The ancient sea-tower was situated at some distance from the castle, in the most deserted quarter of the town, next the sea shore. It was a round watch-tower, built of freestone, with loopholes in the wall, and a sentry-walk above, between the rampart-like battlements. Below were two vaulted stone chambers, of which one was used as a guard-room in war time, and the other as a depository for the bodies of the drowned, until their burial. The tower was now chiefly used for hanging out lights at night, in stormy and bad weather, to guide sailors into the entrance of the bay.

In the guard-room Drost AagÉ found the wounded sentinel at the point of death.

A monk, who had been sent for from the monastery, was engaged in administering to him the last sacrament. On a table lay a paper, on which the pious Franciscan had just written the last testament of the dying man. An oil lamp hung upon the dirty wall, and lit up the stone vault and the solemn scene of death. With a sympathizing look at the dying man-at-arms AagÉ quitted the guard-room, almost unnoticed, and opened the door to what was called "the corpse chamber," from which, according to tradition, there had been, in Esbern Snare's time, a descent to a subterranean passage, and where AagÉ conjectured he should discover the supposed secret entrance to the castle.

Into this murky chamber, which had the reputation of being haunted, the captive murderer had been brought. Through the aid of the surgeon he had been restored to consciousness, and had his wound dressed; but he talked and raved wildly. He had been bound to the bench appropriated to the bodies of the drowned, which served him as a couch, and all had deserted him with horror and aversion.

When Drost AagÉ entered this chamber, the light of a yellow horn lantern, which hung from the roof, fell on the murderer's swollen blue visage with the hare-lip scar and ugly projecting teeth: he laughed horribly, and ground his teeth like a chained wild beast. "Comest thou hither, thou excommunicated hound!" he muttered, thrusting forth his tongue from his foaming jaws; "then thou art also dead and damned--that's some small comfort, though among devils--Now are the fishes gnawing at my fist, at the bottom of the sea, while I lie a corpse here in hell's antechamber--that was thy doing, thou pale ghost, with St. George's sword! I feared thou hadst come off free, for thy stupid piety's sake, and thy hound-like faithfulness."

"Why so?" asked AagÉ, strangely affected by having half entered into the dark imaginings of the madman--"How couldst thou think an excommunicated man could 'scape damnation?"

"Seest thou, comrade?" whispered the bound robber, gazing wildly around him, "the same holy man who gave thee over to the Evil One, gave me a passport to heaven's kingdom. It lies there in my jerkin; Satan's barber cut it off from me just now; and the letter was a lie,--like all virtue and piety in the world. If that holy man could give me a false warrant for salvation, he might also have made a false reckoning with thy soul. It pleaseth me, however, to see he is apt in some things," he continued, with a horrible laugh. "I ever thought so: those black fellows can curse far better than they can bless. But who did thy business for thee? The hand that should have done it is gone to the Devil--Ha! there bites a hungry fish at my fingers' ends."

"From whom was the private letter? and to whom shouldst thou have brought it?" asked AagÉ, suddenly in a stern voice, and in a tone of overawing authority: "confess the truth, and it shall fare better with thee, wretch, than thou hast deserved!"

"What! though I should break the most solemn oath I ever swore?" muttered the robber. "No, stern sir! let the Devil take his own, and OlÉ Ark's sinful soul too, if the worst come to the worst! I have sent many an accursed heretic and excommunicated man to hell, and truly also many an honest fellow to heaven; but if I am now myself about to go to the Devil, it shall be as a right-believing Christian; and none shall say of me I broke my sworn oath, even to the living Satan."

"Tell me the way thou shouldst have gone, is it here?" continued AagÉ, looking around the large murky stone chamber.

"The way to my master's den?" muttered the robber with a grin--"Wouldst ferret that out, comrade? Take care thou dost not burn thyself in it!"

"It is here, then," said AagÉ to himself, looking around him, with still greater attention--"And here is the key; is it not so?" So saying, he produced the old rusty key which had been found on the robber's person together with the private letter.

"Right, comrade, the key to hell!" returned the raving murderer, with a horrid laugh.

AagÉ now examined the whole vault, but discovered no trace of any cellar or descent. The floor was paved with large flags. He stamped on several places, and at last perceived a hollow sound, and the clang of metal under the stone floor. He took the lantern from the iron hook in the arch of the roof, and placed it on the floor. On doing so he discovered a large loose stone, which might be raised, and his conjecture was confirmed. The loose stone concealed a fast-locked iron trap-door, which, however, seemed too small to admit of the descent of any person. He tried the key, and it fitted. He opened the trap-door; the raw damp air of the vault rose up to him from a pitch-dark abyss, into which a ladder led down to an uncertain depth.

While this examination was carrying on the insane murderer lay on the corpse bench, and grinned with horrible contortions. AagÉ stood thoughtfully by the opening, pondering over his daring enterprise. It now struck him, for the first time, that, if undisguised, he must undoubtedly be recognised and his plan frustrated. His eye fell on the blood-stained jerkin, which had been stript from off the robber's person, in order to bind him, "Well," he said, "we exchange garments; there, thou hast my mantle and hat; I take thy jerkin and cap."

"Good exchange enough," muttered OlÉ Ark; "if my luck goes with my jerkin, he goeth down to fame and honour. Ha! loose my body, Satan, and let me follow him into the pit."

It was not without repugnance that AagÉ clad himself in the soiled, stained dress of the vagabond, which, however, answered his purpose, and rendered him almost incognisable. He then took the lamp in his hand, and prepared to descend through the narrow aperture in the floor; but the scorn and defiance of the bound robber now changed into a piteous lament.

"Mercy! mercy!" he cried, "take not the last glimpse of light from me! Now comes the Devil himself to rend me to pieces--Ha! let me not lie a corpse here in the dark--Mercy! mercy!" he howled, and pulled and tore at the cords which bound him.

"Pray to thy God and Judge for mercy," said AagÉ; "I cannot help thee." He then squeezed himself through the narrow opening, with the lantern in his hand, and pulled the trap-door after him, that he might not hear the howls of the madman; but was nearly falling down head foremost from the ladder, on hearing, to his dismay, that the trap-door, which had a spring-lock, fell and closed over his head. He felt now as though he were entombed alive. He had forgotten to take the key with him; and the faint howling of the robber soon seemed lost in triumphant laughter above the grave which had closed over him.

AagÉ grew dizzy, but recovered himself, and clung fast to the slippery steps of the ladder, while he continued to descend. At last he stood at the bottom: the descent was steep and deep, but it led to a narrow vaulted passage, which was so low as hardly to admit of his walking upright. The air was foul and suffocating, and he often trod on sprawling toads and other reptiles. He held up the lantern before him, but beheld nothing save the long narrow passage, to which he could discern no end; its direction, however, convinced him that it must undoubtedly lead to the castle. He went forward with hasty steps, and looked anxiously at the light in the lamp, which gleamed fainter and fainter. The air seemed not to contain sufficient nourishment for life and flame. He had hardly proceeded more than a hundred paces ere what he feared took place--the light went out in the lantern, and he stood in the dark. He felt a degree of alarm and a want of power and courage, which was quite foreign to his nature; at the same time he heard a hollow clang far behind, as if the iron trap-door had been again opened and clapped to. He involuntarily quickened his steps, but slipped every moment on slimy reptiles, and was often forced to pause in order to take breath, while the air he inhaled seemed to lame every limb and to contract his lungs. He was nearly sinking down in a state of insensibility; but he now thought he heard a sound as of stealthy steps behind him, and his increased apprehension inspired him with renewed strength. "Is any one there?" he shouted, and turned round; but no one answered, and there was suddenly a deathlike stillness again.

It was so dark that he could not see his own hand before his eyes. In order not to awaken suspicion by his bold enterprise he had taken off his sword in the corpse-chamber, and was entirely defenceless. In his childhood, AagÉ had not been wholly free from the dread of supernatural beings; and, according to the creed of the age, the idea of the influence of a mighty world of spirits on human life was closely connected with religious belief. AagÉ nowise doubted the possibility of the appearance of evil as well as of good spirits; but this idea never disquieted him in open day, when he knew he was on a lawful errand, and had his sword with its cross-hilt at his side. "Is it honourable and chivalrous to steal along thus?" he said to himself. "Why took I not my good sword with me? It was hard, though, to take the light from him above there--he lies now in the pains of hell on yonder bench, and curses me;--or hath he got loose, and is he lurking after me in the dark?" He now thought he heard again distinctly, at every stride he took, the same sound, as of stealthy footsteps behind him; but each time he turned round all was still as before. This consciousness of the presence of an unknown being in the dark passage put him into a state of fearful apprehension, and recalled those images of horror to his imagination, which he felt himself least able to combat. "Is he now dead above there?--is it his maniac spirit which persecutes thee?" he whispered to himself; and the form of the frantic murderer appeared to his imagination far more terrific than when he beheld it actually stretched on the corpse-bench; "or is it thou, old PallÉ!" he exclaimed, almost with an outcry of terror. The scene of the murder in Finnerup barn, which had haunted him in his childhood, and the image of the aged and insane regicide he had himself slain on the body of the murdered king, were again vividly present to his imagination. His hair stood on end; it seemed to him as if he was now actually about to fight with demons and evil spirits in the dark pit of the grave,--a fancy which had often disquieted him in dreams, and which lately had been the dominant plague of his fevered imagination. At last his terror increased to such a degree that he could no longer control it; he turned suddenly round, and rushed with all his might with clenched hands towards the place where he again thought he distinguished the stealthy footsteps. He then distinctly heard a clanking sword strike against the wall close beside his ear. "Ha! a human being after all! Wretched murderer! is it thou?" he shouted, quite recovering his courage at the discovery of a real and bodily pursuer, and sprang forward towards the unseen deadly foe, while he struck aside the sword, which seemed to be wielded by a left and powerless arm. The sword flew clanging forward in the dark passage; but at the same moment AagÉ felt his neck clutched almost to suffocation by a pair of convulsively strained arms, dripping wet.

"Ha! ha! have I pounced on thee at last, hell-hound?" suddenly roared a wild rough voice in his ear, and AagÉ recognised the tones of the wounded robber. "I have long enough lain a corpse--now thou mayst take my place, comrade!" This terrific voice presently rose into the howl of a wild beast, and AagÉ felt the madman's tusks in his forehead; he struck desperately around him, and strove with all his might to free himself from the suffocating grasp of the monster, but in vain; and he was long compelled to combat and wrestle with him ere he succeeded in throwing him to the ground, and was even then still forced to struggle with the robber, whose howls were growing weaker and weaker, without, however, being able to free his neck from his convulsive grasp. At last the clutching arms loosened from round his neck, and his frantic adversary lay silent and apparently dead, or in a swoon, under his knee.

"The Lord have mercy on his sinful soul," sighed AagÉ, rising half breathless. His opponent now made a sudden movement as if to rise, but fell back, with a rattling in his throat; and AagÉ perceived, for the first time, that he was in all probability wading in the blood of the wounded murderer. He hastened on with rapid strides. Once or twice he stopped out of breath, and fancied he again heard the murderer stealing after him. At last he hit against something hard, and discovered by feeling that it was a large door of metal. He shook it with all his might, but it appeared to be locked on the other side, and immoveable. He thundered at it with his iron-shod heels, and each stroke rung hollow through the vault. After the lapse of some time a little shutter opened in the door, and the light of a dark lantern, and a swarthy warrior-like visage, appeared. "Who is there? and from whom?" asked the man-at-arms.

"No one, from no one," answered AagÉ, suddenly calling to mind the mysterious expression in the private letter.

"Right! thou knowest the watchword," was the answer; "and one only?--without arms?"

"As thou seest--but open quick!--there is no time to lose."

"Come, give time! The guard must first know of it." The shutter closed again, and AagÉ heard the sound of a horn, which was answered at some distance: soon after the iron door opened, and a strong-built steel-clad warrior stepped out and advanced towards him into the passage, with a light in the one hand and a drawn sword in the other. He eyed the disguised Drost from head to foot, by the light of the lantern, and started back a couple of paces. "Faugh! how thou look'st, thou bloodhound!" he said, with disgust. "'Tis hard for an honest fellow to let such guests in, when the king himself must stand without."

"I have had a hard joust on the road, brave countryman." said AagÉ; "but haste thee!"

"Come, come; give time, thou scoundrel! The bandage over thy eyes first."

"What! bandage! and foul words to me!"

"Of course, loggerhead! Thou mightest be a spy and traitor, as thou art a bloodhound and accursed robber; thou lookest fit for all such trades. The bandage over the eyes instantly, thou hound! or I kick thee back into thy fox-hole."

It was with difficulty that AagÉ subdued his ire, and recollected that he was not Drost here, nor able to justify himself; he bore this rough usage in silence, allowed his eyes to be bandaged, and was thus led through the iron gate. He heard it bolted and barred after him. Soon afterwards he heard the sound of chains and pullies, as if a drawbridge was being lowered, and he perceived he was led upon a swinging bridge.

"Go straight forward, scoundrel! or thou fallest into the moat," muttered his companion close behind him. A cold shudder came over him; but he was silent, and went straight onward.

"Ay, truly thou hast had better luck than I wished thee," it was muttered behind him; "but thou hast another bridge to cross; that is ten times worse; here thou art quit of me."

AagÉ heard his warlike companion re-cross the bridge, which was immediately afterwards raised. He conjectured that he was within the outermost rampart of the castle, towards the north-west, which lay between the sea-tower and the circular wall, for he had paid close attention to the direction in which he had proceeded. He had now two new companions, who were as little sparing as the former in contemptuous expressions respecting his cut-throat appearance and supposed marauding trade. AagÉ suffered himself to be led onward by them without answering a word to their threats and scoffs, which secretly rejoiced him, as a token of their dispositions and honourable feelings. At last a horn was again sounded; it was answered as before at some distance. A drawbridge was again lowered, and AagÉ perceived he was directly under the castle wall; for he heard a noise above his head like the moving of balista and other warlike machines. He felt an unfriendly poke in the back, and stood as before on a rocking-bridge.

"Straight on, fellow, or thou fallest into the moat!" said a warning voice behind him. "Goest thou a hair's breadth aside thou art a dead man!" He commended his soul to God, and went on. His guides allowed him to proceed alone for some time, and appeared to rejoice over his deadly peril. Meanwhile, as he perceived the rocking under his feet had ceased, he knew they had passed over the inner castle moat, and were within the circular wall. At last he was led up a staircase; but the bandage was not yet removed from his eyes. It was not till he had been led in many circuitous directions, as if through a labyrinth of passages and stairs, that he was freed from the bandage over his eyes, and found himself in an apartment of the castle which was not unknown to him, and where he was ordered to await the commandant.

It was still night. One of the men-at-arms who had last followed him remained standing at the door with a lantern and a drawn sword, and apparently watching him with fear and abhorrence.

"Who dost thou take me for?" asked AagÉ.

"For one of the junker's secret emissaries," was the answer. "Surely, good tidings thou bringest not, since thou comest pale and bloody from the secret passage. Hark! now they are taking the burning stones from the furnace. Kallundborg town will presently be in flames."

"The Lord forbid!" cried AagÉ: "call the commandant instantly! I have strict prohibition from the junker."

"Thou lookest not as if thou hadst," said the man, starting.--"I will run then. Thou wilt do no mischief meanwhile?" The man hastily departed, and took the lantern with him. AagÉ looked out at the window, and saw with alarm that burning stones were carried on gridirons across the yard to the balista on the walls.

"Stop, fellows!" said a rough voice in the castle yard. "There is a protest from the junker: not a shot must be fired as yet."

"A noble fellow at heart, after all!" said AagÉ to himself, believing he had heard the commandant's voice. The door opened soon afterwards; a tall warrior, with a stern grave countenance, and armed from head to foot, entered the apartment with a light in his hand. When he beheld AagÉ's blood-stained face and figure he retreated a step, and placed the light on the table, while he hastily laid his hand on his large battle sword. "What fellow art thou?" he asked, in a stern and rough voice. "Doth the junker send pale corpses to plague me? Answer, fellow? Who art thou? Tell me thy watchwords, or I cut thee down on the spot!"

"No one, from no one," answered AagÉ; and the commandant took his hand from the hilt of his sword.

"Speak, thou messenger of ill! If thou bringest me a prohibition from the junker, it is, of course, against mercy and delay? Is the town to burn? Is the Franciscan monastery first to be fired? There sleeps the king to-night."

"The town is to be spared," answered AagÉ. "The castle is to be opened to the king at sunrise--the papers are to be given up, and the door of the pit nailed fast."

"Dost thou rave, fellow?" cried the commandant, in amazement. "Darest thou speak what I hardly dare think? Would the junker recall by thy mouth that which he commanded me with his own, on pain of death? Who then is to be punished for all that hath here been done, and stand in the gap between us and the king's anger?"

"You should fly the king's as well as the junker's wrath, and carry your secret and your knowledge of a weighty transaction with you into exile."

"And stand branded a perjurer and traitor before all the world? No, fellow! were that even the junker's command, I obey it not. What I have sworn I must keep; but the responsibility is the junker's. I have sold him my life--but my honour, as a warrior, is my own. Show me black and white for what thou sayest, or I will cause thee to be hanged as a spy and traitor!"

"Now, in the Lord's name!" said AagÉ, as he suddenly threw off the robber's cap and dress, and stood in his well-known knightly attire before the commandant, "I cannot, I will not deceive a man of honour like you. I am Drost AagÉ; I announce to you the will of my liege and sovereign, not that of the junker; you may now deal with me as you can answer to God and your own conscience: but if the royal house and your fatherland be dearer to you than your own pride and an imaginary fealty, you will follow my counsel, and make the great sacrifice I ask of you."

"Sir Drost!" answered the commandant, bowing with haughty coldness; "you have ventured on a daring game. You are now my prisoner; how I shall act depends not on me. Oaths and vows are more binding than man's pleasure and man's will. I am an old-fashioned warrior, do you see--Your subtle state policy and artificial virtues I understand not--the law I acknowledge says, obey that which is commanded thee by thy lawful superior, and let him who commanded it answer for the consequences."

"But when you see the most destructive, the most fearful consequences before your eyes; when your superior hath broken his oath of fealty, and abused his rights----"

"That concerns not me. I keep steady to him to whom I swore allegiance; but he must answer for what is done here, be it good or evil."

"But when you swore an ungodly oath, and fealty to a rebel?"

"Then must I keep the oath I swore to him, though, by way of thanks, he should cause me to be hung for it, or go to hell. There is no choice here: had I even entered the devil's service, Sir Drost, I must endure to the end, however fearful that end may be!"

"Your pride blinds your eyes to truth and justice, noble sir!" exclaimed AagÉ gazing on the tall steel-clad chieftain with a species of admiration; "but hear me, I conjure you by the living Lord!"

"You must excuse me. Sir Drost!" interrupted the chief, with cold calmness. "My time is short, I have perhaps not many hours to live; I expect thanks neither from the king nor the junker, and perhaps but little honour on this side the prison and the grave; but all things according to order. You are now going to the tower, and I to the battlement--to-morrow you perhaps will sit at the king's right hand, while I lie on the wheel: but so long as we are at our posts, each must do his duty, and, as I said, all things according to order." So saying, he stamped on the floor, and three men-at-arms entered.

"Take this knight instantly to the prison tower"--ordered the commandant, nodding to the two nearest him.

"And thou, Bent!" he said, addressing himself to the third, "let the stones be heated again: it was a false protest--off with thee!"

The two men instantly seized AagÉ, and led him towards a secret door, which they opened in the wall. AagÉ turned round once more, and called to the chief, in the highest state of anxiety and alarm. "Think upon your immortal soul, in what you do! remember, you should obey God rather than sinful men." More he could not say, for the private door was closed behind him.

The third man-at-arms still lingered, as if he expected the stern command he had received would be recalled; but the imperturbable chief glanced menacingly at him. "The stones are to be heated, I tell thee. Art thou deaf, fellow? Off with thee! Obedience or death, while I command here!"

The man-at-arms turned quickly round, and departed gloomy and silent through the door, beside which he stood.

The commandant strode hastily once or twice up and down the floor, with his hand upon his broad forehead. At last he stopped at a prie-dieu, and bent his knee, while his eye rested on the open prayer book. "Ye servants," he muttered, and folded his hands, "obey your masters according to the flesh, in all things;" he then rose, signed a cross over his broad steel-clad breast, and went in silence and with hasty steps out of the door.