The king instantly dismounted and entered the church. Half dead with terror, and as it were with his life in his hands, an aged Dominican stood before the altar with rent garments, and strove in vain to chaunt the customary evening prayers with calmness and dignity, while the turbulent crowd surrounded him with looks of wild menace, and with torches, axes, and glittering swords in their hands. A group of butchers and half-drunken mechanics, headed by a tall carpenter, stood nearest the altar, and frequently interrupted the monk with scoffs and threats.
"Peace here, in the Lord"s house!" said the king in a loud voice, as he entered the church. "Bend the knee, all of ye, and pray the merciful G.o.d to pardon you! Go in peace, pious father!--if thou darest not to pray for our souls.--G.o.d hears us, however, despite the ban, if we are but sincere. The All-righteous be gracious to us all, and pardon us our sins!" So saying, the king bent his knee before the altar, and all fell, as if struck by lightning, on the floor. A deathlike silence prevailed for a moment.
It now appeared as if the aged Dominican was suddenly inspired by a feeling of lofty and intrepid enthusiasm. In a solemn voice he chaunted a "Gloria," and afterwards an "Ave," in which he was followed by the king and the whole congregation. The king then arose, and calm and silent quitted the church. He mounted his horse and rode onwards. "Holy Virgin, pray for us!" still resounded with calm solemnity from the kneeling congregation in St. Nicolas church; and when the king again returned through the strand street opposite Axelhuus, to repair to his castle at Sorretslov, tranquillity appeared to be fully restored.
Lights gleamed in the calm spring eve in most of the windows; at Axelhuus also, all now seemed tranquil. Count Henrik had sent the provost and two counsellors on before him in a small boat to announce his coming to the bishop, while the Count himself with his train in the great barge approached the castle island with tardy strokes of the oar.
Sir Helmer stood silent and thoughtful, as a disarmed captive, in the barge by Count Henrik"s side, indignant at being now carried to imprisonment in that castle which he had recently, as a conquering general, a.s.sisted the burghers to besiege. He now, indeed, perceived that he had acted rashly in taking a part in the insurrection; but he thought, nevertheless, that the king"s conduct towards him was much too severe; his looks and glowing cheek betrayed that his pride was deeply wounded. As he revolved these thoughts a boat from the castle island rowed rapidly towards them, and glided close past the barge. "Ha! the pepper "prentice!" exclaimed Sir Helmer, suddenly springing like a madman into the boat. Count Henrik saw with surprise that his captive commenced wrestling on the gunwale with a German pepper "prentice, and plunged with his antagonist into the deep stream, while the boat disappeared with the speed of an arrow in the twilight.
"Save him, save him!" shouted Count Henrik, and stopped the rowers. Sir Helmer"s plumed hat floated on the water at some distance; it was taken up; but neither himself nor his unknown adversary were to be seen. The rapid current appeared to have instantly borne them away, and all search after them with oars and boat-hooks proved fruitless.
"The Lord have mercy on his soul!" said Count Henrik with a sigh. "He was the boldest knight I ever knew--but a thoughtless madcap he ever was. He hath escaped captivity though, and perhaps a stern sentence to-morrow; but the king hath lost a true friend. On, fellows! We find him not--perhaps he hath helped himself; he was a good swimmer."
In the boat which shot past, and which had been nearly upset by the sudden and violent struggle, two persons attired as ecclesiastics had been seen, and the rowers thought they recognised in one of them the archbishop"s crafty friend Johan Rodis.
In the harbour of Axelhuus lay the royal vessel "Waldemar the Victorious," on board of which the archbishop, through the mediation of the cardinal, had been brought from Hammershuus, under royal convoy.
According to the tenor of the pa.s.sport, the captain with all his crew had been sworn by the archbishop, and had bound themselves to convey him from Axelhuus at a moment"s warning, in case he should not believe himself safe, and also to bring him and the papal nuncio to whatever foreign port they chose. Just as Count Henrik was about to land on the castle island a large rowing boat approached the royal vessel.
"Our lord bishop, with the archbishop, and the red hat!" said the boatmen; "they are making for the Waldemar."
"Then row after them with all your might!" ordered Count Henrik; "there is no time to lose; haste!" Ere they reached the ship, the cardinal and the archbishop were already on board, and the sails were about to be hoisted. In the boat stood Bishop Johan with a number of clerks, and was wishing his exalted guests a safe and fortunate pa.s.sage.
"I bring you the same good wishes from my liege and sovereign, most venerable sirs!" cried County Henrik, taking off his hat. "Your safe departure hath been cared for. As soon as the king learnt your distress, and the insurrection of the mob, he hasted hither in person to your protection. I have commands to escort you out of the harbour, and see you safe from all possible danger."
"Bring the King of Denmark my farewell, and my thanks for his support,"
answered the cardinal, through his interpreter. "I have been myself a witness to it, and I must see justice done to his generosity towards his foe, as well as to his kingly temper, and his strict keeping of promise. I now quit the country without having succeeded in establishing here the peace I desired; but I trust once again to see King Eric and Denmark under happier auspices."
"When you come with peace and blessing, your eminence will be welcome!"
answered Count Henrik; "but you have already seen solemn proofs of the temper with which the Danish people put up with ban and interdict. My liege the king prays your eminence to bring the holy father tidings of this, together with his humble and filial greeting; he places with confidence his own and his people"s just cause before the judgment seat of his holiness; but whatever the sentence may prove to be, according to ecclesiastical and canonical law, my liege, King Eric of Denmark, as the temporal ruler of this land and the protector of public peace, is necessitated in the most peremptory manner to declare Archbishop Grand of Lund for ever banished from these kingdoms and lands."
"Banished!" repeated a hollow voice from the vessel, and the tall Archbishop Grand appeared at the gangway. "Who dares p.r.o.nounce that sentence upon an anointed prince of the church? For this no king on earth hath power. That king"s servant who hath dared to bring me such a message, I declare to be under the ban of the church."
Count Henrik started, but still stood calm and courteous with hat in hand waiting to hear what the bishop had further to say.
"Whether I again set foot on Danish ground," continued Grand, "depends upon myself and the holy father. I now shake off the dust from my martyred feet, and quit my ungrateful father-land; but ere the fullest compensation hath been made me for all I have here suffered contrary to the laws of G.o.d and man, there shall no blessing come upon state and country, and upon Denmark"s excommunicated king--that I swear by the Almighty and all the saints! Tell the tyrant who sent you--from me, the church"s primate in the north--should King Eric Erieson now dare, without dispensation and consent of the church, to complete his unG.o.dly espousals in forbidden consanguinity, it shall surely be to the eternal d.a.m.nation of himself and kingdom. Amen!"
At these words Count Henrik stamped in the barge, without however vouchsafing an answer to the incensed prelate. "Captain!" he called to the commander of the ship, who stood with his hat in his hand at the forecastle; "you will convey Archbishop Grand, in the king"s name and under his convoy, safe on sh.o.r.e wherever he chooses, excepting only the king"s states and kingdom. Whoever should dare to bring back this disturber of the peace to Denmark shall be judged as a traitor and rebel."
At Count Henrik"s signal, the sails were hoisted, and the vessel sailed out of port with the dangerous prelate, whose last words to his native land were those of the so oft-repeated ban.
Count Henrik now greeted the lord of the castle of Axelhuus, the little bishop Johan, and delivered the king"s message of peace and protection; under conditions, however, which he was invited to consider in an interview with the king at his castle of Sorretslov. Count Henrik then gave a parting salutation to this friend and unsuccessful imitator of the archbishop, who seemed to meditate a haughty and impressive reply; but without awaiting it, Henrik made a signal to his boatmen to row forward, and followed the departing vessel at some distance, until it was seen to be fairly out of port and in open sea. The count then returned with his train to the town, where he instantly mounted his horse, and rode in silent and serious thought, but with cheerful looks and at a brisk trot through the town, and from thence on the road to Sorretslov.
CHAP. IV.
At night there were great rejoicings in Copenhagen. The king"s presence seemed to secure the peaceable part of the community against further disturbance of the public tranquillity.
The occurrences of the day had given satisfaction, and there was a general feeling of enthusiasm respecting the fortunate issue of the insurrection. That which had been aimed at was attained. The shutting of the churches was at an end, and the stern prelatical government of the town had been cowed. After this violent outbreak of the people"s wrath, it was now hoped that no interdict would ever be carried into effect in Denmark. The report that the archbishop and the cardinal had quitted Axelhuus, and that the archbishop was banished for life, was spread throughout the whole town, ere midnight, and increased the general rejoicing. Where the lights had been extinguished in the windows after the king"s departure, they were now re-lighted. The archbishop"s flight and banishment were thus celebrated throughout the town as an important victory over ecclesiastical tyranny, and as a happy consequence of the public spirit of the burghers, and of the king"s high courage. In the tavern near the Catsound, in the vicinity of St. Clement"s church, sat the Drost"s squire Canute, late at night, merrily carousing with a number of young Copenhageners, who had eagerly taken part in the besieging of Axelhuus. In the midst of the group sat an elderly burgher, with a full cup of mead in his hand drinking with them, amid songs and bold scoffs, at the strict law which prohibited late tavern keeping and nightly intemperance, which they now regarded as a dead letter. It was the same personage who at noon had peregrinated the town as an official authority, and who, as the summoning herald of the council, had forbidden every one to bear arms in the streets. His herald"s mantle, and the white staff bearing the bishop"s arms, had been thrown under the drinking table; he now appeared in the usual burgher"s dress, and had himself a warlike sword at his side. From his talk it could be gathered that he had also joined in the siege of Axelhuus.
The carousers spoke openly and boldly against prelatical government, to which they believed they had given a good fillip. They lauded the king and the brisk Sir Helmer, and opined that the king had only feignedly, and for the sake of appearances, caused that brave knight to be placed under arrest. They unanimously agreed, also, that the king"s stern words to the balista slingers, and those who were storming the castle, could not have come much further than from between his teeth, since, after all, it was but his worst foe they had attacked.
There were bursts of exultation at the flight and exile of the archbishop, which had been related to them by two newly-arrived guests, and the party took credit to themselves for having stoned Master Grand out of the country.
"Ay, laud us Copenhageners!" said the herald, with a self-satisfied nod; "we have helped the king before at a pinch."
"What can the pope and all the world"s bishops do to him _now_?" said the squire, draining his cup. "The game is won, comrades, provided all we Danes from this day forward act like you, brave Copenhageners of this town. Against those Latin curses we have arrows, swords, and balista, and good Danish granite stone; and if they lock us up the church doors again, we have, the Lord be thanked, iron crows and axes, and men who can lift a church door as easy as a barrel of wheat. Now is my master the Drost over in Sweden to fetch the king"s betrothed," he continued; "had I been with him there the arrogant Hanse would not have pounced on me. Matters may go hard enough with the king"s marriage; they say these priests would fain put a spoke in the wheel, and shut all Heaven"s gates on us; but what shall we wager, comrades, that the king snaps his fingers at them, touching the dispension, or whatever it is called, and keeps his bridal, when the Lord and he himself pleases?
Then will there be sport and jollity over all the country. Long live the king"s true love!"
"But she is a Swede," objected one of the young fellows.
"Pah! hereafter will Swede and Dane be good and boon companions,"
continued Canute, with a jolly flourish of his cup. "When our kings give each other their sisters we will dance with the Swedish maidens, and their young fellows again with ours, and no one shall look sour on the other, because we have tried our strength before in another sort of game. The Swedish princess, they say, is the fairest king"s daughter in the world, as fair and straight as a lily, and as pious and mild as the blessed Queen Dagmar. Long life to her, by my soul and honour, and to our excellent young king besides, and to all frank and free men, and all pretty maidens, both here and in Sweden"s land! Hurra for the king and his true love! He is a scoundrel who drinks not with me."
All the jolly carousers joined in the toast; but the merriment in the tavern-room was now interrupted by the noise of an eager scuffle in the chamber above, where several guests of higher rank were playing at draughts. The squire and his comrades crowded inquisitively to the door, and looked into the chamber. "Ay, indeed! my fat Rostocker here!"
exclaimed Canute; "would he tweak the Copenhageners by the nose also? I should think he would come badly off at that game." He now related to his companions what had happened at Skanor fair--how the arrogant traders, who were now in the fray, had brought the false coin of the outlaws into the country--and how the Rostocker, with his crafty comrade, had dared to threaten the king at Sjoborg.
"Let"s have at him!" shouted all with one accord, and rushed into the chamber, where Berner Kopmand and Henrik Gullandsfar, with a crowd of foreign merchants and agents, were engaged in fierce dispute with two of the richest burghers of the town, who accused them of dishonest play, and of cheating with false money. The squire and his young comrades took the part of the Copenhageners, and a wild and b.l.o.o.d.y fray, with pitchers and cans, sticks and clenched fists, soon commenced. The Rostocker and Henrik Gullandsfar first drew their swords; they laid about them with courage and valour. The pepper "prentices cried and shouted desperately, but were unable to defend themselves with their long ell measures; at last they all took to flight, with Henrik Gullandsfar at their head. Berner Kopmand would have followed them, but the incensed squire placed himself in his way, and forced him into a desperate encounter. "Out of the way, comrades!"
he shouted; "leave me to deal alone with this fellow; I have a little reckoning to settle with him!"
All gave way, and formed a ring round the combatants; the heavy-built hot-headed Rostocker laid frantically about him, but was wounded every moment by the man-at-arms, who, though far less in stature, was his superior in swordsmanship. "Take that for thy false money, good fellow, and that for thy false play, and that for thy shameless arrogance!"
shouted the squire at every wound he gave his antagonist; "that because thou wouldest hang Sir Helmer and me, and that because thou hast threatened our king, thou grocer hero!" This last thrust ended the fight. The merchant fell mortally wounded to the ground, among the overturned wine-flasks and draught-boards. Meanwhile the routed pepper "prentices had given the alarm in the streets, and, with a fearful cry of murder, a.s.sembled the night-watch, and as many of the provost"s men, who, as yet, had sufficient courage to maintain order in the town. The bishop"s famulus had arrived with some men-at-arms, on the part of the provost, and when Berner Kopmand fell the tavern of St. Clement"s was already surrounded by a guard. The famulus made his way into the tavern with his men, and surrounded the squire, who stood in silence with the b.l.o.o.d.y sword in his hand, gazing on the dying Rostocker.
"Seize him! Shackle him! The G.o.dless murderer, in the name of the bishop and council!" cried the famulus, in a screeching voice, springing up on a bench to bring himself into notice. He was a little man, clad in a short black cloak over a blue lay brother"s dress, with a roll of parchment in his hand, which he flourished like a commander"s staff. All the jolly revellers had retreated, and the Drost"s squire stood alone by the Rostocker"s body in the faint light of the oil-lamp, which was suspended from the roof. He menacingly brandished his b.l.o.o.d.y sword, and no one dared to approach him.
"Let him go; he is guiltless!" cried a powerful but stuttering voice, and the burgher herald stepped forward half intoxicated, with glowing cheeks and reeling steps, from a corner of the apartment. He had again attired himself in his herald"s mantle, and brandished the white staff with the bishop"s arms in his hand. He elbowed his way through the crowd, and placed himself, with solemn, official mien, between the squire and the provost"s men, directly opposite the little famulus on the bench. "Let none touch this fellow; he is guiltless!" he continued: "the other drunken guest hath got his deserts; he has fallen, as was meet and fit in a regular tavern brawl, and at the dice-board; that _I_ can witness--he is to get no chastis.e.m.e.nt, according to the law and right of our good city, that you must know full as well as I, Master Famulus."
"Believe him not, he is drunk!" cried the bishop"s famulus with eagerness; "the ale speaks through him; he exercises his office, and expounds law and justice like a toper and partizan. The law he prates about concerns but fisty-cuffs and pulling of hair; but a murder hath been committed within the town paling; it should at least be punished with perpetual imprisonment, according to the town law. Seize the murderer instantly, say I!"
"Touch him not, say I," resumed the herald, "he hath slain a cheat, a false player, a shameless scoundrel, who had defied the king; it was done in honourable fight; it was in self-defence,--that I saw myself; the fat Rostocker struck the first blow with a sharp weapon, although he got the first cuff, but from an wholly unarmed fist; _that_ I can take my oath of, let me be ever so drunk. He is a knave and a sorry Christian who gets not honestly drunk to-night, now that we have forced the shut gate of heaven. This brave young fellow is, besides, the Drost"s squire, and my good friend. We have no right to imprison him, I will stand security for him, with all my substance!"
"But what are ye thinking of?" bawled the famulus, stamping on the bench, "he hath certainly slain a man here."
"Even so! naught else! Know ye not better our pious Lord Bishop"s orders! Master Famulus!" shouted the burgher herald in an overpowering voice, as he leaned on his staff of office. "_This_ is a worldly tavern and place of entertainment--_here_, where gaming, pastime, and toping have full swing from morning to night--none hath a right to require safety for life and limb, it is all in due order; and a very wise and reasonable regulation; mad cats get torn skins, and where one sets aside the law, every one must take the damage as wages. The scoundrel who lies there fell at the forbidden draught-board; if there is law and justice in the town, he shall never be laid in christian ground. That I will uphold, as surely as I bear this sacred staff." As he, at the conclusion of his speech, was about again to brandish the herald"s staff over his head, he had nearly lost his balance; but his authoritative conduct, and stern official deportment, seemed, however, not without its effect upon the provost"s men, especially as the bishop"s famulus was forced to allow the justice of his protest against the burial of the slain in christian ground.
While they were yet disputing, whether they had or had not the right of imprisoning the murderer, the squire rushed out of the door, with his drawn sword in his hand, and none dared to stop him.
As soon as he found himself in the open air, he concealed his sword under his mantle, slouched his hat over his brow, and mingled in the throng which surrounded the house, and had thrust the guard aside. It appeared, even to him, somewhat doubtful and improbable that persons might thus be slain with perfect impunity at the gaming table; what he had heard respecting perpetual imprisonment in the bishop"s city, still sounded very unpleasantly in his ear, and he thought it most advisable to decamp as soon as possible; but in order not to excite suspicion, he walked on quietly, and whistled a blithe drinking song. "There"s desperate work in the house between the pepper "prentices and the king"s men," he said aloud, "the devil take me if I stand here gaping any longer." As soon as he was fairly out of the crowd, he quickened his steps and hastened down past the Catsound towards the old strand.
He went onward without knowing whither, and often looked behind to see whether any one pursued him. He saw lights in all the houses on the strand--mirth and song resounded, contrary to usage, in many quarters of the generally quiet town, in defiance of the strict regulations of the bishop and archbishop; but all was gloomy and still at Axelhuus. He pursued his way along the level sh.o.r.e, and approached the church of St.
Nicholas. In the churchyard he saw a crowd of people a.s.sembled. A strange, half devout, half seditious murmur, was heard in the crowd, and a solemn council appeared to be held. He hastened past the sullen muttering a.s.semblage, and reached the ferry opposite Bremen-island.
Here all the great warehouses were desolate and deserted; he sat down quite breathless on the quay to recover himself, and think of the means of escape. It was past midnight. The moon shone upon the broad stream and the tall warehouses on Bremen island. He felt oppressed by the death-like stillness around him. The wild scene of the murder in the alehouse was now solemnly and fearfully present to his imagination--he heard his heart beat; he wiped the blood from off his sword, and put it into the sheath. He perceived spots of blood upon his clothes, and was about to go down to the water to wash them out, but he now heard a sound near him like the gasping of a dying man; he looked around him with uneasiness, but no human being was to be seen. The singular sound still fell on his ear, and mingled with his vivid recollection of the death-rattle of the slain Rostocker. He had felt no dread of the living adversary,--now he shuddered at the thought of the dead. The hair of the fugitive squire stood on end; he hastily started off from the quay, and would have fled further; but he now distinctly heard that the sound which terrified him proceeded from the sea-sh.o.r.e. The faint ray of the moon now lit up the beach, on which he beheld a man lying stretched at full length. "The pepper "prentice! What became of him?"--he heard the voice gasp forth, and recognised its tones. "Our Lady be merciful to us! Sir Helmer! what hath happened you?" exclaimed Canute, aghast, and hasted down to the half-expiring knight, who was utterly exhausted by fighting and swimming, and whom, with much difficulty, he raised on his legs, and in some degree restored to consciousness. His drenched clothes were rent and b.l.o.o.d.y; his long brown locks clung to his swollen cheeks, and in his left hand, which was convulsively clenched, he held a thick tuft of reddish hair. "Look! look!" he said, "it was all I got hold of, the rest the devil hath taken. He twined round me like a water-snake. He bit and tore like the devil. The stream put an end to our embrace, it had well nigh put an end to my life, I perceive."
"Our Lady and St. George help you, n.o.ble sir!" said the squire, crossing himself, as he reached him a small flask. "Take something to strengthen your heart after that joust! If you have fought with the evil one at the bottom of the sea you have surely had to stand a hard encounter."
"I hope it was the right one," said Helmer, and drained the flask, "Thanks, countryman! it hath helped me! Now I have got my strength again. I ail nothing in reality; my limbs are sound; I am but a little bruised, and dizzy in my head."
"But what in all the world have you been about? Have you been seeking the pepper "prentice, or Satan himself, at the bottom of the sea, and know not rightly yourself whether you found him?"