At this summons, the aged archbishop came forward, and, with a calm assurance of his authority, raised his crook, and said--"In the name of the Holy Church, I hereby declare what I shall add, in writing, to the present document, under my own and the Church's seal, by which all shall know that the aforesaid estate, within the dukedom of South Jutland, with moneys of the mint, and other privileges in the said dukedom, is legally pronounced and adjudged, by this royal court, to the king of Denmark, for ever to possess; and we forbid, under pain of excommunication, that any one should meddle with the jurisdiction over Als, or with the forenamed estate in anywise, except with the consent and knowledge of King Erik or his successors."
Notwithstanding that the old archbishop appeared inconsiderable and indistinct by the side of Master Grand, he pronounced these words with a quiet dignity that did not mar their effect. He then stepped back. Master Grand bit his lips with rage, and walked silently to his place.
The stillness of death for a moment pervaded the assembly; when the king suddenly arose, and declared the Dane-court at an end, his words being accompanied by three loud trumpet-blasts. The archbishop and chancellor thereupon came forward with the crown and sceptre. The king pressed the crown firmly on his head, grasped the sceptre, and hastily descended from the throne. The row of knights opened, the people fell back, and the king, with the princes and his train, returned to the palace.
The assembly broke up in the greatest order; but the knights of the various parties regarded each other with a silence at once unusual and painful. From Count Jacob and Master Grand alone were heard a few loud words, the involuntary outbreak of subdued wrath. Duke Waldemar, however, preserved a better appearance: his sagacious eye ran over the rank of his attached knights, and then, making a rapid gesture with his forefinger to his mouth, he departed, with his lively drost by his side, to that part of the palace where he had his apartments.
In the evening, after these important transactions, a magnificent entertainment was given at the palace, wherein the queen, with the little Princess Mereté and their ladies, participated, and where the king was also present, with both the young princes, in full court state. Both the palace and the town were brilliantly illuminated. Flutes and violins resounded from the knights' saloon, and the serious business of the morning appeared to be wholly forgotten in social enjoyments, and in the varied display of wit and gravity, chivalrous courtesies and disguised passions, in which a thousand hidden qualities of the heart were concerned. Love and jealousy, hope and fear, pride and vanity, combined as powerfully to set the unstable, youthful soul into lively motion, as did the music and dancing to bring into action the feet of knights and ladies on the polished floor.
As at the previous evening's entertainment at Sir John's, Duke Waldemar was here, in an extremely good humour. Not a trace of discontent was visible in his countenance, and he attracted general attention, as much by his cheerfulness and affability as by his princely bearing and dazzling grandeur. His variance with the king was the reason that he had not yet received the honour of knighthood, which he could not accept from any meaner hand. He dressed, notwithstanding, in the style of the most elegant knight, and, to conceal his want of the gold spurs, wore silver ones, thickly studded with gems. He suffered no opportunity to pass of showing himself attentive and devoted to the queen; his bold and artful drost, Sir Abildgaard, attaching himself, in a similar way, to Counselor John's fair daughter, Lady Cecilia.
Drost Peter, to the surprise of all, was extremely reserved and silent. He was wont, on festive occasions at court, to be the soul of the company, and, in particular, to entertain the queen and her ladies by an ingenious blending of the grave and gay, with a freedom and liveliness which could only be derived from a consciousness of the favour in which he stood. Since the first morning of the Dane-court, when it was reported that he was ruined and in disgrace, and yet was seen, shortly after, leaving the king's closet as the most favoured of favourites, it was observed by every one, that a remarkable alteration had taken place in his demeanour. He had become grave and taciturn, as people fancied, from pride. He appeared to avoid with care, almost with anxiety, every approach to the queen; whilst, at the same time, he often watched her, and closely observed Duke Waldemar's efforts to please her. In this behaviour, the queen's sharp-sighted ladies fancied that they perceived the jealous favourite, who kept back from wounded vanity, and esteemed himself too highly to vie with Duke Waldemar in knightly civilities. He himself believed that he had far more important grounds for his altered conduct. The experience of the last few days had taught him how hazardous it was, in a court like this, to allow his frank and lively nature to be displayed without disguise, and, like a courteous knight, to worship beauty without reservation, even where he honoured it in combination with true innate greatness.
The only occasion on which he had spoken to the queen, since his arrival at the present court, was at an unusual time, and with a degree of agitation that might have been easily misinterpreted: it was on the evening of his arrival, when he had in vain sought an audience of the king, and when recourse to this step was necessary in order to save his unfortunate foster-mother. He had, as usual, found the amiable and virtuous queen extremely gracious, and favourably disposed towards him and his business. By immediately granting his request, and effecting his nurse's release from prison, she had given him a new proof of her goodwill. The danger he had subsequently incurred, and his fortunate escape, which she learnt on the following day, filled her with the liveliest interest; but the grounds of his danger were only half known, and what the attendants fancied they did know, no one thought it becoming to inform her of. She had not spoken a single word to him since. The evident care with which he appeared to avoid her, surprised and displeased her; and, as he had neglected several favourable opportunities of approaching her, she appeared no longer to notice his presence, but confined her conversation to Duke Waldemar, Count Jacob, and the other princely gentlemen in the company.
Late in the evening, the king quietly left the saloon, attended by Chamberlain Rané. Drost Peter observed his sudden departure; and as it took place on a signal from the crafty chamberlain, he concluded that it had reference to some private understanding, and to one of those frequent but discreditable assignations wherein Rané was at all times the king's familiar and agent.
Drost Peter dared not follow, to warn him of Rané, who had already vindicated himself, and regained the king's favour. The young drost stood, alone and dejected, by one of the windows, during a wild and merry dance. He felt, with some disquietude, his peculiar position at court, where it was his first duty to guard from temptation the young heir to the throne. It was nearly impossible to watch over the security of a king who so continually exposed himself to insult and danger by his debaucheries, and by honouring with his confidence men who only flattered his inclinations to promote their own ends and lead him into temptation.