfortunate St. Cecilia's day, which yearly brought with it to the king bitter recollections of the dreadful murder of his father at Finnerup. Marsk Oluffsen appeared not to remember what day it was; he jested merrily, after his fashion, with the German and Swedish guests, and lauded the pious and frugal manner in which King Birger's tutor, a certain Carl Tydsker^[11], had a few years since restored his young sovereign to health, namely, by making the same vow to three saints at once, and afterwards drawing lots to determine to which of the good saints the vow should be kept. "I have since wondered," said the Marsk, laughing, "whether the victory over the Kareles^[12] was thrown into the bargain, and was one of St. Eric's miracles; if so, I must acknowledge that Carl Tydsker was worth his weight in gold." By this unlucky jest the Marsk wounded at the same time the national pride of both his German and Swedish companions, without appearing himself in the least to perceive it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"He was a great general, though," said Count Henrik. "I would have given much to have seen him. Was he as tall as Sir Niels Brock or the Duke of Langeland?"

"He had a finer presence than either Niels Brock or Duke Longshanks, if he measured not the same length. In that point, perhaps, both you and I might have been his match; but he was a very devil of a fellow,--truly, I believe neither Germany nor Sweden could boast of one like him."

"It is true we cannot boast of so highly esteemed a regicide," said Count Henrik, in an offended tone. "I desire not to rival his fame."

"But, by all the martyrs! what is the matter now?" exclaimed the astounded Marsk; "think ye I wished for aught better in the world than to have knocked out his confounded brains? Therefore I may surely say without offence, that neither you nor Marsk Knudson have seen his match."

"For that both Count Henrik and I should thank the Lord," said the Swedish knight solemnly. "The country which gives birth to such heroes may have to pay dearly for the boast. In our country we have storms also, at times; and alas! have to deplore the devastations they cause. It is the same case here probably? I suspect that Denmark hath dearly bought this sad experience, and learnt that one daring hand can make a deeper wound in a nation's heart than a whole century can heal."

A rather embarrassed silence ensued. The king had heard the conversation which had been carried on by the party behind him, and sighed deeply.

"It was on this night, AagÉ," he said, in a low voice. "For nine years have I now borne Denmark's crown, and as yet I have not fulfilled that I vowed when I saw him last."

"Whom, my liege?" asked AagÉ, absently.

"My murdered father!" said the king. "Rememberest thou not the hour they lifted the lid from his coffin in Viborg cathedral, and laid the sacrament on his bloody breast? It was then I bade him my last farewell. What I vowed to him was heard only by the all-knowing God; but assuredly I will either keep that vow, or lose my life."

"At that time you were, as I was, a minor, my liege. If your vow to the dead was other than a pious and Christian vow, you ought not now, as a knight and sovereign, to keep it."

Eric was silent. The moon shone full on his noble form, and as he sat calm and erect on his fiery steed, with the white plume in his hat, and the purple mantle over his shoulder, he almost resembled the chivalrous St. George, about to strike his lance into the dragon's throat. His manly countenance was pale, and expressive of lofty indignation. "That I vowed to the dead I must perform," he said, after a thoughtful pause. "A wise monarch should disperse the ungodly."

As the king uttered these words an arrow whistled past his breast, and stuck in Drost AagÉ's mantle.

"Murderers! traitors!" shouted the king, drawing his sword, while he reined in with difficulty his restless steed. AagÉ rushed with his drawn sword to that side of the king whence the arrow was sped; the three other knights rode up in alarm. "An arrow! robbers! traitors!" was echoed from mouth to mouth. They looked around on all sides of the moon-lit road, but no living being was to be seen.

"Accursed traitors!" shouted Marsk Oluffsen, and dashed in suddenly among the bushes on the left side of the road, where he had perceived some white object moving. A shriek was heard, apparently from a female voice, and the Marsk's horse started aside. At the same moment two young maidens, in the dress of peasant girls, with long plaits of fair hair hanging low over their shoulders, ran, hand in hand, across the road, while a man of almost giant stature, in the dress of a Jutland peasant, with a large broad sword in his hand, sprang forward, and placed himself between the Marsk and the fugitives.

"Keep ye to me!" shouted the man. "It was I--it was Mads Jyde who shot. I mean not to show a pair of clean heels: let the maidens flee, they have done no ill, but I am the man who dares tilt with ye all." So saying, he brandished his sword wildly around, and wounded the Marsk's horse on the muzzle. The animal reared and snorted.

"Yield thee!" shouted Oluffsen, vainly aiming to strike his daring and gigantic foe; "Yield thee captive, or thou diest!"

On hearing this affray, the king would instantly have hastened to the spot, where he saw swords glittering among the bushes in the moonshine; but AagÉ and the Swedish knight sought to detain him, while Count Henrik immediately surrounded the copse with the huntsmen, and dispatched a party of them after the fugitives. The Marsk had sprung from his intractable steed, "Cast thy sword from thee, stupid devil! Seest thou not thou art caught?" shouted he to the tall Jutlander.

"By St. Michael will I not," retorted the man. "None shall take Marsk Stig's squire alive; keep but your ground, Sir Knight, and thou shalt feel what Mads Jyde is worth." He now rushed frantically upon the Marsk, but the warlike chief was his superior in swordsmanship, and after a short but desperate fight the Jutlander fell, with his skull cloven, to the ground. He half-raised himself again, and tried to lift both his hands to his wounded head. "It was for thee, little Margaret," he gasped forth; "let but my master's children flee, and you are free to----" More he was unable to utter; his hands dropped from his head, and he fell back lifeless on the ground.

Meanwhile the king and his train had ridden to the spot. Some of the hunters had overtaken the fugitive maidens, and brought them captive into the circle of the king's train. All looked at them with surprise, for as they stood there in the moonshine they had the air of princesses in disguise. Their peasant's attire could not hide the delicate fairness of their complexions and their singular beauty. The taller of the two, who seemed also to be the elder, held the lesser and highly agitated maiden by the hand, as if to protect her. She was herself calm and pale. She looked in deep sorrow on the dead body of the man at arms, and appeared not to heed the standers by. The younger maiden seemed to be both frightened and curious. Though she could not be considered a child--for she appeared to be about seventeen or eighteen years of age--her deportment was quite childlike. She hid herself, weeping, behind her sister, from the sight of the king and his knights, while she nevertheless occasionally peeped, with looks of eager observation, at their splendid attire.

"Speak out--who are ye?" asked the king, riding up to them.

The younger maiden drew back, and seemed preparing for flight, but the elder held her fast by the hand, and turned to the king, with calm self-possession, looking him steadily in the face with her large dark blue eyes. "King Eric Ericson," she said, "thine enemy's children are in thine hand: we are fatherless and persecuted maidens; no one dares to give us shelter in our native land; and our last friend and protector hath now been slain by thy men. Our father was the unhappy outlawed Marsk Stig."

"Marsk Stig's daughters!--the regicide's children!" interrupted the king, casting on them a look of displeasure. "Ye meant then to have completed your father's crime? Are ye roaming the country round with robbers and regicides?"

"We are innocent, King Eric!" answered the maiden, laying her hand upon her heart. "May the Lord as surely forgive thee our father's death, and the blood which flows here! Vengeance belongeth to the Lord. We wished but to quit thy kingdom."

"And ye would also have me depart this world," interrupted the king. "They must be taken to Kallundborg castle," said he to the huntsmen. "The affair shall be inquired into; if they can clear themselves they may leave the kingdom. Away with them; I will not look on them." So saying, the king turned his horse's head to avoid the sight of the fair unfortunate, who for an instant appeared to have softened his wrath.

No one had viewed the captive maidens with more compassion than Drost AagÉ. "My liege," said he, in an under tone, "how could the innocent maidens help----?"

"That the arrow slew none of us?" interrupted the king hastily. "I dare say they were not to blame for that. Wolf's cubs should never be trusted; they shall meet with their deserts. Away with them."

"Then permit me to escort them, my liege," resumed Drost AagÉ. "If a knight's daughters be led to prison, knightly protection is still owing them on their way thither."

"Well, go with them, Drost," answered the king aloud, waving his hand as he spoke. "They shall be treated with all chivalrous deference and honour; ye will be answerable for them on your honour and fealty." The king then put spurs into his impatient steed, and galloped off, followed by the Marsk, the Swedish knights, and the whole of the train, with the exception of Drost AagÉ and four huntsmen.

The elder of the captive maidens still held her sister's hand clasped in her own. She had approached the body of the slain squire, beside which she knelt, bending over his head. Drost AagÉ had dismounted from his horse, and stood close by with the bridle in his hand, and with his arm on the saddle-bow. It seemed as though the sight of the kneeling maiden had changed him into a statue.

The restless movements of the younger maiden did not attract his attention; his gaze dwelt only on the kneeling form: she seemed in his eyes as an angel of love and pity praying for the sinner's soul. He observed a tear trickle down her fair pale cheek, and could no longer restrain the expression of his sympathy. "Be comforted, noble maiden!" he exclaimed, with emotion; "no evil shall befall you. The man you mourn for may perhaps have been true and faithful to you, but (were he not struck with sudden madness) he fell here as a great criminal. Carry the dead man to Esrom," he said to two of the huntsmen; "entreat the abbot in my name to grant him Christian burial, and sing a mass for his soul." They instantly obeyed, and bore away the body. The kneeling maiden arose.

"Let me provide for your safety," continued AagÉ. "Ere your case has been inquired into according to law, you cannot quit the kingdom; but I pledge my word and honour King Eric will never permit your father's guilt to make him forget what is due to your rank and sex."

"If we are really your prisoners. Sir Knight," said the elder sister, "then, in the name of our blessed Lady, lead us to our prison; promise me only that you will not separate us, and that you will not be severe to my poor sister."

"Neither for yourself nor for your sister, noble maiden, need you fear aught like harsh treatment; and if you, as I hope and believe, can justify yourselves, your captivity will assuredly not be a long one."

"Our life and freedom are in the Lord's hand--not in man's," said the eldest sister, in a tone of resignation. "In this world we have now no friends. Our father's meanest squire sacrificed his life for us; he whom he made a knight forsook us in the hour of need," she added in a low voice.

Drost AagÉ now gazed with increased sympathy on the calm pale maiden, and was cut to the heart by the expression of dignified sorrow in her countenance, called forth by the consciousness of her desolate condition.

"I will be your friend and protector so long as I live!" he exclaimed with visible emotion. "That I pledge myself to be on my knightly word and honour."

"The Lord and our dear blessed Lady reward you for that," answered the fair captive. "You seem to wish us well; but if you are King Eric's friend, you must certainly hate us for our father's sake."

"Assuredly I am King Eric's friend!" said AagÉ, the blood mounting to his cheek as he spoke, "but I cannot therefore hate you. If you, as I fully believe, are innocent of what hath just now happened, as a knight and as a Christian also I owe you and all the defenceless friendly consolation and protection."

The horses of the two huntsmen who had quitted the party had been meanwhile led forward, and had their saddles arranged so as to admit of the maidens riding without danger or difficulty. The younger sister was first mounted. She had not as yet uttered a word, but had gazed restlessly around, occupied apparently in forming conjectures of the most contradictory nature. At one moment she appeared dejected and ready to weep, at another her bright eyes sparkled with animation, and she seemed to meditate a venturous flight, while the next she looked with an air of queen-like authority at the courteous young knight and the two huntsmen, as if she had but to command to be obeyed. It was not until she was firmly seated in the saddle, with the bridle in her hand, that she seemed fearless and at her ease. "Let us speed on then," she said with sportive gaiety.

"What though full small the palfreys be,
'Tis better to ride than on foot to flee."