The queen's present confidence in him, and her desire to compensate him for the unworthy suspicions she formerly entertained, now led her to agree with him in a conclusion altogether opposed to the wishes of the council. The representations of the duke to herself and her brothers, induced them to consider the juncture too serious for farther festivities; and, to look carefully to the security of the royal house, they unanimously determined that, instead of carrying the young king to Zealand, there to receive the homage of the people, and from thence to be crowned at Lund, they should immediately carry him back to the strong castle of Viborg, and defer the journey to Zealand and Scania, so long as Marsk Stig, with the outlaws and Norse rovers, rendered the Belt and Sound unsafe. This determination the queen, in the presence of the duke, announced to Sir John and Drost Peter during the evening, in a tone so decided as to restrain every objection.
Drost Peter was much alarmed, for he saw in this a new attempt on the part of the duke to draw the royal personages within his own and the outlaws' power, whilst, by his cunning, he would perhaps succeed in deferring the act of homage, and delaying the coronation until he could himself unlawfully seize upon the kingdom. Drost Peter burned with impatience boldly and openly to unmask the mighty traitor, and testify to what he knew of the true reason of his absence from the Dane-court; but on a stern look of warning from Sir John, he restrained himself, and was silent. The journey to Viborg was, therefore, fixed for the next morning, and the company separated.
It was late in the evening. The servants of the palace were busily engaged with the requisite preparations for the journey, the din of which was heard in the castle-court. The duke and his retinue had withdrawn to their own apartments; but it was observed that some of his followers had left the castle, and hastily taken the road to Middelfert. The young king had retired, and the Margraves of Brandenburg had just left the queen in her private apartment. She had taken a farewell of her brothers, who, that very night, were to leave Denmark for the court of the Emperor Rudolph, to induce him to declare the Danish regicides outlaws in Germany. This reason for their sudden journey, they had, however, confided only to the queen.
The beautiful young widow sat, her cheek resting on her hand, at a table of black marble, on which stood two wax-lights. She wore her mourning attire; and, as her dark head-dress was cast aside, her rich brown hair hung in tresses over her arms, and fell upon the marble slab. Her fair white fingers were engaged in turning over the leaves of a beautiful little manuscript volume, the pages of which she frequently crossed and marked with a silver needle. In this book she had, in her lonely hours, poured out her heart with honest self-acknowledgment, and with her own hand had recorded every remarkable circumstance of her life. There stood yet the fair delightful dreams of her childhood, like half-vanished memories of Paradise. They were, however, soon followed by her humiliating espousals. Her early betrothment to King Erik Christopherson had been one of the conditions of his release from Nordborg Castle, after he was taken prisoner in the war with Duke Waldemar's father. The record of this, her alienation to another, was but incoherently set down, and it seemed as if she had not yet understood the proper connection of events; for, in incoherent words, and in traces of tears, she saw the day recorded when, yet little more then a child, she had, in blind duty and obedience, suffered herself to be adorned as a royal bride, and become the unwitting victim of a cold political consideration. Of her wedded state, so void of love and tenderness, there were many records; for at this point she appeared first to become conscious of her dignity, and of the purpose of life. In the midst of the great and glittering world she had often felt herself alone and forsaken, although, with youthful energy, she had availed herself of her lofty position to occupy her thoughts with benevolence, and diffuse peace and joy around her. It was granted her to seem fortunate; and whatever success followed her efforts to suppress the dangerous voice of rebellion, which threatened the king and kingdom with ruin, was due as much to her personal influence as to the exalted splendour of the crown.
The kindly interest she felt in Drost Peter was the first bright spot in this dark portion of her inner life. His brave chivalrous spirit, and the homage he rendered her, had been grateful to her womanly nature; while with prudence and delicacy she had concealed, beneath the imposing cloak of majesty, every feeling of her heart's desolateness.
As she continued turning over the leaves of this her life's-book, the past flitted by her like a dream. At the lively description of the tournament at Helsingborg, she found first mentioned the name of Count Gerhard, with a witty remark on the awkwardness of his homage, but also with expressions of esteem and interest. A few pages farther she saw a bitter memorial of the injurious rumour to which her interest in Drost Peter had given birth, and a memorandum of her determination to avoid for the future every appearance of familiarity with her faithful and attached knight.
As she glanced over the account of the festival at Sir John's, and of her dance with the wounded Count Gerhard, a slight blush crimsoned her cheeks, and she felt that the bold, good-natured dancer had made a greater impression upon her than she was, at that time, willing to believe. The discreet and respectful attachment to her which had that day beamed from his one honest eye, had, in her mind, invested him with greater dignity. Her judgment both of him and of the accomplished Duke Waldemar she now reviewed with much interest. To the duke she had given the preference for his knightly bearing and polished manners; while she had found him deficient in the truthfulness and bold sincerity that enhanced the nobleness of Count Gerhard and rendered him so entirely safe to be relied upon.
Having closed the manuscript, she remained some time in deep thought, and was at length about to summon her ladies and retire to rest, when she heard a gentle knocking at the private door of the apartment which separated her closet from that of the youthful king, and which was accessible to the royal family alone.
"Come in, my son," she said, as she turned towards the door, which was then softly opened, and the trusty favourite squire, Aagé Jonsen, stepped modestly over the threshold.
He remained respectfully at a distance, and, having made his salutation, "Pardon my temerity, most gracious queen," he began, in a low voice: "my master, the king, has commanded me to open this door, to ascertain if your grace was present, and alone. He prays you, for most important reasons, to grant him and the drost an audience here, without witnesses."