d
knocked several of the brethren down. Vestments were torn and
scattered, and a mighty ruction arose, to which the laity, not to be
outdone, added by striking up a hymn of their own. Archbishop and
King tried vainly to make peace; the clamor and battle only rose the
higher. Despite his struggles, Absalon was dragged to the high seat,
but as they were about to force him into it, he asked leave to say a
single word, and instantly appealed his case to the Pope. So there
was an end; but when the aged Eskild, on the plea of weakness,
begged him to pronounce the benediction, he refused warily, because
so he would be exercising archiepiscopal functions and would be _de
facto_ incumbent of the office.[4]

[Footnote 4: That all this in no way affected the personal relations
of the two men Saxo assures us in one of the little human touches
with which his chronicle abounds. When Eskild was going away to end
his days as a monk in the monastery of Clairvaux, he rested awhile
with Absalon at his castle Haffn, where he was received as a father.
The old man suffered greatly from cold feet, and Absalon made a box
with many little holes in, and put a hot brick in it. With this at
his feet, Eskild was able to sleep, and he was very grateful to
Absalon, both because of the comfort it gave him and "because that
he perceived that filial piety rather than skill in the healer's
art" prompted the invention.]

Here, as always, Absalon thought less of himself than of his
country, so the event showed. For when the Pope heard his plea,
though he decided against him, he allowed him to hold the bishopric
of Roskilde together with the higher office, and so he was left at
Valdemar's side to help finish their work of building up Denmark
within and without. At Roskilde he spent, as a matter of fact, most
of his time while Valdemar lived. At Lund he would have been in a
distant part of the country, parted from his friend and out of touch
with the things that were the first concern of his life.

They were preparing to aim a decisive blow against the Pomeranian
pagans when Valdemar died, on the very day set for the sailing. 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 so