Part 2
He struck the door a blow so stout That bolt and nail came leaping out.
36
He burst the door with rage and wrath, He bore his mother forth from the bath.
37
He bore her out where the blossoms blow, But she was dead ere first cock-crow. —By my troth; King Valdemar he wooed them both.
III, IV, V
THE DAGMAR BALLADS
QUEEN BENGERD
Valdemar II (1202-41) has been strangely dealt with by the Ballads. They are silent alike as to the warlike exploits which won him the name of Sejr, the Victorious, and the administrative reforms commemorated in his other title of Legifer. His crusade against the heathen Esthonians—even the miraculous gift of the Dannebrog, the national standard blazoned in the armorial bearings of the conquered city Reval—left popular imagination unmoved. It seized, however, on the images of his two Queens, ascribing to the one all that was liked, to the other all that was loathed, in the King’s treatment of his subjects.
Dragomir the Bohemian came to Denmark in 1205, bore the King a son, Valdemar, and died two years later, probably in childbirth. From the first she was the people’s darling; her Slav name was changed to Dagmar (Dag-mø = day-maid or light-bringer) “by reason,” says a contemporary chronicler, “of her great beauty.”
The Ballads of her Bridal and Death were probably composed by the next generation, and have little pretension to historical accuracy. Bishop Valdemar, for instance, was not the Queen’s uncle, but the King’s first cousin—son of Knud Magnusson, whose sister was Valdemar’s mother. In consequence of an attempt to usurp the throne, as the German Emperor’s vassal, he was thrown into prison at Søberg, where he lay for fourteen years. His release in 1205 was due to the Pope’s intervention, aided, as a monkish chronicle puts it, “by the loving representations of Bishop Andreas and others”—but the people, perhaps with some reason, pictured Dagmar as the peacemaker.
A second Ballad of her bridal describes her wooing by Sir Strange as the King’s proxy:
“I saw a sail fare o’er the Sound, —So many a pennon of gold— There sailed he, Sir Strange, with Dagmar the Queen.”
Little is known of Valdemar’s second Queen, Berengaria, except that she too was beautiful. But, since she came of a contentious and covetous family, the popular view of her character may be accurate enough. The “binding the harbours with iron bands” means the closing of them with chains, so that tribute might be exacted from incoming vessels. The Ballad’s account of her death—a relishing piece of poetical justice—has no foundation in fact.
III
QUEEN DAGMAR’S BRIDAL, 1205
1
It was the Queen of Bejerland That to her daughter cried: “Great honour will they show to thee When thou art Denmark’s bride.” —They sailed from noblest Bejerland.
2
“When thou art wed to Denmark’s King Thou shalt have pride and praise; Now bid the peasant pay no tax, And he’ll love thee all his days!
3
“This first boon beg thou of thy lord, And beg it withouten fear, That Bishop Valdemar go free, Thy mother’s brother dear!”
4
They spread the cloths of samite To lie her feet before; They took her, the lady Dagmar, And led her to the shore.
5
They hoisted up their sails of silk All on the golden mast, And so they sailed to Denmark Or e’er two months were past.
6
Down they cast their anchors All in the snow-white sand; They took her, the lady Dagmar, And led her first to land.
7
They took her, the lady Dagmar, And led her first to land; It was the King of Denmark Stretched forth his lily hand.
8
They spread the cloths of samite To lie her feet before; They led her, the lady Dagmar, Up to the castle door.
9
All in the morning early, Long ere the dawn of day, It was the lady Dagmar Her bridal-gift did pray.
10
“The first boon that I beg of thee, I beg withouten fear; Let Bishop Valdemar go free, My mother’s brother dear!
11
“The second boon I beg of thee ’Tis with good-will, I trow; Loose every captive from his irons, And tax not the peasant’s plough!”
12
“Hush thee now, Queen Dagmar, Speak no such words to me! If Bishop Valdemar comes forth A widow he’ll make of thee!”
13
She’s taken off her crown of gold And laid it on the board: “Oh, what shall I do in Denmark Since thou wilt not hear my word?”
14
“Now bring me in Sir Strange, And bring Sir Knud to me! ’Tis they shall ride to Attingborg And set the captives free!”
15
And when he came from dungeon forth He could not stand nor go: “Here have I lain eight years and more, Long years, I ween, and slow!”
16
She’s taken out her comb of gold, To comb his yellow hair: For every lock she ordered Down fell a bitter tear.
17
“Harken now, Queen Dagmar, And weep not thus for me! For an I live but a twelvemonth Sore shall my vengeance be!”
18
“Now hush thee, Bishop Valdemar, Let be thy chiding vain! Art thou thrown once more into Attingborg Thou’lt ne’er win out again!” —They sailed from noblest Bejerland.
IV
QUEEN DAGMAR’S DEATH
1
Queen Dagmar lay in Ribe sick, To Ringsted did she fare; All the dames of Denmark’s land She bade them seek her there. —In Ringsted rests Queen Dagmar.
2
“Go fetch me four, go fetch me five, The wisest among them all! Go fetch little Kirsten of Rise, The sister of Sir Karl.”
3
All so modest and so mild She came to the bower door; So fain of her was Dagmar the Queen That she raised her head once more.
4
“Now canst thou read and canst thou write To help me in my need, Then shalt thou don the scarlet fine, And ride my good grey steed.”
5
“Oh, can I read and can I write I’ll do it for thee full fain, For by my troth I tell thee Sharper than steel is thy pain.”
6
She’s taken up Saint Mary’s book, And the sheen of the golden crown She could not see whenas she read, So fast her tears ran down.
7
They led her up, they led her down, And still her pain was sore: “Oh, send ye word to the King our lord To speak with me once more!”
8
Up he stood, the little page, Full fain was he to speed, He reached his saddle down from the beam And mounted the milk-white steed.
9
The King stood on the tower so tall And looked out far and wide: “Oh, yonder I see a little page, And ruefully doth he ride.
10
“Yonder I see a little foot-page, And mournful is his mien; Now grant, Almighty God in heaven, That all be well with the Queen!”
11
In he came the little foot-page, Before the board stood he: “Now wilt thou speak with the Queen again Thou must speak right speedilie!”
12
The King smote hard upon the board That all the goblets rung: “Almighty God in heaven forbid That Dagmar should die so young!”
13
The King he rode by Skanderborg With a hundred swains and one, But when he rode by Ribe Then rode he all alone.
14
Oh, woe there was in the women’s bower, And bitter dule and harm, For the Queen, or ever the King rode up, Lay dead in Kirsten’s arm.
15
And when he entered in the door He saw the bier beside: “Now help me, God our Father in heaven, My bitter grief to bide!
16
“Now pray for me, dames and damsels all, And see that ye pray not in vain, So fain am I to speak a word With Dagmar once again!”
17
Uprose the Queen upon the bier, And red, red were her eyne: “Now woe is me, my noble lord, That thus we meet in pine!
18
“The first boon that I beg thee now I beg for love of me; Give peace to every outlawed man, And set the captives free.
19
“The second boon I beg thee now I beg for love of thee; Oh, take not Bengerd for thy mate, So sour a shrew is she!
20
“The third boon that I beg thee now I beg for love so dear; That thou let Knud, my youngest son, Be King in Denmark here.
21
“Ne’er need I ha’ burnt in bitter pains By night and else by day, Had I ne’er on the Sabbath tired my head And tied my ribbons gay.
22
“Now time it is I were away, No longer may I bide; The bells of heaven are ringing for me, And the angels wait beside.” —In Ringsted rests Queen Dagmar.
V
QUEEN BENGERD
1
All in the morning, long ere day, She for her bridal-gift did pray, —Woe be on her then, Queen Bengerd!
2
“Now give me Samsey to have and hold, And let every maid pay a crown of gold!”
3
To Bengerd spake the King eftsoon: “Thou must beg another boon!
4
“So many a maid lives in poverty She cannot do it though she die!”
5
“Dear my lord, now heed my prayer, Let no lady scarlet wear!”
6
“Oh, can she buy it with gold and fee She may wear it full well for me!”
7
“Dear my lord, my prayer now heed, That no son of a churl may ride a fair steed!”
8
“Oh, can he come by it in honestie He may ride it full well for me!”
9
“Dear my lord, now give commands To close all the havens with iron bands!”
10
“Now where shall I so much metal win As to close all the havens with fetters in?”
11
“Up to Ribe will we fare, We shall find good blacksmiths there.
12
“How dare the peasant hope for more Than hut of wood and hingeless door?
13
“What more gear should a peasant gain Than a single cow and oxen twain?
14
“For every son that his wife shall bear A piece of gold shall be my share.
15
“A piece of gold for every son, For every daughter half a one!”
16
The King slept first in the dawning dim, And good Queen Dagmar appeared to him.
17
“When thou farest abroad thy foes to find Bengerd must not bide behind!
18
“Bides Bengerd behind a year, I say, The babe in the cradle must rue the day!”
19
“Now busk thee and boun thee, Bengerd the Queen! Shalt fare to the foray with me, I ween.”
20
The first shaft shot from the foeman’s bark In Bengerd’s bosom found its mark.
21
Now Bengerd in darksome mould abides, And the peasant hath oxen and kine besides.
22
Now Bengerd lies in mirk and mould, And every maid hath her crown of gold! —Woe be on her then, Queen Bengerd!
VI, VII, VIII
THE KING-SLAYING IN FINDERUP
MARSK STIG AND HIS LADY
EXTRACT FROM THE LONG BALLAD OF MARSK STIG
These Ballads have been selected from a cycle dealing with the murder of King Erik Klipping (1259-86), and the subsequent disturbances. All through his reign he was at feud with his turbulent nobles; in 1282 they extorted his signature to a Constitution (Denmark’s Magna Carta) safeguarding the rights of the nobility and liberties of the people; then, since he proved faithless, they did him to death. The murder took place on the night of November 22, 1286; his corpse was found next morning, with fifty-six wounds, in a barn at Finderup, whither he had retired to sleep during a hunting expedition. The assassins escaped for a time, but their identity was suspected, and the young King Erik Mœndved (1286-1319) was determined to have justice. At the Parliament of Nyborg (1287) a grand jury was impanelled to try the late King’s principal adversaries; nine, mostly of one family, were found guilty and declared outlaws, the royal marshal, Stig Andersen, among them. They took refuge among the islands, whence they harried the coasts of Denmark; and the protection afforded them by Norway gave rise to a lengthy war.
The “King-Slaying” is the earliest of the Ballads on this subject. The innocence of the King’s page Rane was loudly maintained by his friends, who asserted that he, “naked and weaponless, warded his master,” but evidence was forthcoming that proved his treachery.
The Ballad next in date describes the outlaws’ departure from Denmark, and Stig’s resolve to build a castle at Hjælm. The third of the series tells of his ill-omened dream, and his wife’s attempt to explain it away—his ride to the royal castle, the Queen’s taunt that he wishes to usurp the crown, and his reply that such an ambition rather befits her paramour, Drost Ove. The young King declares him an outlaw; Stig threatens to keep his foot in Denmark, and begins the building of his castle, whose looming battlements scare the peasantry.
The fourth Ballad, “Marsk Stig and his Lady” (No. 7), was written after a lapse of time when the political motive for the Slaying had been forgotten, and replaced by one more romantic, based on a vague tradition. The King, in fact, appears as David, and Stig as Uriah the Hittite. The Ballad has therefore no claim to historical accuracy; moreover, it places the action throughout in Sjælland.
Latest of all comes “The Long Ballad of Marsk Stig,” which—after the fashion of the “Lytell Geste of Robin Hood”—unites all the other Ballads in a consecutive narrative, reproducing them mostly word for word, yet enriching them with its own characteristic touches. The King’s villainy is heightened by his promise to watch over Dame Ingeborg during her husband’s absence; “she shall suffer no more wrong than if thyself wert home.” Rane, the treacherous page, appears as sister’s son to the Dame, with whom he plots the King’s murder. After Stig’s defiance at the Thing, and before the Slaying, the Long Ballad inserts an episode peculiar to itself; the amorous King goes a-hunting with Rane, gets lost in the wood, and encounters an Elf-Maid, who, in riddling words, prophesies his imminent death.
This poem, fine as it is, foreshadows the decline of the Ballad pure and simple, and its supersession by the more lengthy and complicated Romance, or novel in verse.
There are other Ballads (not contemporary) dealing with the minor characters in the drama, which give picturesque glimpses of the outlaw’s adventurous life:
“Marstig he had daughters twain, And all their lot was sorrow and pain. The elder took the younger by the hand, And thro’ the wide world did lead her.”
(Since, in some versions, the wandering maidens are the King of England’s daughters, it is probable that Marsk Stig’s name crept in from a semi-historical Ballad of Erik Mœndved’s Bridal, wherein the young Queen begs the release of Stig’s daughters from prison.)
Another sings the “Wooing of Ranild Jonson,” who by threats forces his beloved from her reluctant parents:
“Nought for their bridal bower they found But the wood and the wild and the low green ground, For sorely was he severed from friends and kinsmen. ... Forests have ears, and fields have eyes; We must wander, my maid, as the wild swan flies, Since we are severed both from friends and kinsmen.”
VI
THE KING-SLAYING IN FINDERUP, 1285
1
So many dwell in Denmark Would all be masters there! They’ve ridden up to Ribe And close disguise they wear. —And therefore the land lies in peril.
2
They’ve clothed them in a close disguise As friars of orders grey, And up the land they’ve ridden Their leal lord to betray.
3
They watched him in, they watched him out, They watched thro’ time and tide, They watched him till the woful hour He should to Finderup ride.
4
They rode into the goodman’s garth, And shining spears they bore; Was never a man might know them For the monkish cowls they wore.
5
Oh, they rode in where the wax-light stood A-burning in the bower; They led him out, the youthful King, And that was an evil hour.
6
“Harken, Ranild Jonson, Wilt thou defend my life, Half my kingdom I’ll give thee, And my sister to thy wife!”
7
It was Ranild Jonson That hewed at beam and board; Good sooth, most like a traitor Did he defend his lord!
8
Oh, they’ve struck in at the shoulder, And out at the heart they smite: “There shall be woe in all Denmark For the deed we ha’ done this night!”
9
It was the little foot-page That mote not bear the sight; The saddle he took from the good grey steed And set it upon the white.
10
The saddle he took from the good grey steed And set it upon the white, And he has ridden to Skanderborg Before the fall of night.
11
The Queen sits on the tower so tall, And looks forth far and wide: “Yonder I see a little foot-page, And swiftly doth he ride.
12
“All on his master’s steed he rides, And woe is me for fear! Now watch, Almighty God in heaven, Over my lord so dear!”
13
“Now GOD have mercy on his soul! For slain our lord doth lie; The King lies killed in Finderup, And the land is in jeopardy!
14
“Now watch ye well your castle, Now watch ye well your realm, Now watch ye well your own young son Shall stand at Denmark’s helm!”
15
“So long as thou and I shall live, Though ill thy tidings be, Fire and food in the royal court This shalt thou have in fee!” —And therefore the land lies in peril.
VII
MARSK STIG AND HIS LADY
1
It is young Sir Marstig must journey far and wide; It is young King Erik that hath betrayed his bride. —The lady she sits in Sælland, and weeps right woefully.
2
It was young Sir Marstig that home from sea did fare; She would not rise, his own dear wife, nor give him greeting there.
3
It was young Sir Marstig that entered in apace; She would not rise, his own dear wife, nor look him in the face.
4
Still he stood, Sir Marstig, and thought right heavily: “What ails her then, mine own dear wife, that hath no word for me?”
5
“When thou didst depart, my husband, I was a knightly dame; Now am I queen in Denmark—the greater is my shame.
6
“Never again shalt slumber all on my lily-white arm, Until thou hast slain King Erik, that wrought me dule and harm!”
7
It was young Sir Marstig that rode away to the Thing; Never a word he answered, until he should meet with the King.
8
It was young Sir Marstig stood forth in all men’s sight, He greeted there both page and squire and many a noble knight.
9
Up he stood, King Erik, and took him by the hand: “Welcome now, Sir Marstig, home to lord and land!”
10
Up and spake Sir Marstig, and wrathful was his mind: “Oh, little I guessed when I fared forth what falsehood I left behind!
11
“Both Revel and Riga I won for thee, and that with mickle strife, While thou, King Erik, didst bide at home to ravish my fair young wife!”
12
“Harken now, Sir Marstig, and be not wroth with me! Seven castles in Sælland, all will I give to thee.”
13
“Seven castles in Sælland will never ’suage my shame; Know thou, King of Denmark, dearer I hold my dame!
14
“Harken, King of Denmark, and heed the words I say: No fealty shalt thou have of me until my dying day!” —The lady she sits in Sælland, and weeps right woefully.
VIII
THE LONG BALLAD OF SIR MARSK STIG
(_Extract_)
35
Sir Marstig has donned his armour of proof And ridden away to the Thing, With his merry men well weaponed in steel, All for to seek the King: —My noble lord, the young Sir Marstig.
36
It was young Sir Marstig Before the Thing stood forth; He greeted the redesmen of the realm And the nobles of the north.
37
Sir Marstig stood in open Thing, And thus did speak and say: “Because my wife hath suffered wrong Do I stand here to-day.
38
“Oh, I fared forth to a far countrie And risked for the realm my life— Thou satst at home, King Erik, To ravish my fair young wife!”
39
Up spake young King Erik, And smiled ’neath cloak of vair: “Oh, her consent and will thereto As good as mine they were!”
40
Up he spake, Sir Marstig, In mood that needs must mourn: “Oh, well we wot the ancient saw That scathe must follow scorn.
41
“Now thou hast ravished my fair young wife A mock o’ me to make, But wot thou wilt, King Erik, I’ll slay thee for her sake!”
42
It was young Sir Marstig That turned him from the Thing: “Bear witness, redesmen of the realm, That I defy the King!”
43
“Now lithe and list, Sir Marstig, And let such prating be! Castles and holds and lands so green All will I give to thee.”
44
“Oh, little reck I of holds or lands, They ne’er shall ’suage my shame! I would that the wrong had ne’er been wrought Against my dainty dame!”
45
“Oh, Marstig, never so fast canst ride, But I can ride faster still; But wilt thou be mine enemy Then follow thy wasteful will!”
46
“Oh, let my riding be ne’er so slow, And ne’er so mild my mind, Yet have we seen a small greyhound Run down both hart and hind.
47
“Only do thou remember The cause I have had to plead; Oft haps it that a hillock small Doth throw a mighty steed!”
* * * * *
86
Now when Sir Marstig slew the King Little he rued the deed! Forth he fared to Skanderborg All on his swiftest steed.
87
It was she, the Queen o’ Danes, Forth from the window spied: “Oh, yonder I see the self-made King That to our hold doth ride!”
88
“Nay, never a self-made King am I For all thy words, I ween; That name befits Drost Lovmand, Lay last thine arms between.
89
“Oh, little to thee King Erik’s death, And less thy dule and pine, So long as he lives, Drost Lovmand, And thou dost hold him thine!”
90
Up spake young Prince Christopher, Clad all in the scarlet red: “Oh, little amends, I wot, ye make For my father fallen and dead!”
91
Up he stood, Prince Christopher, And spake a royal word: “Shalt get thee gone from out the realm If I am King and lord!”
92
“And must I depart from Denmark To sail the sea so deep, So many a widow will I make That the noblest dames shall weep!
93
“And must I go a-roaming From wife and bairn, O King, Denmark shall feel my foot, I trow, Both winter and summer and spring!”
* * * * *
95
It was young Sir Marstig, Home to his hold did fare; It was beauteous Ingeborg Came forth to meet him there.
96
Up spake young Sir Marstig, And held her in his arm: “Now have I slain King Erik That wrought thee hurt and harm!
97
“Now wilt thou follow an outlawed man To dwell a landless dame, Rather than be a light o’ love, And bear the King his name?”
98
“Oh, rather I’d follow an outlawed man To dwell a Danish dame, Than I would be a light o’ love And bear the King his name!”
* * * * *
100