Sitting there in utter sorrow and despair, heedless of the
tumult that raged in the darkness around him, he felt the King's
garment and knew that the man who was breathing his last in his arms
was not his friend. He laid the lifeless body down gently and left
the hall. The murderers barred his way, but he brushed their swords
and spears aside and strode forth unharmed. Valdemar had found a
horse and made for Fjenneslev, twenty miles away, with all speed,
and there Absalon met him and his brother Esbern in the morning.
King Svend sought him high and low to finish his dastardly work,
while on Thing he wailed loudly before the people that Valdemar and
Knud had tried to kill him, showing in proof of it his cloak, which
he had rent with his own sword. But Valdemar's friends were wide
awake. Esbern flew through the island on his fleet horse in
Valdemar's clothes, leading his pursuers a merry dance, and when
the young King's wound was healed, he found him a boat and ferried
him across to the mainland, where the people flocked to his
standard. When Svend would have followed, it was the Lady Inge who
scuttled his ship by night and gave her foster son the start he
needed. There followed a short and sharp struggle that ended on
Grathe Heath with the utter rout of Svend's forces.
Pages:
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90