"Ha! a conspiracy!" exclaimed the king. "You are not merely robbers and highwaymen--you are traitors, and audacious regicides! Who has paid you for the King of Denmark's life?"

"I am not a hired a.s.sa.s.sin," replied Lave Rimaardson, proudly: "I am a knight of princely blood, and no king shall offend me with impunity. In the hour that you adjudged me an outlaw, I swore your death and downfall, King Erik! And were my right hand now free, I should keep my oath, and this moment would be your last."

"Madman!" exclaimed the king, stepping back; "if, by such audacious confession, you think to gain a respite, you are mistaken: you shall not even have time to name your accomplices, if you have them."

"There you are wise, King Erik," replied Rimaardson, with a contemptuous laugh. "Be sparing of the moments you have yet at your disposal. You know not how few they are; and, when your hour of reckoning comes, you will have more to account for than the sinners you now condemn to the rack and wheel."

"Peace, wretch!" cried the king, enraged; but an uneasy blinking of his eye seemed to indicate a sudden change in his feelings. "Your life is in my hands," he continued: "you are an outlaw and a rebel, a robber and murderer, and have even sought the life of your king and master; but Drost Hessel has testified that there is still within you a remnant of honour and of chivalrous spirit. Your brother Bent, too, is a trusty and deserving man; and your ignominious death, in company with these felons, would cast a shadow even on my throne. Think you not now, that King Erik Christopherson could still show you favour?"

"Yes! with endless imprisonment in fair Sjoborg: is it not so?" replied the haughty prisoner. "No! I do not, by a perjury, sell my soul and salvation, or, to save my life, forswear my revenge: it shall and must arrive, if not by my hand, by another's! When the harvest is ripe, reapers enough are to be found--"

"Satan, speak out! What mean you?" cried the king, in painful uncertainty. "Wretched felon! know you not that I have racks at hand?

Look through that window: there stands he who can unbind your tongue."

"It is unnecessary, King Erik," replied the prisoner, suppressing his voice, but raising his head and gazing on the king with a dreadful look: "your hangman need not cut me for being tongue-tied. If you will hear the truth, I shall not conceal it in my dying hour. However great may be my crimes," he continued, in a louder tone, "I am still superior to the nidding who betrayed and dishonoured the wife of his best friend, whilst he bled in the nidding's behalf in the field of battle.

If the brave Stig Andersen does not take full revenge for his wife's dishonour--if the blind, crazy father of Fru Ingeborg has not sight and sense enough remaining, to guide his sword into the false heart of King Erik--then there is not an honest drop of blood in the hearts of Danish n.o.bles, and they deserve no better king than they have got."

The king had become deadly pale, whilst he foamed with rage, and his hand convulsively clutched the hilt of his large sword. He plucked the weapon from its scabbard, and rushed furiously on the prisoner, who remained immoveable, and laughing wildly.

Drost Peter sprang between them. "This is no place of execution, sir king," he said, warmly; "and you are no executioner, to slay a defenceless prisoner. He is an insolent traitor, it is true, and I no longer intercede for his life; but my house shall not be stained by a deed unworthy of yourself and your crown. If you will and must have the blood of this youth, you have brought an executioner with you."

The wild rage of the king had suddenly abated. He angrily bit his lips, as he sheathed his sword, and cast a look at the daring drost, which plainly enough indicated that this was the last time he should suffer himself to be guided by such a bold adviser.

"Well, Drost Hessel," he said, coldly, "you are right: I had nearly forgotten my kingly dignity in the insolence of this daring criminal, and you have not been far from forgetting the respect you owe to your king. I shall, however, follow your wise advice. Have the prisoners conducted to the place of execution, Sir John. Lave Rimaardson is the first who falls: that honour I award to his high birth. He shall die by the sword; but his head shall be placed on a pole, and the foxes shall tear his limbs to pieces. The others shall be broken alive on the wheel. Now, away!"

Sir John gave the warden a signal to lead forth the prisoners. Lave Rimaardson cast a look of contempt towards the king. In going, he laid his wounded right hand upon his breast, and, with averted face, he silently pressed Drost Peter's hand with his left.

At the door, Niels Breakpeace sprang strongly upwards, rattling his chains. "Merry now, comrades!" he cried, with a shout of wild laughter: "let me now see you behave yourselves like men, and thrust out your tongues bravely until they are bit off. Follow my example till the last, and do honour to your chief. When you have seen them all on the wheel, sir king," he cried, in a tone of mockery, and once more turning round haughtily, "then comes the turn of those of greater note. If you come yourself, and, like a merciful headsman, give me my finishing stroke, I shall whisper a secret in your ear, of which you will know the truth when St. Cecilia's day is gone by." With these words he departed.

The king turned away with a look of contempt, but seemed discomposed by the parting words of the robber-chief. "Stay!" he cried. "Yet, nay, they shall not befool me, the crafty vermin! I know their tricks. With such mysterious talk has many a hardened villain escaped the gallows.

Let my horse be brought forth, Rane. I shall observe, from a distance, whether they maintain their defiance to the last."

Rane went out, and soon afterwards returned, saying, "The horse is at the door, your grace."

"Your's, too?"

"At your command, sir king."

"I think, however, I shall consider. People do not sleep soundly after such sights, and we must be up betimes in the morning. All is ready for the chase, Drost Hessel?"

"Nothing shall be wanting, sir king," replied the drost, with a look of composure, which ill concealed the agitation of his feelings.

"I shall, nevertheless, ride to Daugber-Daas," observed the king: "it is still a diversion, and people may shut their eyes on what they do not care to see. You must confess yourself, my conscientious drost, that, in this matter, I have been both just and gracious."

Drost Peter bowed, but said nothing.

"My polite host bears me company, of course?" added the king, in an apparently friendly tone, but with anger in his heart.

"It will be much against my feelings, my king; but if you so command, I obey. No injustice has taken place, I confess: but this is not a royal spectacle, and I wished you worthier entertainment on this visit, which, now, I dare not call gracious."

"Let us set off. You can follow me," said the king, as he departed.

Rane smiled; and Drost Peter followed his royal guest, with a tortured heart, and in the gloomiest mood.

Next morning, when the sun arose, he shone on the corpses of the thirteen robbers on Daugberg-Daas. In the valley beneath was heard the merry sound of horns and the baying of hounds, as a magnificent hunting-train rode by. At its head, between Sir John and Drost Peter, was the king, in a handsome green hunting-suit. Behind them, bearing falcons and other hunting-gear, rode six smartly dressed pages, among whom was the little kindhearted Aage Jonsen, bearing the king's favourite falcon. Next came, at the head of a troop of royal huntsmen, having thirty hounds in leashes, the Chamberlain Rane, who, like those he headed, was lightly armed with a bow and short hunting-knife; but he wore, besides, a magnificent small sword, with glittering gems in a hilt of silver, which the king had recently presented to him as a testimony of his favour.

Squire Skirmen was absent, as he had not yet returned from his visit to Henner Friser at the forest-lodge. He had obtained permission to remain until the afternoon of this day; and his place was now taken by warden Tyge, who closed the cavalcade in company with some archers, and a few active huntsmen from Harrestrup.

As the king pa.s.sed Daugberg-Daas, he closed his eyes, and gave the spur to his steed. When they had left the hill some distance behind, he turned to his right, and addressed old Sir John.

"They obstinately maintained their defiance, then?" he said. "Yesterday evening, I wished not to disturb my night's rest by listening to the end of your narrative; and I went not so near to the spot myself that I could hear what they said. Would the audacious Niels Breakpeace reveal nothing?"

"Not a word, sir king; but he laughed horribly in the pangs of death, and promised that, within eight days, he would tell you all he knew."

The king blinked anxiously, and became pale. "Tell me, my dear Sir John," said he: "do you think all the threats and warnings the fellow hinted at, were anything more than crafty inventions, with which he hoped to escape the gallows?"

"I know not that, sir king; but, in your place, I should not have so greatly hurried the execution of their sentence. The mere fact that an outlawed knight, of such high birth, was found among these robbers, seemed to me, even without their own confession, certain proof that they were here on a more important and daring undertaking than plundering the pantries and wine-cellars of Harrestrup. They might have given us valuable information."

The king, as he listened to Sir John, became more and more uneasy. "By Satan!" he exclaimed, warmly, "I felt constrained to make quick work of them, effectually to prevent any of their daring designs being accomplished. But why did you not inform me of these wise conclusions when they were alive? Your prudence comes too late now, Sir John."

"You would not hear a word from me, sir king; and when I have an express royal command, I must be silent and obey; especially where, as in the present case, it is undeniably just, and according to the letter of the law."

"Now, by the rood! we shall think no more of it," exclaimed the king, endeavouring to overcome his uneasiness; and at the same time he set spurs to his horse, and ordered the huntsmen to strike up a lively hunting-air.

Drost Peter was grave and silent. The king had not yet spoken a word to him; and the sharp-sighted drost read in his manner, as well as in that of the crafty chamberlain, that his fall was determined on, and that the formal announcement was only delayed in order that it might not mar the day's pleasure. But the depressing conviction that his power and influence were at an end, was outweighed by doubts of far greater importance respecting the welfare of the kingdom, which had been called forth by Lady Inge's admonition to watchfulness, and the circ.u.mstances connected with the capture and execution of the robbers.

Sir John, on the contrary, appeared to have abandoned every gloomy and disquieting thought. In his youth he had been a bold huntsmen, but for many years had not partaken of this n.o.ble diversion. The sound of the horns and the cries of the chase awoke within him lively recollections of his early days, and, as the king's companion in the sport, he considered it his duty to be as cheerful and entertaining as possible.

When the first game was started, the king engaged eagerly and pa.s.sionately in pursuit. For dexterity in the chase he was without a rival; and he now rushed with wild impetuosity among the huntsmen and unleashed hounds, and, as usual, was highly admired by the strangers, as well for his rapidity, as for the certainty with which he brought down his game. Not without difficulty could old Sir John follow him; although he took care to make it appear that it did not cost him any exertion. Recalling the memory of his young days, he gave his mettlesome hunter the reins, and took the most daring leaps over ditches and fences.

Drost Peter was accustomed to such violent sport, but on this occasion he often felt himself painfully reminded of his recent wounds. This gloomy mood was speedily augmented by the concern he felt for Sir John, who, he plainly saw, was exerting himself beyond his strength; and he knew that it was useless to caution the old knight concerning it.

However merry the latter appeared, he had, nevertheless, intimated to the drost, by a look, that he shared his grave doubts, and considered it highly essential that the hunt should keep together. If, now and then, they paused by a fallen deer, the chamberlain had instantly another in sight, and the king again dashed off with renewed ardour.

At length they reached a beautiful forest-glade, in which they halted to rest their horses, and to partake of a midday meal; during the preparation of which the chamberlain was inexhaustible in entertaining the king with pleasant hunting-stories. They seated themselves on the trunk of a fallen oak-tree. The cloth was spread on the fresh moss; at a little distance the huntsmen had encamped themselves, and the spoils of the chase were piled up close by. The pages waited on the king, who appeared in a good humour, and well contented.

"It is a chivalrous and right royal diversion," said Sir John, in answer to the king's question whether he had enjoyed himself. "In my young days, I was pa.s.sionately fond of it; but now I am too old and stiff for the sport. Another time, sir king, I shall do better to remain at home, like the old hunting-steed."

"You would come with me, however," said the king. "Your fancy for it certainly surprised me."

"It was not entirely for the sake of the chase, sir king," said the old man, gravely, and with an observant look at Rane. "I am but little acquainted with this part of Jutland," he added, hastily: "I am glad, also, to see our good Drost Hessel in the capacity of host."

"You have seen, then, that he is master of his own house, and keeps strict watch over the security of his guests," replied the king, with a bitter smile: "even highwaymen and murderers are safe beneath his roof."

"If in that he went a little too far, your grace," said Sir John, "I pray you, for my sake, not to be offended with it. I did not regard the prisoners as so dangerous."

"I must confess, sir king," observed Drost Peter, "that this business of the robbers was of more importance than I believed; but they have now ended their lives and crimes together. If on that occasion I erred, and for a moment forgot the respect I owed my royal guest, let not this day's sun go down upon your wrath, my king. If I have lost your royal grace in consequence, suffer me at least--"