For young Eric this feat is done!"[[8]]
The king listened with pleasure to the lay, and talked with Aagé of his beloved Drost Peter Hessel, of whom this song always reminded him; and when Count Gerhard heard the ballad of Ribéhuus, he tramped gaily into the ranks of the dancers, in joyous remembrance of that event, at which he had himself been present.
The king's mother and Queen Helvig now entered the antechamber, with the young and lovely bride, and the joy of the people was uttered yet more loudly. The ballad-singers instantly began the ballad of Queen Dagmar's bridal; all the maidens joined in it, and the dancers moved to the tune. The king stepped forward, with his bride, at the head of the troop of dancers. At last the maidens sang:
"'Great joy there was o'er Denmark's land,
When Dagmar stepped upon the strand;
Both burgher and peasant then lived in peace,
From tax and ploughpenny-yoke had ease,
From Bohmerland[[9]] the lady crossed the seas!"
But as they were going to sing the last verse, the ballad-singers took up the lay and sang:
"'Again there's joy o'er Denmark's land,'
Fair Ingeborg comes unto our strand!
Like Waldemar Seier, King Eric hath found
A Dagmar to bring us on Danish ground;
From Sweden's land so far renowned!"
This verse was repeated amid loud and joyous acclamations.
"Thanks, good people! thanks!" said the king, with pleased emotion; "if it please the Lord, and our blessed Lady, Valdemar's and Dagmar's days shall return."
The young queen feelingly greeted the many loyal persons who surrounded her.
Amid the general rejoicing and festive stir, there was no one beside Drost Aagé who saw anything suspicious in the continuance of the mask; but among the great number of maskers, he had especially noticed two, who frequently made their way nearly up to the king, and disappeared again. They were dressed up according to the ideas which the lower classes entertained of mermen; their painted faces were hidden by green silken hair, and they wore coats of glittering silver scales. Their restless deportment appeared suspicious to Aagé, who paid close attention to every movement of these masks--but his suspicion soon vanished; a pretty little fishermaiden came to meet the second mask and the pair soon danced so lovingly together, that Aagé conjectured a little love affair was in progress. "Why cannot I thus dance here with her?" he sighed, and his thoughts travelled to the maiden's tower at Wordinborg. He looked with interest on the fair fisher-maiden, who with her long hair, and her joyous sparkling eyes, bore a faint resemblance to the Lady Margaretha's capricious sister Ulrica. "Alas, no! poor maidens!" sighed the Drost, stepping out into the hall balcony--"they are now in the gloomy tower over yonder; they hear and see nought of these rejoicings--and yet they are innocent--it is injustice; crying injustice--in this matter he is stern and unyielding. To-night, however, he is mild, and joyous, and happy--who knows----." It seemed as if Aagé was suddenly inspired by a bold hope; he returned into the antechamber, and approached the king, who took greater pleasure in being a spectator of the merriment of the lower orders in the antechamber than in looking on the more graceful and skilful dancing in the knights' hall. But the Drost presently once more beheld one of the frightful mermen figures near the king; his suspicions of this mask were again awakened, and he observed the glittering handle of a dagger between the silver scales on the merman's breast, on which his hand often rested when he approached Eric. Aagé placed himself between the king and the intrusive mask, and asked, "Who art thou?"