A look of affectionate admiration from Drost Aagé was repressed by a stern glance of the king's serious eye while he laid his finger on his lips. "Music!" he called, and gave a signal to the herald. The hall soon resounded with lively hunting horns. The gravity of the guests presently disappeared, and each talked gaily with his neighbour; the king himself appeared gay and in spirits, although Aagé, indeed, remarked that it cost him a desperate effort. When the castle chaplain, at the conclusion of the feast, was about to pronounce the blessing, all the knights had become so joyous and loud-tongued, that the herald was twice compelled to remind them of the etiquette of the table. When the repast was ended the king retired in haste to his private chamber, and beckoned gravely to Aagé to follow him. When Christopher rose, he threw his napkin, as if by accident, under the table; he then went out on the hall balcony, and whistled; soon afterwards the prince's large hunting-hound came bounding through the hall, with a crumpled napkin in his mouth.
The king had entered the private chamber with Aagé; he had thrown himself into a chair, and held his hand before his eyes. He remained a long time in this posture. Aagé stood in silence opposite to him, regarding him with a look of sorrowful sympathy. The king at last took his hand from his eyes, and he appeared to have wept. "Who hath dared to destroy love and confidence between brothers?" he exclaimed; "if it was you, Drost Aagé, it is the last time I call you my Drost."
"I it was not, my noble liege!" answered Aagé; "who it was I know not. May the Lord pardon that man among your true servants who so unwisely and rashly hath grieved you! It must have been done secretly, and without the herald's knowledge."
"I despise a secret accusation," continued the king; "it is unlawful; it is in a high degree deserving of chastisement; it shall--yet no--no examination can take place in this case. If he is a traitor," he continued, and deep grief was again visible in his countenance, "were he capable! Be it as God wills--I injure not a hair of his head. Should I disgrace my father in his children? Should I doom my mother's son outlawed and dishonoured? Should I myself, Great God!----" He paused, and his hair seemed to stand on end with horror. "Look at me, Aagé," he resumed; "could such a thought be harboured here?" He laid his hand on his high and glowing forehead. "It burns within," he continued; "but no unseen Cain's mark burns there. My hand was sternly raised against him--love me he cannot--fear me he must. Well! let him tremble before his liege and sovereign until he learns to love his brother. Now, not a word more of this! It is perhaps only spite and slander. Who dares charge my left hand of treachery against the right? I know nothing as yet--I will know nothing--I have known enough of evil----" He began again after a thoughtful pause, and with a gloomy downcast look--"have I not had traitors around me since I was a child? Have I not seen my father murdered, and his shameless murderers in my presence? Have not their bloody hands been secretly and openly raised against my life from the hour in which I doomed them outlawed? yet have they not had the power to touch me," he continued with cheerfulness, and raised his head. "No assassin's dagger hath yet reached me, even though excommunicated and given over to the Evil One. I know it, Aagé; I have seen it--the hand of the righteous Lord was betwixt me and my deadly foes. No traitor and murderer--not even a soul murderer--no sinful archbishop or pope--not the arch-fiend himself--shall shake the crown upon this head." As he said these words he raised his hand and looked upwards with a glance of almost prophetic inspiration, and there was a nobleness and majesty in his countenance which seemed capable of humbling the most presumptuous foe.
"My liege!" exclaimed Aagé, with heartfelt joy, "the spirit which speaks through you at this hour is not alone the spirit of royalty and justice, but surely that of love also."
"Go to my brother, my faithful Aagé," interrupted the king hastily; "take him this----" He took a gold chain from his neck, to which hung an image of the Madonna. "Pray him to accept this jewel from his brother, as a memorial of this celebration of peace. Tell him our unhappy father wore this image to the day of his death." The king turned hastily away, and seemed desirous to hide the sorrowful emotion which had caused his voice to falter. Aagé stood with the chain in his hand, and was about to give vent to the warmth of his feelings; but the king turned suddenly, and said, in a stern voice, "Tomorrow a council of knights will be held. The accused shall be arraigned, and defend themselves if they can. All are equal here with respect to the law--be they friends or foes. Woe to the accuser who hath not ample proof, were he even my dearest friend! Go! and the Lord be with thee."
Aagé bowed in silence, with wounded feelings, and would have departed, but the king, on perceiving his emotion, stretched out his arms towards him, and pressed him to his heart, without saying a word more.
Aagé hastily departed with the chain. When the king was alone in his chamber, he put his hand into his vest, and drew forth a rosary, garnished with pearls and rubies. "Thy Christmas gift when we were children, my Ingeborg!" he said, with deep emotion. "What thou knewest I would ask for besides, thy angel joined me in prayer for at the throne of Grace.--Christopher! Christopher! may God forgive thee the thought thine eye betrayed!" He then imprinted a kiss on the rosary, replaced it in his vest, and sat down quietly before his table to attend to state affairs.
CHAP. XI.
Early the next morning a herald-pursuivant stood in Drost Aagé's sleeping apartment, with his large plumed hat in one hand, and a long, pointed sword in the other. The Drost hastened to put on his garments, while he listened with anxious attention to the information which was given him. The three accused knights had disappeared in the night, together with the men-at-arms, who had relieved guard at midnight before the door of the knights' story. Sir Niels Brock's and Sir Johan Papæ's horses had been taken out of the stable--none of their squires or servants were to be seen in the castle; but the large well-fed horse which the pretended Sir Ako Krummedigé had bestrode was still standing in the stable. The pursuivant who brought these tidings to the Drost delivered to him, at the same time, the sword which at the repast of the preceding evening he had received from the mysterious knight with the helmet, and drew the Drost's attention to a singular contrivance in it. The hilt was hollow, and contained a fluid, which, by means of a spring, might be imparted to the blade. A dog, whose skin had been scratched with this sword, had died in convulsions.