"If this knight is our guardian and protector, it is of course his duty to defend us. At a royal castle, besides, they must know how to give us royal entertainment."

"We wend not to yon dark castle as honoured guests," replied her sister; "but keep up thy spirits, Ulrica, all the hairs of our head are numbered." So saying, she allowed herself to be placed on horseback; and Drost Aagé was presently riding between his two fair captives through Esrom forest, followed by the two huntsmen.

CHAP. IV.

The party rode on for some time in silence and at an easy pace through the dusky forest. The elder sister sat with drooping head, and seemed lost in melancholy thought; but on reaching an open place in the forest, from whence they had an unclouded view of the star-lit heavens, she looked up, and the star-light seemed to be reflected in her soft blue eye, while her countenance was irradiated by an expression of that inward peace which springs from the stedfast hope of a blessed immortality. "God's heaven is vast, and beautiful, and calm, indeed," she exclaimed, in a gently tremulous tone. "In God's kingdom above no one is outlawed or persecuted."

"And no soul shut out from love and mercy," added the young Drost, painfully reminded of his separation from the church, which he felt but too deeply; "yet, even here, noble lady!" he continued, with calmness--"even here, God's kingdom can and will come to us--that we daily pray for. But what avails it, that we look for the peace of Heaven ere we have it within our own hearts! It is my belief that God's kingdom may be found every where."

"Assuredly you are right," said the gentle maiden, regarding him with friendly sympathy; "you must likewise have known what sorrow is, noble knight! but Christ and our blessed Lady have given you the grace to overcome evil with good. This I can see in your eyes, and hear in your voice, though you are a brave and redoubted knight."

"Would you were right touching such victory, noble maiden!" answered Aagé, "but evil is so mighty in the world, that no knight should vaunt himself of having overcome it; the noblest of monarchs overcomes not evil in his own kingdom, and scarcely even in his own heart."

"Yes, in his own heart he surely must!" said the maiden; "but you are right after all, the power belongs not to man." They rode on for another hour in silence, and drew near to Esrom monastery.

"The young King Eric looked as though he were good," resumed the elder maiden, at length; "sternly as he spoke to us, I still could not fear him; and our just rights he would not deny us; only thus doth anger beseem a king."

"My liege and sovereign is impetuous," said Aagé; "he is strict, but just; and there is assuredly no knight in Christendom who more faithfully observes all the noble laws of chivalry."

"If that be true," exclaimed the maiden, with a suppressed sigh, "then I am thankful even for the misfortune which now brings us this way; had I even been myself the cause of our faithful foster-father's death," she added, after a pause, "his blood will nevertheless not be upon my head."

"How mean ye, noble maiden?" asked Aagé, starting. "I understand you not."

"Had my father's faithful squire but hit the mark he aimed at," answered the maiden, "you and all King Eric's faithful friends would now have had more to sorrow for than we. His arrow never missed the eagle in his flight"--she paused, as if hesitating to say more: "yet you shall know it," she continued--"had not my sister shrieked, had I not clung to the archer's arm, he would surely have been alive and safe among us at this moment, while ye wept the death of your liege and sovereign. But praised be St. Cecilia! it were better it chanced as it did, were even King Eric not so good and just as you say he is."

"Assuredly, noble maiden!" exclaimed Aagé, in astonishment, "you have been the means of averting the greatest misery: knew ye that miscreant's intention?"

"I knew he had sworn the king's death, for our father's sake, and that he would keep his vow. He meant to flee with us out of the country; but when the hunting train approached, we hid ourselves: he recognised the king, and instantly seized the cross-bow"--she stopped and burst into tears.

"You have followed a fearful guide," said Aagé, in a low voice; "weep not for his death. Although you knew his fell purpose, your soul hath been rescued from sharing his crime, and the king hath to thank you for his life. Yet would you had been ignorant of that madman's purpose! Such dangerous information you should never have confided to me."

"Why, then, did you question me of it, Sir Knight!"

The colour mounted to Aagé's cheek, and he paused for a moment. "A crazed murderer was, then, your only friend and protector," he resumed; "his accursed scheme of revenge could not have been frustrated had you not known it! Had you but other witnesses, besides yourself and your sister, of your conduct towards him! yet, I dare confirm your testimony with my blood, and with my sword: be comforted! With the Lord's blessing, you shall never need to fly from Denmark;--instead of the captivity to which I am now forced to lead you, my just sovereign owes you thanks and honour."

"That we can never look for from King Eric," answered Margaretha; "all doors and all hearts here are now shut against Marsk Stig's children; if the king will but grant us permission to quit the country, we will thank him, and pray for him in our exile. The world is wide, and there are Christian souls in other lands also."

"Courage, Margaretha!" exclaimed the youngest sister, who had listened with eager interest and sparkling eyes. "If King Eric be as just and chivalrous a prince as he looks to be, and as this good knight says he is, there cannot be the least doubt that he must acquit us, and restore to us our inheritance, with royal compensation for all we have lost."

"Alas, dear sister!" answered Margaretha, in a melancholy and beseeching tone, "gold and lands cannot replace what we have lost. The happiness and honour which this world and its rulers can give us we should no longer seek, but rather aspire to higher blessings."

"You hear, Sir Knight! that my pious sister is already half nun and saint," said the younger sister, gaily playing with a sparkling rosary of rubies and diamonds, which she had until now concealed under her neck-kerchief. "If you will defend our cause like a brave knight, she will assuredly pray piously for you in a nunnery; but if I ever come, by your help, to the station which is my birthright, I will not forget you either in my prosperity."

Drost Aagé was startled; he bowed courteously, in answer to this address, while he turned his horse aside in silence, leaving the sisters to ride side by side.

"Hush, hush, good Ulrica!" whispered Margaretha, who glowed crimson at her sister's speech; "thou knowest not thyself what thou sayest, but it doth disgrace us in the eyes of the stranger knight."

"I know well enough what I say," answered the capricious maiden, with a scornful toss of the head, "and if thou wilt not vaunt thyself of our high descent, depend on it, I will; charity begins at home, and I have often heard that no knight's daughter in Denmark's kingdom hath ever had a greater man for a father."

"Alas! that greatness is our misfortune," said Margaretha, with a sigh; "dearest sister, repeat not to any human being what you have just now said! Ask not my reasons! I can never tell them thee; but thank God thou knowest not all!"

"Art thou beginning with thy riddles again?" said her sister, pettishly, as she looked inquisitively at her; "what in all the world canst thou know, which I know not. If thou wilt not confide every thing to me, when we two are alone, I will never more be so foolishly fond of thee. Thou art, indeed, quite insufferable at times, however pious and excellent thou may'st be."

While this little dispute was passing between the sisters, Aagé's attention was diverted from them by the sound of the tramping of horses' hoofs, and of loud talk. They were just then passing the gate of Esrom monastery, from whence a party of richly attired knights rode forth, with some ecclesiastics among them. It was Prince Christopher and the Margrave of Brandenborg, with the Swedish Drost Bruncké and the Abbot of Esrom, who, with several priests and knights, accompanied a tall ecclesiastic of foreign appearance, and wearing the red hat of a cardinal. Aagé instantly recognised the papal nuncio, Cardinal Isarnus. The sight of this powerful prelate inspired Aagé with a feeling akin to dread, and with a presentiment of coming evil, he was, besides, ill-pleased to see him in Prince Christopher's company; he desired not to encounter them, and would have hastily turned into a bye-road, but the unusual sight of two peasant girls on horseback, accompanied by a knight and two of the king's huntsmen, had already attracted the prince's attention; he hastily rode up, followed by two knights, to ascertain who they were.

"Ha! indeed! Drost Aagé," said the prince, in a scornful tone, "the preacher of our strict laws of chivalry, are ye carrying off two pretty maidens at once? I think you might content yourself with one--if I see aright, these fair ones are of a somewhat higher class than they care to pass for; speak, who are they?"

"The unfortunate daughters of Marsk Stig, noble junker!" answered Aagé; "I am escorting them, by the king's orders, as state prisoners, to Kallundborg."

"The viper brood of the regicide!" exclaimed the prince, while a dark crimson hue suddenly overspread his countenance. "Well! this is an excellent capture. Throw them into the subterranean dungeon; they shall never more see the light of day."

The younger sister shrieked in alarm at this wild threat, but the elder made a sign to her to be silent, and endeavoured to tranquillize her fears.

"They are to be treated with justice, and with all chivalrous deference and honour," answered Aagé, calmly; "such is my sovereign's will and express command, which I shall punctually obey."

"I am governor of Kallundborg, Drost!" called the prince, in wrath; "the state prisoners sent thither are under my control. Ride with them, Pallé! give my orders to the jailor! you are answerable for their being obeyed!" He now said a few words to one of his train, but in so low a tone as to be unheard by every one else, and then turned his horse, and rode back to his party. Each now pursued their separate road, but the knight who had received the prince's private orders joined Drost Aagé and his prisoners.

This unwelcome companion was a fat, short-necked personage, with a repulsive expression in his crimson-coloured full-moon visage. He was generally called the rich Sir Pallé, and made himself conspicuous by the costly, but not tasteful, splendour of his dress and riding accoutrements, which he prided himself on being able to compare in value with the king's. He sought by an affectation of youthful gaiety to conceal his age, which very closely bordered on fifty. He was still a bachelor, but was an unwearied wooer, and greatly desired to pass for a doughty knight, and an irresistible invader of the hearts of the fair of every rank. He was not liked by the king, but was a hanger-on of Prince Christopher, to whom he was appointed gentleman of the bed-chamber. He was in bad repute among the lower class, on account of several adventures, little creditable to himself, which were circulated throughout the country in satirical ballads. He rode for some time in silence by Drost Aagé's side, apparently annoyed at being despatched on this unlooked-for errand. Aagé was silent also, and pursued the journey without noticing him.

"My presence is troublesome to you, perhaps, Sir Drost!" exclaimed Pallé, at last breaking silence. "This mission is not to my taste either. The prince was in his stern mood to-day; when that is the case he will not bear contradiction, or I should gladly have begged to decline the journey. Where you act in the king's name, I well know that I, as the junker's deputy, might just as well be absent."

"Truly, I think so likewise, Sir Pallé!" answered Aagé, in a tone of indifference, as he quickened his horse's pace.

"It is all one to me whether your captives receive hard or gentle treatment," continued Sir Pallé; "but if I bring not my lord's commands to the jailor at Kallundborg, you see yourself, I shall draw down the junker's wrath upon me, and that I have no mind to do for the sake of a couple of vagabonds."

"Perhaps you heard not what I told the prince of the name and rank of these ladies?" asked Aagé, measuring his rude companion with a look of defiance, while he slackened his horse's pace; "even without regard to their birth, you owe them respect, as honourable Danish maidens, and for the present moment I am their protector against every insult."

"Ho, ho! you are somewhat hasty, Sir Drost!" answered Pallé, "who thinks of insulting the pretty maidens? what though they may have scoured the country round, without stockings and shoes, they should not be thought the less of for that; they are now going to be led, according to their rank, to an honourable state prison. I perceive the fair prisoners have already captured our chivalrous Drost, by way of reprisal."

Drost Aagé coloured deeply at this jeering speech. "By your leave, Sir Pallé!" he said, with suppressed wrath, "here lies the road to Kallundborg; it is long and broad enough for us all, and we need not be troublesome to each other; if ye will ride on before or follow behind, we will accommodate ourselves accordingly; but if you desire to honour us any longer with your company, you must behave courteously, or you understand me----." He struck on the hilt of his sword, and was silent.

"Well, well, either before or behind, or courteously in the middle--or fighting? These, are indeed four pleasant alternatives," answered Pallé. "With your permission, I choose the third, as the happy medium, and purpose, in all peace and courtesy, to remain in such fair company. I have hardly seen the ladies as yet;" so saying, he rode up between the sisters, whom he greeted with a bold and scrutinizing stare. "What in all the world is this?" he suddenly exclaimed, in the greatest astonishment, as he looked at the youngest sister; "Gundelillé! do I see you here? Mean you to befool the Drost also? Would you now give yourself out to be Marsk Stig's daughter? The other day you were but the farmer's daughter at Hedegaard."

"Yes, I was so then," answered Ulrica, laughing; "Gundelillé is my name still in the ballad of 'Sir Pallé wooing the driver.' Perhaps you have not heard it, Sir Pallé? I will gladly sing it you; it is vastly entertaining."

If any part of Sir Pallé's visage was before wanting in a crimson hue, the deficiency was now fully remedied; he seemed highly enraged; but the sight of Ulrica's arch little face appeared to produce such an effect upon him that he could not give vent to his anger. He spurred his horse, and had nearly pushed the ladies into the ditch, as he suddenly dashed past them.

"Know ye this knight, noble lady?" asked Aagé, in surprise.

"Oh yes! tolerably well," answered Ulrica, laughing. "I once played off a little joke upon him."

"It was indeed a daring frolic of my sister's, Sir Knight!" interrupted Margaretha. "Sir Pallé had long plagued her, and she thought she could not in any other way get rid of his importunity; but it was wrong, no doubt; he became a laughing stock, and an object of general ridicule in consequence; and if you do not now prevent it, he bids fair to avenge himself."

"But what was it you did?" asked Aagé. Ulrica laughed, and would have told the story, but her sister laid hold of her arm. "Silence, dear Ulrica! here we have him again," she whispered, and Ulrica was silent. Sir Pallé had checked his horse, and joined them again. He seemed perfectly to have recovered his self-possession. He assured Drost Aagé that he was so far from desiring such captives should be harshly treated, that he even wished it were possible entirely to free them from imprisonment. "I have seen them before," he added, "and had I known who they were, they should not now have been on their way to prison." Shortly afterwards he again rode in between the maidens.

"Pitiless Gundelillé," he whispered, "speak no more of that cruel story. I meant not to wrong you; had I known you were the daughter of a noble knight, I would have proffered hand and heart, in all reverence and honour, and even now were I so fortunate as to find favour in your lovely eyes----"

Without looking at him, Ulrica began to sing,

"Sing not that accursed song, fairest of maidens!" interrupted Sir Pallé; "I will not offend you; but believe me, loveliest of the lovely----"

Without heeding him, she now sang aloud,

"Hush! I will not say a word more," interrupted Sir Pallé again. "But if you knew how greatly I love and honour you----"

The sportive maiden set up a loud laugh, and continued to sing,

"Ha!~ that jest you shall dearly rue," whispered Pallé, in a rage. "You sing sweetly," he said aloud; "remember you the whole ballad, fair lady? If you sing another verse," he whispered, "it shall cost you dear."

"Hush, dearest sister!" said Margaretha, in a tone of earnest entreaty; and Ulrica was silent.

Sir Pallé now rode round to Drost Aagé's side, and did not again address himself to the captive maiden. He was silent and gloomy. He had observed with great wrath a repressed smile on the Drost's countenance; and the huntsmen who followed them laughed, and whispered together in a manner which too plainly indicated that Sir Pallé and his unfortunate love adventure were the subject of their ridicule. The two younger huntsmen were strongly, attached to Aagé; they had remarked how little acceptable Sir Pallé's company was to him; and they now, as if to beguile the time, began to hum the well-known ballad of the brave knight Helmer Blaa. In one of the many scenes of violence which were the consequences of the proscription of the outlawed regicides, Helmer Blaa had slain Sir Pallé's uncle. On this account he had for a long time been barbarously persecuted by Sir Pallé and his six brothers, until he at last vanquished all the six in honourable self-defence, and compelled Pallé to give him his sister in marriage, who, before this feud, had been betrothed to the gallant knight. This occurrence (so derogatory to Sir Pallé's reputation) had attracted general attention, and almost every young fellow in the country could repeat a ballad in honour of the bold Helmer Blaa, who had not only been acquitted by the king and whole body of knighthood, but stood also high in favour with Eric. The burden of the song,--

fell on Sir Pallé's ear.

He looked back towards the huntsmen, with a face glowing with rage, but they appeared not to notice it; and one of them sang aloud,--

"Your huntsmen, Sir Drost, would drive me hence with vile songs, I perceive," said Sir Pallé, turning to Aagé. "Is it you, or yonder pretty maiden, who have inspired them with this pleasant conceit?"

"You are perhaps not a lover of song, Sir Pallé?" answered Aagé; "that is unfortunate: the merry fellows wish to beguile the time for us on the road."

"If I hear aright," growled Pallé, "that song may perhaps shorten the road to heaven for both of them if it is not presently ended."

"Think you so?" answered Aagé carelessly. "If you will give us your company you must reconcile yourself to our merriment. Haste to sing the song to the end," he called to the huntsmen, "or Sir Pallé will be wroth;" and the huntsmen sang gaily,--

"S'death!" shouted Sir Pallé, and his sword flew from the scabbard. "If ye will have the sword come into play, you shall feel it too." So saying, he turned his horse, and rushed like a madman upon the huntsmen, who had not time to prepare for defence, ere his sword had cut through their jerkins, and inflicted one or two wounds. But the huntsmen, enraged at this sudden onset, drew their long hunting-knives, and threatened a bloody revenge. Ulrica shrieked on hearing the affray, and the elder sister turned pale. "Stop, knaves!" cried Aagé, riding in between Pallé and his antagonists: "two against one is not fair play. I will decide this matter alone with Sir Pallé." The Drost had drawn his sword, and was expecting his opponent to turn towards him, but Sir Pallé's horse seemed to have become suddenly skittish and unruly: it galloped off, on the road to Esrom, with its enraged master, whose spurs stuck in its sides, while he swore and brandished his sword over his head. The huntsmen laughed loudly at this sight. Ulrica joined in the laugh; and as soon as the slight wounds of the huntsmen had been bound up, the party pursued their journey, though in a different direction from that in which they had set out.

"I must have been mistaken," said Drost Aagé to the huntsmen. "It could hardly have been to Kallundborg, but rather to Vordingborg, that the king commanded me to accompany these ladies; there he, and not Prince Christopher, is ruler. If there was other meaning in his words, I will be answerable for it." As they turned into a bye road, a tall man in a peasant's dress, mounted on a small peasant's horse, without a saddle, started out of the thicket by the road side, and suddenly disappeared again among the bushes. "Kaggé!" exclaimed Ulrica, with involuntary delight, and seized her sister's arm. Margaretha gave her a significant look, and she was silent, but often gazed restlessly around.

Drost Aagé had heard the exclamation, and started. The name of Kaggé was but too familiar to him. A squire of noble birth of this name had been among Eric Glipping's murderers at Finnerup; he had fled with the other outlaws to Norway, and was prohibited, on pain of death, from setting foot on Danish ground; had he, notwithstanding, been in the train of the captive maidens, their connection with so dangerous a traitor might operate greatly against them. This incident obliged the Drost to be on the watch over the security of his captives. Silent and anxious he pursued the journey.

CHAP. V.

Prince Christopher and his train meanwhile pursued their way to Sjöborg. They rode at a slow pace, to suit the convenience of the foreign prelate. The mysterious importance which Cardinal Isarnus knew how to assume as the pope's legate, and the reserve with which he evaded every close question, had worked up the prince to a pitch of anxious expectation, which he vainly endeavoured to hide. Isarnus appeared with a splendour corresponding to his high rank as a dignitary of the church; his richly attired attendants followed him at a respectful distance, together with his famulus and secretary; near him rode the Abbot of Esrom and two foreign ecclesiastics. Isarnus conversed with his countrymen and with the abbot by turns, in the Italian and Latin tongue: his converse with the prince and the margrave was short and abrupt, and carried on in almost unintelligible German. He appeared, indeed, to avail himself of the want of a common language, by leaving every query unanswered to which he considered it might be impolitic to reply. In important negociations he made use of his famulus as an interpreter. Wherever this powerful prelate appeared in the country, he was the object of superstitious awe. The unusual spectacle of the cardinal's red hat worked upon the imagination of the people like the appearance of a comet, and was considered to be as ominous of evil, as that dreaded phenomenon of the heavens. Some of the most ignorant among the lower orders even believed it was the pope himself who had arrived in Denmark to dethrone the king and excommunicate the kingdom; and it was not alone from reverence, but as much from fear, that the wonder-stricken peasants and old women especially, knelt down whenever they encountered the cardinal. His long, sallow, and imperturbable visage, with its expression of cool menace, and foreign aspect, combined with the preconceived notion of a supernatural and mysterious power, seemed endowed with the petrifying influence of Medusa's head.

"Dear Sir Pope! harm us not!" frequently whimpered forth the sick and crippled who knelt in his path. He understood them not, and no word proceeded from his thin compressed lips, but he extended his arm, with a cold unchanging mien, and with his three fingers, which sparkled with costly rings, signed over their uncovered heads the silent token of a blessing, which they feared would soon be changed into a curse, for the threats with which he had last left the king and the country, were generally made known through the fears of the clergy themselves, and their zealous exhortations to repentance.

Accompanied by this ecclesiastical scarecrow. Prince Christopher now approached Sjöborg. After several fruitless attempts to gain the confidence of the mysterious legate, the prince withdrew, leaving his place by the cardinal's side to the Abbot of Esrom and the other ecclesiastics, who conversed with him, in Latin, upon philosophical and theological subjects. The bold and joyous margrave rode by the side of Sir Helmer Blaa, and talked eagerly of campaigns and tournaments. The prince allowed them to pass him, and remained alone behind with the Swedish statesman, Drost Bruncké, to whom he appeared desirous of communicating something of importance ere they reached Sjöborg.

"You will now probably delay your homeward journey, Sir Drost!" said the prince, in a confidential tone. "That which yon mysterious guest brings with him may prove as important to your sovereign and to the Swedish council as to us."

"Perhaps it may alter the state of things here rather more than your royal house would wish," answered Bruncké, ambiguously; "what else can your highness mean?"

"Yonder red cloud is doubtless charged with holy lightnings," continued the prince, pointing to the cardinal, whose red hat flared through the trees in the moonlight. "If my stiff-necked brother does not now give in, misfortune stands at his door; such is ever the result of all half measures. An important state prisoner should be either timely buried, or else let loose. Was not that your opinion also, Sir Drost?"

"It is often the wisest policy," answered Bruncké. "The dead cannot tell tales; and the generous, once restored to freedom, will not."

"You know the individual I allude to," continued the prince; "he will now either be let loose, and become perhaps more dangerous than ever, or the storm will burst which he hath conjured over us hither from Rome. He was as good as buried--that was my doing, but I got sorry thanks for it. Out of mistimed compassion he was brought up once more from the grave;--to spare a sick priest, they had the folly to let loose the bishop's understrapper, so that he was able to flee, and stir up heaven and earth to work our ruin. I then counselled a timely reconciliation; but when sternness should have been used they were weak and mild, and when reconciliation became the wisest policy they were stern and pertinacious. My counsel was never heeded; hate and disfavour were my thanks. The people will now have their eyes opened, and perhaps your young king also, provided he will be guided by his wisest counsellor."

"Very possibly, noble prince!" answered Bruncké, with a crafty smile; "but as yet I see not the danger, and even were I so fortunate as to perceive it, and to understand you, so long as Thorkild Knudson is at the head of state affairs, and in such high honour and favour"--he paused, and shrugged his shoulders.

"He rises but to fall," continued the prince, "should he even win my brother's favour also. By his friendship with your dangerous dukes, and the high alliance which is spoken of, he is sealing his own doom."

"That is very possible, your highness," answered Bruncké, with a malicious smile; "his vaunted wisdom is not infallible; with time cometh experience. Were but your royal brother only not so ardent a lover, and our fair princess somewhat less devoted to him"--

"Childish fancies!" interrupted the prince. "State policy alone, not childish folly, should counsel here. Your young king hastes not so with his marriage, and therein he acts wisely. Between ourselves, Bruncké,"--here he whispered confidentially, while he nearly drew bridle,--"my sister Mereté is little suited to your king, but his soft-hearted sister is still less so to my brother. This double alliance will be ruinous for both kingdoms. You may easily come to share our unhappy position with regard to the papal see; and if enmity breaks out betwixt your king and his ambitious brother, there is no doubt against whom Princess Ingeborg, as queen, will arm Denmark and my enamoured brother. That she holds the haughty warlike duke, Eric, far dearer than his crowned brother, you know yourself much better than I."

"Truly, I cannot but admire your highness's policy," replied Bruncké, in a fawning tone, while his wily glance seemed to penetrate the prince's most secret thoughts. "You are as wise as generous; prizing Denmark and Sweden's happiness higher than your own sister's and brother's domestic felicity! Here I recognise the lofty, princely spirit, which soars above the petty interests of private life. But, to speak truly, I see not how this double alliance can be prevented or broken off, without a breach of peace, while your royal brother sways here, and follows nought but his own inclinations."

"We must have time, Bruncké" whispered the prince; "the guest we bring him to-night will soon change the aspect of affairs in Denmark. I shudder myself to think of what may happen, but things cannot remain as they are; your young king will always need a wise counsellor, who can rule people and kingdom in his name. For this office no one is so fit as yourself. Set your head to work, sage Bruncké; if it should be endangered, you may count on me."

"Let us reserve these matters for your private chamber, noble prince," whispered Bruncké, looking cautiously around. "Woods have ears, and plains have eyes, they say. It were, perhaps, good policy that I should henceforth be apparently somewhat out of favour with your highness."

"Right, Bruncké; contradict me tomorrow at table, in the king's hearing, and I will reply in a manner which you must only feign to take amiss."

"Every ungracious word spoken to me by your highness in public, I shall take to be a proof of your secret favour. All that I can promise you," he added in a whisper, raising his hand so as to screen his face on the other side, "is the delay of both marriages as long as possible; as to what concerns me personally, I depend upon your princely word."

"I give you my hand upon it, sage Bruncké" answered the prince, extending to him his hand. "Now let us be off; the cardinal hath reached the lake already."

They spurred their horses, and overtook the rest of their party by the shore of the lake, where a floating bridge had been contrived for the convenience of this unusual throng of passengers. While they halted here, Sir Pallé returned at full gallop, and told the prince, almost panting for breath, that he had been murderously attacked by Drost Aagé and both his huntsmen at once.

"Indeed, I am glad of it," answered the prince, in a tone of satisfaction. "The Drost shall dearly rue such unchivalrous conduct. You can of course swear to what you say, Pallé! else no one will credit it."

"Swear to it!" repeated Pallé, with glowing cheeks, and endeavouring to hide his confusion; "those who will not believe me, by my troth may let it alone; ungodly oaths I have forsworn."

"Then the devil take your chatter," muttered the prince, in displeasure, and turned from him.

CHAP. VI.

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.