While in Sweden as in Denmark, in the loveliest season of the year, the old favourite national songs, with the burden,--"The woods are decked in leafy green," and "The birds are warbling now their song," were sung as well in castles as behind the plough, and the court rejoiced with the minnesingers over "the very green and lovely May," and "the mighty power of love," couriers were constantly passing between the Swedish and Danish courts at Stockholm and Helsingborg; and a feeling of joyous expectation pervaded all Denmark. Drost AagÉ in conjunction with the learned and eloquent Master Petrus de Dacia, had succeeded in overcoming the immediate scruples of the Swedish state council, respecting the marriage of the Danish King with Princess Ingeborg. Without in the least betraying with what ardent impetuosity their chivalrous young king seemed willing to stake life and crown to win his bride, and without the most distant allusion to the possibility of a breach of peace being caused by the failure of a negociation, which had for its object the most peaceable relations, and the most loving ties, these faithful servants of the king, had, by adducing wise and politic reasons, first brought the wise Regent Thorkild Knudsen over to their side, and, despite all the hindrances which the malicious Drost BrunckÉ placed in their way, at last carried their point so far as to divest the idea of the excommunication at SjÖborg, and the enforcement of the interdict at Copenhagen, of its paralysing and terrifying influence, at the Swedish court. From the showing of the learned Master Petrus, and the king's own letters, and clear explanation of the matter, the want of dispensation from the papal court, came at last to be regarded as the omission of an insignificant formality, afterwards to be remedied through negotiation. The flight and formal banishment of Archbishop Grand from Denmark, as well as the insurrection caused by the execution of the interdict in Copenhagen, had rejoiced every brave and free-minded man, as well in Sweden, as in Denmark, and considerably diminished the dread entertained by the Swedish court and council of the consequences of a possible breach with the papal see. A new and overawing proof had been displayed of the courage of the young Danish king, and of the unanimity with which his loyal people joined him in opposing the usurpation of the hierarchy. Daring politicians were even found who hoped the time might not be far distant when the free national spirit of the north would render people, and princes, independent of the interference of the papal see in state matters, and the rights of citizenship. Many bold and manly speeches were uttered in the Swedish state-council on this occasion, which did honour to Thorkild Knudsen and his countrymen, but which were reprobated, by the opposite party, as open heresy and ungodliness, which would be visited upon Sweden as well as Denmark with heavy chastisement.

Drost BrunckÉ, and his adherents, despised no means which might tend to stop or protract the negotiations; he had many able prelates on his side, but the majority of voices were against him, and he sought in vain, by reviving the remembrance of the wrongs and animosities of the two nations, to rekindle the ancient national hate, which now seemed forgot, and which it was hoped a mutual alliance between the royal houses, would entirely eradicate.

The eager opposition party in the Swedish council, which was headed by Drost BrunckÉ, and in which many were disposed to think that Prince Christopher took a secret but important part, was calculated rather to forward than hinder the final decision of the affair. Sweden's greatest statesman, Marsk Thorkild Knudsen, was on this occasion called on to display his mental superiority. He disdained having recourse to his authority as regent, and to his influence as the guardian of King Birger, and the darling of the Swedish nation. The opinion which he declared from full conviction, he wished to see prevail by its own weight, and by its accordance with the mutual feeling of both nations. Thorkild Knudsen now stood forth in council with an address which appealed as well to the hearts as to the sober judgment of his countrymen.

After a clear and calm representation of the political relations of Sweden and Denmark, and the original affinity of the Scandinavian people, besides what they could and might effect by alliance and friendship for their mutual security, and the development of their powers. Thorkild also pourtrayed, with enthusiastic and glowing eloquence, the greatness and devotion of love's triumph over petty scruples and national prejudices. He gave an equally true and favourable portraiture of the constant and loveable character of the young Danish king, as well as of the charms of the noble Princess Ingeborg, and the mutual attachment that had subsisted between the betrothed pair from their childhood. He finally contrived, with as much sagacity as eloquence, to put down the objections of the opposite party, and bring the negotiation of the Danish ambassadors to the happiest issue; the greater number of his opponents being at last animated by a warm feeling of enthusiasm for the royal pair, which was mingled by the soul-enlarging feeling of the union of two nations in that of their fairest and noblest representatives.

The espousals were, therefore, according to the ardent wish of King Eric and with the consent of the princess, fixed for the first of June, which was already near at hand; and a courier from Drost AagÉ was instantly despatched with the glad tidings to Eric. The whole of the Swedish royal family were to accompany the princess to Helsingborg, where splendid preparations were making for the marriage, and the chivalrous King Eric now only awaited the dawning of that happy day to set out at the head of the chivalry of Denmark, with all the courtly state suited to the occasion, to meet his beautiful bride and her royal relatives.

Towards the close of May, Helsingborg castle, together with the town and its vicinity became daily the resort of all who were most distinguished in Denmark and Sweden. The fair gothic castle, with its circular walls, its bastions, and high towers, rose proudly over the town on the summit of the steep rock or hill above. The castle was surrounded by deep moats, and was considered to be an impregnable fortress; but at this time the drawbridge was let down, and the great iron-cased castle-gate, on the southern side, stood open to admit the coming guests. The old town, which dated its origin from the days of King FrodÉ^[3], and was so pleasantly and advantageously situated on the narrowest part of the Sound, owed its present prosperity to its considerable trade, and great horse and cattle fairs. It was tolerably extensive, but was, however, by no means, capable of accommodating so great a concourse of strangers. The great market-place, close to the council-house, and the handsome church of St. Mary's (the central point of the town where many streets met), were now daily as much thronged with people as on the great fair-days. Besides the king's nearest relatives, and the wedding guests invited by the Marsk, from the lordly manors and knightly castles of both kingdoms; a great crowd of curious and sympathising persons of all ranks flocked to Helsingborg, even from the most distant provinces, to witness the intended festival, and partake of the public amusements, which, on this occasion, were to render this celebration of royal nuptials a national festival for both Denmark and Sweden.

The king had already held his court, for some weeks, at Helsingborg. Marsk Oluffsen had returned from Jutland, where he had been fortunate enough to put an end to all disturbances by capturing the daring partizans, Niels Brock and Johan PapÆ, with some other friends of the archbishop's and the outlaws. The insurgents were led to the prison-tower at Flynderborg, but the stern Marsk Oluffsen was personally so incensed at these state prisoners, who had long plagued and defied him, that he thought no punishment was adequate to their deserts. At the present moment nothing was thought of at court but joy and festivity. The king's stepfather, Count Gerhard, had arrived from NykiÖping with his consort, the dowager queen Agnes. Next to the king himself no one seemed more to rejoice at his marriage than his politic and dignified mother. In her first unhappy marriage, Agnes, as Denmark's queen, had held that wedded happiness, among royal personages, was only the dream of visionaries. After the death of her unhappy consort she had sacrificed the title of queen, and changed this dream into truth and reality, in her own lot, under a humbler name. Amid her own happiness she had often thought, with uneasiness and regret, on having made a treaty, involving the future destiny of her children by their betrothal in early childhood, and now saw, with thankfulness, that a union, projected from motives of state policy, had grown into the natural tie of kindred hearts.

It appeared that the brave Duke of Langeland had forgotten all former disputes with the king, at the treaty of Wordingborg, but his brother, Duke Valdemar of Slesvig, who had also been invited out of courtesy, had excused himself on plea of illness.

Three days before that fixed for the bridal, Junker Christopher arrived with a numerous train from Kallundborg. The king received him with his wonted courtesy on the quay of Helsingborg, whither he had gone to meet him with his new Marsk, Count Henrik, and his halberdiers; but there was a painful expression of suppressed anger in the king's generally joyous and kindly countenance as he gave his hand to his sullen brother in token of welcome. It was pretty openly said that the junker lately, by means of secret cabals, had placed obstacles in the way of the marriage, and it was believed the king had painful conjectures on the subject, although no proofs of this presumable treachery were forthcoming. The junker himself had appeared latterly to suffer from a corroding melancholy, which was often succeeded by bursts of wild merriment,--since the storming of Kallundborg castle especially, and the execution of his unhappy commandant, the restless and gloomy disposition of the prince had assumed this fierce character; even those few of his courtiers who were really devoted to him, and regarded his gloomy reserved deportment as an effect of the wrestlings of a great spirit with its destiny often complained of his caprices; and though they still adhered to him, it was, however, with a species of fear, mixed with an undefined hope of one day arriving with him at honours and fortune.

The mutual greeting of the brothers on Helsingborg quay was strikingly cold, although the junker seemed desirous by his congratulations and expressions of courtesy to do away with all appearance of misunderstanding. To this Count Henrik in particular paid special attention. In the king's train were seen the German professors of minstrelsy, who had abandoned their researches at Wordingborg castle to enliven the festival by their lays. The papers and documents which Junker Christopher had removed from the sacristy chest at Lund, on the archbishop's imprisonment, and brought, as it was said, to the state archives at Wordingborg castle, had been sought for in vain by the learned friends of the king. These documents might even yet become of great importance to the king in the suit against the banished archbishop; but they had disappeared at the time when matters had come to an open breach with the junker, and the king suspected his brother of having destroyed them, or even of having returned them to the archbishop.

The king's train had been also joined by the young Iceland bard, the priest of St. Olaf, Master Laurentius of Nidaros, who had now exchanged his layman's red mantle for the more reputable black dress of a canon; and beside the king walked the little deformed Master Thrand Fistlier, with a consequential deportment, and displaying on his finger a large diamond ring, which the king had presented to him in acknowledgement of his superior learning. On the king's arrival at Helsingborg the scientific mountebank had been set at liberty. He instantly contrived to arrest the attention of the king (eager as he was in the pursuit of knowledge), after he had with dexterity and keen ability repelled every charge against himself, as well of the Leccar heresy as of witchcraft. This last accusation, which had drawn upon him the persecution and peril he underwent at SkÄnor, he alluded to with exultation, as a striking testimony to his own astonishing arts, and a ludicrous proof of the dulness of the age and the absurdities of popular ignorance. The king now presented him to his brother as a rare scholar and an extraordinary artist. The significant look with which Junker Christopher greeted this far-travelled adventurer seemed to betray an earlier acquaintanceship, which, however, was acknowledged by neither. Count Henrik placed but little reliance on Prince Christopher's congratulations and measured courtesy. He narrowly watched the junker, as well as the foreign mountebank, about whom AagÉ had expressed himself so dubiously. He thought he more and more perceived a secret understanding between the prince and the mysterious scholar, and resolved to be at his post. He ventured not, however, to grieve the king by disclosing it, or increasing his suspicion of his brother, which evidently pained him, and which he seemed desirous to exert himself to the utmost to shake off. Neither on this nor the two following days was there any nearer approach to confidence between the brothers. Courteous phrases and stiff court etiquette were resorted to, by way of compensation for the want of cordiality. It was only when Junker Christopher was at the chase, or seated at the draught-board or the drinking-table, that the king was seen to converse joyously with his mother and Count Gerhard, or jest merrily with Count Henrik and his knights: the German professors of minstrelsy and the learned Icelanders exerted all their powers to while away the evenings preceding his marriage-day, when his ardent and impatient spirit was not engrossed by important affairs of state. But when he seemed at times in the happiest mood he often grew suddenly silent and thoughtful at the mere sound of his brother's voice, or on observing his wild uncertain glance from under his dark and knitted brow.

The evening before the impatiently expected first of June the king sat in the upper hall of Helsingborg castle, at the chess-table, where he was usually the victor. On this occasion, however, he had found an almost invincible opponent in the learned Iceland philosopher, who appeared able beforehand to calculate the plans of his adversary, and only to need a single move in order to frustrate them. Notwithstanding Master Thrand's decided superiority, the king had, however, won every game; but he seemed to regard this with indifference; he was absent, and often forgot to make his moves. At the opposite end of the hall he heard his brother talking of hunting and horses, with Count Gerhard; his mother was listening to the poems of the German minstrels and Master Laurentius; while the young knights discoursed with animation of the next day's festivities and tournament.

"Tell me, Master Thrand," said the king to his learned antagonist, with a thoughtful glance out of the window at the star-lit heavens, "what is your opinion of omens, and of the wondrous art of astrology, to which so many learned men are devoted in our time. Believe you the life and actions of men and the changeable fortunes of this world can be so considerable and important in the eyes of the Almighty that higher powers should care for them, or intermeddle with them?--and think ye the position and movements of the heavenly bodies stand in any real relation to our life and destiny?"

"That is almost more than science can be said as yet to have fathomed with certainty, most gracious king!" answered the artist, with a subtle, satirical smile on his lips, while his head almost disappeared between his shoulders; "but if any science is to bring clearness and demonstration into the speculations of the learned and the mysteries of astrology, it must be that exalted science of sciences whose poor worshipper I am. Assuredly, your grace, nothing happens in the world but what is natural, that is to say, a necessary consequence of foregoing causes; but it is precisely the great problem of the mysterious and hidden causes of these things and events which it is the province of human wisdom to solve. 'Beatas qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas' hath been said already by the wise heathen. Theologians and poets indeed picture to themselves a nearer and safer road by which to reach the same goal as ourselves, or even a far higher one," he continued, with a scornful self-satisfied smile; "but they deceive themselves in their simplicity and enthusiasm by looking for a kind of supernatural influence of the Divine wisdom which in fact is the life and soul of nature, yet which but partially discloses itself to us in its workings, according as these by degrees unfold themselves to us in their essences through the sacred optic tubes of science and research."

"Now you mix up too many things together for me, Master Thrand!" said the king, shaking his head. "You seem to me almost to confound the great living God and Lord with his creation, or what you call nature. With all my respect for human wisdom--for all wise and useful learning which man may attain by the examination of earthly things, I think, nevertheless, that the spirit of truth and beauty, commonly called 'genius' by our scholars and the poets of olden times, as also 'the prophetic vision,' soar far above the ken of human intellect; and for what is of paramount importance for us to see, we have most assuredly the holiest and noblest optic tube in God's own revealed word." The king paused a moment and gazed on the strange deportment of the little philosopher, with a sharp and scrutinising look, "You smile as if you pitied me for this my sincere opinion. I am a layman, but all the pious and learned men I have known agreed with me; nor can I perceive that our theologians err in considering the spirit of God as a surer guide to true knowledge of divine things than all human subtlety and wisdom."

"Far be it from me to contradict my most gracious Lord, or the pious scholars of our time on this point," resumed Master Thrand, looking around him with a repressed smile, and a cunning, cautious glance, "but of this I would rather talk with your grace in your private chamber! I doubt not that with your clear and unprejudiced views, (soaring as your mind does above the ignorance of our age) you will understand me rightly. I dare almost unconditionally subscribe to all that the holy church, it is said, considers needful for him who would be called a true believer, provided I may be allowed to interpret the words of ancient writings and symbols according to their true and reasonable signification;--meanwhile there is, however, much in our science which must as yet be a mystery to the great majority, and even to the scholars of our time, who are too but much inclined to discern heresy and ungodliness in every free thought. Noble King!" he added, in a low, mysterious tone, "I read no longer with the learned in the small written volumes (out of which, as you yourself have experienced, curses are as often quoted as blessings) but I read much more in the great book that was not writ by the hand of man, and whose words sound forth eternal wisdom in the din of the storm and the roaring of the ocean, in the course of the stars above the thunder clouds, and in voices of flame from the depths of the abyss. Mark well, my deep-thinking king!--you the young Solomon of our north!--the holy Spirit of God, of which so many and so foolish words are spoken, is precisely that mainspring of forces we seek for in the great workshop of nature's sanctuary, in the depths of our own souls, and in the philosopher's stone, which we call the quintessence of creation. To him who but catches a glimpse of it, (of which, however, we can but boast in certain great moments) to him, the deepest and highest things are revealed; the future as the past is clear before him; he is the master and lord of nature, and of eternal power--for him life hath only limits in his will."

The king looked in grave silence on the singular little man's visage, every muscle of which quivered with emotion, while sparks seemed to flash as it were from his small deep-set eyes. "Follow me afterwards to my private chamber," said the king rising. Meanwhile Count Henrik had approached and heard part of this conversation; he thought he observed a kind of triumphant smile in Master Thrand's self-satisfied countenance; but he sought in vain for an opportunity of cautioning the king, who quitted Thrand in a very thoughtful mood, and went to join his mother and the three stranger bards.

Master Laurentius had related to the Countess Agnes much of the grandeur of Norway and Iceland, and of the remarkable bards and Saga writers of his fatherland; he made special mention of the great Snorro^[4] and his learned nephews, who had given such a preponderance to Saga literature, as almost to throw poetry entirely into the shade. In order, however, to prove to Countess Agnes and the German minstrels that poetic inspiration in his fatherland had not altogether died away, as they believed, with heathenism and the gifted Skalds of the Edda, he had recited several poems and heroic lays, to which they could not refuse their approbation.

When the king joined them, Laurentius was reciting some strophes of Einar Skulesen's famous epic poem, "Geisli," or "The Ray," in honor of St. Olaf. The king stopped and listened. In this poem St. Olaf was called, "A ray of light from God's kingdom, a beam or glimmer of the glorious Son of Grace;" and Christ was described as the light of the world, and the Lord of Heaven, who, as "a ray from a bright star (the Virgin Mary) manifested himself on earth for our ineffable good." The king nodded with satisfaction; he seemed to find a consoling counterpoise in the pious lay to what had disturbed and alarmed him in the discourse of the wise Master Thrand. "Go on!" he said encouragingly, to Master Laurentius. The young priest of St. Olaf, who had been inspired with lively enthusiasm by the praises in honor of his saint, repeated in his musical and declamatory tones some more strophes of the beginning of the poem, touching the glory of the Saviour and of his kingdom. From this he passed on to the praise of St. Olaf, "as the saint confirmed by miracles;" but when he came to that passage in the poem where the bard exclaims, that "Deceit and treachery caused King Olaf's fall at Stiklestad^[5]--" the king suddenly interrupted the enthusiastic Master Laurentius. "Thanks!" he said, "the poem is beautiful and edifying; but deceit and treachery I will hear nought of the day before my bridal. Norway's sovereign and Duke Haco have defended a bad cause against me," he continued, "but I highly esteem the brave Northmen, notwithstanding; they deserved a king and guardian saint like St. Olaf; he hath well merited to be called a ray from heaven in the north; the circumstances of his downfal I will not now think on. Sing rather of constancy and of beauty, and of that which is the ornament and honour of our age."

"Permit me a poor attempt to dilate upon that theme, my most gracious lord and patron!" began Master Rumelant, hastily, and instantly commenced a German lay in honour of the beauty and constancy of the northern fair, in which he forgot not the praises of the still youthful and beautiful Countess Agnes, and still less of the king's absent bride; but the lay also included a secret defence of Marsk Stig's daughters, whose beauty and unhappy fate had made a deep impression on both the minstrels. Master PoppÉ chimed in also, and did not lose this opportunity of putting in his good word for the captive maidens. They could especially not sufficiently praise the piety and amiability of the meek Margaretha in her captivity.

The king's countenance grew dark. He had referred the cause of the captives to the law and justice of the land; he would hear nothing of it himself: he knew they had accused themselves before their judges of being privy to the treasonable sojourn of KaggÉ at Wordingborg. He was silent; but it was evident that the thought of Marsk Stig and of his father's death was again fearfully present to Eric's mind, and disposed him but little to favour the race of the regicide or any friend of the outlaws;--the minstrels looked doubtfully at each other, and no one dared to say a word more on this subject.