"Oh list then, Agneté, thus sue I to thee![[5]]
Wilt thou be moved my true love to be?
Ho! ho! ho!
Wilt thou be moved my true love to be,
To morrow they lead here the dance so free?"
The deep voice ceased; the little window rattled behind the grating, and a sweet female voice sang from above--
"Oh yes, by my troth, that will I indeed,
O'er the sea so blue if thou'lt bear me with speed--
Ha! ha! ha!
O'er the sea so blue if thou'lt bear me with speed,
But not to its depths will I dive with thee,
Then to-morrow we'll lead the dance so free."
"Ha! Gundelille's voice, Ulrica Stig!" muttered Pallé; "ay, indeed, a love adventure then! and yonder outlawed hound on my preserve. This shall soon be put a stop to!" In his jealous eagerness he plucked up courage, and first stole a good way back from the tower; he then went briskly forward again, and growled forth a song, while he tramped hard, letting his long sword clatter after him on the stone pavement; but he had hardly swaggered ten paces from the tower ere the disguised figure rushed past him like lightning and threw him on the ground; he felt at the same time a stab in his right side. "Murder! help!" gasped Pallé, in a low voice. He dared not cry aloud and give the alarm lest the terrible fugitive should return and despatch him at once. "Alas! poor unoffending fellow I that am!" he moaned, "when I carry my head highest I even get run through the body. Those accursed women! they are only created to be my ruin--" He hasted to get upon his legs, and ran as hard as he could over the dusky part of the court-yard to his chamber in the knights' story, where in all secresy he had his wound examined and bound up. His ample mantle had parried the thrust, and the wound seemed trifling; but it pained him exceedingly, and the fright had so overpowered him that he was compelled to retire to his couch. To the many inquisitive questions put to him as to who it was that had wounded him, he dared not answer a word; and the more he thought of his mysterious rival the more alarmed he became. "The Drost!--send for the Drost!" he at last exclaimed in a low tone. "It is a state secret; no other may know it." Nobody attended much to this expression, which was regarded merely as one of his customary boasts of a knowledge of state affairs and secrets which it was known would never be entrusted to him. At last, however, his attendants were forced to humour him, and sent a messenger to summon the Drost.
Meanwhile the Lady Ulrica stood alone, and listened at the little grated window in in the maidens' tower. On a work-table in the chamber stood a lamp, and a handsome fisher-maiden's costume, trimmed with pearls and silk ribbon, lay upon it. A sweet female voice was heard singing in the adjoining apartment; here sat her sister, the meek Margaretha, before the lamp, occupied in embroidering a large piece of tapestry for an altar-cloth. The edge or border consisted of skilfully worked foliage, with figures and scenes taken from life. There sprang hart and hind--here danced ladies and knights in miniature; but within the border hung the Saviour on the cross, and the Virgin Mary stood with St. John and St. Magdalen at the foot of the cross as Mater Dolorosa, represented as usual with a sword through the bosom. In the foreground knelt a knight in black armour, with his consort and two little maidens in mourning attire. In these figures she had pourtrayed her father, the mighty Marsk Stig, and her proud and unhappy mother Ingeborg, together with herself and her sister, as children. While Margaretha sat diligently occupied in this employment, and sang the ballad of Hagbarth and Signé, she noticed not what her capricious sister was about.[[6]]
The distant sound of the festive din at the castle occasionally reached the lonely prison of the captive maidens; when this happened, Ulrica always became impatient, and wept at the thought of her exclusion from these festivities, and Margaretha found it a hard task to comfort her. Each time the sprightly little Karen came to supply their wants, Ulrica eagerly and inquisitively questioned her of all that passed, and the maiden was forced to give a description of all the stranger guests and knights. It was only when Margaretha heard Drost Aagé's name, and Karen's account of what she knew of his dangerous adventure at Kallundborg, that she forgot her work, her hands dropped into her lap, and she listened with attentive interest. What their attendant related of the king, of his condescension towards the lowest, and his just strictness towards the great and mighty, she also heard with a species of interest, although not without a melancholy and sometimes bitter smile when she thought of her own fate; but when Ulrica would be informed of the looks of each of the stranger knights, of the colour of their hair, beard, and clothes--how they sat at table, and with what they were served, Margaretha was near losing patience; she therefore was very glad when Ulrica, as now, took a fancy to shut herself up in the little tiring chamber, there to busy herself with her gay apparel, and gossip with their attendant Karen. Since the maiden had on the morning of this day mentioned the tournament which was in preparation, and the dance and masque which it was hoped would take place the next evening, Ulrica had become joyous again. When she was not whispering and gossiping with Karen, she sang quite gaily in the little tiring chamber to which she had taken a special fancy.