A deep stillness once more prevailed around. The king's knights had ranged themselves in solemn silence at his side: they yet stood with their drawn swords in their hands, and the halberdiers were stationed with their long spears by the door guarding the gloomy chief, who looked like one petrified. Footsteps were soon heard on the hollow stair, where the trap-door had already been secured. Count Henrik opened the door, and remained standing on the balcony. He bowed coldly as Junker Christopher and the Margrave of Brandenborg entered, followed by their knightly train. The margrave's wonted gaiety and light-heartedness had vanished. He seemed exhausted from violent exertion, and in an anxious and uneasy mood. When the tall Junker Christopher uncovered his black locks, which floated wild and tangled around his shoulders, and advanced towards the king, his feet appeared to totter, while, however, there was a cold and forced smile on his long, large-featured visage.
"My royal brother hath visited me in a peculiar fashion," he said in a tone of bitterness, as he greeted Eric with a stiff and formal bow. "I lament that I was not informed of your gracious visit, that I might have received my royal liege in a fitting manner, and have prevented the senseless acts of my vassals as well as the deeds of violence, of which I perceive traces here."
"I am wont, even when unannounced, to find the castles of my vassals and servants open as well to my ambassadors as to me," answered the king with stern vehemence. "The contumacy I have here met with is high treason; the gate of a fortress hath been shut against me in my own kingdom: where this happens, fief and goods are forfeited, be the criminal who he may! I perceive, also, that my life has been basely and treacherously sought after: it is a Judas act and miscreant deed; it stirs up my inmost soul;" he continued in a voice of emotion, and with a doubtful glance at the prince's sullen countenance. "It is bitter and dreadful to me to think that my own brother could have shared these crimes--So, however, it seems to mortal eyes; but if ye can justify yourself, Prince Christopher of Denmark, speak! and with a single word remove from my heart the heaviest weight that ever oppressed it! Are you guilty or not?"
"Who accuses me?" exclaimed the junker haughtily, and with vehemence. "Who dares to mark me out for contumacy and treason? Where is my accuser? Where is my commandant? His is the responsibility for what hath happened. Where is he?"
"Here!" said a powerful and hollow voice from the door of the apartment close behind him. It seemed as though the prince shrunk at the sound, while he turned and gazed on the aged warrior with a wild and haggard look.
"Crush me, if you will, Prince Christopher," continued the chief; "I am prepared for death; my life is yours, but not my honour--Here stands your aged loyal servant, the only one who was true to you here at the castle. Therefore do I now stand bound as a miscreant and traitor; but I swear by the most high God, in the sight of the king and of Danish chivalry, I have but fulfilled my duty--I obeyed the command of that master to whom I swore fealty and obedience. No one can serve two masters; every one must account to his own. I have mine; but that he commanded, he must himself answer for."
"Dost thou rave?" shouted the prince, foaming with rage. "Did I order thee to defend the castle against other than my foes?"
"True, sir junker! against your foes," repeated the warrior, "whether they were great or small, whether they wore helmet or crown--that was your stern behest; and if you named not the king, assuredly it was him you meant, so help me St. George and the merciful God, in my last hour!"
"Liar! calumniator! mad, presumptuous rebel and traitor!" shouted the prince, as if in a transport of rage, and rushing menacingly towards the bound commandant. "Darest thou thus to pervert my commands? Wouldst thou read in my soul, and make my thoughts traitors to my king? Nay, now I see it; I penetrate thy plan, traitor! Thou wouldst set strife and enmity between me and my royal brother! thou wouldst waken rebellion and civil war in the country--thou art a kinsman of Marsk Stig; thou art a secret friend of the outlawed regicides."
The king started and gazed on the prisoner with a searching look; the proud chief seemed to have lost his self-possession; he stared upon the junker with fixed and strained eyes, but no word passed his lips.