The
parting nearly killed Absalon. Saxo draws a touching picture of him
weeping bitterly as he said the requiem mass over his friend, and
observes: "Who can doubt that his tears, rising with the incense,
gave forth a peculiar and agreeable savour in high heaven before
God?" The plowmen left their fields and carried the bier, with sobs
and lamentations, to the church in Ringsted, where the great King
rests. His sorrow laid Absalon on a long and grievous sick-bed, from
which he rose only when Valdemar's son needed and called him.
In the fifteen years that follow we see his old warlike spirit still
unbroken. Thus his defiance of the German Emperor, whose anger was
hot. Frederick, in revenge, persuaded the Pomeranian duke Bugislav
to organize a raid on Denmark with a fleet of five hundred sail.
Scant warning reached Absalon of the danger. King Knud was away, and
there was no time to send for him. Mustering such vessels as were
near, he sailed across the Baltic and met the enemy under Ruegen the
day after Whitsuntide (1184). The bishop had gone ashore to say mass
on the beach, when word was brought that the great fleet was in
sight. Hastily pulling off his robe and donning armor instead, he
made for his ship with the words: "Now let our swords sing the
praise of God.
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