When the king reached Kallundborg castle, and beheld the drawbridge raised, and the well fortified castle in a complete state of defence, a flush of anger crossed his cheek, his hand involuntarily clenched the hilt of his sword, and for an instant he was near forgetting his promise, and drawing it out of the scabbard. Count Henrik reined in his war horse impatiently before the outermost fortification, awaiting an answer to the message he had shouted, in the king's name, to the nearest warder. "Matchless presumption!" exclaimed the king; "know they I am here myself? and do they still tarry with an answer, when they have but to be silent and to obey?"

"They take their time, my liege!" answered Count Henrik. "It is unparalleled impudence.--If you command, the trumpet shall be instantly sounded for storm; the sword burns in my hand."

"Not yet!" answered the king, and took his hand from the hilt of his sword.

At this moment a trumpet sounded from the outer rampart, and a tall warrior in armour, with closed visor, stepped forth on the battlement.

"The castle opens not to any armed man!" he shouted in a rough tone, which however appeared assumed and tremulous; "it will be defended to the last, against every attack; this is our noble junker's strict order and behest."

"Madman!" exclaimed Eric; and Count Henrik seemed about to give an impetuous reply.

"Not a word more!" continued the king, with a stern nod.--"We stoop not to further parley with rebels and traitors.--You will beleaguer the castle on all sides, and get all in readiness for a storm; until twenty-four hours are over, no spear must be thrown--if the rebels dare to enact their impudent threats against the town, we shall have to think but of saving it and quenching the flames. If aught chances here, I must know it instantly; you will not fail to find me at the Franciscan monastery." So saying, the king turned his horse's head, and rode with a great part of his train into the large monastery, close to the castle. Here stood the guardian and all the fraternity with their shaven heads uncovered, in two rows before the stone steps in the yard of the monastery. The aged guardian, in common with the rest of his fraternity, wore an ashen grey cloak with a cowl at the back, and a thick cord round the waist. Despite the winter cold, they were all without shoes and stockings, with wooden sandals under their bare feet. They received the king with manifest signs of alarm and uneasiness.

"Be easy, ye pious men," said the king, in a mild voice, as he sprang from his horse, and acknowledged their greeting and the guardian's pious address in a friendly manner; "I come to you as your friend and protector. If it please God and our Lady, no evil shall happen to your monastery or our good and loyal town. It is not your fault that our brother the junker hath appointed a madman to be his commandant; for we trust in the Lord and the mighty Saint Christopher, that our dear brother hath not himself lost his wits. I will await him here, until he can receive the news of my coming, and give explanation in person of this matter. If there is danger astir, I will share it with you; at present I wish but to see whether your guest-house and refectory can stand this unexpected visitation; meanwhile it shall be recompensed beforehand to the monastery."

"Noble sovereign," answered the guardian, "destroy not by any worldly compensation the pleasure which you now bestow on us, in our fear and trembling: poverty is, as you know, the first rule of our holy order. If you will vouchsafe to share the indigence of the penitent, gracious king, doubt not then our willingness to give, and share without recompence; and tempt us not to accept what the holy Franciscus himself hath strictly forbid us to touch."

"Well, the rule is surely not so strictly kept here," said the king, with a good-natured smile, as he entered into the large guest-house of the monastery, and saw the door standing open to the refectory, where a table, with fasting fare, was spread for the monks, but a larger, with flasks of wine and dishes of substantial meat, was prepared for the entertainment of the distinguished worldly guests. "Here, however, we shall not come to suffer want," continued the king; "here we find not frugal fare alone, but God's gifts, almost to superfluity."

"What we are able to offer your grace hath been sent hither by the burghers.--Where the Lord's anointed enters he brings a blessing with him,"--answered the guardian, making a genuflection with his hands crossed over his breast.

"Blessing?" replied the king, a dark cloud suddenly passing over his brow.--"Hum! even though he be given over to the Devil and the destruction of the fleshy venerable father?" he asked with bitterness, and in a low voice, as he drew the guardian aside and gazed at him, with a sharp, searching look.

The aged monk turned pale at these words of the king, and involuntarily crossed himself, as he heaved a deep sigh. "The holy church proclaims to us absolution even for deadly sins, and justification through grace and conversion," said he, folding his lean hands. "Its curse falls only in reality on the head of the profligate and ungodly."

"But when the archbishop, the prince of the Danish church, out of revenge and hate, hath proclaimed thy sovereign to be such an one?"

"Were you such in truth, my liege and sovereign, alas! I must then echo the dreadful sentence within my heart, though it should break in doing so, and were your wrath even to crush me," answered the old man, with deep solemnity, again pressing his folded hands upon his breast; "but the Lord preserve my soul from taking part in the counsels of the revengeful and the judgments of the unrighteous! The church's might and authority are certainly great, noble king," he continued, "but vengeance and judgment are the Lord's, even as grace for the penitent belongeth unto him; power is given us to build up, but not to pull down; we can do nothing against the truth, but all for the truth. If even a bishop himself should err in our true believing church, and abuse the church's authority against God's word, no priest or Christian hath leave to consent unto him, saith the holy Augustine."

"Right, pious father! that is also my creed and my comfort, and what the learned Master Peter also hath told me. You have then no fear that I bring with me a curse or evil spirits over this threshold?"

"No assuredly!" answered the guardian solemnly, with uplifted hand and look,--"I know my noble liege is not profane and ungodly, a despiser of penitence and pious works, or one whom in the power of the word it is permitted to give over to the destruction of the flesh, for the soul's eternal salvation. I know, therefore, that the Prince of Darkness can have no power over your dear-bought soul; and that no sinful curse can destroy the peace of God in your heart, or wipe off the holy ointment from your crowned head."

A mild emotion was visible in the king's countenance at these words of the guardian. "Give me your blessing, pious father!" he said, in a subdued tone; "you have spoken words which penetrate my inmost soul."

"The reconciled and all-merciful God preserve your life and crown, and above all the precious peace of your soul!" prayed the guardian, and laid his shrivelled hand on the head of the king, who bent to receive the blessing, "in so far as you are yourself placable and merciful," he added with emphasis, and a piercing gaze.

"Hum, placable?" repeated the king, hastily, raising his head; "even towards rebels and traitors?"

"They assuredly need mercy most," answered the guardian. "Be not wroth, my liege," he continued, gently and impressively; "there is a holy word, which at this moment strangely trembles on my lips: 'If thy brother sin against thee,' it is written, 'then chastise him; but if he repents, then forgive him!'"

"But when he does not repent?" asked the king, gazing on the guardian with an excited look.

"Then pray for him till he does, that thy mother's son may not be a castaway; and for the sake of thine own peace!" whispered the ecclesiastic.--"A brother offended is harder to be won than a strong city, and quarrels are as bars before a palace."

"But strong cities may fall, and the palaces of rebels may be forced," exclaimed the king, suddenly assuming a stern tone, and the mild emotion expressed in his countenance became clouded. "The wise king Solomon hath also taught me to count more on a faithful friend than a false brother. Did not a prophet once say to his people, in a traitorous and corrupted time like ours--'Put not your trust in any brother, for every brother will certainly deceive?' I could wish that holy man were wrong. But enough of this," said Eric, hastily breaking off the solemn converse. "Let us now think a little of worldly things, and not despise the care of the body. We have ridden a long way today, to be shut out of our own castle here." So saying, the king went with hasty strides into the refectory; the guardian followed him with a sorrowful aspect, and the rejoicing of the brethren, over the king's piety and mildness, seemed somewhat diminished.

Kallundborg castle was now regularly beleaguered, and the warlike and experienced Count Henrik of Mecklenborg neglected none of the necessary preparations for a storm, as far as he was able with so small a force, and without engines for storming. Meanwhile, ere the sun went down, he saw his force augmented, as Drost AagÉ with his hundred horsemen galloped into the town, and joined him without the castle walls. As soon as the Drost had provided for the wants of his troops, and had consulted with Count Henrik, he repaired to the monastery of grey friars, where he was instantly admitted to the king in the library.

Here sat Eric in a thoughtful mood, in the guardian's great arm-chair, before an oaken table, on which lay a large annotated Bible as well as the writings of St. Augustine and other fathers of the church, open before him. He held a manuscript of Master Petrus de Dacia's in his hand, in which he was diligently making marks and dashes with his pen, and seemed employed in comparing it with the passages at which the writings of the fathers were opened. By the side of these spiritual writings, however, lay also three worldly books in handsome red velvet binding, which the king had brought with him. It was the famous chivalrous poem Ivain and Tristan, in Hartman von Awe's and Gottfried von Strasborg's version, as well as the adventurous history of Florez and Blanzeflor, which was the favourite poem of all enamoured knights and ladies.

When Drost AagÉ crossed the threshold, the king pushed aside the table and hastily started up. "AagÉ, my dear AagÉ! do I see thee again, at last!" he joyfully exclaimed, and went forward to meet him with open arms, but stopped in dismay, as he looked more narrowly at the young Drost. "Is it thyself?" he continued; "how thou art changed! Truly thou hast been in murderous hands. Those accursed outlaws!" he said passionately, as he stamped on the floor; "why have I not rooted them out of the earth?"

"Think no more of that, my noble liege," said AagÉ. "I am now well again, and at your service."

"Come, rest thee; thou hast exerted thyself above thy strength. Master Peter hath then brought thee a letter and a message?"

"All is done as you commanded, my liege, though I fear it is a step----"

"Leave me to care for that, AagÉ--met ye with opposition?"

"Holbeck castle is in your possession; it cost not a drop of blood, but caused great joy at the castle."

"Good; and the junker?"

"I saw him not; it is said, though, he was there, but escaped."

"A bad sign, AagÉ! A loyal vassal would have staid, and have called thee strictly to give account of thy authority. He asked then, not even once, the ground of my wrath? He ventured not an indignant remonstrance touching injustice and violent measures?"

"He kept quite out of sight; he must have conceived suspicions."

"Hum! no prince flies thus from his castle, when he knows himself to be innocent. How then can I doubt? The contumacy here, and his shameless expressions to BrunckÉ----"

"What hath already chanced may however still be but an unhappy misunderstanding, my liege," observed AagÉ; "and the traitorous BrunckÉ none can trust."

"Well, let Christopher speak for himself, if he is able. By all the holy men, I would willingly give the half of my life could I say with truth, 'I have a brother.' Yet, the Lord and our holy Lady be thanked, I have still a faithful friend, and my beloved Ingeborg, and a loyal and loving people. What have I to complain of?" So saying, the king laid his arm confidingly on AagÉ's shoulder, and a repressed tear glistened in his ardent blue eye. "Since we met last, my dear AagÉ," he continued in a firm and calm tone, "I have become an excommunicated man like thee; but it no longer terrifies me. I have long thought--now I am convinced--that no one can condemn us save the Almighty and righteous God: but he will not condemn us; for, seest thou, he is merciful. He who believes in salvation and mercy, AagÉ, will be saved, despite all the bishops and prelates in the world."

"Sin not, my noble liege!" exclaimed AagÉ, with cautious sadness. "I have also found peace for my soul, and a defence against the evil spirits to whom I was given over; but it was not in defiance, it was in love and hope, my liege."

"Such a hope I have also, my AagÉ; and love!--thou knowest but little what that is--thou that hast no Ingeborg! My love truly is as great as Sir Tristran's or the valiant Florez's. I shall not fear to break a lance for my Ingeborg with the pope himself and the whole priesthood--if it come to the worst."

"For Heaven's sake, my beloved liege, ponder----"

"I have pondered much, AagÉ; and first on what was most important," exclaimed the king seriously, interrupting his anxious friend. "The matter of our salvation is too important to be decided by an authoritative word from the bishop or pope. Shall they presume to say to thee and me, 'Thou art accursed!--thou art given over to the Evil One?' No, truly! Where is it written that any human being hath such power? I always hoped--now I am assured--that the heavenly grace and mercy I believe in, alone can save me and all of us--come, I will prove it to thee; Master Petrus hath written it out for me; the church's holy fathers witness to it, and what is more, God's own unchangeable word. Yet it is too long to enter upon now; but, trust me, AagÉ, no archbishop, not even the pope in Rome, can condemn us--if the church casts out believers, it is our church no longer, not the real and true one. Could the devil shut against us every stone-built church in the world, one church would still stand open to us, which no devil can shut; and lo! it is every where; where two believing souls are met together in the Lord's name.--See how wise I am grown, AagÉ: it would be deemed heresy in Rome, and they would doom me to the stake did they know it; but I am wise enough also to be silent about it. Thou only shalt know it, and my Ingeborg, and whoever holds my immortal soul as dear as thou dost."

AagÉ was silent, and looked at him in surprise.

"I feel secure also about state and kingdom," continued the king. "With God's help I shall defy both ban and interdict, both rebels and outlaws, without any one injuring a hair of my head, or that of my people's."

"But a letter, craving pardon of the holy father, will certainly be necessary, my liege! In the matter of the archbishop, reconciliation and clemency must in a great measure supersede justice."

"No, AagÉ; I ask but justice; I ask no mercy of man, and in this matter none need expect mercy from me--let the pope judge between me and Grand! the mystery of unrighteousness shall be brought to light as surely as there is justice under the sun. If I am myself wrong in any thing, which well may chance, it is time enough to think of penitence and penance when doom is pronounced."

"But the dispensation?" said AagÉ.

"That I will dispense with in case of need; what hath been granted to a hundred others cannot be denied the King of Denmark.--Should it be denied, it is unjust; but an injustice to which I will not submit. Yet, seat thyself, AagÉ; not a word more of these vexatious affairs,--my soul is weary of them. Come," he continued, gaily; "now thou shalt hear a love poem: my dear Ingeborg hath herself written it out for me. Duchess Euphemia hath sent it to her from Norway; it will soon be read, both in Norwegian and Swedish. Here thou shalt see what a chivalrous lover can go through, and how fortune and our Lord are ever with all true and constant lovers." The king now sat down before the table, and read, in an animated tone, out of the adventures of Florez and Blanzeflor, which, however, were already known to AagÉ.

"Tristan I prefer, it is true," said the king; "and our own old love-songs seem far more beautiful to me; but this book I especially like to have in my hand. Think! she has copied every word with her own lovely fingers."

Meanwhile evening drew on. The vesper bell rang, and the king went with AagÉ to the church of the monastery, where he joined in the devotions of the Franciscans and the people, which however were not as calm and undisturbed as usual.

As the night drew on the anxiety increased in the town with every hour. A general stillness prevailed; lights glimmered in all the houses; no one seemed any where to slumber. Around the beleaguered castle no sound was heard save the steps and clashing arms of the sentinels. Here and there a watch-fire gleamed in the cold winter's night, around which silent warriors, wrapped in ample mantles, were standing in groups; without the monastery Drost AagÉ's horsemen were on guard. The Drost and Count Henrik rode up and down around the castle walls, where the faint clashing of weapons and the moving of heavy machines of defence were heard.

By AagÉ's counsel sentinels were also posted on the public quay south-east of the castle, and on the ancient sea-tower at the north-western extremity of the town, where there was also a landing-place, together with a now deserted and decayed fortification: this spot he deemed especially important whenever it might be desirable to cut off all possible communication with the castle. At midnight AagÉ himself stood in the clear still starlight beside the solitary tower, at Count Henrik's side, and looked out on the bay, while they considered from what quarter the castle wall might best be mounted. While thus employed, AagÉ observed a little fishing-boat, which lay half hidden under the mouldering rampart of the sea-tower; and just as he was going to draw Count Henrik's attention to it he saw a head, with a shaggy cap and a large scar resembling a hare-lip between the nose and mouth, peer forth from behind a half-fallen pillar close beside him. The prying head, however, instantly withdrew behind the pillar, and AagÉ thought he recognised the notorious robber and incendiary, the Lolland deserter, OlÉ Ark, who had often been pursued, and who it was believed had been concerned in the archbishop's flight. Without any long deliberation he nodded to Count Henrik, and drew his sword; but at the same instant the fellow sprang out of his hiding-place, and fled down towards the rampart to the boat.

"Stop him!" shouted AagÉ to the farthest sentinel, who stood with his lance in his hand, and his back leaning against the rampart, gazing out on a distant vessel, without observing the fugitive.

Just as the Drost's voice reached the ear of the sentinel, and he was about to turn round, he felt the stab of a dagger in his back, and fell to the earth with a groan of anguish, while the deserter rushed past him with the weapon glittering in his hand, and sprang into the boat.

The fugitive had already placed his oars, and was preparing to push off from shore, but then first perceived that in his haste he had forgot to loosen the rope which moored the boat to the rampart. While he now, with desperate exertion, struck once or twice in vain with his dagger on the rope, AagÉ and Count Henrik stood directly opposite him with their drawn swords. Count Henrik hastily grasped the half-severed rope, and drew the boat towards him. The dagger of the despairing fugitive was raised gleaming in the air, but fell with the hand of the robber into the sea before a stroke of the Drost's sword, and, with a fearful howl, the wounded deserter fell back in the boat.

At Count Henrik's call several men-at-arms hastened to the spot from the guard at the sea-tower, and presently bore the captive thither, after having, by the Drost's order, wrapped a cloth round his mutilated arm, to prevent his bleeding to death. The wounded sentinel was also carried to the tower; and while a message was sent to fetch a surgeon, the captured robber's garments, and all that he had about him, were narrowly searched. Besides a letter of absolution, a rosary, and a number of costly church ornaments, which appeared to be stolen property, a quantity of pitch and sulphur and other combustible matter was found on his person; and a key and a private letter were discovered carefully secreted in the lining of his cap. For the present no confession could be expected from the criminal, who had fallen into a swoon. The Drost took possession of the key and the letter, and repaired, with Count Henrik, to the nearest watch-fire. Here he opened the letter, and read it in a low tone.

"To no one!"--thus ran the letter.--"Obey and be silent, or thou diest! Dare the utmost! Spare not the town! Hide or burn the papers, if needful! Keep the trapdoor in readiness! Let his victory prove his downfall! I answer for the consequences. The bearer may be employed for the whole.... Burn this private letter instantly. From no one."

Drost AagÉ had jointly with the king and Prince Christopher learnt what was then the still rare art of writing, from a canon, under the superintendence of Drost Hessel, and to his dismay he thought he recognised the stiff hand of the prince through the disguised character of the writing. He hastily folded up the letter, and turned deadly pale.

"Now what runes^[1] read ye there, Sir Drost?" asked Count Henrik.--"You do not feel well, I think."

"This private letter was surely to have been brought the commandant," exclaimed AagÉ, eagerly, and the blood again rushed into his cheek. "It is from no one, and to no one; yet I think I understand it."

"Let us see, Sir Drost--It is not surely any private love letter?--the fellow was a spy and traitor."

"If my noble liege's peace of mind be dear to you." answered AagÉ anxiously, and seized his hand, "let this unhallowed secret be mine alone! yet this much will I confide to you: it seems to concern the king's unhappy domestic relations; but I entreat you to be silent, even about this conjecture of mine. There is no proof against any one, only a suspicion--an unhappy one--but the aim of the writer shall be defeated: the letter must be destroyed."--So saying, he thrust his hand into his bosom, and threw the letter into the fire.

"You are cautious, Drost," said Count Henrick, knitting his brow. "I ask not to be initiated into your dark state secrets--as Drost you must know best what should here be concealed or made public. I ask only, as a man-at-arms and beleaguer, if the letter, which you have here somewhat hastily destroyed, was to have been brought into the castle, must there not be a private entrance hereabouts? Could it be found, it were of moment to us: without storming engines, it will be a hard spring enough for us to get over the circular wall."

"You are right; there must be a secret entrance here," exclaimed AagÉ suddenly, with sparkling eyes. "I have a conjecture,--a thought strikes me, there is a tradition of a secret entrance from the sea-tower. The captive must show it me. I will be myself the bearer of the letter,--not such as when it caught the flames, and as it is now before the eye of the Omniscient, but rewritten, as a reconciling spirit dictates to my soul."

"Good! I follow you with a troop."

"No, count! that is impossible. The king's pride is aroused; he despises stratagem; he will and must through the gate, or over the stormed walls, and both of us cannot here be spared. If the secret passage is found, it will assuredly be difficult enough for one, alone and unarmed, to pass through it."

"Then let the adventure alone, Drost; for one it is too daring."

"I will dare it nevertheless," said AagÉ determinedly, after a moment's deliberation; "but no one shall follow me, and no one must know it--not even the king. If I am not here again to-morrow at noon, then let the king know that I am probably a prisoner at the castle, or am about something by which I may serve him, and all of you, better even than were I at the head of the stormers--I count on your leading the attack, as agreed on. If it succeeds, then promise me but one thing, brave Count! let not the king set his foot but where the ground hath been tried and found safe; and should you see my shoulder scarf wave on any spot, then conclude all is not right, and let not the king approach such a place."

"Ha! ha!" said Count Henrik, in a loud voice, and clapping AagÉ on the shoulder, "that was the secret, then, you would keep to yourself? You might just as well have let me read the letter, my mysterious Sir Drost! We may expect pitfalls then, and such sort of foxes' tricks? Well, when one has a hint of such things they are of no importance. Ha! the high-born junker! he is a base traitor truly, to seek after the life of his king and brother, and such a king and brother!"

"In the name of the Lord above, who says so. Sir Count?" exclaimed AagÉ, in consternation and in a low tone: "you shout as loud as though you meant to awake heaven and earth with what none may hear. Let not those unhappy words ever pass your lips again. I tell you once more, it is but a conjecture, a fearful suspicion: it would rend the king's heart if it came to his ears--the mere report might call forth bloody scenes, and bring down the greatest misery on the country and the royal house."

"I approve your caution in this matter, noble Drost," said Count Henrik gravely, and in a subdued tone, as he looked around, with a sharp glance; "be easy, no one can here have heard us. There you have my hand: where one word may cause such great misfortune, it shall assuredly never pass my lips. But drive that rash adventure out of thy head; it may cost you your life,--and to what end?"

"The saving of a more precious life," said AagÉ. "I must have certainty in this matter: if I am to guard the king's feet from secret snares, I must discover them first myself. God be with you! Farewell! He who hath been for two years excommunicated," he continued in a voice of emotion, "hath learnt to defy robbers and devils."

The watch-fire lit up his pale enthusiastic countenance, and a mild light seemed to beam from his dark blue eyes, as he raised them towards the starry heaven. "Follow me not!" he added. "I trust in the protection of Heaven, and the power of good spirits--then must earthly curses be dumb, and evil spirits fall into the bottomless pit."--So saying, he earnestly pressed Count Henrik's hand, and returned with hasty steps to the tower. Count Henrik shook his head, and gazed after him with a look of sympathy, but followed him not.