CHAP. XII.

It was a fortnight after Easter. The trees of the chase were springing into leaf. Flocks of twittering starlings in whirling clouds hovered and sang above the towers of Wordingborg Castle. The cuckoo's note was heard in the beech groves, and the nightingale was come. The Marsk stood in the ante-chamber awaiting orders. Ah inquiry was made after the Drost. He had repaired to the maidens' tower with the judges of the court of justice of the castle, in order to be present at an examination of Marsk Stig's daughters. He had himself hastened this act of justice, in his firm conviction of their innocence; he hoped by his testimony to be instrumental towards their acquittal, and that the affair might, from the king's presence there, come to a speedy and happy termination. The Drost's longing to see the fair Margaretha again, had perhaps some share in the haste and zeal with which he followed the grave judges. But hardly had he entered the prison with these personages, and had met, and responded to, a tender and melancholy glance from the gentle Margaretha, ere Ulrica, who appeared to have been sitting quietly before her sister's tapestry frame, suddenly started up with a wild look and dishevelled hair, and rushed menacingly towards them. "Ye have murdered him, ye monsters,"--she cried--"Ye have murdered my true knight--are ye now come to drag me also to the scaffold? Look! here I am!--tarry not!--bring forward your chains!--bring forward your executioner! Lead me but to death! I despise life and all of ye! I knew Kaggé was here to avenge my degradation, and lead me out of this vile captivity. Me, you may murder also--the sooner the better. I ask no other freedom--call but your executioner, and put an end to my sorrow! I knew the king's life was in danger, and I was silent to save my friend and true knight--but my sister is innocent--none shall injure a hair of her head. She besought me to move him to flee, and cause no mishap--that I can witness on the gospels."

"Both were then, it seems, cognizant of the presence of the outlawed regicide and of his treasonable purpose," said the chief judge; "Sir Drost! the testimony we have here from the most guilty of the two, renders them both, at the least, state prisoners for their lifetime."

Drost Aagé appeared thunderstruck. "The unhappy lady must rave," he said, hastily recollecting himself. "She hath been ill, and not in her right mind, as we know--her confession and testimony are of no weight. Her knowledge of yon miscreant I have indeed observed; but it is impossible she could have been an accomplice in his crime, and still less her pious sister; that I will stake my life upon! Answer us! for the sake of the Lord in heaven, tell us the truth noble Lady Margaretha! Knew you Kaggé was here in disguise at the castle, and seeking after the king's life?"

"I knew it, Sir Drost." answered Margaretha calmly, with her hand on her heart. "But by the lips of the Holy Virgin, and the Spirit of holy truth, it lay not in my power, nor in my sister's, to hinder his coming. When I heard he was here, and what he meditated, it was night, and our prison door was locked. It was not possible for me to caution you and the king against him, had I even (which I trust in God I had) courage and strength and will to do so. In the morning it was affirmed he had escaped, and--I was silent, that I might not plunge an erring unhappy soul into still greater misery."

"A serious case! a very serious case!" said the judge. "We must examine into all the circumstances of the affair."

While the examination was continued the commandant of the castle entered, and summoned the Drost to the king. Aagé left the chamber with a deep sigh, and a sorrowing glance at the unhappy maidens, of whose acquittal and liberation from prison he now almost despaired. With feelings of deep emotion the Drost joined the Marsk in the ante-chamber, where he was to await the king's commands. They heard the king pacing with hasty steps up and down his private chamber.

"There are snakes in the grass, Drost!" said the Marsk. "Why did they not instantly cut off the heads of those hounds, without ceremony, and cast their high-born friend and protector into the tower. Now they have all 'scaped, the whole pack of them, and we have enough to do to be on our guard."

"Whom mean you, Sir Marsk?" asked Aagé absently. "You have received letters I know?"

"Yes, in abundance--Brock and Papæ got off for that once; they are scouring Jutland round, and stirring up the people about these priest-riots and the shutting of the churches, which all dread so much; just as if a church-door was a fortress gate with ramparts and towers, and had St. Paul himself for a porter. I thought truly, it was a bad business when those haughty nobles laid their heads together so often with the junker, and had slit napkins laid before their noses. I should have been right glad to have hewn the whole pack of them in pieces; but amid all our stupid ceremonies with trencher and napkin, and tattered clouts, we let fly the birds of prey, and the junker into the bargain, although he got a rent to hide which made his ears glowing red."

"How, Sir Marsk!" exclaimed Aagé, a conjecture suddenly flashing across his mind. "You surely were not yourself his secret accuser?"

"You have hit it, Drost! I cared not much to keep the secret: had any one asked, my answer would have been ready, and my good sword with it, if required: proofs and such like frippery I had not, it is true--that was the worst of it; but, however, I had my conjectures and my own thoughts. I cannot abide that fellow, do you see--were he guiltless, and had he courage to defend his honour,--by the foul fiend! he would not have sat there as if upon thorns, and have hid that little rent. I was just going by the table, do you see? and saw how matters stood with those three mangy hounds. The junker's napkin lay so conveniently at hand, my blood was up, and it struck me the high-born junker would be the better for a little alarm."

"By your favour. Sir Marsk! it was a most rash proceeding; by acting thus, you have increased the misunderstanding between the king and his brother."

"So much the better; either keep with him or break with him--one or the other; nought comes of this truckling: but so far you are right--I should not have busied myself with those apish ceremonies, they better beseem all of you. I should rather have said it right out, and answered for it instantly with my hand on my neck:--but enough of this--Know ye Master Grand is here?"

"Grand! the Archbishop? Where?"

"At Copenhagen, and with a royal convoy. That was a piece of folly, also--You were, no doubt, one in council?"

"It was not deemed necessary," answered Aagé, repressing his annoyance at the Marsk's offensive bluntness. "The counsel you so flatteringly attribute to me was not mine either. The state council and the king himself considered it good policy. The cardinal demanded it, and offered his mediation. If the archbishop becomes manageable, and recalls the ban, he, of course, could not come hither without an assurance of personal safety."

"Do ye not yet know that fellow better?" answered the Marsk. "Ere he becomes tractable, heaven and earth will pass away. In this respect, the king is not far behind him--but if he will be at the archbishop--by Satan! he should not have given him a convoy, and allowed him to set foot again upon Danish ground, though the whole state-council should get a colic from fright. Now, Grand and that accursed red hat sit like a pair of popes at Axelhuus, and none dare injure a hair of their heads: there they may begin the game, and stir us up the whole country in a trice. The cardinal hath already confirmed that confounded constitution of Veilé, and the Bishop of Roskild now causes all his churches to be shut. The storm will and must burst soon, and then all depends on how wind and current drive."

"Great Heavens! is it possible?" exclaimed Aagé, in dismay. "Have you certain tidings, Sir Marsk? Doth the king know it?"

"I have brought him some doses on a fasting stomach in a couple of letters--that he hath swallowed them you may know from the clatter of his spurs and boot-heels--You brought him letters from Sweden, Drost! Love letters, doubtless, and fine ballads from his betrothed? Were there any tidings of a rational kind?"

"None of a very cheering description," answered Aagé, looking with uneasiness towards the king's door. "What the princess hath imparted I know not; but the excellent Master Petrus can effect nothing with the state-council touching the king's marriage."

"S'Death!" said the Marsk, rubbing his hands. "Then it will not be easy to get to talk with him to-day. These are knots which it will be hard even for your state-policy to loose, my wise Sir Drost! but if I know the king well, he will give all your fine wisdom to the devil, and keep him to me and his good sword."

"Against rebels we may use the sword, Marsk, but neither against bishop nor pope, and just as little against the king's future brother-in-law," answered Aagé. "We stand in need of discretion in this matter, and, above all, of the help of the Lord."

The door of the king's private chamber now opened, and the king himself looked out into the ante-chamber, and nodded. His countenance indicated passion and anxiety, and the Marsk, as well as the Drost, entered the chamber with a thoughtful aspect.

An hour afterwards Marsk Oluffsen departed with the Wordingborg troop of horse on his way to Jutland; and Drost Aagé set out, attended by twelve knights and squires, as ambassador to the Swedish court, with a letter which inspired him with secret anxiety for his king and country.

Among the twelve knights appointed to accompany Drost Aagé to Sweden, was Sir Pallé's brother-in-law, the brave knight, Helmer Blaa, who had made himself famous by gaining his bride by dint of arms, and vanquishing Sir Pallé and her six brothers, who had all fallen upon him at once. He was young, of a tall and well-proportioned figure, with sparkling brown eyes, and remarkably light and agile in his movements. He was a native of Fyen, of high birth; a great friend of the Drost's, and devoted heart and soul to the king.

"He rides in the saddle so free--"

was wont to be carolled forth by the lower orders whenever they saw Helmer riding his handsome Arabian horse, which flew with him swift as the wind, and was the gift of royal favour to him on his marriage-day the preceding summer.

Drost Aagé rode for an hour in calm silence by the side of this gallant knight, on the road to Kiöge, from whence he was to embark for Skanór on the Swedish coast.

"Count Henrik goes with the king of course?" said Sir Helmer, at last breaking silence. "If one would visit a bishop's nest in these times, it must assuredly be with sword and coat of mail."

"Count Henrik stirs not from his side," answered Aagé--"that he hath promised me with word and hand--I now go hence unwillingly; Grand's thirst for revenge, and the boldness of the outlaws know no bounds."

"That accursed Kaggé! He made an end also of my fat seal of a brother-in-law--that lump of flesh, indeed, I accounted not much of; his miserable death, however, I have vowed to St. George to avenge, chiefly for my dear wife's sake. She had but that one brother left since I came to mishap with all the others; but it was done openly, and in honourable self-defence; she hath not even loved me the less either for that affair--but to fight by stealth, and with a poisoned weapon--faugh! 'Twas an accursed Italian trick--such was never before the usage here in the north. Are you quite certain the wretched assassin is dead and buried in good earnest, Sir Drost? The people have divers tales to tell. He who hath had no shame in his life would not die of shame, I should think--One hath seen ere this a cunning fox run from the trap and leave his tail behind him."

Aagé started. "I saw him not after death," he answered; "but his end was certainly announced by the provost and Commendator of the monastery. There can surely be no doubt of the truth."

"The Commendator is a holy man of God, doubtless," replied Helmer, with an incredulous smile; "one ought not, indeed, to suspect him of deceit and treason, even though he be a good friend of Master Grand's, and might have wished to save the dishonoured life of one of so high and holy a race. I first heard that unbelieving gossip when the body was thrown into the carrion pit, and consumed with unslacked lime; it doubtless showed great caution and good care for the public health; but they will have it it was a corpse from the hospital of the monastery, with beard and eyebrows of good Danish boar bristles."

"Can it be possible!" exclaimed Aagé. "Should he be alive and at liberty, he would then become a more pestilent foe than all the outlaws put together--Yon dishonoured miscreant is capable of any crime; he hath now hardly aught more to lose."

"Be that as it may," answered Helmer, "if Kaggé be above ground, so is my arm and my good sword also--the Lord be praised for it!--and wherever I meet him, I am his man."

"If the miscreant is alive, and falls into our hands, we can but bind his hands and wash our own of the matter," answered Aagé.

They now continued their journey in grave silence for another hour. Each time Aagé thought of the unfortunate daughters of Marsk Stig in the maidens' tower a sigh burst from his heart; and whenever he felt the king's important letter within his vest it seemed to him as if he was oppressed by the future fate of king and country.

"We received but scanty orders," resumed Helmer Blaa again, seemingly wearied by the long silence and the Drost's reverie. "We were to learn the rest from you, Drost; but you seem to have left tongue and speech at Wordingborg."

"You know what is of most importance," answered Aagé. "It concerns King Eric's highest happiness in this world. As matters stand now with the archbishop and pope, you may easily imagine there are great difficulties about the dispensation for his marriage; if we cannot prevail on King Birger and his state council to permit the marriage to take place ere St. John's Day, and that despite both pope and clergy, then--more should not be said," he added, in a lowered voice; "then I fear matters will stand badly, Sir Helmer."

"Not worse surely than with me when they threw hindrances in the way of my marriage!" answered Helmer. "How such difficulties may be got over our bold king knows full as well as I--" So saying, he gaily struck upon his clanking sword.

"That did very well with your brother-in-law, brave Helmer," said Aagé. "It concerned only half a dozen of our worst knights. HERE state and kingdom are in question. The king is of a hasty temper, you know; he is only but too ready to imitate your bold manner of wooing; but if he is to win his bride by war and battle, there will be a bloody bridal here in the summer, to as little pleasure for Denmark as for Sweden."

"There you may perhaps be in the right, Drost," answered Helmer. "There is a difference between my brothers-in-law and the king's, I own; but if honour and our king's fortune in love are now at stake, assuredly no Danish knight will hesitate to become his bridegroom's man with sword and lance, however hard one might be put to it. This much we must allow to the Swede--he ever fights like a brave fellow. Swedish knighthood yields not to us in manhood; but when we sing,

'For Eric the youthful king!'

the heart of no Danish man will sink below his belt, I know, were the Swede ten times as strong, and had they ten Thorkild Knudsons in council and camp."

"Let us not talk too loud of these things," said Aagé, in a low voice, and allowing the other knights to pass by, while he and Helmer slackened their pace. "Honourable warfare is indeed ever to be preferred to a deceitful and shameful peace," he continued; "but the Lord and St. George forbid it should come to a breach now, just when love and good will seem in truth desirous to make us and our brave neighbours friends. Could these unhappy scruples be removed I should deem both Denmark and Sweden fortunate indeed. If a noble Swedish princess sits on the throne of Denmark's queens, and a Danish one on that of Sweden, we might then hope to see extinguished the last spark of ancient national hate and fraternal enmity. We may say what we please in our pride, and boast of Danish greatness in the days of Canute the Great and the Valdemars; Scandinavians were, however, brethren in the beginning; we have shared honour and fame with each other all over the world, among Longobards and Goths and Northmen; and we must combine together again, if aught great is to be achieved by the powers of the north."

"It may be so," answered Sir Helmer. "I am well nigh of your opinion, especially since it hath now come to something more than mere state policy and cold calculations with these betrothings of royal children. This one at first was but a politic scheme of Queen Agnes and Drost Hessel; in such plans there are seldom any truth and honesty. Strange enough it should turn out as it hath done; for every man, both here and in Sweden's land, knows that our young king is almost more enamoured than a Sir Tristan or Florez in the new books of chivalry; and the fair Princess Ingeborg--here they already call her our second Dagmar--although we have but heard she is pious and mild, and hath pretty blue eyes and beautiful golden hair, like Dagmar. I shall be well pleased to see her," he added. "No Swedish or Danish knights can ever commend her sufficiently, and she is, indeed, well nigh praised to the disparagement of our own lovely ladies--that vexes me I own."

"I saw her at Helsingborg, at the bridal of Count Gerhard and Queen Agnes," said Aagé, and his pensive eye sparkled. "She was then still almost a child; but she hath since ever seemed to me like one of God's holy angels, destined to diffuse the blessings of peace and love through this land and kingdom. There is but one female form in the world which I could compare with her, or perhaps even exalt above her in fair and noble presence," he added with emotion; but suddenly paused and cleared his throat with some embarrassment.

"Now, out with it, Drost Aagé; I am not jealous," said Sir Helmer, with a pleased and proud look. "You mean doubtless my fair young wife--It is worthy a true knight to admire the beauty of a young and fair woman in all reverence and honour. She hath well nigh the fairest presence of any woman here in the country; every one says so who sees her, both here and in Fyen; and I have nought against it. I know assuredly she holds me dearest of all, although I came to mishap, as you know, both with her uncle and those stiff-necked brothers. She is now at my castle, longing to have me back again; if it please the Lord and St. George, she shall soon hear a good report of me, if there is anything to be done in earnest."

Drost Aagé's usually pale cheek had become crimson. "You guessed wrong, however, this once Sir Helmer"--he said, with a smile; "the lady I thought of was another, without disparagement to your fair young wife. But, if we would reach Kjögé ere midnight, we must ride faster. In a steady trot, and at the long run, I think my Danish horse will be a match for your Arabian." He spurred his horse, and Sir Helmer hastened to redeem the honour of his favourite Arabian, while he shook his head at the Drost's want of discernment in the matter of female beauty.

CHAP. XIII.

When they reached Kjögé it was three hours past vespers, and after burgher bedtime. In this town, as yet, neither the great Franciscan nor Carmelite monasteries were erected, which afterwards became so celebrated. Here the travellers were forced to be content with one of the unpretending hostelries from the time of Eric Glipping, which were often stigmatised as dungeons and farthing taverns.

During the last two years the town had been frequently visited by the Hanseatic merchants, since the king had extended their trading privileges; and when these active traders went to or from the great fairs at Skanor or Falsterbo, or to the herring fishery, on the Swedish coast, they often ran their vessels into Kjögé bay, to wait for a favourable wind, and dispose of their wares to the burghers of Kjögé. The bay was now full of Hanseatic merchant vessels, and the numerous lights in the ships shone fair upon the shore. Drost Aagé, with his train, had much difficulty in getting a room in what was called the ale-house, near the harbour. In the large public room of the tavern, where the guests were wont to beguile the time until late at night, with drinking and dice, there was on the entrance of the Drost and his knights, much hubbub and loud-tongued talk among the guests, which, however, was suddenly hushed on the appearance of the richly-attired strangers, in whom the king's knights and halberdiers were instantly recognised. At the upper end of the long oaken table, which was fixed to the floor, sat a heavy-built, consequential-looking personage, with a sable-bordered cap and tunic; it was Berner Kopmand, from Rostock (so notorious for his wealth and pride) who had bid defiance to the king at Sjöberg. He lolled in his seat with an air of importance, and had laid one leg upon the table, that he might be more completely at his ease. His broad visage glowed from the effects of wine; he held a silver goblet in his hand, and had a large wine-flask before him. By his side sat his trusty friend and trading companion, Henrik Gullandsfar, from Wisbye, with a large purse in his hand, from which he threw some coins into the host's cap. Between them stood a backgammon board, on which the dice were swimming in ale and wine, and which Berner Kopmand kicked aside to make room for his ponderous foot. Here they sat, surrounded by a number of Hanseatic merchants, skippers and boatmen. All were armed, like themselves, with broad battle swords and sabres, and drank merrily to their own success. When the Drost and his knights entered, the two merchants remained sitting in their easy posture, without returning the greeting of the strangers, and whispers and murmurs of dissatisfaction were heard among the guests.

In the least lit-up part of the room sat two men with the cross of the order of the Holy Ghost on their black travelling mantles. The one drew his hood over his brow; he instantly arose, and with his ecclesiastical colleague presently disappeared in the throng of guests, who were flocking in and out. Sir Helmer had noticed the deportment of the monk; he hastily approached Aagé to whisper a word in his ear, but the Drost, who had instantly recognised the two arrogant Hanseatic merchants, had turned his whole attention upon their bearing, and was pondering within himself, how far it would be wise or necessary to meddle with them, or attach any significance to their former powerless menace.

"Short and sweet, my good friends!" now began the heavy Rostocker, with lisping tongue, while he struck the heel of his boot on the table to obtain a hearing, and seemed wrath at the pause in the talk. "The Lauenberg knight was forced to dangle from our new gallows, despite the cry of his high birth and lineage; and the high-born Duke Albert of Saxony was ready to choke with rage. It is therefore, he now protects and eggs on these high-born highwaymen. But we will no longer suffer ourselves to be plundered and pulled by the nose, unavenged, by knights and princes. We shall one day teach all these high and mighty lords, where the gold lies buried, the blessed bright gold which rules the world, and what the rich and combined Hanse-towns can do. We merchants and small folk, have now also learned something of the art of war, and the art of politics, and he who treads on our corns may beware of Lubek law, and the Rostock gallows--Hurra! freedom in trade! freedom in word and deed! To hell with all tyrants and aristocrats!" So saying, Berner Kopmand kicked the empty wine flask off the table, while he moved his foot to the floor, and rose reeling with the goblet at his lips.

The foreign merchants and skippers, shouted and drank. Henrik Gullandsfar shook his head, and pulled his drunken colleague by the sleeve, with a side glance at the Drost and the king's halberdiers.

"I give them to death and the devil! I can buy them up body and soul, and their forefathers into the bargain," growled the proud burgher magnate of Rostock--allowing himself, however, to be led out of the apartment, by the sober and more wary Gullandsfar. The other merchants and skippers now departed one after another, singing and whistling as they went. Aagé had instantly perceived that the conduct of the proud Hanseatics was meant as defiance and insult; but he had himself, as Drost, two years before, jointly with the state-council, confirmed the great privileges which were granted to these traders, and the law strictly forbade all violent and arbitrary proceedings towards them so long as they themselves refrained from committing any act of violence. Aagé remained silent, with a contemptuous smile, and warned to the incensed knights to keep quiet. But Sir Helmer's blood boiled,--he had sat upon thorns since his eye had caught the monk. As the Hanseatic sea-men left the inn, he thought he once more caught a glance, through the open door, of the same figure, among the tumultuous throng which was hastening to the vessels. He whispered a few hurried words in the Drost's ear, and rushed out of the apartment. Aagé looked gravely and thoughtfully after him. He gave a secret signal to two of the most discreet knights to follow him, and requested the others to remain. They now seated themselves at the almost deserted table. The humble and officious host hastened to serve them, and to remove the empty flasks and cans of ale. Their wrath which they had repressed with difficulty, had rendered the knights silent, and their humour was manifested only in taunting exclamations and jeers at the grocer-heroes, as they were designated. It was indeed allowed that the proud Berner Kopmand's inveteracy against the nobles of the land was not altogether unfounded. The knights' castles in Denmark, were not in fact robber-holds, as in Germany; foreign traders here enjoyed the greatest security, and had even greater privileges than the burghers of the country; but the knights delighted in scoffing at the uncouth and awkward bearing of the armed grocers; even Drost Aagé with all his moderation, and in spite of all that he had himself effected for the security of trade and the extension of commerce, could not altogether suppress the feeling of aristocratic contempt, entertained by those in his own rank for this class of persons, whose growing prosperity and wealth were often united with a degree of insolence and envious pride, which excited and fostered this mutual bad-feeling.

The attention of Aagé and the knights was soon directed towards two singular strangers who still remained with them at table; the one was a young man of a good figure and remarkably animated countenance; he wore a dark red, and rather thread-bare lay mantle, but the black cap which covered his tonsure, and a canon's hat which lay by his side on the table, appeared to denote him an ecclesiastic. At one time he talked Latin, at another Icelandic and Danish, with his next neighbour, whom he addressed as master, and to whom he shewed marked respect. When the young clerk spoke Danish, he frequently pronounced the words wrong. At times he became enthusiastic, and recited as well from the ancient classics as from old northern poems. His neighbour was a little, deformed man, with a hump upon his back, a thin sharp visage, and an intelligent piercing eye; his head was sunk deep between his shoulders, and hardly reached above the table, but his arms were uncommonly long and thin; he occasionally put on and took off a pair of large spectacles set in lead, and had a number of singular instruments and boxes before him on the table. He wore a bright-red mantle, bordered with fur, over a lay-brother's blue dress, and his head was adorned with a scarlet cap, trimmed with gold lace and tassels. In this showy garb, which rendered the deformity of his person still more striking, he resembled one of those foreign mountebanks and quacks, who at the great fairs were wont to exhibit feats before the mob, and vend relics, amulets, and universal remedies against all ailments; this personage however, had an air of much greater distinction and pretension. It was the same little red-cloaked man, who, with Sir Niels Brock and Sir Johan Papæ, had paid the nightly visit to Junker Christopher, at Holbek castle. In his dying hour Sir Pallé had described him to the Drost, when in his alarm, he had made him the depositary of his secrets. Aagé however had never before beheld this figure and did not remember Sir Pallé's confused description.

The little man sat with a flask of wine before him, which he appeared to be examining with close attention. "Bad!--adulterated!" he now said in Danish to the Icelander, also in a foreign and Icelandic accent, while he puckered up his sharp nose. "See you this sediment. Master Laurentius? In the light of art and science, truth will one day become manifest in small things as well as in great--Eureka!" he continued, with a self-satisfied smile, "What would my great master Roger have said, if such a flask of wine had been set before him? Even without these skilful, searching eyes--for which I am in some measure indebted to his great optical discovery--although I may justly claim the honour of the practical application--even without my wondrous spectacles, he would perhaps have discovered that which I need all this apparatus to detect. The nature of poisons is altogether unknown and occult, Master Laurentius!" he added, mysteriously, but so loud as to be heard by all. "Not only for the preservation of life and health, but much more for the sake of science and art, an intimate knowledge of the essence of things is of the highest importance to us. Here in the north, however, people care but little for such matters; they gulp down everything, like the dumb beasts, without possessing the wise instincts of animals, and without seeking by wisdom and art to find a remedy for the narrow limits of our physical nature. All learning here is expended in theological subtleties, and what are called godly things--which, however, they know nought of--poor fools! Our common-place scholars still chew the cud of mysticism, the useless learning of the schools, and the dry, worn-out Aristoteles. Ignorance of all that is true and useful, renders forgers and cheats quite safe here, and these overbearing merchants can enrich themselves at the expence of this ignorant people, as much as they choose. There you see one of their new coins! I have detected its composition! It contains more tin and lead than silver; the Danish king's image and superscription are here, it is true--the size is precisely that of the royal coinage; but four of those go to a silver mark, and this is of six times less value. What an enormous profit might not a single ship-load of such coins bring those fellows!"

Drost Aagé had become attentive, and found in the stranger's last assertion an important confirmation of a charge generally made against the Rostock merchants. The attention of the Drost and the knights did not appear to displease the intelligent little man--he seemed, indeed, not to heed them--but he now continued to converse in Danish with the young clerk, and though he appeared to speak in a whisper, he nevertheless enunciated every word in a singularly distinct, and perfectly audible tone. "Nothing is small in science and in nature," he continued, "the least may here lead to the greatest; in every blade of grass their lies a world. How long will men shut their eyes on the great and only true revelation of the Deity, through the miracles and holy writ of nature! Mark my young friend! the time will come when the colossus of ignorance, barbarism, and madness, which hath been erected on nature's grave, and worshipped for centuries--must fall. As is the course of temporal things, so is that of the spiritual world--Stagnation is death and rottenness. We have stood stationary with antiquity and tradition. The powerful ferment of life hath subsided--life hath lost its savour. What is it but senseless oriental adventures, and the childish dreams of our race, which have turned men's brains, and kept us at a distance from nature and the source of true wisdom for nearly thirteen centuries? The heathens were far above us. What are we in science and art compared with the Greeks and Egyptians?--and yet even they were erring. They also had their idols, their fancies and dreams of a Tartarus and Elysium, and withal, that madness now worshipped under the name of poetry."

"Stop, my learned master!" interrupted the young Icelander with eagerness. "Now you attack my sanctuary--let the world change its fashion as it may--let Time devour his own children, as in ancient fable! But what hath been beautiful in every age, none can destroy--it must re-appear, though under new forms. True, eternal poetry shall rescue and embalm all wherein was life or beauty, as well in our times as in those gone by. Its image and memorial no cold enlightening wisdom shall ever efface.

"Be it so!" answered the little sage with a scornful smile, "Judgment shall not die; the art of judging is the only one that is immortal; the poetry of all ages shall vanish as soon as the world understands itself and its own thoughts. When the kernel is found we may cast away the shell, or give it to children to play with. It was a true saying, though, of that old heathen bard--the judgment on the dead is eternal--but when this generation hath passed away a succeeding one will jeer at the achievements of their fathers, and what is now worshipped shall be the scorn of posterity. But one likes not to hear such things, Master Laurentius! The kernel of truth is unpalatable; it suits not the taste of the vulgar and uninitiated; and he who proffers it runs the risk of being stoned by the enemies of truth and the slaves of prejudice. What my great Master Roger was forced to confess is known to all the world; if he found not himself the philosopher's stone, he hath, however, shewn us where to seek for it, and what was hidden from his sharp gaze is not necessarily hid from that of his disciples." So saying, the little man rose with a look of proud importance; he departed with a slight salutation to Drost Aagé and the knights, in whose looks he was well satisfied to perceive the astonishment which his last mysterious remark, about the philosopher's stone especially, seemed to have excited.

The young clerk remained behind, and now addressed himself to Drost Aagé, whose rank and name were known to him. He introduced himself to the Drost as an Iceland theologian, jurist, and poet, who in his ardent zeal for knowledge and enlightenment, had quitted his easy office of priest of St. Olaf's church and pœnitentarius of the Archbishop of Nidaros,^[10] to visit foreign universities with his learned countryman and fellow-traveller Magister Thrand Fistlier, a disciple, as he asserted, of the renowned Roger Bacon, whose wonderful knowledge, and free and bold opinions, had drawn on him so shameful a persecution from his ecclesiastical brethren, and who, after many years' imprisonment, had died two years since in England.

The young Iceland clerk now purposed, under the protection of his learned friend, to visit the Danish court, where he hoped to find that the king would lend a favourable ear to his own and the ancient Icelandic poems; while his travelling companion intended to display his wondrous arts before the king, and to make known some very important discoveries in natural philosophy, which might prove of incalculable use and effect both in war and peace. The report of the young King Eric's especial regard for science, and the intrepidity with which he dared to oppose the usurpations of the court of Rome and the hierarchy, had induced the learned Master Thrand to seek freedom and protection in Denmark.

"You will doubtless both be welcome to the king," answered Aagé, looking narrowly at him, "he favours and protects all fair and useful sciences. Your travelling companion belongs not to the herd of common mountebanks, as far as I can judge: if he can prove what he affirmed, of the false coin brought hither into this country, his learning may be most important to us. But since you are a theologian and scholar, Master Laurentius, I would but ask you one question," continued Aagé, "Doth not your companion entertain some confused opinions on sacred subjects? His expressions struck me as being somewhat singular, although I, as a layman, understand not such matters. I well know, however, those who are called Leccar Brethren,--who will only believe in the Creator, but neither in God's Son, nor in the Holy Spirit, nor in an universal christian church,--are as little tolerated in this country as by any right-thinking monarch in Christendom; you must in nowise believe our king's unfortunate position in regard to the Archbishop of Lund and the papal court hath made any alteration in his opinions in what concerns the matter of his own and his people's salvation."

"From the errors of the Leccari I believe myself free." answered the young Icelander, with some embarrassment; "about my learned companion's theology, I must confess I have not greatly troubled myself; seeing that he is a worldly philosopher and not a theologian. Of the noble art of bardship he hath not either any conception; I admire him solely for his rare knowledge of the secrets of nature."

"If he errs in the one thing needful, and if the highest and most sacred truths, as well as all that is beautiful and noble, are in his estimation nothing but folly," observed Aagé, "I have but little confidence in his knowledge of less important matters; and I would not give much for all the rest of his learning."

"I thus judged once myself, of the sciences and arts that teach us but earthly things," answered the Icelander, "but while I was at the foreign universities a new light dawned upon me. I am indeed far from calling (like my learned travelling companion) the revelation of deity in nature the only true one, by which, as you have rightly observed, he hath in his inconsiderate zeal, betrayed a highly erroneous opinion; but even the wisdom of the heathen in worldly concerns is in nowise to be despised, and I have never seen anything that hath more strengthened my faith in the Almighty power and wisdom of the Triune God, than the marvellous effects of the powers of nature, with which this singular man hath made me acquainted."

"What hath he shown you, then, of such great importance? Master Laurentius!" asked Aagé.

"I have seen effects of his art, which I should in common with the ignorant multitude, and my prejudiced colleagues, have taken to be witchcraft and the work of the devil," answered the Icelander eagerly, "had he not explained them to me by the powers of nature, and from the great misjudged Roger Bacon's 'Opus Majus,' of which he carries a rare and invaluable manuscript with him. Not to speak of his great knowledge of plants and animals, and the properties and composition of metals; what most hath captivated me is all that points to the soul's dominion over time and decay, over life and death, over the universe, and all passive powers in nature. He affirms that by his art alone, without supernatural aid, he is able to preserve youth, and prevent the infirmities of age; he knows the course of the heavens, and the influence of the stars on human life; he hath a number of artful glasses, by which he is almost able to see the invisible; but his greatest and most wondrous art is the preparation of an inextinguishable fire, with which he imitates the thunder and lightning of the heavens. He hath shewn me a specimen of it, which hath astonished me. With a single handful of that subtle combustible matter, he can produce such an amazing thunder-clap, that the strongest wall would be rent by it, and such a burst of consuming flame, that he who rightly understands its powers, would be able to destroy a whole army with it, and devastate castles and towns."

The knights stared in amazement at the Icelander, and some crossed themselves. "It is impossible! That no man can do! it cannot be done by natural means!--it must be done by witchcraft and devilry!" said the one to the other.

Drost Aagé was silent, and looked sharply and gravely at the Icelander. "I hold you neither for an unwise man, nor for one who would deal in falsehood and deceit, good Master Laurentius!" he at length began, "although what you tell us of your learned companion borders on the incredible--but are you not yourself deceived? You say you have but known this man of miracles a short time. In your admiration of his arts and his rare knowledge of the secrets of nature, you have concerned yourself but little about his principles and way of thinking, which, however, I consider to be the most important points in every man's character, whether he be scholar or layman. If he is not a juggler or braggart, I fear he is something worse. He would fain have us laymen believe he had found the philosopher's stone. Those who talk openly of such things are generally enthusiasts or impostors."

"That which is above our understanding, Sir Drost," answered the Icelander, "we are but too apt to misjudge as folly, or the invention of the evil-minded--but here our own self-conceit and vanity are to blame. That which the wisest men in the world have so long mused upon, cannot assuredly be an absurd imagination, and I doubt not the philosopher's stone will and must one day be found--if it be not found already. Perhaps we may meet at Skanor fair, Sir Drost!" he added, rising to depart, "My learned friend and travelling companion doth not visit princes and nobles only--the enlightenment of the ignorant vulgar is a more important object to him. I accompany him as amanuensis, partly from a present necessity, which I blush not to acknowledge, and in this lay mantle, that I may not give offence to my prejudiced colleagues; but I learn much in this way, and, as I said--I trust to return more rich in knowledge from these worldly bye-paths to the service of St. Olaf, and to my most venerable friend and protector at Nidaros, who probably may soon need support in the cause against his unruly canons."

The conversation was now broken off with the Iceland clerk, as Sir Helmer rushed almost breathless into the apartment. "It was Kaggé! Drost! there is no doubt of it," exclaimed Helmer, "but, by Satan!--he is already on board the Rostock vessel."

"Who? the dead Kaggé? dream ye, Helmer? Was it he ye meant before?"

"He, and none other--the base regicide! as surely as I have eyes and ears. He hath both his beard and eye-brows shaved; but I know his fox's face and screeching voice; the dull Rostocker mentioned his name himself in his drunkenness, out of defiance and pride. They insulted me in the ancient coarse fashion I will not name, and pushed off from shore with the outlaw before mine eyes."

"We must arrest them at Skanor tomorrow," answered Aagé, "if the criminal is on board the Rostock vessel, he hath now peace and respite of life under the Hanse flag and the Lubeck law; but whenever he sets foot on Danish ground he dies! Such pestilent ware no Hanseatic hath the privilege of unloading." They then retired to rest. The Iceland clerk had gone, and no more was seen of either him or the learned Thrand Fistlier. The account they had heard of this worker of wonders continued, however, till a late hour in the night, the theme of the knights' conversation at the drinking table.

CHAP. XIV.

Drost Aagé retired to rest in silence, but he vainly tried to sleep. He was uncertain whether he ought not instantly to have captured the two overbearing Hanseatics on the ground of their former menace at Sjöberg; here they were no longer ambassadors and privileged persons. If they had circulated false coin, and openly protected an outlaw upon Danish ground, they might with strict justice be called to account. The knowledge that the base Kaggé still lived also disquieted him; but what still more banished sleep from the Drost's eyes, was the idea of the mysterious Master Thrand, and his wondrous arts. That a human being possessed such a power over nature as to be able to imitate the thunder and lightning of the heavens, with all their terrific effects, appeared to him an amazing prodigy, and what the enthusiastic Master Laurentius had said of the still deeper views of his master--of the preservation of youth by a mysterious art, and of the philosopher's stone, as something actually existent in nature, had especially inspired the meditative and somewhat visionary Aagé with singular musings.

The countenance and mountebank deportment of the little deformed philosopher, had, indeed, awakened great doubts of his honesty, and what Aagé had comprehended of his expressions appeared to him strange and confused, as opposed to what he had been piously taught in childhood regarding the highest and eternal truths in which, despite his unhappy excommunication, he had been confirmed by his confessor, Master Petrus de Dacia, who had succeeded in making him at peace with himself and the church. But the Iceland clerk's ardent enthusiasm for Master Thrand and his worldly wisdom had not been without its effect; and Aagé was forced to confess there lay an acuteness and intelligence in the little mountebank's eye which he had never seen equalled in any of the pious and learned men he knew. Laurentius's open and ingenuous countenance bore witness also to the truth of his testimony as to what he had seen and admired in the disciple of the famous Roger Bacon; and the longer Aagé pondered on what he had heard, the more doubts and strange thoughts crowded upon his mind. Master Thrand's contempt of the age in which he lived, and the confidence with which he expressed himself respecting the only true revelation of nature with which he was, above all, conversant, had also excited a feeling of strange and painful uneasiness in Aagé's mind. The melancholy knight had often, when oppressed by the thought of his excommunication, sought peace and tranquillity in the contemplation of nature in lonely nights under a calm and starry sky, without, however, feeling able to dispense with the comfort and consolation of the church. He now stood, with his arms folded, in his sleeping chamber, gazing out on the gloomy heavens. "Were it possible!" said he to himself. "Am I wandering here with all my contemporaries in thick darkness? Know we neither our own nature nor that around us? Are all our purposes and energies but as the gropings of the blind, without aim or object? Will the time come when children will jeer at us as erring fools and insane dreamers, scared by what did not exist, and amused by empty juggling? Can this be? Can even that which is most high and sacred, which we have believed in and lived for with our fathers--for which thousands of inspired martyrs have died with a halo of glory around their beaming countenances--for which our pilgrims and Crusaders wend to Jerusalem, and renounce all the riches and treasures of this world--which was the spring of action in our ancestors' lives as our own, and made them heroes and conquerors in life and death--could all that be dreaming, deception, and ignorance? Could the existence and achievements of whole centuries have been a monstrous lie? No! No! If yonder fellow be not a liar and a cheat, there is neither truth, nor life, nor redemption, nor salvation." He shrunk with horror from his own thoughts. A sound now reached his ears which, at this moment, almost struck him with dismay. He fancied he once more heard the voice of the mysterious stranger close beside him.

"Darest thou not yet face the naked truth? my dear Laurentius!" sounded the shrill voice of the philosopher, slowly and solemnly through the thin wooden partition of the adjoining chamber. "Dost thou dread to enter into the holy calling of a Leccar Brother, and priest of nature? Dost thou tremble at an initiation into the great church of the world, of which we are all originally priests; we who have eyes for truth, and courage to announce it, despite the repeated outcry of the fools of thirteen centuries! Look, I open unto thee the great sanctuary in the name of truth and science, and in the sight of that deity who dwells in the breast of the initiated. Cast off the miserable prejudices of thy time! Throw down the phantom thou callest the Church, and a saving faith, with the same strength with which thou hast rejected the senseless fables of heathenism! Cast off all that was not given thee when thou becamest a human being! Rid thyself of all exploded and worn out doctrines--cast off the whole puerile tissue of phantasms and visions of crude ages, which thou callest Revelation! Divest thyself of thy preconceptions regarding the essence of things, and of all the pomp and imagery thou callest poetry! Then gaze freely around thee, and tell me what remains!"

"Nothing! nothing! learned master!" answered the voice of the young Icelander, in a desponding tone.

"Yes, assuredly!" was the answer; "thou thyself remainest, and great eternal nature, and, if thou wilt, a great and mighty deity, which is the soul and life of this nature of which thou art thyself a part--all truth, all wisdom lie slumbering and buried there. Wake it if thou canst! Call forth deity in thyself and in nature! Rule it by that mighty art! Ask boldly, and force it to respond!"

"That I am not able to do, my wise master!" said the voice of the young Icelander, within the partition; "but could I wake lifeless nature, and force her to solve the mysteries I gaze upon, would she answer aught else than what the dead have ever answered the living, what the dead Vola^[11] answered Odin in our ancient poems, what the spirit of Samuel answered Saul in the presence of the Witch of Endor:--'Thou shalt die! to-morrow thou shalt die!'"

"Well," resumed the philosopher, "were the answer not much more cheering, if it were but truth could a philosopher, a Leccar Brother, a priest of nature and truth demand or wish it otherwise? You will have flattery, you will all of you be cheated and deceived--therefore you cling so fast to that flattering lie, but hate and persecute truth as ungodliness, heresy, or devilry--therefore are popes and bishops, like the prophets and evangelists of old, still able to lead the whole human race blindfold round in an eternal circle of error from one age to another until they have their eyes opened, and see that they stand where their blind fathers stood, by the closed book of nature, which amid their dreaming they have forgotten to open through the lapse of ages. Look! there thou standest, my pupil! and art ready to despair, because all that fair jugglery hath vanished and been blown away by my breath as it were a spider's web, or bubbles of air! and thou seest nought but one enormous lifeless body which I call nature.--But look! the lifeless body wakes! 'Tis deity, and yet our slave,--obedient to the mightier manifestation of deity within us. Only through our means can nature's deity awake to consciousness and self-knowledge. In us, and in our will alone lives the only true God we should obey. Courage, Laurentius!--courage! Truth must make its way--the slumbering and disguised god of nature must be wakened and unveiled. It must open to us its vast recesses, it must restore to us what it hath robbed and hidden--the philosopher's stone must be found, even though its workings should seem to us eternal death and petrifaction."

All was again hushed in the adjoining chamber; Aagé had thrown open a window, and the cool night air streamed in upon him; the sky had become clear--Aagé raised his eyes towards the starry vault, he grasped the cross-hilt of his sword, a heavy load oppressed his heart, he bent his knee in silent devotion, and rose, feeling that his prayer was answered by the return of a calm and cheerful frame of mind. "To God be thanks and praise! I know better however," he said, with a feeling of consolation. "He, within there, is a liar and deceiver, as surely as He above is love itself! and He whom He sent unto us was the way, the truth, and the life!" Aagé was now about to betake himself to rest, but the voice of the learned Master Thrand again caught his ear. The young Icelander he heard no more. German was now spoken, but in a low whispering tone, and the talk seemed to be on worldly matters. Aagé tried not to overhear anything; it was repugnant to his feelings, and appeared to him dishonourable and unworthy, to become a concealed witness to the secrets of others. He thought of knocking to give notice of his presence and the thinness of the partition; but, at this moment, he heard the name of "Grand" mentioned, and he started. The whispering continued for a long time afterwards, and he caught words which caused him the greatest uneasiness. The talk was of the king and Junker Christopher, of the outlaws, of death, and downfall; but what it was he could neither hear nor comprehend, with any distinctness. At last all became silent. He conjectured that his foreign neighbour had left the inn, and towards morning Aagé fell asleep. When he was awakened at dawn by his squire, in order to embark in a Swedish vessel, he had dreamt the most marvellous things. He fancied he had beheld an entirely changed world; without monasteries and monks, without fortified castles, without the images of the Madonna and the saints, without kings and thrones, even without women and children, and with nothing but men, with keen staring eyes and diminutive and deformed bodies, like Master Thrand's. At last it seemed to him that the sun was burnt out and hung, like a great black coal, over his head; that the moon and all the stars were pulled down and used instead of stones, for fences and inclosures round small withered cabbage gardens. All trees and flowers were torn up and peeled into fibres; all birds and animals lay slaughtered and cut open; and the little hump-backed men sat, with great spectacles, examining the putrified carcases. All that he beheld,--the whole subverted and disjointed world, seemed to him at last metamorphosed into one enormous mass of stone, and a terrific voice sounded over the petrified world, and cried "Behold! This is thy world! this is thy God! this is the philosopher's stone!" Amid his dismay at hearing this voice, Aagé awakened, just as his brisk squire knocked at his door, still so confused by his dream that he could not distinguish between what he had dreamed, and what he thought he had heard from behind the partition.