King Eric and the Outlaws, Vol. 3: or, the Throne, the Church, and the People in the Thirteenth Century.Ingemann, Bernhard Severin
History
King Eric and the Outlaws, Vol. 3: or, the Throne, the Church, and the People in the Thirteenth Century.
Ingemann, Bernhard Severin
Denmark -- History -- Erik Menved, 1286-1319 -- Fiction
less--they are dangerous people, those holy men of God, when they will
have a finger in state affairs. Here he sleeps under the same roof with
his enemies to-night; and yonder, in the hospital, lies a disguised
regicide; perhaps he was only deadly sick for appearance sake, and my
compassion was ill bestowed." As Count Henrik was revolving these
thoughts, and delayed retiring to rest, there was a low knocking at the
door. It opened, and an ecclesiastic entered; he was a quiet, serious
old man. The moonlight fell on a pale and somewhat melancholy face, and
the Count recognised the general-superior of the Copenhagen chapter. "A
word in confidence, noble knight," he whispered mysteriously; "I come
like Nicodemus; yet it is not spiritual things, but temporal, which
have disturbed my night's rest. Your liege the king hath this day
generously saved my life and the lives of my colleagues, although he
does not regard us all as his friends, and with some reason: perhaps I
may now be able to requite him."
"How?" exclaimed Count Henrik: "say on, venerable sir! What have you to
confide to me?"
"When we fled from Axelhuus at break of day," continued the
ecclesiastic, "I was well nigh sick of fear and alarm, and gave but
little heed to what passed around me. A half-dead man had been found on
the beach, and out of compassion taken into the boat. I saw not his
face, and his voice was strange to me; of that I can take my oath. He
was afterwards carried to St. George's Hospital here, close by the
king's meadows. While we lay hidden under the thwarts in the boat, for
fear of the insurgents, the sick man had come to himself: and exchanged
many strange, enigmatical words with my colleague, the abbot of the
Forest Monastery. What it was I heard but half, and cannot remember;
but there must be some mystery about that person which makes me
apprehensive; deadly sick he seemed to me in no wise to be, and
appeared least of all prepared for his _own_ departure from this world.
My lord, the bishop seemed neither to know him nor his dark projects;
but as I said, the abbot knew him, and had assuredly before
administered to him the most holy Sacrament. More have I not to say;
but I felt compelled to seek you out, however late it was: I could not
sleep for disquiet thoughts. The guard without, here, I found in a deep
slumber, I know not whether it is with your knowledge."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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