King Eric and the Outlaws, Vol. 2

by Bernhard Severin Ingemann

  CHAP. VII.

  In the high-vaulted refectory, the small arched windows of which lookedout into the garden of the monastery, and were darkened by a row oflime-trees, sat the heavy-built abbot Johan in his laced leathernarm-chair, with a lamp before him, at the supper-table, holding a kindof instructive discourse for the edification of the humbly-listeningbrethren of the order and the pupils of the monastery. Nearest him sateleven monks in black cloaks, among whom Peter Porter took his place asthe twelfth. The same number of little boys, who were educating asmonks, and wore black benedictine mantles, as well as the brethren ofthe order, took the lowest place at the table, and eagerly partook ofthe repast, while, however, they seemed to listen very attentively tothe abbot's discourse. On the entrance of the travellers the dignifiedprelate half rose from his seat, with a look of annoyance, and badethem welcome in St. Peter's and St. Bent's name, but almost withoutvouchsafing them a glance, and in a tone which betrayed that it wasonly in compliance with the rules of his order that he received suchself-invited guests. However, when the two tall knights approached himnearer, with a reverent and courteous salutation, and the lamp on thetable lit up Sir Niels Brock's martial visage, the abbot's proudbearing and repulsive looks suddenly changed. He signed a blessing overthe knight and his companions, and, with courteous condescension,besought them to be seated, while he hastily, with a side-wink of theeye, laid his finger on his mouth, and continued to address them asstrangers.

  Besides the twelve brethren of the order and the monkishly-cladchildren, there sat a person at the table, also in a black benedictinemantle, but without the hood and complete dress of the order. He hadhastily risen on the entrance of the travellers, and appeared about towithdraw; but, on hearing Sir Niels Brock's powerful voice, he turnedround to the newly-arrived guests, and nodded familiarly to Brock. Itnow appeared that this person bore not the tonsure, and was evenadorned with a warrior-like beard; his forehead and eye-brows werehidden by his yellowish red and combed down hair.

  Brock started, and greeted him with surprise, but in silence.

  "A guest from the world who hath sought safety in the dress of our holyorder and the sanctuary of the monastery," said the abbot. "I can,therefore, only present him to you without mention of his name, as Ialso have received you in the holy Bent's and St. Peter's name, withoutasking of your name in the world, or the object of your journey."

  "Your hospitality and high mindedness are well known throughout thecountry, pious sir," said Brock, with another obeisance. "We are not,it is true, among the persecuted. The object of our journey also is nosecret; but we equally acknowledge, with thanks and reverence, theshelter these holy walls afford from storms of _all_ kinds."

  "From the hour in which, by God's grace, I received the bishop's mitreand the holy crosier," resumed the abbot, with the air of a prince ofthe church, but with stooping head, and a kind of studied rhetoricaltone, "be it said without all vain self-commendation, and to the honourof the Most High!--from the time St. Peter and his holy heir set me aruler over these souls, and over this asylum of the pious andoppressed, I have striven according to my poor ability in the spirit ofSt. Benedict of Nurcia, and with the pious will of St. Benedict ofAnianes before mine eyes, to give succour and protection to alltravellers and pilgrims, and all outlawed and persecuted persons,against the wild turbulence of nature, as well as against humanferocity and the violence and persecution of an ungodly world. You justnow interrupted me in a godly discourse, my guests! I spoke of theChurch's might and authority, which is now so scandalously assaulted bythe blind children of this world in our ungodly times. I wasinculcating the duties of our holy order on the children, and for theedification of my dependents, on occasion of the crying deeds ofviolence and injustice we daily hear of and see before our eyes. Youhave also surely heard how shamelessly and treacherously the king's menhave dealt with the outlawed Count Jacob's men in Halland, and what anoutrageous and arbitrary act the royal vassal, Jonas Fries, hath latelyperpetrated here, on the boundary of my abbey's consecrated ground andterritory?"

  "What I have heard is almost past belief, pious Father Abbot," answeredBrock; "but the matter is related very differently by the friends offreedom and those of despotism. Rumour hath indeed possibly exaggeratedthe stern vassal's despotic act."

  "My fugitive guest, who sits there, can bear testimony to the truth,"said the abbot. "The unhappy victim to the lawlessness and barbarity ofthat royal vassal was his good friend and comrade."

  "It is as true as that I stand here," began the warrior-like personagein the monk's cloak, and rose from his seat. His accent soundedhalf-Norwegian; the combed-down hair slipped aside for an instant fromhis brow, and over his wild fiery eye a pair of bristly meetingeye-brows and a large red scar were visible. "Thus are law and justicenow upheld in Denmark," he continued. "I had come down hither inreliance on truce and treaty, but truth and justice are no longerrecognised, where the friends of freedom are outlawed. My comrade hadsaved my life, and freed me from a degrading captivity; he was, likemyself, in the service of the Norwegian king. Three days since he wastaken captive at my side in broad day-light, by Sir Jonas Frieshimself, and dragged to his castle.--I escaped to the sanctuary of theabbey; but when I yesterday, with the pious abbot's men, would haveliberated my unhappy comrade, we found him hanged, without law orsentence, on Jonas Fries's closed castle gate."

  "Ha, indeed! the more madly they act the sooner they will have toaccount for it," exclaimed Brock, in a powerful martial tone, andstriking his large battle sword against the flagged floor. "The masterwho hath such zealous servants may fare badly at last--that deed ofviolence shall prove a firebrand----"

  "We meddle not here with worldly matters," interrupted the abbothastily, with an admonitory wink, and a side glance at the attentiveand startled monks, who all, however, sat silent with humbly droopingheads, and appeared to fear, rather than love, their despotic andmighty superior. "Worldly matters are to me and my dependents, butvehicles for spiritual things," continued the prelate with a devoutair, "and I only permit any discourse concerning them when it may serveus for holy and edifying meditation, according to St. Benedict ofAnianes' pious will and injunction. I now forbid all further talk onsuch subjects here. Refresh yourselves, my stranger guests! Pray asilent prayer, brother bed-maker, and discharge thy duty towards thestrangers! Pray in silence, and retire to rest, children! Let everybrother set about his evening work! You must not suppose, my unknownguests," he added, "that the conversers and lay brothers you have seenhere, alone perform the bodily labour which is incumbent on us all--itis precisely in order to gain bodily strength for the performance ofthe stern duties of our order that I give, as you see, occasionaldispensations with respect to the nourishment of the frail body withsubstantial meat."

  The brethren of the order and the monkishly clad children now foldedtheir hands, and muttered a prayer; they then departed, after they hadall, with a deep and submissive inclination of the head, kissed theabbot's hand, which lay extended for the purpose on the arm of hischair, in which he remained sitting, and gazed on his guests with anattentive and searching glance. "You are welcome. Sir Niels Brock andSir Johan Papae," now commenced the abbot, in a confidential andcondescending tone, with a side look at Sir Palle. "This knight I knownot, but I presume you bring none with you but your most confidentialfriends."

  "The high-born Junker Christopher's gentleman of the bed-chamber, SirPalle, accompanies us to Wordingborg by his lord's command," saidBrock, hastily, "although we cannot boast of knowing him intimately."

  "Ay, indeed! You are welcome also, Sir Palle," resumed the abbot, in atone of haughty condescension, once more assuming the dignified mien ofa prelate. "Your master, the junker, is now said deeply to repent hissin and cruelty against our most learned and God-fearing archbishop,and to feel a longing after peace and reconciliation with the holychurch? With all his errors, he seems still, however, to be of a moretractable and pious mind than his hardened brother, and it may one day,p
erhaps, stand him in good stead, for God resisteth the proud, butgiveth grace to the humble."

  "Yes, my lord junker will now assuredly be converted, pious Sir Abbot,"answered Palle, thrusting a large piece of meat into his mouth, bywhich he was hindered from continuing his speech.

  "To judge from the build of Sir Palle's person, _he_ stands most inneed of refreshment and rest," said Brock, with significance."According to his assurance, there is now the best understandingbetween the junker and his brother."

  "Ay, indeed! hum! well, then! It is good assuredly that brothers shouldbe united, provided it be in that which is right," said the prelate,and broke off the conversation. Little was now said, and that only onindifferent topics. Sir Palle's gormandising appetite perceptiblydecreased at the cautious pause in the conversation, and at thesight of the fugitive in the monk's cloak, who had remained silentlysitting at that end of the table which was least lighted up, and whokept his scrutinising eyes fixed upon him. As no one either ate ordrank any more, the abbot folded his hands and muttered a Latinprayer; after which he rang a little silver hand-bell, and Patermaster-of-the-household entered.

  "This knight desires instantly to retire to rest," said the abbot,pointing to Palle; "perhaps you will go with him as his contubernalisover yonder." As he said this, he winked at Sir Papae, and the taciturnknight immediately accompanied Sir Palle and the master of thehousehold across the court yard of the monastery to the guesthouse,which was situated apart.

  As soon as the abbot was alone with Brock and the disguised fugitive,he gave them a mysterious nod and arose. He took the lamp in his hand,and opened a private door in the refectory which led to a long vaultedpassage. He went on before, and they followed him in silence throughthe passage, and up a winding stair to the library of the monastery andthe prelate's private chamber; he opened all the doors himself, andlocked them carefully behind him. Sir Palle's indolence and love ofgood cheer seemed to be contending with curiosity and repressed alarm."Whom take you yon sharp-eyed fugitive to be, Sir Papae?" he asked hissilent travelling companion, as soon as the monk had shown them totheir sleeping apartment and departed.

  "I care not who he is," said the knight sullenly, and took off hisvest.

  "It is assuredly one of the outlaws," continued Palle, anxiously."Truly it is strange to have sat at table, and now to sleep under thesame roof with such a fellow. It might get wind one day, and wakensuspicion."

  "I will give you good counsel, Sir Palle," answered the sullen knight."Take your horse out of the stable again, and ride off at full speed,despite night and storm! Our company may also seem suspicious to you. Aman like you, who holds his own peace and safety dearer than aughtbeside, should never devote himself to the service of any master inthese troublous times. As far as I can judge you are as little fit forthe junker's as the king's service, and least of all to be your ownmaster, like me and other free men."

  "The devil! Sir Papae! what do you take me for?" said Palle, bridling upand highly affronted; "think ye I am afraid for my skin? I would fainsee the man who hath oftener risked life and blood in the service of mymaster, than I have, and yet as a free man dare snap my fingers at theworld's rulers and tyrants. What my master, the junker, is about, hemust know best himself, and answer for--it concerns not me--_his_ headtruly is placed too high to be imperilled. When it comes to the push,all falls on those beneath; yet when he calls you and Sir Niels hisfriends, and sends you greeting and courteous invitation, as hisservant, I surely run no risk by companionship with you;--but an_outlaw!_ think! perhaps even one of the regicides!--to have sat attable with him may cost us all dear."

  "You are in a very unpleasant position, Sir Palle." said the haughtypartizan, with a contemptuous smile. "With the king, you stand notwell, they say; and though you have already settled yourselfcomfortably in the junker's service, it may end badly enough, afterall. If he gets but a hint how you keep the seal of his privateletters----"

  "It is a shameful falsehood, I deny it positively," answered Palle,glowing crimson. "But for the Lord's and our dear lady's sake,excellent Sir Papae! bring me not into trouble by such talk, and beseechSir Niels also to be silent about it. I am in truth innocent as anunborn babe. I know not in the least what either you or the junker havein hand, and there was not a word about it in the letter; that is whatyou say yourself; for what know _I_ of it?" he added hastily. "Butwhatever it may be," he continued, "I pray you only to consider that,after all, the king is a mighty man, and not to be jested with when heis wroth. Even my own master, the high-born junker, I would in allconfidence here between us two, counsel ye to deal somewhat cautiouslywith. Too much confidence in the great answers not, either;--in ourtimes one should in troth know how to obey the commands of one'smaster, and nevertheless use one's own understanding,--do you see? Tospeak plainly. Sir Papae! since the commandant at Kallundborg was forcedto lose his head, I have often had uneasy dreams."

  "Now good night, my dear Palle!" said the knight, clapping himcompassionately on the shoulder. "I would not for a great deal be inyour place. It must be grievous for an honest knight adventurer likeyou, who so faithfully strives to serve the great, not to be able tofathom his master's mind, any more than his own stomach." The knightthen strode into his sleeping apartment and shut the door after himwith a scornful laugh.

  "Another awkward scrape!" muttered Sir Palle, striking his forehead. Hethrew himself into a chair and yawned. It seemed as though his body andsoul were at war. He appeared to feel a desire to sleep, but could notrest. He threw himself once or twice on the couch, but soon rose again,panting and puffing with uneasiness. All was now quiet at themonastery; nothing was to be heard but the howling of the storm throughthe chimney and around the high gable ends of the roof. After somedeliberation, Palle wrapped himself in his mantle, and stole softly outof the door. He found the anti-chamber of the guest-house open, andslipped out into the court-yard of the monastery. He looked around himon all sides. It was dark and gloomy; there was not a light to be seenin any of the twelve cells; but, from the second story of the principalbuilding a solitary lamp shone through the creaking boughs of the limetrees. The light came from an apartment which Pater, head-cook, hadpointed out to him as the abbot's private chamber. Before it stood aremarkably tall, thick, lime tree, which was not yet in leaf. Sir Pallestole forward under the tree, and endeavoured to climb up its trunk;the build of his figure rendered this very difficult for him to do; buthe succeeded at last by dint of much exertion, in getting so high up inthe tree, that at some distance he could peep in through the smalllit-up window panes. He beheld the abbot and Sir Niels Brock verysingularly occupied. A tall warlike form stood before them in ancientknightly armour. The abbot was in full costume; he placed a helmet(over which he appeared to be pronouncing a benedicite) upon thewarrior's head. Brock seemed to be rubbing the eye-brows and beard ofthe armour-clad personage with an ointment. Palle listened in vain, thestorm prevented his hearing a single word of what was said; but he nowsaw that the abbot opened a cupboard, and produced a black book withsilver clasps, which looked to him like a Testament. Sir Niels Brock,as well as the steel-clad warrior, laid their hands on the book andknelt. They remained in this position while the abbot fetched a silverchalice from the cupboard, and went through the same ceremonies as onthe performance of low mass. He took a silver wine-flagon, filled thechalice, signed a benediction over it, and drank himself. He thenopened a silver box, signed a cross, and a blessing likewise over it,and seemed to administer the sacrament to each of the kneeling knights.

  "Gracious Heaven! He is surely giving them the sacrament!" whisperedPalle to himself, "what can all this mean?"

  The abbot now stepped back, and appeared to be speaking with greatemphasis and energetic enthusiasm. At last the knights arose and kissedthe bishop's hand, and the dismayed spy recognised the powerful tonesof Niels Brock, who clapped the steel clad warrior on the shoulder andsaid, in a loud tone, "Now, then! in the name of all the saints, haveyou courage, Kagge! The devil himself could not know ye now, or i
njurea hair of your consecrated head."

  On hearing the name of Kagge, Sir Palle became so alarmed, that he losthis balance. The branch broke on which he had placed his foot, and hewas forced to let himself slide down the trunk of the lime-tree withoutbeing able to save the skin of his hands or his rich attire, in whichgreat rents were torn. He fell with violence to the ground, and stunnedby fear and pain, stole back again in this pitiable plight to hischamber.

  Abbot Johan did not appear to his guests on the following morning, andwhen Brock and Papae, during mattins, rode forth from the monastery withthe worn-out and hapless Sir Palle, the party had received an additionin the person of a stranger, mounted on a large well-fed horse from theabbot's stable, and clad in an old-fashioned suit of armour. His hairand brow were hidden by an ample helmet, fastened under the chin with asilver clasp. His meeting eye-brows and broad beard were shining, andcoal-black; over his coat of mail he wore a large silver chain, intoken of a knight's sacred vow. Sir Palle hardly dared to turn his eyeson him. It was, indeed, impossible for him to recognize in this figurethe fugitive guest at the monastery; but he was nevertheless convincedit was he, whom he now knew to be the outlawed regicide, Kagge himself.Palle looked as though he already felt the rope round his neck, at thethought of the dangerous company into which he was thrown. This new andmysterious travelling companion rode in silence between his twopowerful friends. His glance was wild and restless; at first settingout he often looked behind on all sides, as if he feared to berecognised and pursued; but he soon, however, nodded confidentially tohis companions, and presently fell into a deep reverie. His darkimaginings were occasionally interrupted by a wild and half-smotheredlaugh.

  "I have met with a good friend and kinsman here in the monastery," saidBrock, in a careless tone, to Palle. "He is a merry fellow, as youdoubtless perceive; and laughs at his own thoughts when there is a lackof mirth and wit in his companions. He hath a true love at Wordingborgwhom he would surprise; but therefore he would rather be unknown, andyou can surely be silent where one ill-timed word might prove dangerousto yourself."

  "Yes, doubtless," answered Palle, "silence is a virtue necessityteaches every wise man in our times; and here it is easy for me to besilent, since I know not even the name of your honourable friend andkinsman."

  "That I will confide to you: he is called Johan Limbek, but giveshimself out to be Ako Krummedige, or Blackbeard, going on a pilgrimageto the holy land," continued Brock in a lowered tone; "but keep this toyourself. My kinsman is not to be jested with, do you see, and if youdisturb his love adventure by unseasonable talk you must be prepared tobreak a sharp lance with him. He fights better than the devil himself.I would only just mention to you,--he hath broken the neck of many adoughty knight, ere this, in love adventures."

  "He will scarcely find a rival in me," answered Palle, "although I amreputed to stand high in the favour of the fair."

  "Assuredly," replied Sir Niels, and laughed. "Who knows not that rareballad of Sir Palle's wooing fair Gundelille's driver lad?"

  "Would that all dainty maidens and wooing were at the devil!" returnedPalle, angrily. "That dainty maiden will never more make a fool of anyhonest man, as surely as Marsk Stig's vagabond brood are caged for lifeat Wordingborg."

  At these words the steel-clad traveller became attentive, and measuredSir Palle with a scornful and angry look.

  "See you," whispered Sir Niels, "my enamoured friend cannot even hearmaidens and rivals spoken of without the blood instantly boiling withinhim. Beware, as I said before, Sir Palle, that you do not meddle withhis concerns." So saying, he turned, with a contemptuous look, from theperplexed gentleman of the bedchamber, and joined his two othercompanions, who seemed as little in a communicative mood as himself.Absorbed in gloomy reverie, and almost without another word beingspoken, the travellers pursued the journey to Wordingborg.