When the procession had retired from the church, he observed a tall female form, in a simple black dress, and with a dark veil over her face, kneeling with folded hands near the high altar, where she seemed to pray with great devotion, without observing what was taking place around her. Her n.o.ble and beautiful figure reminded him, beyond all the women of Denmark, of her who was dearest to him; and, notwithstanding her simple dress, and the improbability of her being the Lady Inge, he remained, absorbed in reverie. It was not until the tall form rose to depart, that he became aware that the procession had already withdrawn, and that the lights on the altar had been extinguished. He then sheathed his sword, and advanced slowly towards her. When he stood before her in the deserted aisle, which was still faintly lighted up by the candles of St. Kield's Chapel, she started, as if surprised at the meeting, and appeared anxious to avoid him.

"Inge--n.o.ble Jomfru Inge! if it be you," said he, "oh, do not avoid me, but say what weighty reason brings you hither? It is well that our prayers should unite at the royal tomb, and before G.o.d's altar, on this great day of mourning!"

"Drost Peter Hessel," replied the maiden, pausing, "here then, perhaps, we meet for the last time in this world. I will no longer attempt to conceal my face from you; although the cause of my appearance here must remain a mystery to you."

The veil was thrown aside, and revealed her whom the dear and well-known voice had already announced: the brave Lady Inge stood before him. She regarded him with a countenance on which a deep although calm grief was imprinted; but its expression was softened by pious confidence, and by a calm demeanour announcing a firm and powerful will.

"For heaven's sake, what has happened to you?" exclaimed Drost Peter, alarmed. "I see you for the last time, say you? What mean you, n.o.ble Jomfru Inge? Why are you here alone? and where is your father?"

"Inquire not, Drost Peter--I cannot, I dare not answer you. Give me your word of honour as a knight that you will not follow me from this holy place, nor seek to learn the road that I shall take."

"How can you think, n.o.ble Inge, that I should follow you?"

"Remember who I am, and you will then understand me. This only can I tell you: I am fulfilling a heavy but necessary duty in quitting this unhappy land. G.o.d knows when I shall again see it; but here only my heart and soul are at home. Yet one thing more must I declare to you,"

she continued, with a trembling voice--"for my justification and your own peace. You must know it--that it is the truth, you have my word:--my unhappy father was at Flynderborg on St. Cecilia's night."

Drost Peter saw how much it had cost her to utter these word's; and he heard them with a feeling of joy, which, however, was restrained by a thrill of horror at the frightful thought they concealed.

"The merciful G.o.d be praised!" he exclaimed. "Take my word as a knight, n.o.ble Jomfru Inge, that although my whole soul follows you wherever you may journey, mine eye shall not attempt to spy out your way, whoever accompanies you. We stand here on a divided road," he continued, deeply affected; "and I see too well that we must be parted for a time; but by my G.o.d and Saviour, in whose presence I stand, I shall not resign the hope of again seeing you! You were my childhood's bride, Jomfru Inge!

Our angels before G.o.d's throne united our infant souls, before they knew each other. If you may not or will not hereafter become my bride in reality, when these turmoils which now part us have ceased, and Denmark's throne again stands fast--I now vow to G.o.d, and by every saint, that Drost Peter Hessel shall go down unwedded into his grave, but never shall he forget his childhood's bride! Answer me not, n.o.ble-hearted Inge! Crush not with a word the fairest hope of my life!

I have an important work to perform in the world, and feel, by the blessing of G.o.d, strength and courage to complete it faithfully, even with this greatest loss. But with you is torn away the blossom of my heart's life, the fruit of which I must be condemned never to taste.

Deprive me not, then, of my fair hopes, but rather, with one word, bid them live. Say but that word, and my courage and strength shall increase tenfold, to realise with cheerfulness the thoughts which first brought our souls to know each other. Inge, dearest Inge! canst thou hereafter love me?" With these words he seized her hand, and cast on her a look beaming with the strongest affection.

She withdrew her hand. "I can, my childhood's bridegroom," she replied, with inward emotion; "yea, I can love thee deeply, so that, even should I never more behold thee with these eyes, I can preserve thine image in my soul, until we meet in that greater fatherland where no strife and guile can prevail, and where no might can sever us. But I am a daughter, Drost Peter," she continued, retreating a step--"I am an unhappy daughter. You are--you must be--the enemy of the man who gave me life. Do, in G.o.d's name, what you must and ought, and let no thought of me lead your mind from truth and duty. The Almighty shall determine whether we again meet in this world or not!"

"It shall, it must be, n.o.ble, dearest Inge! the compa.s.sionate Creator will not for ever divide us."

"That no one knows, save He who knows all. Farewell, my childhood's bridegroom--farewell! G.o.d and all his saints be with thee and our fatherland! He who is merciful be gracious to us all! Farewell!"

So saying, she hid her face in her veil, and disappeared along the dark aisle.

Drost Peter dared not follow her. He stood as if rivetted to the pavement; and it seemed to him as if the dark and baleful spirit that sped over the land had now torn away from him also the delight and joy of his life; but he felt, at the same time, with a melancholy pleasure, that this farewell hour had shown him a glimpse of a blessedness of which no separation, and no power on earth, could rob him.

He had been standing for some time, gazing on a tombstone in the floor of the church, when he raised his eyes to the image on the cross, above the door of the choir, and it seemed to him as if the drooping head of the Redeemer shone with glory in the rays proceeding from the lights of St. Kield's Chapel. Suddenly he felt a powerful blow on his left shoulder, as if from a strong, mailed hand. He turned, and a tall man, clad in armour, with his visor down, stood before him.

"We are met, Drost Peter Hessel--we are met!" uttered a deep and powerful voice. "If you are the knight who is placed to guard the infant throne, defend it if you can! You now behold the man who swears to overturn it, or perish in the attempt."

"Ha! Marsk Stig! regicide!" exclaimed Drost Peter, drawing his sword.

But at that instant all the lights in St. Kield's Chapel, which had alone illuminated the church, were suddenly extinguished; the powerful, gigantic form disappeared, and Drost Peter groped alone, with his drawn sword, among the tombs in the dark cathedral.

THE CHILDHOOD OF ERIK MENVED.

PART III.

Half an hour after Lady Inge had left Drost Peter in Viborg Cathedral, by the grave of the murdered king, she departed, in the plain dress of a citizen's daughter, through St. Mogen's Gate, in company with her father. Many travellers were proceeding the same way; but before midnight, by order of the young king, every gate was barred.

Duke Waldemar and Sir Abildgaard had accompanied the procession from the cathedral. The old Borrewold Castle had been prepared for the reception of the royal family and their followers; and there, late in the evening, the queen and the young king held a council, with locked doors, at which were present the Margraves of Brandenburg, Chancellor Martinus, and Drost Peter, who had hurried from the church with the important intelligence that Marsk Stig himself was in Viborg, and had had the audacity to be present at the funeral. Every precautionary measure was instantly adopted. The approaches to the royal apartments in the Borrewold were guarded by Sir Thorstenson and Benedict Rimaardson, with the royal trabants. Mailed hors.e.m.e.n and landsknechts blocked up every avenue to the castle. The trusty civic guard of Viborg was armed, and, at the chancellor's suggestion, the orders of the king were immediately issued to shut the gates of the city, and to inst.i.tute a strict search throughout it, during which every suspicious person was seized and imprisoned.

It was past midnight. The duke, with great inquietude, paced up and down his sleeping chamber, situated in the eastern wing of the castle, facing the Viborg lake. The events of the journey and the interment had strongly excited his fears. The expressions of the chancellor on their way to the city, and his searching looks in the cathedral, had created in him a feeling of uneasiness, which he in vain endeavoured to overcome. His anxiety was farther increased by the stern preparations going forward in the castle, which had not escaped his notice. On every side he heard the tread of armed men--in the court-yard, as well as in the pa.s.sage outside his chamber.

Although both himself and his drost were waited upon with the greatest attention, and even with regal pomp, it still appeared to him that all his movements were watched; and the strong guard outside his door was far from pleasing to him. He had despatched Tuko Abildgaard into the city, an hour before, to ascertain the cause of the excessive noise and clang of arms he heard there, and he had not yet returned. The door was at length opened, and the young knight entered, breathless.

"What is the meaning of the din?" inquired the duke: "is the town in an uproar?"

"Not precisely so; but matters look suspicious," replied Sir Abildgaard, with some agitation. "They are searching everywhere for the marsk. I have been three times laid hold of, and your name was barely powerful enough to liberate me."

"Have they seized the marsk?" asked the duke, hastily.

"Nay, sir duke: it is rumoured that he left the town before the gates were secured. The Stig knew well what he was about; but what he wanted here to-day, I am at a loss to conceive."

"That is easily understood," replied the duke. "To know in what temper the people are, must be to him of much importance. Great grief or lamentation I did not observe; neither saw I peasant or burgher in the procession."

"But now the wind has shifted, sir. The sight of the queen and of the young king has worked a wonderful change in the mob. You should hear how they growl against the daring marsk and his friends, and how they lament and extol the deceased king, the soft-hearted fools! We shall now have Reinmar von Zweter and all the German poets in vogue, and Erik Glipping will become a great man in his grave. But it is always thus.

When the wild beast, that every one pursued, has fallen, even his greatest foes lament over him, as if he had suffered shameful injustice; and they admire the monster for his powerful claws, when they have no longer anything to fear from them. That wavering turncoat, Sir Lave, from Flynderborg, has been here, with the marsk: he was seized with qualms in the church, it is said, and behaved like a madman during the funeral. Fortunately, he has disappeared. Had they caught him, he was in a condition to betray us all."

"Us?" repeated the duke, suddenly changing his tone of familiarity to one of pride and coldness: "remember to whom you are addressing yourself, Tuko! What connection had I with these conspirators? Look to your own safety. After what you have stated, I would advise you to be careful. Rely not on my name: unless you can, like me, wash your hands of what has happened, and swear you had no part in it, I cannot aid you. I am here, with the young king, as his nearest kinsman and protector. With Marsk Stig and his transactions, I can have nothing to do. The late conspiracy at Mollerup is already talked of as a well-known affair, and you are named as having been concerned in it.

But for me, I knew nothing of it, and nothing will I know."

"But, most gracious sir," exclaimed Sir Abildgaard, in astonishment, "you stated no objections when you accorded me permission to travel; and, though you did not expressly send any message by me, we perfectly understood each other. What I promised in your name, I have never doubted but that you would fulfil."

"What you have promised, you must yourself perform. I have promised nothing that I dare not proclaim to the world. That which I promised and swore to the deceased king, in our covenant at Sjoborg, I have kept to the letter. From that hour I have undertaken no step against the crown and kingdom, and yet here they have no confidence in me. I must remain contented with respectful servants, and an ample guard of honour, while the margraves and Drost Hessel are present in the council. But I shall speedily teach these gentlemen who is the guardian of the king, the legal protector of the kingdom; and the daring rebels, too, shall know that I am not the man who, contrary to his oath and duty, will be found protecting traitors and regicides."

Sir Abildgaard stood as if thunderstruck. "My n.o.ble duke," he said, at length, "you must be jesting? You will not strike down, in his moment of need, the faithful friend who has placed his life in jeopardy for your sake? I, who so cheerfully shared imprisonment and adversity with you--you cannot seriously propose to use me as a mere tool, which you can suffer to be broken and cast aside with unconcern, when you have no farther need of me? If this, however, be the friendship of princes, I must indeed have been the most obtuse animal in the world, when I thought I had discovered generosity and magnanimity under purple."

"Tuko," said the duke, with a transient expression of emotion, and a proud commanding look, "link not your common notions of friendship and generosity with that great chain of thought that binds my princely life to the throne of Denmark. Have you been familiar with me from my childhood, and not yet learnt to separate the thought from the word?

Think you this hand can ever be so mean and base, as to crush the true and active friend of my youth, who spoke and acted, while I was forced to sleep and hold my peace? Learn truly to estimate your princely master, who ceases not to be your friend, although he must now, for loftier reasons, a.s.sume the appearance of a stern enemy. If, with me, you have discovered the true meaning of living for a great and n.o.ble object, know also that the paltry vulgar virtues, which people call friendship, fidelity, grat.i.tude, and I know not what, are at bottom but pompous nothings, which only command the respect of children in spirit and statecraft, and which the matured ruler-mind hesitates not to cast aside when, from the puppet ma.s.ses, he can embody for himself the great idea for which he lives and labours. If you now comprehend me, Tuko, you will at once acknowledge and respect that mighty spirit you nurtured in its developement, and by whose side you shall again stand when I have reached my goal, and you have acquired strength to follow me. Meantime, you must depart: this night must you fly; and by your flight accuse yourself, and betray what you can no longer conceal. You, and all the other delinquents, I adjudge outlaws. As the king's guardian, and protector of the realm, I shall pursue you with rigour when the proper moment has arrived. But if there be a great spirit in you, as I have believed, you will not therefore hate or mistake me; and when the season of persecution is over, you shall find that Duke Waldemar was not a selfish or faithless friend, and that you were no credulous fool when you trusted to generosity and magnanimity under purple."

"Now, I understand and admire you, n.o.ble sir," replied the artful knight, bowing profoundly, "though I must flee you as from a stern pursuer. What I have done for you in secret shall cast no shadow on your glory. You can stand high and pure by the infant throne, and condemn your friends without blushing. Good--I shall fly--whither I dare not say; but wherever, in the north, there sits enthroned a powerful protector of Marsk Stig, there is the place of shelter for his persecuted friends. Farewell, n.o.ble duke: your drost shall soon be gone. Spare not the hardened sinner when he gains a respectable distance; but remember also, that none of us are immaculate, and let mercy take the place of justice when the hour of condemnation has arrived."

So saying, he retired into a side apartment, and speedily returned disguised as a right handsome pantry-maid. He curtsied to the duke, mimicking with much drollery the bashful manners of a servant-wench.

"Dearest gentleman," he said, with the accent of a Jutland peasant-girl, "I am a modest, innocent la.s.s, and hardly know how I could have found my way into the presence of such a grand young lord.

Pardon my intrusion, and allow me to quit this place pure and uninjured, that the slanderous world may think no ill of me. That you are a dangerous gentleman for such as me, is well known; and your guard of honour will certainly not be surprised if I conceal my modest face from them. Thanks, worthy gentleman, for your gracious kindness. For your sake I must now hide from the world for a long time, and you must pretend not to know me, though I shall probably grieve for what is yours, and you will not certainly repel the hand of your humble servant."

"Art thou a fool? Is this a time for jesting?" exclaimed the duke, in a low tone; and, opening the door into the pa.s.sage, "Good night, my child," he said, aloud, patting the cheeks of the pretended girl in the open doorway. "Run on, now: these brave soldiers will not harm thee.

But take care, in future, that thou dost not thus go astray after wedlock fancies, and mistake a knight's closet for the pantry."

The rough landsknecht outside the door smiled in his beard, and, without suspicion, allowed the tall pantry-maid to slip past.

The duke closed the door, and cast himself, in gloomy thoughtfulness, on a chair.

"Flee, miserable c.o.xcomb!" he muttered, "and find a shelter now where thou canst! Thou wilt hardly escape without getting thy wings scorched."

In a minute afterwards he fancied he heard a scream. He approached the window with some uneasiness, and distinguished a cry of "Seize her! it is a disguised traitor!" shouted by a gruff voice in the street. There followed some shrieking and tumult, which, however, soon died away in the distance.