But still were his people faithful, in evil days as in good. I saw King Valdemar, now blinded and white and bent, put away the sword and write laws for his land that in the evening of his life earned him the name of the Wise Law-giver; for the landmarks he set, the justice he did between man and man, endure unto this day. I saw the last crushing sorrow fall upon him when Dagmar’s son was killed on the chase by a friend’s arrow. And I saw the mightiest of Danish rulers breathe out his great soul in the fulness of his days. And as I awoke I heard the voice of the old chronicler, when Valdemar was gathered to his fathers: “Truly then fell the crown from the heads of Danish men.” For never since has Denmark seen his like. The embers in my fireplace glowed and the stone from the old tower showed red. Once more I saw, as in a dream, the castle on the hill. It was night, and there were lights in the windows and sounds of noisy revelry within. On the green by the river men and women were dancing. The girls had daisies and the young leaf of the beech braided in their hair, for it was May-day. The men wore long muffling cloaks that hid their armor and their swords. They were dancing “May into town” in the glad fashion of the day, and into the castle too, where the captain was making merry with his men. He had betrayed the King’s cause into the hands of his enemies and sold his soul, with his faith, for their gold. Little did he dream who was dancing over the drawbridge which the sentinels let down at his bidding: They danced them over the Ribe Bro, (bridge) There danceth the knight with pointed shoe For Erik, for young King Erik. Over the bridge and into the castle they danced, and into the great hall where the faithless Tage Muus and his men sat drinking deep to the success of their deviltry, hammering a mirthful welcome on the table with their tankards as the doors swung open for the May party. They trod the dance lightly before them, the men waving torches and the women weaving flowery garlands about them, and the knaves hailed them uproariously; but the shout died in their throats as, at a signal from their leader, the women seized the torches and the men dropped their cloaks and fell upon the revellers with drawn swords. For they were the King’s men, and Ribe was loyal if the captain of the castle was false. So it was won by a May dance For Erik, for young King Erik, Valdemar’s son, and his banner flew once more from its walls, while the dungeon claimed the traitors.