Among others of the king's train were two celebrated German minstrels--Master Rumelant, from Swabia, and Master Poppé the Strong, who, in their national dress of German minstrels, attracted much attention. Master Rumelant's stature was insignificant, but he had a lively and enthusiastic expression of countenance; he was a lover of argument, into which he was ever ready to enter with warmth and vehemence, especially on theological subjects, on which he entertained his own very peculiar opinions. His countryman, Poppé the Strong, well deserved his cognomen: he was a gigantic figure, with long coal-black hair and beard. His appearance often terrified old women and children, by whom he was even sometimes taken for a wizard. He spoke in a tone of emphatic decision, which would have better beseemed a commander-in-chief. He rode a lean grey horse, and always wore a black feather in his hat, in token of a sorrow he desired should be noticed and respected by others. These two strangers had been for some time the honoured guests of the young Danish monarch, who himself possessed a knowledge of the arts, and showed special favour to talented artists and men of learning. The king was also attended on this excursion by the famous Danish philosopher, Petrus de Dacia, who was accounted the greatest astronomer and arithmetician of his time, and was as renowned for his theological learning as for his eloquence and profound knowledge of Greek and Latin philology. Clad in his black canon's dress, he rode a quiet palfrey, between the two German minstrels; and always acted as mediator when, in the heat of argument, they became vehement, and seemed disposed to exchange hard words. He was still in the prime of life: on his journey through Germany he had become acquainted, at Cologne, with Christiné Stambel, the nun, so renowned for her sanctity; and the enthusiasm with which he always spoke of this lady would have subjected him to the suspicion of a secret passion, had he not in his writings, as well as in his conversation, lauded with still greater enthusiasm the blessed Virgin Mary, as preeminent in beauty and sanctity, and exalted her to supreme rank among the saints in the calendar. He had proved, with irresistible eloquence, that the gracious confidence the Lord showed to St. Peter, in intrusting him with the care of his flock, was even vouchsafed in a far higher degree to St. John, the beloved apostle, who, as the Lord's best-loved disciple, was appointed the protector and guardian of the blessed Virgin.
His vehement theological controversy on this point with the learned and famous Aldobrandino Papparonus Venensis, of the Dominican order, was in a great measure the foundation of the esteem in which he was held by the learned. It was only when the conversation turned on this his favourite theme that his equanimity was ever disturbed; excepting when this occurred, his discourse was calm, clear, and collected. The latent energy which lay in his full and ardent eye, with its expression of somewhat visionary enthusiasm, was calculated to inspire kindly attention and confidence, and (what was a phenomenon among the learned of his time) he was altogether free from pedantry and pride.
The king and his train now approached the cross road and the tree behind which Morten had concealed himself: from this spot opened the finest view on Esrom lake. "Halt!" said the king, springing from his horse: "this is a lovely spot; we will tarry here and take our repast. They will surely come this way from Elsinore."
"No doubt they will, my liege," answered Marsk Oluffsen, while he and the Drost dismounted at the same time from their horses, and gave them into the charge of the king's groom. "Here lies the high road to Esrom and Sjöborg. But, if I know the margrave right, he will not ride through Elsinore ere all the pretty maidens are awake and can admire his fair presence and horsemanship. As yet, his head is full of nought but love adventures and such nonsense."
"Call you love 'nonsense,' my brave Marsk?" interrupted the king. "Do you forget I am a bridegroom? and I trust not one of the coldest."
"Bridegroom, my liege?" answered the Marsk: "in Danish we call no man a bridegroom until his marriage day, and much must be done ere that day comes."
"Much?" rejoined the king, and his joyous animated countenance became suddenly stern and grave--"well! much may be done in a short time, but if they make the time too long, the day I long for may come when I will."
"The Lord and our blessed Lady forbid!" said Drost Aagé, in an under tone, casting a glance at the king, full of anxious and heartfelt sympathy.
"Let the horns play, Aagé," said the king, as if desirous to prevent more exclamations of this kind, which seemed to displease him. "The day will be fine: we will begin it joyously."
At a signal from the Drost, the musicians, who followed the hunting train, struck up the air of the well-known ancient ballad of "Axel Thordson and Fair Valborg,"[[8]] which they knew was a favourite with the king.