class="normal">"Here! here!" cried the young fishermen, who had already discovered the body, and were dragging it along; "here we have the fellow, as stiff as a speared sea-hog. This is a capital weapon!"

The knight observed the corpse attentively, and appeared to be seized with painful surprise. He had been a tall, broad-shouldered fellow, with bristly hair and beard; he wore a scarlet doublet; his morion, which had fallen from his head, and which was now exhibited by one of the fishermen, had no feather, but was marked with the two royal lions.

"This is a coward and a riever, who has stolen the helm and doublet of one of the royal guard," said the knight, sternly. "Pull off his doublet, countrymen! Let him no longer wear our king's colours! Drag him to a dung-pit, and there hide his infamy, till doomsday! And now let us off to Hegness."

Old Henner no longer felt the smart of his wounds; he was already in advance, on the little pony, which could scarcely bear him, but yet got on tolerably well with his burden, the heavy feet of his rider almost touching the ground.

"Bravo! my little norback!" cried the bold squire, who in a few bounds had overtaken Henner and his master; "if you can run with such a karl, you deserve a double fodder."

By the knight's command, some of the fishermen had already dragged the slain robber to a height by the wayside, where stood a gallows; whilst the others, at a little distance, followed the knight and their wounded chief.

"How far have we to the castle?" inquired the knight; "can you hold out the journey, my brave old man?"

"For my child, I could ride now to the world's end," answered Henner: "had the losel who gave me the blow not been a blundering lout, without pith or metal, he might have laid it on to some purpose; a pair of vile scratches he has given me: he shall not brag that it was he who struck Henner Friser to the ground; it was his brave Jutland stallion that kicked me below the short-ribs. Now that the pain is gone, I can run better than this little fellow. Thanks for the loan, my son," he said to the squire, as he leaped off the pony. "We have not a quarter of a mile to the castle, and I may almost as well walk as sit upon the foal."

"You shall not find fault with my norback because he is small," answered the young squire, offended: "he can vie with a roebuck when occasion serves, but he is certainly not an elephant to carry a tower."

"Now, now, are you angry, my son? If you can ride so fleetly, let me see you reach the rievers' nest before we others, and get the gates open for us. 'In the king's name!' was the rascals' pass-word, and three knocks upon the door was the sign. The road goes right through the wood."

Without saying a word, the >>>bold<<<< squire handed the torch to Henner, and rode back to the fishermen, who followed them. In an instant he returned, with the slain robber's scarlet doublet and morion on.

"Permit me so, to ride forward and prepare your way, sir drost," said the youth, and whispered a few words in his master's ear.

"Yes, yes!" answered the knight; "it cannot be a mile off. But be careful, Skirmen: we keep the torches. You cannot miss the road, for yonder we can see the old castle turrets."

The moon again appeared from behind the clouds, throwing its light over a huge, dull, red tower, with embattled walls, which arose high over the wood on the promontory of the bay of Middelfert.

The squire was already mounted: he hastily spurred his pony, and was out of sight in a moment.

"A nimble youth!" exclaimed the old man; "he has a falcon's eye, and the limbs of a hart. He will make a doughty knight one day. Do I guess right that he is from Alsing or Aeroe?"

"My trusty Claus Skirmen is from Femren," answered the knight; "his father was a brave man for his king and country: for that, he was exiled by King Abel, and died in banishment. His grandfather followed King Erik Waldemarson to his death, and proved himself a valiant man to the last. His body was found by the king's side, among the slain."

"Has the youth long borne your shield, noble knight?"

"This is only his second year; but the silver spurs are scarcely cold upon his heels. He is not much more than fifteen yet, and was out last year to capture Niels Breakpeace."

"Alas, fifteen years!" muttered the old man, with a suppressed sigh; "that was my poor Aasé's age yesterday. Ride on, sir knight! I shall yet succeed." And he ran on with rapid strides.

Drost Peter set spurs to his horse, but immediately stopped again. The wood was dark, and, as the torch lit up the old man's face, the knight saw, with concern, that the grayhaired warrior was pale. The bandages had become loose by his exertions, and the blood was flowing fast from his left arm and shoulder. The young knight sprang from his horse. "Let me tighten the bandages," he cried, with the air of a skilful leech; "your wounds are not so slight as you think. Seat yourself on my horse: I have young limbs, and no fresh wound."

"Nay, good sir! For St. Christian's and all saints' sake, let us not delay for such trifles!" cried the hardy old man, impatiently, whilst the knight hastily tied up the loosened bandages; "this will do very well for a poor devil like me! Thanks! I say; but pray hasten on, and redeem your promise. Except the king himself, and his panderers, there is no man more powerful than Drost Peter. Never mind me! Hurry on, noble sir!"

Drost Peter did not consider a moment longer. He vaulted again into his saddle, set spurs to his horse, and rode furiously towards the castle; while old Henner, with long and rapid strides, followed after.

At the strongly-fortified castle of Hegness all was dark and silent, but around the promontory on which it stood still raged the waters of the Sound. A flock of cormorants flew, screaming, round the lofty tower, which, on the land-side, was bright in the moonshine, while it cast its long dark shadow over the rampart, towards the Sound. The drawbridge was down; but the great walled gate was locked. On both sides of a rampart of earth, sixty feet high, the broad moat was filled with muddy water. From one of the upper apartments in the principal wing of the castle a light shone into the court-yard, and, before the lofty staircase, two sentinels, with lances, walked continually to and fro. At the opposite side of the castle, in the backcourt, six horsemen were stationed, with two saddled horses, before a little barred door of the tower. Here the castle was provided with a private outlet, and a narrow drawbridge, now raised, concealed by a thicket of bushes. From a room in the tower, which jutted over the back-court, and had a small window into the fore-court, shone a single light. In a corner of this room a female figure knelt upon the stone floor, with a rosary in her hands, and apparently engaged in prayer. Long dark brown braided tresses fell over her nut-brown neck and shoulders; she wore a dark blue knitted jacket, a linen petticoat of the same colour, with many plaits, and a light blue apron. A cloak, composed of white knitted thread, lay at her side, as if it had fallen from her shoulders. Her back was turned towards the door, and she did not appear to observe that it was gently opened. A tall, broad-shouldered man, closely wrapped in a travelling cloak, stepped softly in, and looked anxiously and carefully around him. He turned towards the door, which stood ajar, and, at his beck, a face withdrew, which might have been taken for that of a crafty old woman, but for the incipient reddish beard, and the bright steel cap, that denoted it to be a young soldier's. The door was then softly closed. The tall,