t there in that capacity, but as an attendant on his King,
and must follow where he went. It appeared speedily that the
Emperor's real object was to get Valdemar to own him as his
over-lord, and this he did, to Absalon's great grief, on the idle
promise that Frederick would join him in his war upon all the Baltic
pagans. However, it was to be a purely personal matter, in nowise
affecting his descendants. That much was saved, and Absalon lived
long enough to fling back, as the counsellor of Valdemar's son, from
behind the stout wall he built at Denmark's southern gate, the
Emperor's demand for homage, with the reply that "the King ruled in
Denmark with the same right as the Emperor in Germany, and was no
man's subject."

However grievously Absalon had offended the aged archbishop, when
after forty years in his high office illness compelled him to lay it
down, he could find no one so worthy to step into his shoes. He sent
secretly to Rome and got the Pope's permission to name his own
successor, before he called a meeting of the church. The account of
what followed is the most singular of all Saxo's stories. Valdemar
did not know what was coming and, fearing fresh trouble, got the
archbishop to swear on the bones of the saints before them all that
he was not moved to abdication by hate of the King, or by any
coercion whatever. Then the venerable priest laid his staff, his
mitre, and his ring on the altar and announced that he had done with
it all forever. But he had made up his mind not to use the power
given him by the Pontiff. They might choose his successor
themselves. He would do nothing to influence their action.

The bishops and clergy went to the King and asked him if he had any
choice. The King said he had, but if he made it known he would get
no thanks for it and might estrange his best friend. If he did not,
he would certainly be committing a sin. He did not know what to do.

"Name him," said they, and Valdemar told them it was the bishop of
Roskilde.

At that the old archbishop got up and insisted on the election then
and there; but Absalon would have none of it. The burden was too
heavy for his shoulders, he said. However, the clergy seized him,
"being," says Saxo, who without doubt was one of them, "the more
emboldened to do so as the archbishop himself laid hands upon him
first." Intoning the hymn sung at archiepiscopal consecrations, they
tried to lead him to the altar. He resisted with all his might an