Early the next morning a herald-pursuivant stood in Drost Aage's
sleeping apartment, with his large plumed hat in one hand, and a long,
pointed sword in the other. The Drost hastened to put on his garments,
while he listened with anxious attention to the information which was
given him. The three accused knights had disappeared in the night,
together with the men-at-arms, who had relieved guard at midnight
before the door of the knights' story. Sir Niels Brock's and Sir Johan
Papae's horses had been taken out of the stable--none of their squires
or servants were to be seen in the castle; but the large well-fed horse
which the pretended Sir Ako Krummedige had bestrode was still standing
in the stable. The pursuivant who brought these tidings to the Drost
delivered to him, at the same time, the sword which at the repast of
the preceding evening he had received from the mysterious knight with
the helmet, and drew the Drost's attention to a singular contrivance in
it. The hilt was hollow, and contained a fluid, which, by means of a
spring, might be imparted to the blade. A dog, whose skin had been
scratched with this sword, had died in convulsions.
"Ha! a poisoned weapon!" exclaimed Aage in alarm, returning the sword
with a look of horror; "take it instantly before the judgment hall of
the castle--Thou canst of course bear witness on oath from whom thou
didst receive it?"
"That I shall find it hard to do. Sir Drost, seeing no one knows who he
really is," answered the pursuivant; "but that it was the dumb knight
with the helmet--him they call Sir Krummedige--I can take my oath upon.
I should also announce, Sir Drost," he continued, "that the junker's
gentleman of the bedchamber, Sir Palle, died last night of his wound,
although it was so trifling that we jeered him about it almost to the
last. The surgeon swears he hath been wounded by a three-edged poisoned
dagger."
"Our Lady be merciful unto us!" exclaimed Aage. "His deadly terror was
then but too well founded--We have had a poisoner then as our guest!
Even now he may perhaps be among us!"
The Drost hastily left his chamber. Soon afterwards Marsk Oluffsen's
rough voice was heard in the court of the castle, and ere it rang for
mattins a knight, at the head of a troop of horse, rode at full gallop
out of the castle gate. The Marsk himself, it was said, was gone to the
chase. He dashed on with a number of hunters and hounds through the
park. The Drost searched the whole castle. Ere mattins were ended, the
Marsk and his huntsmen brought a bound captive to the tower. It was the
mute knight with the helmet. His beard and eyebrows had changed colour,
and it was soon known that he was one of the outlaws.
Amid the bustle caused at the castle by providing for the court, and
attending on its numerous guests, much notice was not attracted towards
these serious proceedings. The expected tournament and the knightly
festivities occupied every one. The squires polished their master's
arms and costly saddle-furniture; the prancing chargers were trained
and tended; and the mild spring weather seemed to promise a bright day
for the festivity. From the town and the neighbourhood crowds of gaily
attired persons flocked to the castle. The splendidly accoutred knights
careered eagerly and indefatigably with each other. All the castle
windows which looked on the tilt-yard were already crowded with richly
attired ladies, and most persons seemed to have forgotten both mattins
and mass for the festival. It was whispered, indeed, that the
tournament would not take place; but no one was disposed to believe
this, as workmen began to bestir themselves, and preparations were
still carried on, which kept expectation alive. Meanwhile the king was
seen to ride as usual to mass with his princely guests, attended by his
halberdiers. He was grave and thoughtful. Junker Christopher rode in
gloomy silence by his side; he wore over his breast the large gold
chain, with the image of the Madonna, which the king was wont to wear
himself; and this token of distinction was regarded as a sign that all
misunderstanding must have been removed between the brothers. The
junker's eye meanwhile avoided the king's, and not one word was
exchanged between them on the road to and from church.
After mass, the king instantly repaired to the knights' hall with all
his men, and it was announced by the heralds that a knights' council,
and a court of justice would be held. The tournament and the other
festivities were in the meantime announced by the Marsk to be given up;
and people now flocked to the knights' hall to see the king administer
justice among his knights. He sat with an unusually stern and grave
aspect on the raised ivory throne, and was surrounded by regal state
and splendour. He first examined into the conduct of some young knights
who were accused of minor faults and transgressions of the laws of
chivalry. Those who either could not prove their innocence according to
the established proceedings of temporal justice, or where doubt was
entertained, relied on sword and lance, for redeeming their honour were
sternly banished the castle; but those who acknowledged and repented a
pardonable error, obtained permission by bold and knightly deeds, to
regain their place and rank among the king's men.
The Drost now stepped forth in his own and in the name of the murdered
Sir Palle, with an accusation against the pretended Sir Ako Krummidige,
as the assassin of that slain knight, as well as against Sir Niels
Brock and Sir Johan Papae, as traitors and secret conspirators against
state and crown, and he craved permission, in case the testimony he
brought forward was not considered sufficient to establish his charge,
to confirm it with sword and lance, to be judged by God, in a combat
for life and death with the traitors. As the two knights so seriously
accused, had escaped by unlawful flight, they were proclaimed to be
suspected, and cited to appear and defend themselves before the
expiration of six weeks and one day, if they would not be passed
sentence upon as traitors; but the pretended Ako Krummedige, whose real
name was now discovered by sufficient evidence, was led before the
tribunal. He was clad in the ancient armour in which he was attired on
his first arrival; he wore also the helmet and shield he had brought
with him from the monastery, and on which the famous armorial bearings
of the noble family of the Hvides were noticed for the first time; but
he had no sword by his side, and was surrounded by a strong guard. The
glossy black was removed from his stiff beard, which now resembled the
bristles of a boar; and from his bushy, meeting-eyebrows which were
considered by the lower orders as a [9]"Wolfman's mark." and by which
the outlawed Sir Kagge was especially distinguished.
He was pale, and stared wildly around him. When he heard himself named
and accused, and beheld the king in the large circle of attentive
knights, he seemed to struggle against appearing cast down or humbled.
He raised his head, and stepped forward with a bold and haughty look,
and even with the assumption of a degree of knightly dignity. "I greet
thee, King Eric Ericson!" he said, in a loud voice. "I greet every
brave knight who serves with honour here at court! Christ preserve
every dear son of Denmark from the misfortune which brings me hither!
But if there be brave and true Danish men here present, the man who
became outlawed for Denmark's freedom and the honour of Danish chivalry
will not lack weapons and defenders."
"Talk not of freedom and honour, _thou_ who hast nought but effrontery
and deeds of infamy to boast of!" began the king with calm and cold
contempt. "Under the name of a pious and honourable man, thou hast
crept into my hall among men of honour, and abused the sacred laws of
chivalry, to hide deceit and treachery. Thy mask hath fallen off
traitor! thy poisoned weapon hath betrayed thee--Thou wert chased from
Denmark for a Judas deed; yet still thou hast dared to enter my
presence. _One_ assassination thou hast already perpetrated in my royal
castle, and another thou hast meditated--Canst thou deny it? Hast thou
a word to say in thy defence, miscreant?"
The prisoner bit his lips, and ground his teeth. "If I come not
precisely from the holy sepulchre," he muttered, "I come, however, from
the graves of kinsmen and friends, and from the corpses of murdered
comrades. The fool whose mouth I have stopped, was a soulless lump of
flesh, on whom I did but whet my dagger. What I purposed besides, is no
concern of any one; but what I had promised, it was my fixed resolve to
perform. Against tyrants no weapon is dishonourable, King Eric! and if
an outlawed man hath neither rights nor safety, how then can you
suppose he will let himself be bound by your pitiful laws?"
"Have ye considered the matter, my knights!" said the king; "then
pronounce doom upon this audacious criminal, according to the laws of
God and man!"
"He hath forfeited honour and life, according to the laws of the land,"
was the unanimous verdict. "According to strict justice, he hath even
forfeited hand and eye." The herald pronounced the doom in a loud
voice.
When Kagge heard his death doom, his knees shook, and he looked around
him with a rapid and searching glance, as if expecting to find
defenders or protectors against the sentence, among the spectators, but
there was a death-like stillness; no one moved tongue or hand in his
defence. He seemed humbled, and now bent on one knee before the
tribunal. "Bethink you, King Eric!" he said, in a supplicating tone, "I
served in your royal father's castle, and he himself gave me the praise
of being the best squire he had. His death was never my wish, I would
have saved him had it been in my power; although he had broken his
contract and had himself loosened the tie which bound Denmark's crown
to his head."
"I remember well thou didst serve in my father's castle, for hire and
for garments," answered the king; "but I know, and every man in Denmark
knows, also, that thou wert in Finnerup barn, on that bloody St.
Cecilia's eve, and thy sword was not the _last which_ was plunged into
the breast of thy unhappy master and king. As a faithless traitor and
regicide thou wert however but outlawed while I was a minor, but now
thou shalt suffer just punishment, as surely as I wear Denmark's
crown!"
"Is there not a single free man here, who dares to speak a word for
me?" cried the captive, springing up with a wild look. "Ha! slaves of a
tyrant! I despise ye," he continued, looking frantically around him.
"The deed for which I was outlawed, was the proudest ever achieved by
Danish man. A tyrant's murder hath been an honoured deed so long as the
world hath stood, wherever a spark of freedom was in the spirit of the
people--Now there are nought but cowardly slaves in Denmark, and it
shames me to call you countrymen. There you stand aghast! because a
bold word is heard again in kingly hall--You have courage only for
crawling in the dust before a revengeful despot, and to doom the last
friend of freedom to the scaffold--Is it not enough for you to see my
blood? Will you saw off my hands and feet? Will you pluck out my eyes,
that no free man may see you blush? Will you deal thus with a
descendant of Skialm--Hvide's noble race? I am a knight," he added
proudly. "I demand but to be judged by the law of knighthood--That is
recognised over all the world, but under this country's laws I stand no
longer."
"Who dubbed thee a knight? asked the king, with a contemptuous look.
"The greatest knight in Denmark's kingdom," answered the captive,
drawing himself up with a look of defiance. "The man whose shoe latchet
no knight here was worthy to loose--The Marsk of Denmark's kingdom,
Stig Anderson Hvide, and if your chivalrous bearing is aught else than
empty boast and mockery, King Eric, you will suffer me to be judged
with equity according to the law which is as the apple of your eye."
"Be it so, by all the holy men!" exclaimed the king with glowing
cheeks; "according to the law of chivalry shall thy doom be executed,
since thou dost thyself demand it, and thou shalt learn what it is to
be doomed to dishonour. The knighthood which an outlawed regicide gave
thee is truly but little honour worth, nevertheless thou shalt not take
it with thee to thy dishonourable death. Thy hands and feet thou shalt
keep, and thy false eyes also--but the honour thou boastest of, thou
shalt lose according to law, for the sake of chivalry--and thy life for
my father's sake alone."
At a signal from the king, the captive was now removed, and a council
of the oldest knights met together to decide upon the mode of carrying
the sentence into execution, according to the laws of chivalry.
Three hours afterwards, the captive was led in full knightly armour,
and on horseback, to a high scaffold within the lists, under which the
king himself appeared on horseback, surrounded by all his knights. The
castle chaplain stood on the scaffold, at the head of a row of monks
from the Dominican monastery. The captive was led up hither, not indeed
to suffer death, but, according to the laws of chivalry to be ejected
from the community of knights in a manner the most degrading. There was
a crowd assembled; all the windows of the castle, as well as the stands
on the lists were thronged with curious spectators. From the window of
the servants' hall, close by the maidens' tower, peeped forth a fair
little inquisitive face which was remarked for its beauty and
animation; it was the captive Lady Ulrica, who without knowing what was
going forward, had persuaded the tractable Karen to take her with her,
to see the great procession which was talked of. No one knew what was
to happen. The whole transaction was hitherto unknown in Denmark, where
the young King Eric was the first sovereign who endeavoured to
introduce all the usages of chivalry, and the novelty and mystery of
the proceeding, tended still more to heighten curiosity. Ulrica beheld
the priests on the high scaffold, and a knight in full armour led upon
it: his back was turned to the window, and she did not recognise him. A
rough sour-visaged man in a red cloak, with an iron club in hand, now
stepped forward, he looked like an executioner, but however carried
neither sword nor axe. He tore the shield from the knight, and struck
off his armour; after which he broke the shield and armour into pieces
with his iron club, and cast the fragments at his feet.
"Gracious heaven! Is this an execution?" cried Ulrica in dismay. The
knight was now led down from the scaffold. He turned his pale and
terrible countenance towards her, and she recognised him. "Kagge!
righteous heaven!" she exclaimed with a shriek, and sank swooning in
the arms of her attendants. They hastened to carry her back to the
tower, and to the fostering care of her gentle sister.
The armorial bearings were taken from Kagge's broken shield; they were
now, together with the shield, fastened to the tail of a mare, and thus
dragged in the mire through the streets of Wordingborg, followed by the
scoffs of the herald, which were echoed by the enraged mob.
The disarmed knight was meanwhile led upon the dunghill near the
stables of the castle; here his gold spurs were taken off, and on the
same degrading spot the tail of the horse he rode last was docked.
While the attention of the spectators was rivetted on these singular
proceedings, the dishonoured knight made a vain attempt to escape. He
was now bound with cords, and again led upon the scaffold--there he
stood staring wildly around him and foaming with rage, while the
priests chanted a requiem over him as over the dead. He looked around
in a frenzy; when, however, he perceived that the sword of the
executioner was not glittering over his head, he seemed not as yet to
have abandoned all hope of life, and drew himself up in desperate
defiance. The solemn death-chant, nevertheless, appeared to awe him,
and to damp his resolution. Ere it was ended, he sank down in an
attitude of prayer. The chanting ceased, and the castle chaplain
presently stepped forward with the holy scriptures, and began to read
with a loud voice the Psalmist's denunciations against traitors--"Let
there be none to extend mercy unto him, let his posterity be cut off,
and in the generation following let their name be blotted out. As he
loved cursing, so let it come unto him; as he delighted not in
blessing, so let it be far from him----"
"Nay! silence with thy curses Priest! Whether they be scripture or
not!" called the king with vehemence. "His soul must be judged by the
merciful God. It is here question only of knightly honour."
But the chaplain had entered with such zeal into his text, that,
without heeding the king's words, he still added, "When he shall be
judged, let him be condemned, and let his prayer become sin----"
The kneeling knight started up at these words, and glared frantically
at the priest, "Know then, every free man in Denmark! and judge if it
were sin!" he shouted--"I prayed in this hour to the vanquisher of
monsters, St. Magnus, and all the saints, that king Glipping's accursed
race might be rooted out of the earth, as he was himself by this hand
in Finnerup Barn."
"Thou didst declare the truth unto him priest!" said the king,
suppressing with difficulty his exasperated feelings-- "yet--no more
ecclesiastical cursing! his thoughts and prayers are for God to judge;
this criminal stands here only before his earthly judges."
The priest was silent; the king now turned solemnly to the
pursuivant-at-arms, and asked, "Say, what is this criminal's name?"
"Sir Aage Kagge, of the noble race and lineage of the high-born
Hvides," answered the pursuivant-at-arms.
"That is not _his_ name who here stands in our sight," cried the
herald, "for in _him_ I and Danish chivalry only recognise a traitor, a
deceiver, and a false swearer."
The king thrice asked the name of the criminal. The herald-pursuivant
named it each time, and each time the herald cried, "that is not HIS
name!" with the same annulling addition. When the herald had proclaimed
these words for the last time, he received from the hand of the
pursuivant-at-arms an ewer with hot water; he then mounted the scaffold
with it, and dashed the water over the head and shoulders of the
dishonoured knight, with these words, "Thus I efface the sacred mark of
knighthood from this corpse."
As soon as these words were uttered, the criminal was looked upon as
dead, and treated as an actual corpse. He was dragged by cords down
from the scaffold, and tied on a bier. A pall was spread over him, and
while the king and all his knights rode back to the castle, Kagge,
followed by a scoffing mob of the lowest class, was borne to the
church, where the priests again prayed and chanted over him as over the
dead. When the pall was at last removed, in order to lead him to actual
death, he lay senseless on the bier, and it was doubted whether he
ought in this state to be carried to the place of execution.
"Go hence and let him alone! The sun hath gone down, and he shall be
unmolested here till to-morrow," said a powerful and authoritative
voice, and the Commendator of the monastery of the Holy Ghost stepped
solemnly forward in his white dress as master of the choir, with his
double twelve-pointed silver cross on his breast. All recognised him,
and bowed reverently with folded hands, and half-bended knees, to
receive his blessing.
The provost and his attendants, who were to conduct the prisoner to the
place of execution, seemed, however, somewhat doubtful and lingered.
"_I_ am responsible! Go hence all of you, and let the sinner lie here
till to-morrow!" repeated the Commendator, "his soul shall have time to
prepare for its separation from the sinful body. It is the duty of my
holy office to care for the souls of the departing. In the name of the
church and the holy spirit, I command the temporal authority here
present to give way!"
Every one departed; the Commendator last quitted the church, and
ordered the church door to be locked. By command of the provost, a
strong guard of men-at-arms was stationed before it.
When the provost and his attendants early the following morning entered
the church to lead the unknighted captive (already dead in law) to
execution, a real corpse was found bound to the bier. Some thought that
the proceedings of the previous day were sufficient to kill him; others
deemed it probable that he might have expired from dread when he came
to himself in the night, and found himself alone and bound on the bier
in the deserted church. The idea that terror had caused the death of
the miscreant captive while lying in such wretched plight the whole
night, in expectation of his death, now excited a species of compassion
in the same mob who on the preceding day could not sufficiently taunt
and scoff the detested assassin; and it was discovered that, after all,
the king had been far too strict, and that even the pious Commendator
himself had in a great degree augmented the sinner's punishment by
caring for his soul in such sort; and allowing him the space of a whole
night to die of terror, during his preparation for death. The face of
the corpse was swollen, and already in such a state that none could
recognise the outlawed knight, excepting from the bristly beard and
meeting eyebrows. The body was instantly, and in all privacy, buried
without the customary ritual of the church, and in unconsecrated
ground. But hardly was the dead man interred, ere a low murmur was
heard among the restless populace that it could scarcely have been the
right corpse after all. The speedy change in the appearance of the body
so early in the spring was deemed exceedingly suspicious, and it was
rumoured that the beard and eye-brows were undoubtedly false. It was
known that the outlawed Aage Kagge had been a kinsman of Archbishop
Grand; and the Commendator of the order of the Holy Ghost, who from the
monastery might have ingress to the church, was conjectured to have
availed himself of his authority on this occasion, to save a kinsman of
that mighty and dangerous prelate. This rumour, however, was instantly
put down by the provost and his attendants, whom it might have caused
seriously to be brought to account. It reached neither the ears of the
King nor the Drost, and it was believed at court (as had been in legal
form announced by the temporal authorities of the town) that the
outlawed regicide had been found lifeless on the bier, and that the
body had been buried in the morning, after lawful inspection.
The stern solemnity which pervaded the king's proceedings at this time
at Wordingborg was remarked by all. The festivities which had been
looked forward to with pleasure on occasion of the treaty with the
Dukes, were wholly relinquished, and all the stranger nobles and
knights soon left the castle. Junker Christopher had taken a cold and
hasty farewell, and it was said had repaired to Kallundborg or Holbeck.
Both these castles had been restored to him with full investiture of
the fiefs. Ere his departure, he had announced that the maidens' tower
was carelessly guarded, and that the fair prisoners were in
communication with the household, and probably even with persons of
more consideration. This information compelled the commandant to
observe more strictness in guarding the captives. The obliging little
Karen was replaced by a grave female attendant, and no one but herself
and a monk skilled in medicine were admitted to the tower. The youngest
of the captive maidens was ill, it was said, and not quite in her right
mind. She imagined she had seen an execution, and that she herself was
a princess who had an unfortunate prince for a lover. This gave rise to
much gossip, and all manner of conjectures among the household at the
castle. Drost Aage was spoken of as the most zealous friend and
advocate of the captive maidens, and it was supposed that by means of
his influence their cause would soon be decided in their favour.
The king, with his state council and halberdiers, remained until past
Easter at Wordingborg Castle, from whence were issued many royal
mandates and ordinances. In these matters the Drost was, next to the
king himself, especially occupied, and was seldom seen to join the
other knights in their diversions within the lists or in the tennis
court. He was, as usual, grave and pensive. Occasionally he was seen in
the moonlight spring evenings to wander alone, as if lost in reverie,
around the maidens' tower. Since the king's arrival at Wordingborg,
Aage had not seen the captive maidens; it appeared that he had heard
the gossiping reports of his warm interest for them, and that he feared
to injure their cause or their reputation by a visit.