"When the Danish knights ride o'er the ground, Their horses tramp with a thund'ring sound."

all the knights galloped briskly into the lists, and ranged themselves for the encounter. The tournament then commenced. Many lances were broken amid the shouts of the bystanders. Dangerous accidents seldom occurred in this combat with blunt lances, although a knight might easily indeed sprain an arm or a leg by a too headlong fall from the saddle. Many knights displayed great agility and dexterity in the management of horse and lance; but Marsk Oluffsen, Count Henrik of Mecklenborg, and Sir Helmer Blaa, bore off every prize. A veiled lady often waved encouragement and approbation to Sir Helmer; she threw gloves, kerchiefs, and silk ribands down to him from the ladies'

gallery. He bowed courteously. His shield bore the motto, "For St. Anna and St. Eric," the guardian saints of his beloved wife and his sovereign, in whose honour he wielded his lance on this occasion. In his last career he unhorsed the Marsk;--the lady now threw her veil down to him. It was his young and beautiful wife, the Lady Anna, who, by her unlooked-for presence here, surprised and delighted him beyond expression; as soon as he recognised her he flung up his lance high in the air in a transport of joy. He forgot to receive the prize he had won, but rushed like the stormer of a castle up into the gallery to embrace her, to the great amus.e.m.e.nt of the spectators, and even of the grave judges of the tournament, who readily forgave him this little deviation from due order and usage.

Among the Swedish n.o.bles and knights who took a part in the tournament, Duke Eric of Sudermania was pre-eminent; no knight could keep his seat before his lance; and his sister, the young queen of the festival, rejoiced greatly at the honour won here by her best-loved and most chivalrous brother. Duke Valdemar of Finland also shone in this diversion, and especially sought to display his boldness and daring when the fears of Thorkild Knudsen's fair daughter were excited for him. Each time a combatant fell on the sand the trumpets sounded in honour of the victor, and the people shouted, while the vanquished knight hastened to salute his conqueror with a courteous bow, without complaining or showing any sign of vexation. Drost Aage, who was wont to be a victor at all these sports of arms, had not as yet sufficiently recovered his strength, after his dangerous fall at Kallundborg, to be able to take a share in this day's tournament; he was besides, even amid his joy, at the king's successful love, in an unusually pensive mood; he had now renounced all hope of seeing Marsk Stig's unfortunate daughters released from their state imprisonment. The king appeared also remarkably thoughtful, although deep and heart-felt joy beamed in his countenance each time his eye met Queen Ingeborg's loving glance from the gallery. His thoughts seemed often to wander from the scene before him, and he looked not with his customary eagerness and interest on this his favourite diversion, at which he this day, as bridegroom and awarder of the prizes, only purposed to be a spectator. Duke Eric of Langeland, who was celebrated as one of the most invincible tournament knights, appeared not to have found any opponent among the younger lords and knights against whom he cared to enter the lists since Duke Eric of Sudermania had quitted them, having already broken the full number of lances necessary for gaining the highest prize.

Junker Christopher looked, with gloomy disdain, on a spectacle which he regarded as the worn-out pastime of childish vanity. He knew himself how to wield his lance with power and skill, but seemed to consider it beneath his dignity to contend for a tournament prize, which was to be awarded by his brother, or to measure himself with any one below the rank of king. By degrees King Eric's youthful countenance became animated as he looked on the encounters. His white steed curvetted under him; and as soon as the last prize was awarded he briskly seized a gilded lance, and cleared the lists by a daring leap, to the great delight of the admiring spectators. "Shall we venture a tilt together in honour of our ladies, sir cousin?" he called gaily to Duke Eric of Langeland. The gigantic Duke of Langeland bowed courteously, and rode into the lists.

"Zounds! Longshanks! Longshanks!" was re-echoed from one to the other, among the curious bystanders, and all stood in breathless expectation.

The king caused his helmet and cuira.s.s to be brought; a rose-coloured silk riband fluttered down to him from the queen's gallery; he fastened it to his helmet, gaily waved his hand to his young queen, and gallopped to his station. The Duke fastened a knot of blue riband on his helmet. With great dexterity and martial skill the two royal combatants now rushed towards each other, lance in rest, at full gallop. The king wielded his lance adroitly and parried his adversary's thrust. The Duke's lance flew from his hand, and was driven far forward on the course; but the king's lance broke against the duke's breastplate, without shaking his seat in the saddle.

The duke's as well as the king's skill and dexterity were greatly admired; but many expressions of the people's partiality for their chivalrous young monarch were distinctly heard. "Had but the king's lance stood the shock," said one young fellow, "we should surely have seen Longshanks bite the dust."

"No wonder yon fellow kept his seat," growled a seaman, "he can well-nigh anchor in the sand with his long shanks."

The trumpets sounded, the combatants saluted each other with courtesy, and the diversion now seemed to be ended; but the music continued, amid general acclamation and a hum of voices.

"See whether the junker dares risk his jerkin! No, _he_ does wisest in looking on," said a bold, loud-tongued voice close behind Junker Christopher.

"_He_ Would sooner let his true men break their necks in earnest, than venture his own in jest," muttered another.

Junker Christopher appeared to have heard these speeches, for his face flushed crimson. While the trumpets were still sounding, and the king was about to quit the lists, the junker suddenly set spurs to his heavy horse, and rode towards him, with lance in hand.

"If I see aright, my brother would also try a tilt with me," said the king starting, "Well then, strike up the tournament song, herald!--a new lance, pursuivant!--but not of gla.s.s like the first!"

The horn-players struck up the ancient, well-known strain. The pursuivant presented the king a lance with a broad piece of board at the end. Attention was again anxiously excited, and the young queen appeared somewhat uneasy. The king had taken his place; his countenance was not so placid and cheerful as before; his white steed snorted and pranced impatiently. The junker had retired to some distance, and seemed not as yet to have completed his preparations.

"Now haste, Christopher!" called the king; "let us be brisk, as beseems our festival!" They now quitted their respective stations. The king rode forward in a stately ambling pace, apparently that he might not avail himself of his superiority and greater experience; but the junker dashed his spurs into his horse's side, and rushed forward with wild impetuosity. The king stood almost still, on perceiving with astonishment that his brother's lance was couched directly against his uncovered face. "Where would'st thou strike? against the breast!

between the four limbs!" he shouted, but it seemed as though the junker neither heard nor saw; he continued to rush forward in the same direction, with flushed cheek and staring eye. But it was now remarked that the king became greatly incensed,--"Down then!" cried Eric, and at the same moment Christopher's lance was dashed aside, and the junker himself fell backwards out of the saddle. The king instantly sprang from his horse, and a.s.sisted him to rise, while the trumpets sounded and the air re-echoed with the shouts of the exulting spectators--"Thou art not bruised?" asked the king. "In what fashion dost thou couch thy lance?"

"Ill against you my mighty liege and vanquisher!" muttered Christopher, "but that is all in due order--hear how the people screech for joy at the fair spectacle you have afforded them," he added with bitterness and in a lowered tone, "had I broken my neck the festivity would have been complete."

"Let not this little mischance vex thee," said the king, "such may happen to the best of us--another time I may have a worse fate."

"That is very possible, your grace!" answered the junker in a deep and almost choking voice, greeting the king with measured courtesy, as he retreated and retired. He instantly vaulted upon his horse, and rode off through the noisy crowds, who laughed loudly, and made merry over the ridiculous position in which the junker had thrown his legs in the air, on receiving the thrust of the king's lance.

Thus ended the tournament; but the acclamations with which the king was followed to the castle bridge, appeared this time to please him but little. He thought he had seen a fire in his brother's eye which filled him with horror.

CHAP. XII.

After the tournament, the king bestowed in the knights' hall, with the usual ceremonies, the honour of knighthood on some squires, who had distinguished themselves in Marsk Stig's feud, and the Norwegian war.

Palfreys, splendid aims, and other honourable gifts, were also distributed to the princely wedding guests, and some of the Swedish n.o.bles who had accompanied Princess Ingeborg from Stockholm. The king was particularly desirous on this occasion to give Marsk Thorkild Knudsen a proof of his special regard, and presented him with the knightly sword of state, which he had this day worn himself. "Wear this at your country's high festivals, n.o.ble Sir Marsk," he said, "but should I ever--which the Almighty forbid!--forget the compact and the friendship with the n.o.ble Swedish nation and its king, of which this day hath given me and Denmark the fairest pledge! then turn it against me, as you turned your own good sword against the heathen Kareles."

Thorkild[7] acknowledged this mark of royal favour, in an animated and enthusiastic speech; he congratulated Denmark, as well as Sweden, on a new and happy era, when the swords of their princes and knights should only be drawn on each other in the honourable rivalry of the tilt and tournay, but when required, flash like the northern lights and flaming comets, against the common foes of the north.

At last, the king produced a doc.u.ment, to which, by a green silken string, was attached the great royal seal in wax impression, with the three crowned leopards in the shield, on one side, and the king's image on the throne and in royal robes, on the other. Without turning to that side of the throne which was Junker Christopher's station, and towards which Eric, during the whole ceremony, had not once glanced, he said in a loud voice, and apparently with effort, "Junker Christopher Ericson of Denmark! step forth and receive a commemorative gift from my hand, on this the happiest day of my life! I have, out of sincere brotherly love and good-will, and with the a.s.sent of my council, three weeks since, signed and sealed this doc.u.ment, which is now for the first time made public, and which nominates thee, Duke of Estland, with all feudal rights and privileges. May the Lord grant his blessing on it!" After he had p.r.o.nounced these words in a clear and audible voice, it seemed as though an oppressive weight had been removed from his spirits, and he looked calmly and cheerfully to the side from whence he expected to see his brother step forward; but the junker's place was vacant, none of those present had seen him since the tournament. The junker's master of the household, therefore, stepped forth on the part of his lord, and received the royal invest.i.ture, while he bent his knee before the king; he then rose, bowed low, and departed to seek the prince.

Prince Christopher did not appear at the marriage feast. Some reported they had seen him ride like a madman, at full gallop, through the chase, immediately after the tournament.

The prince had not returned as yet on the commencement of the evening festivities. The castle resounded with music and mirth. The doors of the knights' hall and the great antechamber were thrown open to admit persons of all ranks to the dance and masque. The amus.e.m.e.nts here, as at the merry carnival, consisted in whimsical mummings, and scenic representations, in which the spectators beheld, without displeasure, the most grotesque mixture of sacred, and profane, subjects. Even a number of disguised ecclesiastics took part in this diversion, and enacted what was called "a mystery," or a biblical farce; in which a German harlequin constantly cracked his jests, while the fight between David and Goliath was represented, to the great delight of the populace, who thought to discern, in King David, an allusion to the king, and in the gigantic Goliath recognized a resemblance, now to Duke Longshanks, now to the Junker; but as soon as the Drost noticed the unlucky interpretation of the farce, he ordered these masks away. When Eric stepped forth among the dancers in the antechamber, the young maidens sang the ballad, with which he was usually greeted, and which had now become a kind of a national song. With a feeling of enthusiasm for their youthful sovereign, and allusion to one of the most romantic adventures which had occurred in his childhood--they sang gaily:

"O'er Ribe's bridge the dance is led, The castle it is won!

In broidered shoe the knights they tread, For young Eric this feat is done!"[8]

The king listened with pleasure to the lay, and talked with Aage of his beloved Drost Peter Hessel, of whom this song always reminded him; and when Count Gerhard heard the ballad of Ribehuus, he tramped gaily into the ranks of the dancers, in joyous remembrance of that event, at which he had himself been present.

The king's mother and Queen Helvig now entered the antechamber, with the young and lovely bride, and the joy of the people was uttered yet more loudly. The ballad-singers instantly began the ballad of Queen Dagmar's bridal; all the maidens joined in it, and the dancers moved to the tune. The king stepped forward, with his bride, at the head of the troop of dancers. At last the maidens sang:

"'Great joy there was o'er Denmark's land, When Dagmar stepped upon the strand; Both burgher and peasant then lived in peace, From tax and ploughpenny-yoke had ease, From Bohmerland[9] the lady crossed the seas!"

But as they were going to sing the last verse, the ballad-singers took up the lay and sang:

"'Again there's joy o'er Denmark's land,'

Fair Ingeborg comes unto our strand!

Like Waldemar Seier, King Eric hath found A Dagmar to bring us on Danish ground; From Sweden's land so far renowned!"

This verse was repeated amid loud and joyous acclamations.

"Thanks, good people! thanks!" said the king, with pleased emotion; "if it please the Lord, and our blessed Lady, Valdemar's and Dagmar's days shall return."

The young queen feelingly greeted the many loyal persons who surrounded her.

Amid the general rejoicing and festive stir, there was no one beside Drost Aage who saw anything suspicious in the continuance of the mask; but among the great number of maskers, he had especially noticed two, who frequently made their way nearly up to the king, and disappeared again. They were dressed up according to the ideas which the lower cla.s.ses entertained of mermen; their painted faces were hidden by green silken hair, and they wore coats of glittering silver scales. Their restless deportment appeared suspicious to Aage, who paid close attention to every movement of these masks--but his suspicion soon vanished; a pretty little fishermaiden came to meet the second mask and the pair soon danced so lovingly together, that Aage conjectured a little love affair was in progress. "Why cannot I thus dance here with _her_?" he sighed, and his thoughts travelled to the maiden's tower at Wordinborg. He looked with interest on the fair fisher-maiden, who with her long hair, and her joyous sparkling eyes, bore a faint resemblance to the Lady Margaretha's capricious sister Ulrica. "Alas, no! poor maidens!" sighed the Drost, stepping out into the hall balcony--"they are now in the gloomy tower over yonder; _they_ hear and see nought of these rejoicings--and yet they are innocent--it is injustice; crying injustice--in this matter he is stern and unyielding. To-night, however, he is mild, and joyous, and happy--who knows----." It seemed as if Aage was suddenly inspired by a bold hope; he returned into the antechamber, and approached the king, who took greater pleasure in being a spectator of the merriment of the lower orders in the antechamber than in looking on the more graceful and skilful dancing in the knights' hall. But the Drost presently once more beheld one of the frightful mermen figures near the king; his suspicions of this mask were again awakened, and he observed the glittering handle of a dagger between the silver scales on the merman's breast, on which his hand often rested when he approached Eric. Aage placed himself between the king and the intrusive mask, and asked, "Who art thou?"

"Rosmer[10]," said a strange, unknown voice--"ho, ho, ho!"--and the merman now sang in a hoa.r.s.e tone:

"Home came Rosmer from the sea, To curse he did begin: My right hand's scent it warneth me A christian man's within."

He then once more seized the hand of the fisher-maiden, and joined in the dance. The Drost looked after him with suspicion; he thought of the outlaws, and of the dishonoured Knight Kagge. The idea of this dangerous and audacious miscreant became so vivid in his imagination, that he seemed to recognise him in the merman, and almost in every mask. He made a signal to some halberdiers to keep an eye on the mask, and followed the king into the knights' hall. Here he also gave Count Henrik a hint of what he dreaded, and a numerous troop of halberdiers was soon stationed near the king; but neither he nor any of his guests observed that this was done with any special design. The Drost's scrutinising looks and the precautions which had been taken, did not, however, seem to have escaped all the guests. Shortly afterwards the well-known ballad of the "Merman and Agnete" was heard in the antechamber, and a dance was performed to it, in which the merman mask and the fisher-maiden were the princ.i.p.al performers. The merman only chimed in with the burden of the song, and repeated, in a wild, hoa.r.s.e voice,

"Ho! ho! ho!

To the depths of the sea then lead her did he."

At last this masker and his partner departed: they danced out of the door, and down the great staircase into the court-yard of the castle, amid a crowd of disguised personages, who belonged to their party, and represented all kinds of sea-monsters. No one knew what had become of them: another dance began, and none concerned themselves any longer about these unsocial maskers; but the report afterwards spread among the people, that the masker was a real merman, who had carried off a maiden. Some even would have it that they had seen the glittering merman swim off with the maiden in his arms, in the clear moonlight.