"That is not his name who here stands in our sight," cried the herald, "for in him I and Danish chivalry only recognise a traitor, a deceiver, and a false swearer."
The king thrice asked the name of the criminal. The herald-pursuivant named it each time, and each time the herald cried, "that is not HIS name!" with the same annulling addition. When the herald had proclaimed these words for the last time, he received from the hand of the pursuivant-at-arms an ewer with hot water; he then mounted the scaffold with it, and dashed the water over the head and shoulders of the dishonoured knight, with these words, "Thus I efface the sacred mark of knighthood from this corpse."
As soon as these words were uttered, the criminal was looked upon as dead, and treated as an actual corpse. He was dragged by cords down from the scaffold, and tied on a bier. A pall was spread over him, and while the king and all his knights rode back to the castle, Kaggé, followed by a scoffing mob of the lowest class, was borne to the church, where the priests again prayed and chanted over him as over the dead. When the pall was at last removed, in order to lead him to actual death, he lay senseless on the bier, and it was doubted whether he ought in this state to be carried to the place of execution.
"Go hence and let him alone! The sun hath gone down, and he shall be unmolested here till to-morrow," said a powerful and authoritative voice, and the Commendator of the monastery of the Holy Ghost stepped solemnly forward in his white dress as master of the choir, with his double twelve-pointed silver cross on his breast. All recognised him, and bowed reverently with folded hands, and half-bended knees, to receive his blessing.
The provost and his attendants, who were to conduct the prisoner to the place of execution, seemed, however, somewhat doubtful and lingered. "I am responsible! Go hence all of you, and let the sinner lie here till to-morrow!" repeated the Commendator, "his soul shall have time to prepare for its separation from the sinful body. It is the duty of my holy office to care for the souls of the departing. In the name of the church and the holy spirit, I command the temporal authority here present to give way!"
Every one departed; the Commendator last quitted the church, and ordered the church door to be locked. By command of the provost, a strong guard of men-at-arms was stationed before it.
When the provost and his attendants early the following morning entered the church to lead the unknighted captive (already dead in law) to execution, a real corpse was found bound to the bier. Some thought that the proceedings of the previous day were sufficient to kill him; others deemed it probable that he might have expired from dread when he came to himself in the night, and found himself alone and bound on the bier in the deserted church. The idea that terror had caused the death of the miscreant captive while lying in such wretched plight the whole night, in expectation of his death, now excited a species of compassion in the same mob who on the preceding day could not sufficiently taunt and scoff the detested assassin; and it was discovered that, after all, the king had been far too strict, and that even the pious Commendator himself had in a great degree augmented the sinner's punishment by caring for his soul in such sort; and allowing him the space of a whole night to die of terror, during his preparation for death. The face of the corpse was swollen, and already in such a state that none could recognise the outlawed knight, excepting from the bristly beard and meeting eyebrows. The body was instantly, and in all privacy, buried without the customary ritual of the church, and in unconsecrated ground. But hardly was the dead man interred, ere a low murmur was heard among the restless populace that it could scarcely have been the right corpse after all. The speedy change in the appearance of the body so early in the spring was deemed exceedingly suspicious, and it was rumoured that the beard and eye-brows were undoubtedly false. It was known that the outlawed Aagé Kaggé had been a kinsman of Archbishop Grand; and the Commendator of the order of the Holy Ghost, who from the monastery might have ingress to the church, was conjectured to have availed himself of his authority on this occasion, to save a kinsman of that mighty and dangerous prelate. This rumour, however, was instantly put down by the provost and his attendants, whom it might have caused seriously to be brought to account. It reached neither the ears of the King nor the Drost, and it was believed at court (as had been in legal form announced by the temporal authorities of the town) that the outlawed regicide had been found lifeless on the bier, and that the body had been buried in the morning, after lawful inspection.
The stern solemnity which pervaded the king's proceedings at this time at Wordingborg was remarked by all. The festivities which had been looked forward to with pleasure on occasion of the treaty with the Dukes, were wholly relinquished, and all the stranger nobles and knights soon left the castle. Junker Christopher had taken a cold and hasty farewell, and it was said had repaired to Kallundborg or Holbeck. Both these castles had been restored to him with full investiture of the fiefs. Ere his departure, he had announced that the maidens' tower was carelessly guarded, and that the fair prisoners were in communication with the household, and probably even with persons of more consideration. This information compelled the commandant to observe more strictness in guarding the captives. The obliging little Karen was replaced by a grave female attendant, and no one but herself and a monk skilled in medicine were admitted to the tower. The youngest of the captive maidens was ill, it was said, and not quite in her right mind. She imagined she had seen an execution, and that she herself was a princess who had an unfortunate prince for a lover. This gave rise to much gossip, and all manner of conjectures among the household at the castle. Drost Aagé was spoken of as the most zealous friend and advocate of the captive maidens, and it was supposed that by means of his influence their cause would soon be decided in their favour.
The king, with his state council and halberdiers, remained until past Easter at Wordingborg Castle, from whence were issued many royal mandates and ordinances. In these matters the Drost was, next to the king himself, especially occupied, and was seldom seen to join the other knights in their diversions within the lists or in the tennis court. He was, as usual, grave and pensive. Occasionally he was seen in the moonlight spring evenings to wander alone, as if lost in reverie, around the maidens' tower. Since the king's arrival at Wordingborg, Aagé had not seen the captive maidens; it appeared that he had heard the gossiping reports of his warm interest for them, and that he feared to injure their cause or their reputation by a visit.