"An able king is the Swedish Magnus--that you must, nevertheless, admit," replied the count. "I do not boast of him because he is my brother-in-law; but this I know, that he is not called Magnus, or Ladislaus, in vain. If he does, at times, strike off the heads of some of the haughty great ones, still the small have reason to extol him: he has put locks upon their doors in earnest, and suffers not petty tyrants to rule where he sways the sceptre."
"There you are right, Count Gerhard. He thinks that one great tyrant is quite enough for Sweden, and, with your and Queen Hedwig's permission, that he himself should be the man. Matters are not yet come to this extremity in Denmark, however bad they may be; but if Stig Andersen and his friends were at liberty to dethrone and set up kings at their pleasure, you would soon see in what a sea of blood we should swim."
With such conversation, they arrived at the town-gate, where they were stopped by an armed burgher, who, in the governor's name, sternly, demanded, who they were, and whither they were going. As soon as Drost Peter had announced his own name and that of Count Gerhard of Holstein, the stern officer made a profound bow, but still reminded the distinguished travellers of the seventh article in the civic law of Nyborg.
"Good," replied the drost: "it is right to remind us thereof." And they rode on without hindrance.
"They must be very strict here," said the count, "when the drost himself must be reminded of the law. What have their tiresome bye-laws to do with us?"
"It was in his orders," answered Drost Peter. "No stranger must here carry his weapon farther than to his inn; and every traveller must be apprised of this. The presence of the king, and of the numerous strangers, render such a precaution necessary. Of what use are strict laws, unless they are enforced? The man did not know me; but he knew that I do not suffer myself to be made an exception in these matters."
"The plague! Are we prisoners of war here, in the midst of peace? This is ridiculous!" exclaimed the count. "Is the monstrous Riben bye-law in force here? God preserve us from the Ribe-Ret! as we say in Kiel."
"Let us not talk too loud about this, noble count," replied Drost Peter, riding closer up to him, while he continued, in a subdued tone: "it is truly a great misfortune, when the law itself renders its transgression necessary. What has made the Ribe-Ret to be so decried there, has here, in part, fallen into disuse. In some points, however, the bye-laws here are too severe, and almost cruel. If it please God, in due time it shall be otherwise."
They now rode past the old Lady Kirk, which, with its lofty spire, stood in a green space, called Helletoft, where also stood several separate buildings, in the same Gothic style as the church, with pointed gables and small round windows.
"Who lives here?" inquired the count: "it looks as still and dreary as a convent."