The lads obeyed in silence; but, after advancing a few steps,
"See, see!" cried the younger of them--"there is something stirring up yonder."
"And look!" added the other, "now there is a light--candles are burning by the dead men."
"Ghosts and devilry!" exclaimed one of the lay brothers. "Read, reverend sir, read!"
The dean, who now also became alarmed, halted, and gazing towards the mound, on which the fatal wheels were distinctly visible, saw a female form, holding in her hand a torch, the light of which, falling full on her countenance, revealed an expression of the deepest grief, united with so much calmness, that she resembled a Niobe in marble; whilst a number of clumsy-looking fellows, in the garb of seamen, were quietly but hastily engaged in releasing the bodies of the two malefactors. This being accomplished, they deposited them in coffins, and, forming themselves into a procession, left the mound, bearing the two corses in their midst. The grave female figure preceded them with the torch; and the dean, who, with his subordinates, had not stirred, now perceived that she wore the scarlet mantle of a princess, or of the lady of some knight of eminence.
The funeral train took the road to the fiord, approaching close to where the dean was standing; but the calm, melancholy features of the lady remained unchanged, nor did the others who composed the procession seem at all concerned at the presence of the ecclesiastic and his assistants. The latter, folding their hands, remained in silent prayer; while, as the train passed by, and the holy pix glittered in the torchlight, the grave seamen bowed their heads, and the knight's lady knelt down, while tears streamed along her pale cheeks.
As if moved by sympathy, the dean, accompanied by the choristers, then commenced singing, in a deep clear voice, a holy vigil for the dead men's souls; which they continued until the whole procession had passed. The mourners soon disappeared at the fiord, whence, shortly afterwards, a vessel departed under full sail.
After the death of the marsk, Duke Waldemar had openly allied himself with the brave Norwegian king, and had sent to the young Danish monarch, and his mother the queen, a declaration of war, grounded on the demands which he himself, and his brother Prince Erik, advanced for the possessions of Svendborg and Langeland. The duke and the Norwegian had agreed to commence the war with their united fleets and armies; but the impatience of the duke would not allow him to wait the arrival of the Norse fleet; and he ran out boldly with his own, which he conducted into Grönsund, between Falster and Möen.
Sir John and the council resolved to take advantage of this imprudent step, and immediately issued orders to man a number of long-ships and cutters, for the purpose of attacking the duke. This fleet, with young King Erik himself on board the long-ship Old Waldemar, early one morning ran out of Issefiord, and proceeded through the Great Belt to Grönsund, where the vessels of the duke had come to anchor on the Falster coast. Sir John and the chancellor were on board the king's ship, together with the royal trabants, and a numerous body of knights, who, in full armour, only knew each other by their helmet jewels and armorial bearings.