"Undoubtedly; and he may perhaps make that sacrifice for his freedom; but the seventh clause--pardon me, your grace, for saying that it seems to me to be in opposition to his duty to the church and to the Holy Father. Until he is deposed by a papal bull, no one can hinder him from using the church's power against whomsoever he will, without asking leave of the king or of any temporal authority."
"He shall be forced to do so!" exclaimed Eric, with vehemence. "While I am king, no miscreant shall persecute me or my subjects with unjust excommunication and all the plagues of hell. I am placed here by the Lord Almighty to protect my people and their liberties, and not all the bishops in the world shall rob me of this right. I will answer for what I do before the Lord above as well as before my subjects, and before every true and loyal knight!" So saying, the king again pulled the bell with vehemence. Another attendant entered.
"Light all the tapers in the knights' hall!" commanded the king. "Bid the master of the household call together the whole court and every knight here in the castle. Place my throne at the end of the hall!" The attendant departed in haste on a signal from the king.
"Your grace is too precipitate," said Thorkild; "give not a publicity to your interview with this dangerous prelate which he may abuse to your hurt and prejudice."
"My cause shuns not the light," answered the king. "I use not to speak or treat with my bitterest and deadliest foe otherwise than I dare make known to my loyal subjects and the whole body of Danish chivalry. A traitor's oath demands witnesses."
"But caution and--I trust your grace will pardon my boldness--state policy demand there should be as few witnesses present as possible," objected Thorkild Knudson, with anxious sympathy. He would have said more, but at this moment the door opened, and he was silenced by the entrance of the tall Archbishop Grand in chains.
Led by the steward and the three turnkeys, besides two men-at-arms, the haughty prelate stepped across the threshold of the king's private chamber, with a stare of wild defiance, without fixing his eye on any object. He was attired in a white Cistercian mantle, without any of the insignia of a bishop; his proud countenance was pale and emaciated; his beard was shorn, his head was bare, and around his tonsure curled a ring of tangled grey hair. He moved slowly, and every step seemed attended with pain; but it appeared as if, with a contempt of all bodily suffering, he exerted himself to the utmost to prevent his outward appearance from becoming an object of commiseration.
When the king beheld him he involuntarily stepped back, and a feeling of sorrowful sympathy for fallen greatness was manifest in his look, while at the same time the remembrance of his father's murder, and this man's share in the misfortunes of state and kingdom, overspread his noble countenance with the crimson of indignation.
"You may go," said Eric to the guard. They obeyed, and through the open door of the knights' hall, which was instantly shut again, the king beheld a numerous assemblage of knights and courtiers, looking with anxious suspense and curiosity towards the entrance to the private chamber, through which they had seen the captive archbishop conducted.
The haughty captive continued standing about two paces from the door, and had not as yet vouchsafed a look or salutation to the king. He stood immoveable as a marble statue, and his cold uncertain gaze, now first warmed into life, as it suddenly fixed with frightful earnestness on a silver crucifix, which stood by the side of the king's shield, on a shelf above a prie-dieu.