To this she made no reply, but with her hand on the palfrey’s bridle went slowly back to meet her father, who reined up at a little distance and waited, offering Ebbe no salutation.  Then a groom helped her to the saddle, and the company rode away towards Egeskov, leaving the lad with the dead bird in his hand.

For weeks after this meeting he moped more than usual.  He had known before that Sir Borre would leave no son, and that the lands of Nebbegaard, if ever to be won back, must be wrested from a woman—­and this had ever troubled him.  It troubled me the less because I hoped there might be another way than force; and even if it should come to that, Sir Borre’s past treachery had killed in me all kindness towards his house, male or female.

He and my old master and five other knights of the eastern coast had been heavily oppressed by the Lord of Trelde, Lars Trolle, who owned many ships, and, though no better than a pirate, claimed a right of levying tribute along the shore that faces Funen, upon pretence of protecting it.  After enduring many raids and paying toll under threat for years, these seven knights banded together to rid themselves of this robber; but word of their meetings being carried to Trolle, he came secretly one night to Nebbegaard with three ships’ crews, broke down the doors, and finding the seven assembled in debate, made them prisoners and held them at ransom.  My master, a poor man, could only purchase release by the help of his comrade, Borre, who found the ransom, but took in exchange the lands of Nebbegaard, to hold them until repaid out of their revenues; but of these he could never after be brought to give an account.  We on our side had lost the power to enforce it, and behind his own strength he could now threaten us with Lars Trolle’s, to whom he had been reconciled.

Therefore I felt no tenderness for Sir Borre’s house, if by any means our estates could be recovered.  But after this meeting with Sir Borre’s daughter, I could see that my young lord went heavily troubled; and I began to think of other means than force.

It may have been six months later that word fame to us of great stir and bustle at Egeskov.  Sir Borre, being aged, and anxious to see his daughter married before he died, had proclaimed a Bride-show.  Now the custom is, and the rule, that any suitor (so he be of gentle birth) may offer himself in these contests; nor will the parents begin to bargain until he has approved himself,—­a wise plan, since it lessens the disputing, which else might be endless.  So when this news reached us I looked at my master, and he, perceiving what I would say, answered it.

“If Holgar will carry me,” said he, “we will ride to Egeskov.”

This Holgar was a stout roan horse, foaled at Nebbegaard, but now well advanced in years, and the last of that red stock for which our stables had been famous.

“He will carry you thither,” said I; “and by God’s grace, bring you home with a bride behind you.”