On his return to SjÖborg Castle, King Eric had shut himself up in his private chamber, engrossed in serious reflections on the imminent peril he had just escaped; it seemed to him as if St. Cecilia's eve was destined to bring with it misfortune and danger to him and to his race. This was the second time he had encountered traitors and robbers in the neighbourhood of SjÖborg. The conviction, however, that he possessed the love and devotion of his subjects, soon dissipated the young king's gloomy mood. He had summoned the Swedish Marsk, Thorkild Knudson, to a private audience, and now conversed calmly and frankly with this noble knight on the happy alliance between Denmark and Sweden, which at the present time was the chief subject of the king's thoughts, and in which his heart so ardently shared.

Thorkild Knudson was a handsome man, of a thoughtful and dignified aspect, rather more than forty years of age; his dark hair seemed to have grown untimely grey. His powerful influence as regent had gained him a high reputation, as well in his own country as in foreign courts. An honest aspiration after power and rank was manifest in his fiery glance, and the noble commanding expression of his countenance bespoke a dauntless confidence in his own powers, and a species of proud contempt for all the petty arts by which less highly gifted statesmen often seek to supply the want of sound political wisdom. As he sat opposite the young king, attired in his blue knight's dress, with the large chain of the order around his neck, and conversed with him, with freedom and sympathy, he might have been taken for a fatherly friend or relative of King Eric, had he not, by strict observance of the respect due to Eric's exalted station, but without a tinge of flattery, known how to receive the confidence reposed in him by royalty with an appearance of homage which detracted not from his own dignity as the ambassador of a foreign monarch.

Although Thorkild Knudson, as Swedish regent, was authorized on the part of King Birger and the state council to accede to the king's desire of having the celebration of his marriage fixed for the ensuing spring, yet it was only on the condition that the pope's dispensation should be obtained before that time. But because of the vehemence with which the king always rejected the idea of every obstacle, Thorkild Knudson had hitherto propounded this condition in as mild terms as possible. He now touched upon it again, and took the opportunity of bringing the case of the captive archbishop to Eric's remembrance.

The colour mounted to the young king's cheek; he became suddenly silent, and a secret struggle seemed passing within his breast. He looked around him once or twice, as if he missed some one; at last, however, his eye rested with evident pleasure and satisfaction on Thorkild's intelligent and noble countenance. "I esteem my future brother-in-law fortunate," he said, "in possessing a man like you for his friend and counsellor. You are now to him what my aged counsellor Jon and my well-beloved Drost Hessel have been to me from my childhood upwards. The misunderstanding with the papal court has long deprived me of my best and most experienced counsellors. My faithful Drost AagÉ is not older and more experienced than myself. I feel confidence in you, Sir Thorkild. Were I your liege and sovereign, what would you counsel me in this weighty matter?"

"To see the prisoner, and hear his defence--dispassionately, noble King Eric," answered the Swedish statesman. "As far as I know, he hath not only done wrong, but suffered wrong; for a long and severe imprisonment is a suffering and punishment, which can only be called just, when it is inflicted according to a lawfully pronounced sentence."

"Was it then unjust in me to imprison a state criminal, who was an accomplice in the murder of my father--an accursed regicide?" said Eric, with vehemence, and rising from his seat. "Should I have given him time to escape, or stir up the people against me, because he was not condemned by the pope and the bishops? Can I acknowledge ecclesiastical law when it would acquit a rebel and regicide?"

"It was perhaps necessary for your grace to hinder his flight and treasonable designs," answered Thorkild Knudson, who had risen from his seat at the same time with the king, "were it not possible previously to obtain papal authority for the step; but, by your grace's leave, as your counsellor, I would have freely and openly pronounced all unnecessary severity to be as dangerous as unjust."

"With my knowledge he hath suffered no injustice," answered the king. "The manner of his seizure I highly disapproved; and I have declared what took place then in my minority to have been contrary to my wish. My brave Drost Torstenson I have dismissed. In him I have lost a faithful, but too zealous and rash a friend. My own brother I severely reprimanded. For the sake of a state criminal, I have exposed myself to unpleasant differences in my own family, which wound me deeply, and may perhaps prove dangerous to state and kingdom. What more can reasonably be asked of me?"

"Noble sovereign," resumed Thorkild Knudson, with earnestness; "you vouchsafe to show me a confidence which I highly prize. At the present moment I am, thanks to the Lord, able to reciprocate it with honest frankness. I trust a double relationship will unite you, and my liege and sovereign in a lasting union; but I will not abuse your confidence. I would not have your grace confide aught to me which you might regret I should know, if at any time, which God forbid! my fidelity to my king and my native land should compel me to seem your and Denmark's foe. Even in such a position I would esteem and admire your noble spirit, and I know you would not misjudge me."

"No, Sir Thorkild," answered the king, extending to him his hand; "even were you forced to-morrow, as a loyal Swedish statesman, to become my adversary, I should not misjudge your heart and chivalrous spirit. I value your esteem--answer me freely! think ye I have acted unjustly in this matter?"

"Well then, King Eric," said Thorkild, "allow my answer to be a question to which you can best reply yourself. Had counsellor Jon, and Drost Hessel been with you at this time, think you, you would have so long delayed the advances towards a reconciliation, which I cannot but conjecture was the main object of your prolonged sojourn here?"

"It is not for me, but for the captive criminal, to take the first step towards reconciliation," answered the king; "but I am now weary myself of this procrastination. Here lies a proposal for a reconciliation which I have caused the Drost to draw up. I will see the prisoner to-morrow."

"Why not this very evening, noble sovereign?" said Thorkild. "If you incline to reconciliation, it was perhaps in a fortunate moment you permitted me to become your counsellor. The accomplishment of your own heartfelt desire is probably more closely connected with this negociation than you imagine."

"Well, I will see him this evening--this very hour," said the king, pulling the bell string. An attendant entered. "Tell the steward, the captive archbishop is to be brought hither." The attendant bowed, and departed. The king threw himself into a chair, and fell into a reverie. Thorkild Knudson seemed preparing to take his leave.

"No, stay, I entreat you," said the king, and then paused for a few moments. "On this night was my father murdered," he resumed in a tremulous voice; "the man who is about to appear before me was the chief counsellor of the murderers. You shall be present, and see that I am neither revengeful nor unjust; but you shall also see, that even to promote my highest happiness I am incapable of forgetting for a moment, that which I owe to the crown I wear. Read! Only on these conditions will he be released." So saying, he reached Thorkild a written sheet of parchment which lay on the table. Thorkild perused it slowly, and the king watched his countenance as he read. "Well, is it not so?" said Eric eagerly. "I demand only what is just and reasonable--safety for crown and country--peace with the church--obedience to the laws of the land, so long as he is my subject. I will not pass sentence in my own cause--as a traitor to the crown, he must be condemned by the pope."

"I must own your grace's demands are more moderate than I should have supposed. If you are perfectly correct in the charge you prefer against him, I should still call these terms generous; and yet I doubt whether he will accept them. The parting with Hammerhuus----"

"He shall give up that castle," interrupted the king; "a rebel and traitor shall own no fortress in my kingdom. Were he even seated in St. Peter's chair, here he is my subject."

"Undoubtedly; and he may perhaps make that sacrifice for his freedom; but the seventh clause--pardon me, your grace, for saying that it seems to me to be in opposition to his duty to the church and to the Holy Father. Until he is deposed by a papal bull, no one can hinder him from using the church's power against whomsoever he will, without asking leave of the king or of any temporal authority."

"He shall be forced to do so!" exclaimed Eric, with vehemence. "While I am king, no miscreant shall persecute me or my subjects with unjust excommunication and all the plagues of hell. I am placed here by the Lord Almighty to protect my people and their liberties, and not all the bishops in the world shall rob me of this right. I will answer for what I do before the Lord above as well as before my subjects, and before every true and loyal knight!" So saying, the king again pulled the bell with vehemence. Another attendant entered.

"Light all the tapers in the knights' hall!" commanded the king. "Bid the master of the household call together the whole court and every knight here in the castle. Place my throne at the end of the hall!" The attendant departed in haste on a signal from the king.

"Your grace is too precipitate," said Thorkild; "give not a publicity to your interview with this dangerous prelate which he may abuse to your hurt and prejudice."

"My cause shuns not the light," answered the king. "I use not to speak or treat with my bitterest and deadliest foe otherwise than I dare make known to my loyal subjects and the whole body of Danish chivalry. A traitor's oath demands witnesses."

"But caution and--I trust your grace will pardon my boldness--state policy demand there should be as few witnesses present as possible," objected Thorkild Knudson, with anxious sympathy. He would have said more, but at this moment the door opened, and he was silenced by the entrance of the tall Archbishop Grand in chains.

Led by the steward and the three turnkeys, besides two men-at-arms, the haughty prelate stepped across the threshold of the king's private chamber, with a stare of wild defiance, without fixing his eye on any object. He was attired in a white Cistercian mantle, without any of the insignia of a bishop; his proud countenance was pale and emaciated; his beard was shorn, his head was bare, and around his tonsure curled a ring of tangled grey hair. He moved slowly, and every step seemed attended with pain; but it appeared as if, with a contempt of all bodily suffering, he exerted himself to the utmost to prevent his outward appearance from becoming an object of commiseration.

When the king beheld him he involuntarily stepped back, and a feeling of sorrowful sympathy for fallen greatness was manifest in his look, while at the same time the remembrance of his father's murder, and this man's share in the misfortunes of state and kingdom, overspread his noble countenance with the crimson of indignation.

"You may go," said Eric to the guard. They obeyed, and through the open door of the knights' hall, which was instantly shut again, the king beheld a numerous assemblage of knights and courtiers, looking with anxious suspense and curiosity towards the entrance to the private chamber, through which they had seen the captive archbishop conducted.

The haughty captive continued standing about two paces from the door, and had not as yet vouchsafed a look or salutation to the king. He stood immoveable as a marble statue, and his cold uncertain gaze, now first warmed into life, as it suddenly fixed with frightful earnestness on a silver crucifix, which stood by the side of the king's shield, on a shelf above a prie-dieu.

"You stand in the presence of your liege sovereign. Archbishop Grand," began King Eric; but he paused again to restrain his anger at the captive's look of rude defiance.

"Yes, truly, I stand in the presence of my heavenly Ruler and King," answered Archbishop Grand, folding his fettered hands, without withdrawing his gaze from the crucifix. "He shall judge between me and the tyrants of this world."

"You stand also before your temporal ruler and king," continued Eric--"before your lawful superior in this country and kingdom. For what ye have sinned against me and Denmark's crown you will have to answer at the great day of judgment, but first here; as certainly as there is justice upon earth, first here. I have sent in my accusation of your crimes to the tribunal of St. Peter; the Holy Father hath required me to liberate you that he may hear your defence, or your confession."

"Why then have ye not obeyed, King Eric?" interrupted the captive, for the first time turning his proud glance upon the king. "Will ye delay until the holy lightnings melt the crown from off your brow?"

"How long I shall wear the crown, the righteous God alone can determine," answered the king. "Without His Almighty permission no power on earth can injure a hair of my head." He paused for a moment. "When we liberate a dangerous offender," he continued, with more calmness, "he must give us security for his release. The guiltiest criminal shall have the right of defending himself, but not of committing fresh crimes on his way to his tribunal. If he hath any remains of conscience and honour, and if we are to trust him, he must take the oath we require. If he will not--be it so! he may be tried in his dungeon, and defend himself in his chains."

"And what security doth King Eric demand for the release of the captive, whom he, without lawful sentence, and contrary to the law of God and the church, caused to be imprisoned and maltreated?" asked the archbishop, with bitterness.

"For the justice of your imprisonment I will answer to the Great Judge above," answered the king, raising his hand; "but the point in question is only whether you may justly and reasonably be released; to decide this I have summoned you hither. Know then, Archbishop Grand! although you were undoubtedly an accomplice in my father's murder--although I abhor you as my bitterest and deadliest foe, and as the greatest traitor in Denmark, I fear not, nevertheless, to loose your guilty hands when justice demands it; but here ye shall neither raise hand nor voice against crowns and sovereigns; ere ye leave these walls ye shall swear by your salvation, in the sight of God and the chivalry of Denmark, to promise that which I here, as the protector of the crown and people, have required and demanded. When you have read the conditions of your release, and are willing to take the oath before my throne, in the hearing of all my knights, your imprisonment may end this very hour."

At a signal from the king Thorkild Knudson reached the sheet of parchment to the archbishop, and placed one of the tapers closer to him. The hand of the proud captive trembled as he took the parchment, and it cost him evident effort to read it; but it seemed as if his strength and spirit increased as he proceeded; and when he had perused it to the end he laughed scornfully, and crumpled the parchment in his hand.--"Shall I leave my degradation unavenged?" he cried--"Shall I fetter my tongue myself that it may not announce to you eternal death and damnation?--Shall I part with my last earthly defence?--Shall I subject the holy church's right to the arbitration of a tyrant? No, King Eric Ericson! as yet I am an anointed and consecrated archbishop, with power to bless or curse the crown thou wearest. Even in these chains I have the power to push the crown from off thy head with a single word. Over my body, tyrant! thou may'st have power, but, by the Lord above, not over my free immortal spirit! Ere I will consent to one of these conditions thou and thy executioners may sever every limb from my body, as I now rend asunder, with this hellish compact, all bond and tie between me and the despots of this world." So saying, he rent the parchment before the king's eyes, threw the fragments on the floor, and stamped upon them until his chains rattled.

"Madman!" cried the king, in great anger, "stay then in thy prison, and defy me there, until thy dying day! I release thee not until thou hast put thy seal to every word thou hast here trampled under foot, should I be a hundred times excommunicated by the pope in consequence," Eric hastily pulled the bell-string. The door of the knights' hall opened, and the master of the household appeared. "The guard," commanded the king--"the captive is to return to prison."

The loud talking in the king's private chamber had excited apprehensions among the king's knights and courtiers, who knew he was next to being alone with the dreaded prisoner. As the chamber door opened, all thronged towards it, as if fearing some misfortune.

"Back!" said the king, and he was obeyed; but the door to the knights' hall remained half open, and ere the guard arrived to fetch the prisoner. Archbishop Grand had taken a bold resolve. He hastily seized the crucifix, upon which he had gazed so long, and with this holy symbol in his hand, before which all were forced to bow, he advanced with long powerful strides into the middle of the knights' hall; here he halted, and turned suddenly towards the king, who stood on the threshold, amazed at this sight, and seemed about to issue orders for the seizure of the prisoner.

"Anathema!" shouted the archbishop, in a terrific voice, and raising the chained hand which bore the crucifix. "King Eric Ericson of Denmark! I pronounce the sentence of excommunication upon thy head. I announce to thee, and every Christian here present, that thou art fallen under the church's awful ban--"

"What? audacious villain! seize--gag him!" exclaimed the king, stepping over the threshold.

"Anathema!" shouted the archbishop still louder.--"He who lays hands on me is accursed.--Thou art cast out of the community of believers and of saints.--Thou hast no longer any power over Christians, King Eric! In virtue of my holy office, and the apostolical authority of St. Paul, I give thee over, as the enemy of God and the church, to Satan, and to the destruction of the flesh." So saying, he described the stroke of forked lightning in the air with the crucifix, and looked around him with flashing eyes.

All stood as if petrified by terror and amazement. The king appeared once more about to speak; but he had grown deadly pale, and it seemed as if his voice was choked by anger. Ere he was able to speak, the archbishop again burst forth with a deafening voice, while he turned to the knights and courtiers: "Fly, Christians! leave the pestilent one! pollute not your souls by intercourse with the excommunicated one! accursed is now the hand which brings him food, accursed the servant who serves him with fire or water, accursed the tongue which comforts him with a single word, so long as his soul is given over to the Evil One. He who ten days hence still serves and obeys this foe of the church I give over with him to Satan and to the destruction of the flesh, that the soul may be saved at the day of the Lord Jesus! Amen!"

On finishing this speech he made a genuflexion, kissed the crucifix, and handed it to the chaplain of the castle, who stood trembling nearest him among the king's suite, and bent his knee, while he pressed this so fearfully abused symbol of blessing with a look of sorrow to his heart. "And now, excommunicated king!" added the archbishop, with a triumphant countenance, and with the mien of an exulting martyr, tearing the mantle from his emaciated breast, "now may'st thou, if thou darest, order to be torn asunder the church's anointed, who announced to thee the sentence of the Lord. My body is, perhaps, in thy power, but the spirit is God's, and his is the power throughout all eternity."

A death-like silence reigned throughout the hall, the greatest terror was depicted in the faces of the knights, while their eyes turned with sorrowing sympathy towards their excommunicated sovereign. It seemed for a moment as if the lightnings of excommunication had struck the young king with the power of real lightning, and smitten him with lameness. He had staggered back so dizzy that he was forced to support himself by the door-post; but he now summoned up all his strength, and stepped forward with quick and passionate strides among his knights and courtiers.

"A regicide stands in the midst of us, and would give us over to the Devil, to whom he himself belongs," he burst forth, in a tone of the highest exasperation; "he who is himself accursed presumes to pronounce the Lord's judgment upon men. On this unfortunate St. Cecilia's eve my father's blood cried aloud from the earth, and accused this criminal before the Lord's tribunal. His head should long since have fallen under the axe of the executioner, and now he would judge and excommunicate us; he would destroy my immortal soul, had he the power; but no! each word he hath spoken is lifeless and powerless--his curses fall back on his own guilty head. The Holy Father shall judge between us! The King of Denmark recognizes no sentence as lawful which is not confirmed by 'the Father of Christendom. Away with the miscreant!"

The knights and courtiers appeared able to breathe freely again, on hearing these words from the king. They looked on him with confidence and devotion, yet still appeared to hesitate, and no one prepared to seize the dreaded prisoner, who stood erect and haughty among them, and seemed to triumph in the spiritual power he had exercised even in chains.

"Hence with the criminal!" repeated the king; "until he recalls the ungodly ban he sees not the light of day. Guards! halberdiers! why tarry ye? hath this miscreant's words struck you deaf and lame? Fear ye to obey your liege sovereign?"

The guards and halberdiers now surrounded the archbishop, but with manifest trepidation. The terrific prisoner stood immoveable, with his eyes turned upwards, towards the roof of the hall, and no one as yet dared to lay hands on him. But the king again broke silence. "I still bear crown and sceptre," he exclaimed; "I shall know how to defend myself and my loyal subjects against this monster! I swore by my father's bloody head to uphold the rights of the crown and the insulted dignity of majesty against every power on earth whether spiritual or temporal, and by all the holy men!^[13] I will keep that vow. Will not the loyal Danish nation, will not Denmark's chivalry stand by me undismayed in my fight for truth and justice? Then, indeed, will Danish loyalty be a theme for mockery, and Danish courage for scorn. Are ye true and valiant Danish men, and do ye let yourselves be scared by a mad traitor into betraying your liege sovereign?"

All doubt and apprehension seemed now to have disappeared among Eric's knights and courtiers. The hall resounded with shouts and loyal acclamations. The archbishop vainly strove to speak again. The indignation against him was general, and without hesitation the guards laid hands on him to lead him back to prison. But ere they reached the door it opened, and Prince Christopher, accompanied by the Margrave of Brandenborg, entered with the papal legate between them, followed by their train of ecclesiastics and laymen. All started at the sight of the tall foreign prelate with his cardinal's hat and withered visage. He stepped with an authoritative air before the prince and the margrave, and bowed to the king, and towards all sides of the hall, in silence, and with the air of a superior, as if appropriating to himself the loud acclamations which were heard on his entrance, but which were now suddenly hushed. He seemed startled on perceiving the chained prisoner in the Cistercian mantle. He nodded, and the guard stepped aside. The captive archbishop felt himself suddenly freed from the sturdy grasp of the men-at-arms. "Gloria in excelsis!" shouted Grand, as he raised his fettered hands, and kneeled at the cardinal's feet. "Blessed be thou, thou messenger of the Lord!" he continued in Latin. "See here, how an archbishop in Denmark is treated! See, and judge, in the Holy Father's name, O thou, his high ambassador! I have, in virtue of my holy office, published the church's ban upon this presumptuous king, because of his defiance to the law of the Lord and the church! Confirm it in the Holy Father's name, Lord Cardinal--or see Archbishop Grand expire of wrath and ignominy at your feet!"

"Arise, my venerable brother, and be comforted," answered Isarnus, also in Latin. "I bring with me authority from his Holiness to enforce the constitution--'Cum Ecclesia DacianÆ.' Read this document aloud to the king and the court, in the language of the country, worthy Abbot Magnus." As he said this he reached a large parchment letter, with the papal seal, to the aged Abbot of Esrom, who had accompanied him. The abbot opened it with a trembling hand, but as he glanced over it a flood of tears rolled down his furrowed cheeks.

"I cannot," stammered the old man; "he is my liege and sovereign! I conjure you, my lord, by the all-merciful Creator! use not the power here given you to our king's and our country's destruction. This is a matter which demands the highest consideration. This authority is not unconditional, either," These last words were spoken in Latin, and appeared to startle the cardinal.

The unexpected entrance of the papal legate at this critical moment, his singular appearance, as well as the mysteriousness of his conduct, and the speaking in a foreign tongue, had once more inspired the bystanders with a feeling of consternation which deprived them of the power of speech. Even the king appeared for some moments to have lost his self-possession and the consciousness of royal authority, while the attention of all present was rivetted upon the terrific stranger. Eric now stepped forward a few paces, and seemed about to assert his authority by a commanding address; but at the same moment the fettered archbishop snatched the document from the abbot's trembling hands. "Here is papal authority for ban and interdict," he cried, "praised be the Lord! his judgments are righteous. Enforce your authority, most reverend sir! Anathema and the church's ban upon the king, and those his accomplices in guilt!" So saying, he raised his fettered hands both towards the king and Prince Christopher, who appeared to be in great consternation at this sudden and unlooked-for blow.

"Not a word more here, on pain of instant death, impudent miscreant!" exclaimed the king, in a loud tone, and in the highest exasperation. "Take that mad criminal to prison, halberdiers! Let every one leave this place! We will inquire in our council with what authority this stranger is empowered to treat with the king of Denmark. When he proposes it, and it suits our convenience, we will talk with him in our private chamber." So saying, the king returned to his own apartment. Not another word was heard in the knights' hall; even the archbishop found it expedient to be passive as the two halberdiers and the guard approached to lead him out of the hall. All the knights and courtiers, as well as Prince Christopher and his train, departed in silence. The halberdiers who were on guard, alone remained behind. They snatched up their halberds, and ranged themselves in their customary order without the king's apartments. Abbot Magnus had also left the hall, and Cardinal Isarnus stood almost alone in the middle of the floor between his amanuensis and interpreter. He looked with surprise around the suddenly deserted hall.

It was not until he had announced himself through his interpreter in suitable form to the captain of halberdiers, and requested an audience with the king, that he was received with the demonstrations of respect due to a papal ambassador. His arrival was formally announced, and he was shortly afterwards admitted to a private interview with Eric.

What had passed had thrown every one into the greatest suspense and uneasiness, and an anxious stillness reigned in the castle. The foreign prelate quitted not the king's private chamber until the night was far advanced. The king did not make his appearance, but, according to his orders, the strictest court etiquette was to be observed. Arrangements were made in the castle for the protracted sojourn of the cardinal and his train. He was to be honoured as a princely guest. The return of the Swedish ambassadors was postponed. The following day another long and private conversation took place between the king and the papal legate. The presence of this dignitary, and his over-awing authority, banished all gaiety and cheerfulness from the castle.