But the people hated her. Twenty
generations after her death it was their custom when passing her
grave to spit on it with the exclamation "Out upon thee, Bengerd!
God bless the King of Denmark"; for in good or evil days they never
wavered in their love and admiration for the king who was a son of
the first Valdemar, and the heir of his greatness and of that of the
sainted Absalon. Tradition has it that Bengerd was killed in battle,
having gone with her husband on one of his campaigns. "It was not
heard in any place," says the folk-song wickedly, "that any one
grieved for her." But the King mourned for his beautiful queen to
the end of his days.
Bengerd bore Valdemar three sons upon whom he lavished all the
affection of his lonely old age. Erik he chose as his successor, and
to keep his brothers loyal to him he gave them great fiefs and thus,
unknowing, brought on the very trouble he sought to avoid, and set
his foot on the path that led to Denmark's dismemberment after
centuries of bloody wars. For to his second son Abel he gave
Slesvig, and Abel, when his brother became king, sought alliance
with the Holstein count Adolf,[4] the very one who had led the
Germans at the fatal battle of Bornhoeved. The result was a war
between the brothers that raged seven years, and laid waste the
land.
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