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."