The Childhood of King Erik Menved: An Historical RomanceIngemann, Bernhard Severin
History
The Childhood of King Erik Menved: An Historical Romance
Ingemann, Bernhard Severin
Denmark -- History -- Erik Glipping, 1259-1286 -- Fiction; Denmark -- History -- Erik Menved, 1286-1319 -- Fiction
When Drost Peter perceived these festive preparations, so little suited
to his own frame of mind, and to the harsh appearance of the royal
train, he was singularly and painfully affected. The slightly-built
arch was not unlike a gallows; and the old nurse, in her white dress,
reminded him of the so-called corpse-women, who conducted interments in
commercial towns. At the head of the ridiculously dressed-up milkmaids,
who were intended to represent fine ladies, Dorothy felt as dignified
as a queen.
In a less serious mood, this spectacle would perhaps have extorted a
smile from the lively young drost; but now it augmented most painfully
his gloomy state of mind. The king did not appear to give much
attention to these tokens of homage, which he was accustomed to see in
every small trading town, and even where he knew that he was detested
by the majority of the inhabitants. Such demonstrations of homage were
most frequently got up by the crafty chamberlain, who sagaciously
reckoned that, if these flatteries did not always obtain the king's
applause, they seldom called forth his displeasure.
Notwithstanding the tastelessness and farcical character of this
parade, it was apparent that it was prompted by simple good-nature and
true respect for the king, when the old nurse, with her thin, tremulous
notes, and accompanied by the grating voices of the Juttish milkmaids,
offered to him, in Danish, the German meister-singer's homage:--
"I prize the king who wears the crown,
And brings the country great renown.
"He helps the widow in her need;
His bounty doth the orphan feed.
"He guards his land--his name is dear
To all his people, far and near.
"His heart is warm, and great his mind;
His speech to one and all is kind.
"His hand is just to great and small,
Nor riches do his heart enthral.
"And he whose fair renown I sing.
Is Erik, Denmark's famous king."
The aged but zealous leader of the songstresses now first fixed her
eyes upon the king, and when she beheld his austere countenance and
blinking eyelids, she became deadly pale. She stared at him, like a
sorceress who had conjured up some fearful spirit, and was suddenly
horrified on beholding the mighty unknown which her incantations had
summoned forth. She involuntarily crossed herself, and turned away her
look; but the apparition of the executioner and his rough assistants,
who closed the procession, raised her terror so high that her senses
forsook her, and, with a convulsive shriek, she fell to the ground. The
king succeeded in curbing his startled horse, and rode hastily in with
his retinue.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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