Three hours afterwards, the captive was led in full knightly armour, and on horseback, to a high scaffold within the lists, under which the king himself appeared on horseback, surrounded by all his knights. The castle chaplain stood on the scaffold, at the head of a row of monks from the Dominican monastery. The captive was led up hither, not indeed to suffer death, but, according to the laws of chivalry to be ejected from the community of knights in a manner the most degrading. There was a crowd assembled; all the windows of the castle, as well as the stands on the lists were thronged with curious spectators. From the window of the servants' hall, close by the maidens' tower, peeped forth a fair little inquisitive face which was remarked for its beauty and animation; it was the captive Lady Ulrica, who without knowing what was going forward, had persuaded the tractable Karen to take her with her, to see the great procession which was talked of. No one knew what was to happen. The whole transaction was hitherto unknown in Denmark, where the young King Eric was the first sovereign who endeavoured to introduce all the usages of chivalry, and the novelty and mystery of the proceeding, tended still more to heighten curiosity. Ulrica beheld the priests on the high scaffold, and a knight in full armour led upon it: his back was turned to the window, and she did not recognise him. A rough sour-visaged man in a red cloak, with an iron club in hand, now stepped forward, he looked like an executioner, but however carried neither sword nor axe. He tore the shield from the knight, and struck off his armour; after which he broke the shield and armour into pieces with his iron club, and cast the fragments at his feet.
"Gracious heaven! Is this an execution?" cried Ulrica in dismay. The knight was now led down from the scaffold. He turned his pale and terrible countenance towards her, and she recognised him. "Kaggé! righteous heaven!" she exclaimed with a shriek, and sank swooning in the arms of her attendants. They hastened to carry her back to the tower, and to the fostering care of her gentle sister.
The armorial bearings were taken from Kaggé's broken shield; they were now, together with the shield, fastened to the tail of a mare, and thus dragged in the mire through the streets of Wordingborg, followed by the scoffs of the herald, which were echoed by the enraged mob.
The disarmed knight was meanwhile led upon the dunghill near the stables of the castle; here his gold spurs were taken off, and on the same degrading spot the tail of the horse he rode last was docked. While the attention of the spectators was rivetted on these singular proceedings, the dishonoured knight made a vain attempt to escape. He was now bound with cords, and again led upon the scaffold--there he stood staring wildly around him and foaming with rage, while the priests chanted a requiem over him as over the dead. He looked around in a frenzy; when, however, he perceived that the sword of the executioner was not glittering over his head, he seemed not as yet to have abandoned all hope of life, and drew himself up in desperate defiance. The solemn death-chant, nevertheless, appeared to awe him, and to damp his resolution. Ere it was ended, he sank down in an attitude of prayer. The chanting ceased, and the castle chaplain presently stepped forward with the holy scriptures, and began to read with a loud voice the Psalmist's denunciations against traitors--"Let there be none to extend mercy unto him, let his posterity be cut off, and in the generation following let their name be blotted out. As he loved cursing, so let it come unto him; as he delighted not in blessing, so let it be far from him----"
"Nay! silence with thy curses Priest! Whether they be scripture or not!" called the king with vehemence. "His soul must be judged by the merciful God. It is here question only of knightly honour."
But the chaplain had entered with such zeal into his text, that, without heeding the king's words, he still added, "When he shall be judged, let him be condemned, and let his prayer become sin----"
The kneeling knight started up at these words, and glared frantically at the priest, "Know then, every free man in Denmark! and judge if it were sin!" he shouted--"I prayed in this hour to the vanquisher of monsters, St. Magnus, and all the saints, that king Glipping's accursed race might be rooted out of the earth, as he was himself by this hand in Finnerup Barn."
"Thou didst declare the truth unto him priest!" said the king, suppressing with difficulty his exasperated feelings-- "yet--no more ecclesiastical cursing! his thoughts and prayers are for God to judge; this criminal stands here only before his earthly judges."
The priest was silent; the king now turned solemnly to the pursuivant-at-arms, and asked, "Say, what is this criminal's name?"
"Sir Aagé Kaggé, of the noble race and lineage of the high-born Hvides," answered the pursuivant-at-arms.