The Childhood of King Erik Menved: An Historical Romance

by Bernhard Severin Ingemann

The most considerable lay and ecclesiastical lords in the country were present at this parliament. Here were now to be seen the Archbishop John Dros of Lund, and Bishop Tygé of Aarhaus, as well as the bishops of Viborg, Rypen, Roskild, Odense, and Börglum. These spiritual lords had already, on Sunday, in conjunction and with the consent of the feudal lords and knights, or, as it was called, according to the Best Council, come to the determination, that they should appoint twelve intelligent men of Denmark, to form a Worthel, or council of jurors, who should say and swear to whom the lands and estates in dispute between the king and duke of right belonged. The stern old Sir John had been chosen one of these jurors. Before judgment was delivered, the jurors daily assembled in the counsellor's house, where they considered the subject in quietness, with locked doors.

Sir John kept an hospitable house, and received them all with the greatest politeness. He possessed one of the largest mansions in Nyborg, where his wife and daughter resided with him during the Dane-court. Every evening, great numbers of both lay and spiritual lords were here assembled; and one might observe that Duke Waldemar and his adherents were here to be found as often as Drost Peter, David Thorstenson, and others attached to the royal house. At times, the queen, with her ladies, and the young princes, might be seen at these evening assemblies. On such occasions, the old lord was particularly merry and cheerful; but, if any one ventured to speak a word to him on state affairs, he would become suddenly silent, or punish the unmannerly busybody with a biting jest. From the time that the council of jurors began to sit, Sir John would receive no one except at a time when there was company with him; and he would not talk alone with any one, not even with Drost Peter, who, at other times, had daily and familiar access to him. He had also declared, that, until the Dane-court was closed, he could not, and would not, converse alone, even with the king himself.

The day before the termination of the Dane-court, Sir John sat, in the forenoon, for the last time, in the council of jurors, with locked doors. His house-steward was strictly forbidden to admit any one whatever. Meanwhile, admission was authoritatively demanded by a tall, powerful man, in a hooded cap, who either did not know, or did not trouble himself, about this necessary precaution. In his vehemence, the cap slipped on one side, and the house-steward suddenly became so terrified that he lost both speech and self-possession, and, notwithstanding the strict order to the contrary, hastily withdrew the bar from the closed door. But, at the same instant, a bolt was secured inside.

"All twelve are here," shouted old Sir John: "we have no room for a thirteenth, if even he bore the crown and sceptre!"

The tall man in the hooded cap stamped wrathfully on the floor, and, with hasty strides, left the knight's house, without saying a word. Before evening, this occurrence was known all over Nyborg, with various explanatory additions; and Sir John was highly commended for his hardihood by Duke Waldemar and his adherents, who drew from it conclusions favourable to their case.

In the evening, as usual, there was a numerous assemblage at Sir John's. The queen and the young princes were also expected. Drost Peter was invited, together with his guests. When Count Gerhard heard that the queen was to be there, he sprang from the reclining chair, for which he had now exchanged his bed, and swore, loud and deeply, that he would go, if he should have to keep his bed for it a whole month afterwards.

"A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush," he said. "If I have not permission to-morrow, or the day after, to attend the court festivities, and if I should die of tedium in the meanwhile, I shall lie with a long nose in my grave. This surgeon is a tiresome fellow. He makes as much ado about this scratch as if I were a maiden, and wraps me up like a suckling. And you, fortune's favourite, whose head, nevertheless, I almost hewed off--you strut there, bold and nimble enough: I trow, indeed, you have had your head linked to your neck with chains of honour."

"I have a good skin for healing," replied Drost Peter; "and, this time, the sword did not penetrate far into it. In one sense, however, you are right," he added: "my head has not sat looser upon me for a long time; and this chain has certainly somewhat secured it. But leave the junketings alone, noble count. The skin is but thin upon your wound, and, to-night, you might easily be thrown into excitement."

"Excitement! that is just what I am intent upon," interrupted the count. "A person must still draw breath, however thin-skinned he may be. I cannot live in this fashion, like a mummy, much longer. I know I am master of my body: pity it is that we should let clerks and ghostly fathers be masters of our sinful souls! Give me my court-doublet and new mantle, Longlegs. Somewhat clumsy I may be in these wrappings, but I shall leave them on to please you."

Farther objections were vain. He donned his bright red lawn doublet, placed his feathered hat on his head, and cast a stiff, gold-fringed, purple mantle over his broad shoulders.